It began with a disturbance in the air—a metallic tang that tasted like copper and ozone. My scouts started returning with stories of Gamma soldiers who did not bleed red, but a pale, silvery ichor. Hikumbus had stopped being a diplomat and had become a merchant of souls.
I discovered the truth in the ruins of a border temple. We captured a Gamma priest who carried a scroll signed in a language that burned the eyes. It was the Judas Contract. The heavens were bored with our mortal wars; they had decided to tip the scales. In exchange for the sovereignty of the earth, Hikumbus was receiving "Celestial Calibration"—magical interference that made his soldiers faster and his steel harder.
I realized then that the age of the General was ending. A phalanx, no matter how disciplined, cannot hold against a man who can call down lightning. I brought this to the King, but he was old and terrified of death. He saw Hikumbus's magic as a promise of immortality, not a leash. I was ordered to stand down, to "accept the new reality." That night, I realized my greatest enemy wasn't the Gamma army—it was the cowardice of my own crown.