POV: Empire-Wide Broadcast — Narrator Voiceover (BNN Transmission)
The screen flickers… then stabilizes. The Blackwood National Network signal floods across every holoscreen, device, and airwave in the empire.
"This is BNN. What you are about to witness is unlike anything ever seen in the history of the Blackwood Union…"
From the icy mountains of North Halvador to the coastal expanse of Solenne, from the craggy Red Deserts to the glass towers of the capital—the roar began.
Not from men.
Not from speeches.
But from machines.
40 million tanks.
Jet-black. Polished chrome. Matted ash. Every design uniquely numbered, branded with the royal Blackwood seal.
Each one moved in calculated formation—perfect spacing, unbroken rhythm—like an ocean of steel and fury swallowing the earth. They rolled across roads, rivers (with amphibious tanks), tunnels, hills, even cutting through farmlands under strict clearance.
Not a single soldier marched.
Not one foot on the ground.
No infantry.
No cavalry.
Just tanks.
For ten hours straight.
Ten. Unbroken. Hours.
Farmers dropped their tools in awe. Children screamed with excitement. Elders bowed as the tanks passed. Entire cities came to a halt. Businesses shut down. Banks paused operation. Schools dismissed early. Streets were cleared in preparation.
It was not war.
It was a statement.
A reminder.
The Empire does not crawl. It rolls.
BNN reporters broadcasted from rooftops, their voices shaking with adrenaline:
> "—as you can see behind me, the third wave of Division 914 just entered the coastal ring of Blackwood Bay. That brings the tally in this region alone to over 780,000 tanks—an unprecedented display of mechanical might…"
Some tanks had loudspeakers installed, echoing a unified phrase across all regions:
> "We are Blackwood.
We serve the God of the Empire.
This is not a parade. This is a warning."
In the throne room, Chris sat in silence watching the feeds from every city, flanked by Christiana and Amara.
He didn't smile. He didn't blink much. He simply said:
> "No one dares now. Not after this."
Amara murmured, "Ten hours of rolling dominance… no resistance. No flaw."
Christiana crossed her arms. "This was more than a show of power. It was prophecy on treads."
Every capital of former free nations—now territories—watched in silence.
Diplomatic lines lit up. Embassies scrambled. Global leaders called emergency meetings.
But none of it mattered.
Because for ten hours straight, the Empire didn't move.
It rumbled.
And the world shook.
—