Bathed in the Light of Ironclad Order Through the Long Night

Beneath the night sky, firelight mingled with blood, and the air reeked of scorched gunpowder and decay.

The moment that deep metallic voice echoed through the ruins and flames, an invisible pressure seemed to still the entire battlefield.

Even the Blood Cross Infected stopped their frenzied howling for an instant. Every eye turned toward a colossal silhouette.

At the entrance to the ruined metro station, the special police captain, barely conscious, struggled to lift his eyelids. His blurred vision focused on something nearby.

A giant had suddenly appeared ahead of him, seemingly out of nowhere.

What he saw was no ordinary soldier, but a Gears of War forged from steel and the will to fight.

The terrifying figure stood over two meters eight tall, encased in immensely heavy Terminator Armor.

The armor was painted crimson and gold, its patterns like interwoven flame and molten metal—the emblem of the Lamenters Company.

Intricate heraldry and brands covered its surface. Every mark seemed to tell of glory forged in blood and fire.

A 1.0-caliber Linked Boltguns unit was mounted on his left forearm, too heavy for an ordinary person to lift, yet it looked like a natural extension of the giant's arm.

As its barrels trembled faintly, a restrained rumble ran through the armor, as though it could unleash a storm of steel powerful enough to tear apart an entire building at any moment.

His right arm bore a long, razor-sharp Lightning Claw. Cold light played across it beneath the mingled darkness and flames, while arcs crackled around it like the hand of an Inquisitor delivering death.

There was no need to guess: he was a Terminator veteran of the Lamenters Company.

Simply standing there, the veteran radiated such presence that the air seemed to freeze. The Blood Cross Infected's arrogant cries caught