(7 Days Before Deployment, Planet Tithia, The Dragon Army War Camp)
The war drums hadnât sounded yet, but the mood in the Dragon Army camp was already boiling.
The misinformation that the Legion Commanders had been asked to spread had spread across every tent, every mess hall by now, as although there was no official announcement made by the Cult or its Elders, every soldier pretty much knew exactly where they were heading.
"Planet Nemoâs got those rich mana core veins, doesnât it? You think theyâll let us keep whatever we loot?"
"Keep? Brother, if we win, we will relocate to Nemo officially, and mine it legally, thereâs no need to steal anything."
"You two are idiots. Itâs common knowledge that the Squad Captains reward each surviving member of their troop with something valuable once the war is over.... An off-book gift of sorts. We wonât be mining anything, we wonât even go near the mines."
"Oh, shut it you all, letâs first win the war before talking about the spoils."
Laughter followed, tense but loud, the kind of noise men made not because they were relaxed, but because they didnât want to admit they were nervous.
Further down the row of training pits, others were locked in their own conversations, their voices more anxious.
"This is it, you know? Our chance to make history."
"Yeah... this isnât just another border scuffle. If we crush Nemo, the whole Cult rises and weâll be the ones who did it. After that, no matter which pub we walk into, we will be treated as war heroâs!"
"I even heard that the Shadow Dragonâs marching with us. Both him and the Dragon, side by side."
"For real? Damn... If theyâre both coming then we are sure to win. They are both generational fighters afterall."
"I swear, weâre living in a golden age."
The words carried weight, belief woven into every syllable, as the faith of the commoners in the Dragon was what shifted the perception of this war from an expansionist campaign towards a divine crusade.
And yet, not all of them were puffed-up with confidence.
"I just hope I prove useful," one whispered as he tightened the straps on his vest for the fifth time, even though there was no training scheduled. "Heard some people blank out in their first real fight. Just freeze."
"I hope Iâm not one of those people..."
"Same here. Iâve never even seen real blood."
"Then youâll see a lot of it on Nemo. Just donât look away when it starts."
Some smiled nervously. Others fell silent.
But even among the jitters and doubts, there was no talk of backing out. No one planned to hide or run.
Because for the men and women of the Dragon Army, this wasnât just a war.
This was their calling.
They had been told stories about the glory of serving in the dragonâs army since they were little kids, and finally, it was their chance to be a part of that legend.
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(Planet Nemo, Commander Su Balâs Office)
*HISS*
The door burst open with a sharp hiss as the intelligence officer rushed in, clutching a sealed tablet in both hands.
"Urgent report, Commander. Multiple sources have confirmed it."
Su Bal didnât even rise from his seat. He simply extended his hand, received the data slate and began scanning its contents.
For a while, his expression grew steadily darker, each passing second tightening his jaw and furrowing his brow, until finallyâ
"Outrageous!"
He yelled, as he slammed his fist on his wooden desk, the table cracking at the corner as hairline fractures spiderwebbed across the tempered surface.
*Flinch*
Aides around him flinched instinctively. But none dared speak.
Su Balâs jaw clenched as he read the report again, his fingers scrolling through transmission after transmission, each bearing the same grim claim.
The Cult was mobilizing. But not for Koral.
For Nemo.
He narrowed his eyes, brain racing.
"Under normal circumstances," he muttered aloud, "Iâd discard a report like this if it came from just one source. Maybe two."
His voice was calm again, but tight with growing fury.
"But this... this is seven. Seven independent spies, scattered across different branches of the Cult, all reporting the same damn thing."
He stood now, slowly, the full height of his Monarch-tier frame casting an imposing shadow across the room.
"The Cult choosing to not attack Koral, and instead going directly for Nemo, is a strategic gamble on their part."
He began pacing.
"They must know that an assault on Nemo leaves them open to flanking. Reinforcements from Koral could box them in mid-space and crush them from both sides."
He paused, then shook his head.
"But they donât care. Theyâve dismissed Koral entirely.
They must not have eyes for that barren, useless rock."
He stopped pacing and looked out the window toward the horizon, where distant towers gleamed under Nemoâs twin suns.
"They must have supreme confidence in the speed of their fleet. In the competence of their men. Or perhaps they truly are mad."
A beat passed.
"Whatever the case... I will not let them succeed."
He turned sharply, sat down at his desk, and began typing, fingers flying across the interface as he issued a sequence of urgent commands.
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Planet-wide alert: Code Red. All defense systems to maximum readiness. Outer airspace sentries are to be tripled. Surface-to-air cannons are to be primed and calibrated. All warships stationed on Nemo are to move into preassigned intercept formations.
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Then came the second order.
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Message to Planet Koralâs Central Command: Immediate standby order.
Prepare all aerial fleets and be ready to launch a flanking assault when Evil Cult ships are on the approach to attack Nemo.
Prepare to intercept and dismantle the war fleet mid transit.
â-----------
The trap had been sprung.
And Commander Su Bal, being fed the exact wrong information that the Cult wanted him to hear, fell directly into it without question, moving troops, raising alarms, and reacting exactly as Leo had hoped he would.