Iron Oath Squad: The Black Mastiffs

"Loyal as hounds. Relentless as wolves. Unbreakable as steel."

The Black Mastiffs are a ten-man Iron Oath squad composed entirely of Iron Soldiers, the standard military forces of the United Wasteland. Unlike the genetically engineered Steelborn or the elite Heavy Metals, they are ordinary men who became exceptional through relentless training, discipline, and unwavering patriotism.

Like all Iron Soldiers, the Black Mastiffs carry regulated combat-enhancing stimulant pills. Before or during combat, they can take these pills to temporarily heighten their senses, dramatically improving awareness, reflexes, reaction time, pain tolerance, and battlefield performance. The effects allow them to fight at the edge of human capability without permanently altering their bodies. They are still ordinary humans just pushed to extraordinary limits through science and training.

Among the Iron Oath, they are respected as proof that courage and discipline can rival genetic enhancement. The Steelborn may be stronger, and the Heavy Metals may wield advanced war machines, but the Black Mastiffs are the soldiers most civilians see as the true face of the United Wasteland.

Every member was born in the United Wasteland and raised on its ideals. They genuinely believe they are defending humanity's last safe nation from the chaos of magic and the expansion of the Baalanian Empire. Off the battlefield they are known for repairing homes, helping farmers, protecting refugees, and sharing supplies with fellow citizens. To the people, they are heroes. To their enemies, they are relentless hunters.

The Black Mastiffs have served together for years, operating with such precision that veterans often joke they share a single mind.

Among the Iron Oath, there are dozens of famous squads, but none are spoken of with more respect than the Black Mastiffs. Named after one of the strongest guard dogs ever bred, the squad embodies the qualities the United Wasteland values most: loyalty, strength, discipline, and the willingness to die protecting their homeland.

The Black Mastiffs have fought together for nearly a decade. Every member was born in the United Wasteland, raised on its propaganda, and genuinely believes they are defending humanity's last safe nation. They are intimidating to enemies but surprisingly kind to ordinary citizens, often helping rebuild towns, carrying children to safety, and fixing broken machinery after battles.

Squad Motto

"Stand like Mastiffs. Bite like Wolves. Die as Patriots."

1. Captain Michael "Old Dog" Krane

Role: Squad Commander

Appearance

• 6'6" (198 cm)
• Thick muscular build with broad shoulders.
• Short black hair turning gray around the temples.
• Rugged face with a broken nose.
• Steel-gray eyes.
• Burn scars cover both forearms.

Personality

The father of the squad. Calm, patient, and incredibly dependable. He almost never raises his voice because everyone listens the first time he speaks. He remembers every soldier under his command by name and writes letters to the families of fallen comrades himself.

Despite his intimidating appearance, he secretly enjoys repairing old radios and teaching children how engines work. He believes the United Wasteland deserves peace, but only if its people are strong enough to defend it.

2. Keith "Bull Mastiff" Holt

Role: Heavy Gunner

Appearance

• 6'7"
• Nearly 300 pounds of muscle.
• Bald.
• Thick black beard.
• Mechanical left arm capable of crushing steel.

Personality

The loudest man in the squad.

Laughs during firefights.

Calls everyone "brother."

Absolutely loves cooking and somehow manages to make decent meals from military rations.

When off duty he's constantly arm-wrestling other soldiers.

Children adore him because he always carries candy in his backpack.

His biggest fear isn't dying it's letting civilians suffer.

3. Cayden "Shepherd" Renn

Role: Assault Leader

Appearance

• 6'4"
• Athletic, muscular build.
• Blond crew cut.
• Blue eyes.
• Scar running across his throat.

Personality

Disciplined to an almost frightening level.

His bed is always perfectly made.

His rifle is cleaned three times a day.

Believes every action reflects the honor of the United Wasteland.

Although quiet, he's surprisingly funny when relaxed and enjoys terrible dad jokes that make the entire squad groan.

4. Thaddeus "Great Dane" Mercer

Role: Shield Breacher

Appearance

• 6'9"
• Gigantic frame.
• Massive beard.
• Thick arms covered with scars.
• Warm brown eyes.

Personality

The squad's gentle giant.

Never starts conversations but always listens.

Has incredible patience.

Can carry wounded civilians for miles without complaint.

He's the one everyone talks to after difficult missions because he never judges anyone.

If someone insults his homeland, however, he becomes terrifyingly serious.

5. Anton "Greyhound" Volkov

Role: Sniper

Appearance

• 6'2"
• Lean but defined muscles.
• Pale complexion.
• Black hair.
• Sharp gray eyes.

Personality

Quiet and thoughtful.

Always watching.

Can notice details everyone else misses.

Loves reading engineering books and sketching abandoned machinery.

Has an unexpectedly dry sense of humor that catches everyone off guard.

Prefers fixing broken rifles over sleeping.

6. Owen "Saint Bernard" Kane

Role: Combat Medic

Appearance

• 6'5"
• Broad chest.
• Thick red beard.
• Green eyes.
• Powerful arms covered in faded medical tattoos.

Personality

The emotional center of the squad.

Always checking on everyone.

Remembers birthdays.

Constantly tells stories around campfires.

Will risk his own life to rescue anyone—soldier or civilian.

He believes saving one innocent life is worth ten medals.

7. Lucas "Pitbull" Graves

Role: Demolitions

Appearance

• 6'3"
• Extremely muscular.
• Black buzz cut.
• Burn scars across both hands.
• Brown eyes.

Personality

Endless energy.

Never seems tired.

Absolutely fascinated by explosives.

Spends his free time building toys, radios, and clocks from battlefield scrap.

Always smiling.

His laugh echoes across entire military camps.

8. Conrad "Bloodhound" Hale

Role: Communications & Recon

Appearance

• 6'4"
• Athletic muscular build.
• Brown hair.
• Hazel eyes.
• Usually wearing a headset around his neck.

Personality

The most sociable member.

Can make friends with almost anyone.

Always volunteers for dangerous scouting missions because he refuses to let teammates walk into unknown situations.

Knows hundreds of military songs by heart.

Keeps morale high no matter how hopeless things seem.

9. Gideon "Wolfhound" Ashcroft

Role: Machine Gunner

Appearance

• 6'5"
• Thick black beard.
• Broad shoulders.
• Deep blue eyes.
• Heavy scar across his chin.

Personality

Fiercely patriotic.

The first to salute the flag.

Quotes speeches from famous generals from memory.

Treats every weapon like a sacred responsibility.

Despite his serious attitude, he's incredibly protective of younger soldiers and often acts as their mentor.

He believes serving the United Wasteland is the highest purpose a person can have.

10. Noah "Pup" Arden

Role: Heavy Metal Pilot

Appearance

• 5'5"
• Slim build.
• bowl dark hair.
• Bright, almost glowing blue eyes.
• Soft facial features that make him look younger than he is.

He's easily mistaken for a civilian teenager until combat begins.

Battle Armor  BADGER Mk. IV

A compact 3-meter-tall heavily armored combat frame built for bunker warfare and urban fighting.

Inside the suit, Noah becomes almost impossible to stop.

The armor is covered in thick steel plating, hydraulic limbs, and integrated weapon systems.

The mechanical footsteps announce his arrival long before enemies see him.

Personality

The youngest and quietest Black Mastiff.

Almost never speaks unless absolutely necessary.

Communicates mostly through nods or brief radio messages.

Obsessively maintains every machine he touches.

Can spend twelve hours repairing a mech without taking a break.

He's surprisingly shy around civilians and embarrassed whenever someone praises him.

The older members treat him like their kid brother. They tease him constantly, make sure he eats enough, and refuse to let anyone outside the squad bully him.

Despite his silence, everyone trusts him completely.

Captain Krane often says:

"The loudest dog barks first. The quiet one ends the fight."

When Noah finally speaks during combat, it's usually only one sentence:

"Target acquired."

Moments later, something explodes.

Chromium wolves Volume 4 Chapter 28

 

EPILOGUE

Chapter 28  Beyond the Last Moon

"Every journey ends where another begins."

Morning mist drifted across the eastern frontier of Elyria. For the first time in weeks, there was no ash in the air. No smoke. No scent of burning temples. Only dew. Birdsong echoed through towering forests as sunlight filtered between ancient branches that seemed older than kingdoms themselves. Emerald moss covered enormous stones, while clear streams wound through carpets of wildflowers that painted the forest floor in brilliant shades of blue, white, and gold. The desert had ended. The Green Continent had begun. The caravan stopped before an ancient stone marker half swallowed by ivy. Unlike the monuments of Baalania, this one bore no carvings of flames or moons. Instead, elegant runes spiraled across weathered white granite. A winged figure had been carved into its surface thousands of years before. Time had worn away its face. Only its outstretched wings remained. The warlord slowly dismounted. His heavy boots touched soft grass. For several long moments... He simply stood. Feeling it.Real earth beneath his feet. Not scorching sand. Not black volcanic glass. Not ash. Grass. Living grass. He bent down. Ran one calloused hand across the emerald blades.

His amber eyes reflected the morning light.

"So..."

he whispered.

"It truly exists."

Behind him, his followers stared in stunned silence. The Blood Riders, once feared across the deserts, looked strangely uncertain beneath the towering trees. Their enchanted Ashsteeds snorted uneasily. The magically enhanced horses had crossed endless dunes without hesitation, yet the unfamiliar scents of damp earth, moss, pine, and wildflowers made even the fearless animals restless. One elderly rider removed his bronze helmet.

His deeply weathered face trembled.

"I've never heard..."

He looked upward.

"...so many birds."

Another quietly reached toward a nearby oak tree. Its bark felt cool beneath his fingertips.

"So much life..."

No one mocked him. Many secretly felt the same. Former servants walked among the flowers almost fearfully. Some had lived their entire lives beneath the shadow of walking cities. Others had never seen a river that flowed with clear water. One little girl laughed as butterflies landed upon her hands. The sound startled several hardened warriors. None of them could remember hearing a child laugh without fear.

Lucien smiled. Watching them discover simple things. Trees. Butterflies. Running water. The simple beauty of a peaceful morning. His gray-blue eyes drifted toward the endless forests stretching beyond the horizon. This... This was home. Or perhaps... It could become one. The warlord approached him quietly. Today he wore no helmet. His dark hair moved gently in the cool breeze. His bronze armor had been covered by a traveling cloak of charcoal wool, its edges embroidered with fading silver crescents a reminder of the homeland he had abandoned. His massive frame seemed somehow smaller beneath the endless canopy. Not weaker. Merely... A stranger.

"You were right."

Lucien looked toward him.

"About what?"

"The air."

He inhaled deeply.

"It smells..."

He searched for words.

"...alive."

Lucien laughed softly.

"It is."

For a while they simply stood together. Two young men from worlds that should never have met. One origins still unknown. The other beneath endless sand. Neither had any idea what waited for them beyond the next hill. Far behind them... The eastern horizon shimmered. Beyond those distant mountains... Beyond endless deserts... The black banners of Baalania still flew. The Walking Cities continued their eternal march. Priests still chanted. Kings still conquered. The empire endured. But one of its greatest warlords had disappeared. Taking loyal followers with him. Some would call him a traitor. Others... A fool.

High above... A white hawk circled once before disappearing into the western sky. The forests seemed to welcome it. Miles away... Hidden beneath mountains older than history... Something moved. Deep below the roots of the oldest trees... Far beneath forgotten ruins... Below caverns untouched by sunlight... Past rivers that had flowed before mankind learned to speak... Something ancient opened its eyes. Not a beast. Not a demon. Something older. Older than kingdoms. Older than dragons. Older than vampires. Older than memory itself. Its heartbeat echoed through the stone like distant thunder. The ancient forests trembled. Leaves rustled although no wind blew. Birds suddenly abandoned the trees. Animals fled without understanding why. Across Elyria... Creatures gifted with magic instinctively looked toward the eastern frontier. Something had crossed into their world. Something impossible. Within a forgotten sanctuary hidden beneath the roots of an impossibly ancient tree... A solitary figure stood before an enormous circular mirror of liquid silver. The chamber had no torches. No windows. The glowing roots surrounding the sanctuary provided their own pale emerald light.Ancient books rested upon stone shelves carved directly into living wood. Dust lay thick upon everything. Except the mirror. The figure wore long robes of white and deep emerald embroidered with symbols no kingdom still remembered. Their face remained hidden beneath a hood. Only slender hands rested gently upon the mirror's surface. The liquid suddenly rippled. Light. A tiny fragment of brilliant silver light. It appeared for only an instant. Barely a heartbeat. Yet the mysterious figure froze. For the first time in centuries... The mirror had answered. A quiet breath escaped hidden lips. Then... A whisper. Soft.Almost reverent.

"The First Angel..."

Silence.

"...has finally returned."

The mirror erupted into radiant silver. Its light spread across the chamber like dawn itself.  Far above...

The oldest tree in Elyria slowly awakened. Its colossal branches stretched toward the heavens. Leaves shimmered with ancient magic. Across the entire continent... Things long forgotten began to stir.

Lucien suddenly stopped walking. The breeze carried a strange warmth. He turned. Looking back toward the endless eastern deserts. Toward everything he had left behind.

The warlord noticed.

"What is it?"

Lucien smiled gently.

"I don't know."

He looked west once more.

"But it feels..."

"...like someone has been waiting for me."

Neither of them understood what those words truly meant. Not yet. Together... They continued down the forest road. Toward a future neither could imagine. Behind them... The Last Moon faded into the morning sky. Ahead... The First Dawn waited.

END OF VOLUME IV

Iron Reign Shooting Stars ARC 1 - RECRUITMENT DAY Chapter 1 - The Wolves of Iron Reign

 ARC 1 - RECRUITMENT DAY

Golden Hound
Elias Rook

Chapter 1 - The Wolves of Iron Reign

In the ashes of the old world, one nation refused to die. Rising from ruined cities and endless war, the Iron Reign of the United Wasteland became a brutal fortress built on steel, fire, and survival. To outsiders, they are monsters  gun-crazed soldiers marching beneath black banners. But to their people, they are humanity’s final shield against chaos.

The United Wasteland is trapped between two deadly enemies: the magical and expanding Baalaninans, and the savage desert nomads who raid anything left standing. Because of this, the Iron Reign bans all magic, worships technology, and turns science into a weapon. Drones, ancient machines, artillery, and towering battle suits protect the nation’s borders while propaganda teaches citizens that weakness means extinction.

At the heart of the Wasteland are two powerful groups. The Free People are loud, patriotic survivors farmers, mechanics, scavengers, and workers who keep the nation alive. Beneath their rough attitudes, many secretly dream of peace. The Soldiers of the Iron Oath are colder and feared across the wasteland: elite protectors raised to defend humanity at any cost. Among them are the Heavy Metals, deadly mech pilots who fall from the sky like living tanks, and the Steelborn, emotionless super-soldiers engineered to become perfect weapons.

This is not a story about heroes or villains. It is a story about survival in a world where mercy is rare, war never ends, and humanity may already be losing itself.

The Iron Wolf Battalion is one of the deadliest special operations units in the United Wasteland. Known simply as “the Wolves,” they are deployed into impossible war zones where survival is measured in seconds. Their enemies fear them not because they are unstoppable machines, but because they fight like a family protecting the last light of humanity. Every member is dangerous. Together, they are legendary.

The city of Valkyros never truly slept.

Even before sunrise, the industrial heart of the United Wasteland thundered with life. Steel factories roared beneath smog-filled skies while colossal transport rails carried armored freight across the megacity like moving fortresses. Giant propaganda screens flickered across skyscrapers of rusted metal and black concrete.

JOIN THE IRON OATH.

HUMANITY STANDS TOGETHER.

THE WASTELAND ENDURES.

Military aircraft screamed overhead through layers of smoke and gray clouds.

Below them, tens of thousands of civilians crowded the massive central recruitment plaza.

Today was Recruitment Day.

For most cities in the United Wasteland, recruitment drives were simple military ceremonies.

For Valkyros, it was spectacle.

Rows of Soldiers of the Iron Oath marched in perfect formation across the enormous steel parade grounds. Black combat armor gleamed beneath floodlights while enormous Iron Reign banners snapped violently in the cold morning wind.

Children sat on their parents’ shoulders.

Teenagers pushed through crowds trying to get closer.

Vendors sold ration food beneath giant statues of Steelborn war heroes.

At the center of the plaza stood the reason most people had come.

The Iron Wolf Battalion.

The Wolves.

The deadliest special operations unit in the western continent.

To civilians, they were legends.

To enemies, they were nightmares.

And standing at the front of the elevated recruitment platform was the man the people loved most.

Elias Rook.

Golden Hound.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly heroic-looking beneath polished silver-marked combat armor, Elias looked less like a super-soldier and more like something ripped from old-world mythology. His long military coat moved gently behind him in the wind while pale morning light reflected across his assault rifle slung casually over one shoulder.

Messy blonde hair.

Calm blue eyes.

The kind of face propaganda departments prayed for.

The crowd adored him.

“Young men and women of Valkyros,” Elias said calmly into the massive speakers surrounding the plaza. “The Iron Reign does not ask for fearless people.”

His voice carried naturally across the square.

“It asks for people willing to stand beside each other when fear comes.”

The crowd erupted into applause.

Several recruits near the front looked completely mesmerized.

A teenage boy beside the railing whispered to his friend:

“That’s Golden Hound…”

“No wonder he’s famous.”

Elias smiled faintly.

Not arrogantly.

Genuinely.

Behind him, Kael Mordren looked physically offended by the entire event.

Viper leaned lazily against a supply crate near the rear of the stage, arms crossed over lightweight black stealth armor lined with hidden weapons. His pale face carried the usual crooked smirk while glowing red cybernetic lines around his eyes flickered faintly beneath the morning haze.

“You know,” Kael muttered loud enough for nearby soldiers to hear, “if propaganda had abs, it would look exactly like him.”

A nearby officer coughed awkwardly.

Elias ignored him professionally.

Kael continued anyway.

“I’m serious. Look at this crowd. Half these kids are joining because they think Golden Hound’s gonna personally tuck them into bed at night.”

One of the younger Soldiers of the Iron Oath tried not to laugh.

Tried.

Failed immediately.

Elias sighed.

“You done?”

“Not remotely.”

Kael scanned the crowd lazily.

“Also, statistically speaking, at least six future war criminals are probably in this audience.”

“You’re helping recruitment morale tremendously,” Elias replied.

“I try.”

Further behind the main platform, away from the cameras and applause, Lucien Vale quietly knelt beside a frightened little girl who had scraped her knee trying to push through the crowd.

Unlike Elias and Kael, Lucien looked completely out of place among the Steelborn.

Slim.

Smaller.

Younger.

His oversized dark military coat hung loosely over narrow shoulders while soft black hair partially covered tired gray-blue eyes.

No giant armor.

No dramatic weapons.

No commanding presence.

At first glance, he looked more like a medic assistant than someone attached to the Iron Wolf Battalion.

“You’re okay,” Lucien said gently while cleaning the child’s knee with a medical cloth. “You just fell.”

The little girl looked up at him nervously.

“…Are you a soldier too?”

Lucien hesitated slightly.

“Sort of.”

The girl stared at him curiously.

“You don’t look scary.”

From nearby, Kael immediately shouted:

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s horrifying.”

Lucien visibly wilted.

“Kael.”

“What?” Kael shrugged innocently. “Honesty builds trust.”

Elias rubbed his forehead.

A nearby officer approached Lucien quietly.

The moment he noticed who Lucien was, his posture changed almost instantly.

Subtle.

But noticeable.

Respect mixed with unease.

Even fear.

“Ghostlight,” the officer said carefully. “Command requested your presence near the eastern security checkpoint later today.”

Lucien nodded softly.

“Okay.”

The officer left immediately afterward.

Fast.

Kael watched him go with amusement.

“See? That one practically sprinted away from you.”

Lucien frowned faintly.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the problem,” Kael replied.

Before Lucien could answer, the plaza suddenly shook beneath a deafening mechanical roar.

The crowd gasped.

Then cheered.

The Heavy Metals arrived.

Massive armored mechanized suits descended into the center arena on pillars of blue thruster fire. Steel giants nearly three stories tall landed hard enough to crack the reinforced ground beneath them.

The audience erupted into excitement.

Children screamed in amazement.

One mech stepped forward carrying a rotary cannon the size of a transport vehicle.

Another deployed hovering drones from its shoulders.

A third activated massive energy shields while military announcers described battlefield capabilities through giant speakers overhead.

The Heavy Metals represented the industrial might of the United Wasteland.

Walking weapons platforms piloted by enhanced combat engineers.

Where Steelborn were monsters made human

Heavy Metals were machines made war.

The demonstrations began immediately.

Railguns thundered across the testing range.

Missile batteries launched into distant armored targets.

Combat drones swarmed overhead like steel insects.

The crowd loved every second of it.

But behind the spectacle

there was tension.

Everyone felt it.

Even civilians.

Because the world had been changing lately.

Trade routes from the southern deserts had vanished.

Entire outposts along eastern oceans had gone silent.

Rumors spread constantly now.

Black temples rising beneath desert storms.

Cities disappearing overnight.

Winged creatures sighted over burning villages.

And one name whispered more every month.

Baalania.

The southern continent of black fire and fanatics.

Officially, the Iron Reign denied most rumors.

Unofficially

the military had tripled recruitment.

Kael watched the cheering crowds carefully now.

For once, his smirk faded slightly.

“You can feel it, right?” he asked quietly.

Elias looked toward him.

“The tension.”

Lucien slowly stood nearby.

Far above them, beyond the clouds

something moved.

Tiny.

Burning.

Almost invisible.

Lucien stared upward longer than the others.

His expression changed slightly.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Like something deep inside him suddenly became uneasy.

A cold wind passed through the plaza.

The giant Iron Reign banners snapped violently overhead.

Then the city warning sirens began screaming.

Every soldier in the plaza froze instantly.

The sky above Valkyros ignited.