In the once peaceful town of Ypres, the Great War raged, tearing apart the land with steel and fire. Yet amid the usual clamor of warfare, a more bizarre conflict unfolded, a skirmish not just against nations, but against invaders from the sky. Soldiers, entrenched in muddy fortifications, watched in disbelief as mechanical beasts adorned with unfamiliar symbols floated above, their tentacles and beams adding a new terror to the battlefield. Men of all ranks put aside their rifles and stared upwards as one dreadnought, crippled by the relentless artillery, crashed against the cobblestones of a ravaged square. Medics, their arms laden with the wounded, paused as silhouettes against a backdrop of destruction, their gazes lifted not to the threat of bullets, but to the descending horrors from above. The battles of Ypres would be recounted in history books, but these encounters with the unknown would remain whispers, too wild to be believed, as the soldiers carried their stories silently to their graves.