In Game of thrones with Sci fi Military system

Victor's squads stood ready, the dragonstone gates of Old Volantis towering before them. The air was thick with the stench of burning ships and the screams of the defeated. The RPG teams were in position, their weapons trained on the imposing gates.

Victor raised his hand, signaling for silence. "We've come this far, men. The nobles thought their walls could keep them safe. Let's show them that no wall is strong enough to stop us."

The first RPG was fired, the rocket streaking toward the gates. The impact was devastating, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The gates shuddered but held firm.

"Again!" Victor shouted.

Another rocket flew, then another, each hitting its mark with precision. Cracks began to form in the dragonstone, spreading like a spider's web. Finally, with a deafening roar, the gates crumbled, leaving the path to Old Volantis wide open.

Victor drew his sidearm and turned to his men. "Squads, move out! No mercy for the nobles or their armies. Secure the city."

The squads surged into the city, their boots echoing against the cobblestone streets. The nobles' personal armies, hastily assembled and ill-equipped to face firearms, attempted to resist.

The Unsullied, led by their squad leaders, cut through the defenders with brutal efficiency. The sound of gunfire echoed through the city as soldiers fell one after another.

Victor led the charge toward the city square, where several triarchs and nobles had gathered under heavy guard. The sight of the approaching squads sent waves of panic through their ranks.

"Kill them all!" Victor commanded.

The nobles' guards tried to form a defensive line, but they were no match for the trained squads armed with advanced firearms. Within minutes, the square was littered with the bodies of the defenders and the panicked screams of the nobles.

As the chaos unfolded, one of the triarchs, disguised in a ragged robe, attempted to slip away through the alleys. His plan might have worked except for one small detail.

Jorah Mormont, scanning the fleeing crowds, noticed a man who moved with an air of purpose rather than desperation. His sharp eyes fell on the man's shoes fine leather, polished to a shine. A far cry from what any true homeless person would wear.

Jorah nudged Victor and pointed. "That one. He's no commoner. Look at his shoes."

Victor smirked. "Good catch, Mormont. Let's end this."

The squads pursued the disguised triarch, cutting off his escape routes. Trapped in a dead-end alley, the man dropped his pretense, throwing off his robe to reveal his richly adorned tunic.

"Please, spare me!" the triarch begged, falling to his knees. "I'll give you anything. What you need, gold, jewels, power, women, ships anything you want. Just pare my life" triarch begged for his life and tried to bribe them but it was not goona work.

Victor stepped forward, his gun trained on the man. "You ruled with arrogance and greed, thinking you were untouchable. Your time is up. There's nothing in this world you can offer that we don't already have. Now go pay for your sins".

With a single shot, the last triarch of Volantis fell, marking the complete collapse of the city's leadership.

With the nobles and triarchs dead, the squads regrouped and turned their attention to their final target: the Red Temple.

The temple loomed over the city, its fiery banners fluttering in the wind. It was a place of reverence and fear, where the High Priestess ruled with her enigmatic powers.

Victor addressed his men. "This temple is more than a religious site. It's a symbol of their power. Destroy it, and we send a message to every free city: resistance is futile."

As the squads approached the temple, the massive doors creaked open, and a line of red-robed priests and priestesses stepped forward, their faces obscured by shadow.

The High Priestess herself emerged, her fiery red hair cascading down her back. She raised her hands, and the air around her shimmered with heat.

"You dare desecrate the sacred grounds of R'hllor?" she intoned, her voice echoing unnaturally.

Victor raised his weapon, unfazed. "R'hllor can't save you now. Open fire!"

The squads unleashed a barrage of gunfire, cutting through the line of priests. The High Priestess raised her hands again, and a wall of flame erupted between her and the attackers, forcing them to fall back.

Victor gritted his teeth. "So, she wants to play with fire? Fine. Let's see how she handles this."

He signaled the RPG team, who quickly took aim at the temple doors. With a deafening explosion, the doors were blown apart, the shockwave extinguishing the flames.

"Advance!" Victor commanded.

The squads stormed the temple, their guns blazing as they fought their way inside. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the cries of the dying.

Victor led his squads deeper into the Red Temple, its grand halls ablaze with the flickering light of torches. The walls were adorned with images of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, his fiery visage seeming to watch their every move.

The priestesses were waiting. Their red robes billowed as they chanted incantations, summoning waves of fire to obstruct the intruders.

"Suppressive fire! Take them down!" Victor shouted.

The Unsullied moved with precision, their rifles cutting through the ranks of the priestesses. But the fire they summoned was not ordinary it leapt and danced with unnatural intent, consuming everything in its path.

Victor charged forward, leading his men through the chaos. One priestess raised her hands, conjuring a fireball that streaked toward him. He dove to the side, the flames licking his arm and leaving it seared and smoking.

"Keep pushing!" he roared, ignoring the pain.

The battle raged on, but the priestesses' numbers were dwindling. One by one, they fell, their magic Is umatched even infront of Strongest Knights, but no match for the relentless advance of Victor's squads.

At the heart of the temple, in a grand chamber filled with molten light, the High Priestess awaited. Her fiery red hair seemed to glow, her eyes burning with an intensity that could pierce through steel.

"You think you can extinguish the light of R'hllor?" she sneered, her voice echoing with unearthly power.

Victor raised his weapon, but before he could fire, she unleashed a torrent of flame that engulfed the room.

"Scatter!" he yelled.

The squads dove for cover, but the flames claimed ten men before they could react. Victor gritted his teeth, his burned arm throbbing as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Your magic is strong," he said, advancing slowly. "But it's not invincible."

The High Priestess staggered, her breathing labored. She had pushed her powers too far, too quickly, and the strain was evident. She fell to her knees, gasping for air as Victor stood before her.

"Your king will be dead by the time you return," she spat, her voice filled with venom. "Hahahaha... You failed. You can't defeat the Red Temple. The God of Light is supre—"

Her sentence was cut short as Victor pulled the trigger, a single bullet piercing her skull. She collapsed, her lifeless body crumpling to the floor.

Victor stood over her, his chest heaving. Something about her words unsettled him, but he pushed the thought aside. He felt, he was missing something.

With the High Priestess dead, the remaining resistance in the temple quickly crumbled. Victor and his men swept through the halls, ensuring no priestess or loyalist remained.

Outside, the city was in chaos. Fires raged, and the sounds of panic echoed through the streets. Victor regrouped with his surviving men, his arm hastily bandaged, and began issuing orders.

"Secure the docks. No one leaves this city without my say-so. Take control of the estates and the triarchs' vaults. And free every last slave."

The squads moved swiftly, their training and discipline shining through as they brought order to the city. The docks were seized, the triarchs' estates raided for supplies and wealth, and the slaves liberated.

For the first time in generations, Volantis was no longer under the thumb of the triarchs or the Red Temple.

As Victor stood on the steps of the ruined Red Temple, surveying the city, a sense of unease crept over him. The High Priestess's words echoed in his mind.

"Your king will be dead by the time you return…"

He clenched his fists, his burned arm protesting the movement. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was brewing.

"Victor," Jorah said, approaching with a grim expression. "The city is ours, but this is far from over. We've dealt them a major blow, but I fear they'll strike back even harder."

Victor nodded. "Then we'll be ready. Whatever comes next, we'll face it head-on."

As the first light of dawn broke over the city, Victor knew their work was far from finished. The fall of Volantis was just the beginning.