Standing on the bridge, Moros surveyed the vast fleet stretching as far as the eye could see, and a surge of heroic pride rose within him.
Commanding a fleet capable of utterly destroying human civilization on this planet was an unprecedented experience even for a demigod-rank necromancer like him.
As the fleet slowly entered the teleportation passage glowing with an eerie blue light, the entire space seemed to be shrouded in a mysterious and powerful force.
The Charon-class Light Frigates and the undead warriors flying around them gradually became hazy against the light curtain, before completely vanishing into the passage's deep end.
At that moment, time itself seemed to freeze. Only the space on either side of the passage twisted subtly, silently recording this military deployment across the void.
Moments later, the fleet burst from the other end of the passage and descended above the blue planet's horizon.
Over Tasmania Island, the once tranquil blue sky was obscured by this sudden torrent of steel.
This terrifying army of Charon-class Light Frigates and Flying Undead hovered silently in the sky like overlords descending from another dimension, carrying irresistible majesty and power as they announced the arrival of the necromancer and his army.
The second day after the descent of the Eleventh Herrscher, the Herrscher of Binding.
Moth to Fire Headquarters, Tasmania Island.
"What's going on?"
The officer on combat duty at the radar station had just leisurely returned to his post with a newspaper in one hand and steaming coffee in the other. Before he could savor either, the readings across the large screen before him began blaring alarms wildly, assailing his vision and nerves like a violent storm.
As an officer with passable military training, he knew every second at this moment was critical.
Daring not to delay in the