The Mobile Command Center had anchored itself to the ground with a dull thud, its powerful stabilizers digging craters into the jungle's soft earth. Almost immediately, the automated defense systems sprang into action. Missile turrets emerged from the structure's flanks, and guided missiles soared into the air with piercing shrieks before raining down on the landing zone's perimeter. Geometric explosions tore through the canopy, transforming the lush greenery into a scorched, smoking landscape, clearing any potential threat for hundreds of meters.
Inside the Command Center, the air hummed with the energy of the teleportation systems. Flashes of bluish light illuminated the deployment bays, and with each flash, entire teams of logistical support materialized. Engineers, technicians, and drone operators appeared, immediately setting to work without a word, connecting consoles, deploying generators, and establishing an impenetrable communication network.
Amid this frantic activity, a more intense flash occurred. Julius Braveheart appeared, flanked by his Sentinels of Braveheart, his personal guard in midnight blue beskar armor. Their imposing and silent presence commanded immediate respect.
The ground troops had already begun their advance. On the tactical screens, Julius could see unit icons deploying in formation, engaging enemy contacts reported hundreds of kilometers away. The battle was already raging on a continental scale.
Julius observed the scene for a moment, his gaze sweeping over reports of minor victories and the first casualties. Then, he turned to Data, whose android form stood near the central command table.
"I'm heading to the battlefield," Julius announced, his determined voice echoing in his helmet.
Data inclined his head. "Good hunting, Lord Commander."
Julius and his Sentinels took an armored elevator down to the lower deployment levels. There, they were joined by a large group of soldiers whose appearance was radically different. They wore heavy black armor, reinforced by a massive combat exoskeleton that enhanced their already superhuman strength. Their faces, when not hidden by helmets, were marked by scars and implants. This was the special unit "The Hunt".
These men and women did not come from cloning vats. They were survivors from worlds liberated or saved by the Legion, individuals who had personally endured slavery, brutality, or loss at the hands of xenos races. Their hatred was personal, visceral. To channel this rage and offer them vengeance, Julius had them recruited and chemically enhanced – for their own good, of course – turning them into ruthless trackers. Their sole purpose: to hunt down and exterminate xenos.
As the large deployment airlock doors opened, Julius paused for a moment in admiration. The spectacle before him was orchestrated chaos. The Transfer Steles poured out a continuous stream of fresh combat units: Todd clones in tight formation, Helldivers in powered armor, and Goliaths crushing the jungle under their metallic feet.
Explosion after explosion, his army advanced, methodical and overwhelming. The sky was darkened by the smoke of impacts, and the roar of heavy weapons was a continuous symphony of power.
"The Hunt," Julius bellowed, his voice carried by his armor and his power. "With me! Let's show these beasts the meaning of true fear!"
With his Sentinels on one side and the vengeful hunters of The Hunt on the other, Julius Braveheart, the Alpha, the Elder King, charged into the green and fiery hell. His army was advancing, and he was now its sharpest tip.