Intergalactic conquest with an AI

After hours of relentless fighting, Rex’s forces and their allies had clawed their way halfway to the giant worm. But they were on their last breath. The troops’ faces were pale, their movements sluggish, and by the look of it, a final push would be impossible.

Stamina wasn’t their only problem since their ammunition was also almost gone. Each shot fired felt like a gamble, a precious resource slipping through their fingers.

Even Rex, with his body enhanced by bionics, could feel the toll. Despite his reinforced limbs and boosted endurance, he was still human beneath the metal. Fighting with this intensity for hours on end had pushed his body to its breaking point.

As he parried a swing from a K. warrior, a blow he would’ve dodged easily just hours before, another one blindsided him. A massive claw caught him in the side, sending him flying. He crashed to the ground, skidding and bouncing like a ragdoll until he could bury his sword in the dirt, halting his momentum.

"Fuck! These damn bugs are endless!" He snarled, breathing heavily as he forced himself upright, his body feeling twice as heavy as it should. "Cleo, what’s the status over there?"

"Not good, Rex," came Cleo’s voice, calm but edged with worry. Her face flickered across several blue screens in her command center. "Our progress has stalled. The armored vehicles are nearly out of fuel, and our gunboats and fighters are running on ammo. I recommend we fall back by a kilometer and set up a defensive perimeter so we can resupply and catch our breath."

Rex gritted his teeth, glancing at his exhausted troops. "Fine. Send the order to fall back. And ping our’recruiter’ friend, tell him we need supplies at our location ASAP."

"Understood."

Amidst the chaos of battle, Cleo’s command relayed to every soldier’s HUD. The retreat was slow and brutal, every step backward contested by the relentless swarm.

It took them two grueling imperial hours to reach the fallback point, a narrow valley nestled between two rugged, flat-topped mountains. It was a natural stronghold, a perfect spot to dig in and resupply. Only problem? No way up.

Cleo didn’t hesitate. She ordered missile strikes on one side of the mountain, blasting a makeshift path into the rock. With each explosion, the mountain face crumbled, leaving a rough trail for the troops to ascend.

Finally, they reached the summit. As the troops set up defensive positions, supply ships arrived, landing on the mountaintop with a low rumble. Cleo coordinated the resupply efforts, sending dozens of cargo drones to ferry ammunition and fuel to the fighters still holding the line below.

While all this unfolded, Rex lay sprawled out on a red rock, breathing heavily, his helmet still on due to the planet’s lack of oxygen. He could feel the heat building up inside his armor, beads of sweat running down his neck.

Carlos plodded over and dropped to the ground beside him, looking as worn out as Rex felt. "Rex, you’re a damn slave driver," he muttered, panting, barely able to get the words out.

Rex chuckled, a deep, rough sound. "Oh, quit whining! This is just the beginning of our path to the stars!" He stretched out a hand toward the sky, closing his fist as if he could grab hold of the heavens themselves.

Carlos let out a dry laugh. "Stars? After today, I’d rather keep my feet on solid ground and just watch what happens up there." He tilted his head back, eyes scanning the chaos above them.

The sky was a violent mixture of light and shadow. Explosions burst like fireworks, splashes of red and green flashing against the dark. Broken ships fell toward the planet, their hulls scarred with strange green acid that ate through metal like it was paper.

"Those are just small details, my bald friend!" Rex said, waving dismissively, as if the carnage overhead was nothing more than a passing storm.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes, Rex, I really wish I had your optimism."

Just as Rex opened his mouth to say something, a weight dropped onto him from out of nowhere. "Ahhhh, I’m so tired! Why do we have to fight without using our mental abilities!?" Ys groaned, appearing out of thin air as her invisibility faded.

She was sprawled across him, hugging him tightly, her armor and face smeared with the green blood of the Khryssari she’d slain.

Rex, too exhausted to argue, simply lifted a finger and pointed at Carlos. "Blame the bald guy."

"Ha!? How is this my fault?" Carlos protested, though it was half-hearted, barely more than a mumble. He was too spent to even put up a real fight, and his voice came out weak and hoarse. "I can’t even do that sorcery you two pull off. Leave me out of it…"

And just like that, the three of them collapsed into a deep sleep, oblivious to the war raging around them. Rex fell asleep right there on the hard rock, his heavy arm wrapped protectively around a dozing Ys, while Carlos slumped to the ground nearby, looking like a defeated child, head drooping as sleep overtook him.

Watching from a distance, Cleo shook her head with a sigh. She tapped her console, ordering the newly resupplied Aegis units to form a defensive perimeter around the exhausted trio, ensuring they’d be safe while they slept.

Hours slipped by, and when Rex finally opened his eyes, the pale light of daytime had swept over the planet. But even with the sun high above, enormous shadows stretched across the battlefield, cast by the hulking forms of both Khryssari and Allied ships locked in orbit.

It gave the landscape an eerie twilight feel, as though night itself refused to yield to the dawn.

The change to daytime brought something else; a fierce wind began to whip across the barren plains, stirring up massive sandstorms that swallowed the battlefield in thick clouds of dust. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, reducing both armies to dark, shifting silhouettes barely visible through the haze.

The sandstorm was no ally to either side. Khryssari and allied forces alike were left struggling to see more than a few meters in front of them, sensors cutting down to 40% effectiveness as the blinding storm raged.

Rex, now fully awake and revitalized, had already made his way to the frontlines. Standing amid the swirling sands, he barked out orders, rallying the troops and preparing them for the next charge and, with any luck, the last one. Ys and Carlos took their positions on either side of him, weapons at the ready, their faces set with grim determination.

They all knew this was it. One last push, one final attempt to break through. The storm roared around them, dust whipping across their visors, but none of them flinched. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

This time, Rex didn’t need any grand speeches to rally his troops. Having survived the first brutal wave, the soldiers under his command were more than ready to follow him. They’d seen him fight, seen him bleed, and stood tall when others faltered.

He was no distant leader; he was a king who fought on the front lines, a warrior they’d gladly charge into hell for.

All Rex did was raise his sword and point it toward the looming giant worm. That simple gesture was enough. In every direction, a roar erupted as war cries filled the air, soldiers shouting with a mix of fear and unbreakable resolve.

The hover tank engines roared to life, almost as if they too were joining the chorus, their heavy machinery rumbling and shaking like beasts hungry for battle.

The tanks surged forward, close behind the infantry, firing blindly into the storm, hoping their rounds would find a target through the thick, swirling sand. Overhead, the air force joined the assault, all the fighters and gunboats screaming past Rex, engines blazing, carving a path toward the enemy.

In the midst of this chaos, a lone figure dressed in the typical intergalactic news armor moved among the troops. Cameras strapped to his suit transmitted every second of the battle live, beaming the scene to millions of viewers across the galaxy.

He captured Rex standing atop the mountain, sword raised, framed by beams of light breaking through the sandstorm; it was an image that felt like something out of ancient legend. In that moment, Rex looked like a conqueror from a thousand years past, a warlord leading his people into glory.

Comments exploded in the live stream.

"Wow, he looks so handsome!"

"Just how tall is that guy!?"

"Anyone got any info on him?"

"Does he have social media? Asking for... research purposes!"

But civilians weren’t the only ones watching. CEOs of the galaxy’s largest megacorporations were tuned in as well, eyes narrowed, minds racing. Rex’s growing legend was already on their radar.

To them, he wasn’t a hero; he was a threat. A potential conqueror who, if left unchecked, could disrupt the fragile balance of power they controlled so tightly. Quiet orders were sent, and investigations into Rex’s origins began. They would not allow him to rise unchallenged.

Rex, oblivious to the eyes watching him across the stars, leapt from the mountain, landing heavily on the battlefield below. Without missing a beat, he sprinted forward, cutting through the storm with an inhuman speed of 150 kilometers per hour, like a force of nature bearing down on the enemy.

In moments, he was at the front lines, cleaving through a K. warrior with his claymore. The blade sank deep into the alien’s body, and with a fierce upward pull, he split it clean in half.

He didn’t stop. His gaze was locked on the worm in the distance, and he was prepared to carve his way through every enemy in his path to reach it. The second assault had begun, and this time, Rex wasn’t holding back.

He would do whatever it took and sacrifice whatever was necessary to close the distance and bring the beast down.

With every step and every swing of his sword, his plan moved forward, inching him closer to the victory that lay just beyond the storm.