-M29.671. Falmart. Saderan Capital-
Music blared with regal tubas, and the beauties of tibia danced in an ethereal symphony of celebration and glory. Party members wore their best clothes with intricate designs, and gold and jewelry were present on their bodies. Men and women talked to one another, filling the room with their intrigue, mainly for those from the Imperium and Japan.
While the Japanese wore their best suits, this was ill-suited for Saderan nobles. Togas and stolla made of silk are Sadera's pride. However, the same thing cannot be said about Imperium. Men and women from that land wear clothes similiar to those of the Sadera; however, it also incorporates some aspects from the Japanese, creating an ambiance of three worlds while having a contrast of their own.
With skin-suits crafted through the omniphages' nano-fabrication, their elusive, vibrant colors were generated by bioelectric currents drawn from the wearer's own body. The hues shimmered and shifted in subtle sparks, producing endless variations—granting each Imperial delegate an exotic uniqueness.
Raias was no exception.
He wore a traditional dress from his homeworld of Macragge. The garment preserved the familiar red and white silhouettes of a classical toga, subtly refined to suit Imperial fashion. Beneath it, a black skinsuit covered his body, leaving only his limbs exposed.
Behind the lenses of his signature helmet, Raias quietly analyzed the entire room.
The Saderan nobles observed the Imperium's delegation with a mixture of fascination and naked greed. News from the Frontier had already spread—the Solar Guardians had annihilated entire Saderan forces. Yet despite that humiliation, these feudal aristocrats remained blind, their hunger for wealth dulling any sense of caution.
They had already been supplied with gold and other trivial resources. Even simple items—primitive porcelain, adamantium blades, and ornate jewelry—had dazzled them. To the Imperium, such objects were nothing more than easily fabricated materials, mass-produced through technologies far beyond Saderan comprehension.
Yet to these nobles, it was proof of unimaginable wealth.
The weapons demonstration weeks earlier had only strengthened that illusion.
Raias shifted his gaze to another corner of the hall.
There he saw Pina standing with quiet dignity. She carried herself with the composure of a ruling monarch rather than a mere princess. Her movements were measured and deliberate as she conversed with the nobles gathered around her—members of the pro-peace faction within the Saderan court.
"Captain."
The voice came from behind him.
"Maiya," Raias replied calmly. "How is the event?"
"Pretty tame. For now, at least." Her eyes drifted across the chamber, settling briefly on Zorzal, who stood glaring at the delegates who had come through the Gate.
His intentions were transparent.
Combined with what the Imperium already knew of his ambitions, the scheme was clear as daylight.
"Not surprising." Raias picked up a glass of wine from a nearby table, briefly opening the lower segment of his helmet to take a drink. "He's coming."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Emperor Molt appeared from the far end of the chamber.
The old ruler emerged slowly from behind a marble pillar, dressed in immaculate white royal attire. A cloak of deep purple rested upon his shoulders, its heavy fabric laden with imperial symbolism.
Step by step, Molt advanced toward the center of the hall, drawing the attention of every noble present. Silence followed in his wake as the entire chamber turned toward him.
"People of Sadera," he began. "I humbly cherish your presence here. As we celebrate our glorious Empire, I propose a toast."
Across the hall, nobles raised their cups as a servant approached the Emperor with a golden goblet.
"We gather here today, honored by the presence of our foreign friends, despite the follies that once befell us all. Now is the moment to reconcile our broken bonds and forge a new future together." Molt lifted the goblet slightly higher. "To the Imperium of Man—and to Japan."
His voice rang across the chamber.
The Saderan nobles answered with a toast of their own, though many of their expressions betrayed the gesture.
"Ignorant," Raias said neutrally.
Behind the dark lenses of his helmet, his gaze swept across the room without pause. The smallest shifts in expression, the faintest tightening of the jaw or narrowing of the eyes—such details were enough for him to judge the entire atmosphere.
"At least not all of them," Maiya added quietly, her attention drifting toward the senators aligned with the pro-peace faction.
"Perhaps." Raias remained still for a moment. "Now… we wait for the crown prince to make his move."
Without turning his head, Raias watched Zorzal from the corner of his vision.
The prince could barely restrain himself. Rage rippled across his features, skin twitching, muscles tightening, as if fury itself strained against the mask of diplomacy.
Raias decided to approach Pina, who stood at the corner of the hall, quietly enjoying a selection of sweets.
"Princess," Raias greeted softly, earning her immediate attention.
"Lord Raias. I hope everything will go as planned," the red-haired princess replied as she took another bite of her cake.
"Since when did you start eating so many sweets?" Raias remarked lightly.
"I intend to fill my stomach before all hell breaks loose," she said nonchalantly, brushing a crumb from her glove before continuing.
"Reasonable," Raias replied simply. "If things descend into chaos, remember what I told you—do not leave immediately."
"I understand." She nodded. "I will simply pretend to be shocked and follow the proper protocol."
Despite her calm demeanor, Raias' gaze lingered on her a moment longer, studying her closely. The scrutiny made Pina sigh softly as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Please don't look at me like that," she said in mild exasperation.
"My apologies." The Solar Guardian let out a quiet chuckle before handing her a glass of wine.
She accepted it and took a slow sip, the faintest hint of delight appearing on her face.
"You're welcome," Raias replied casually, a small smile hidden beneath his helmet.
"Thank you, Lord Raias," she answered, her tone half-dry, half-amused.
As the atmosphere gradually settled, the nobles resumed their conversations. Delegates from foreign lands began exchanging words with their hosts, though most attention inevitably gravitated toward the Imperium.
To the Saderans, the aesthetics of M29 humanity were undeniably exotic. They had seen Imperial figures before—during previous feasts and formal gatherings—but this was the first time the Imperial delegates had appeared in full ceremonial attire, wearing fashion that was both refined and impossibly advanced.
As a former noble himself, Raias quickly recognized every Imperial gesture and symbol displayed throughout the hall. They were all carefully crafted pretenses, masks refined through decades of diplomatic mastery.
His gaze moved from face to face, quietly judging how unaware the Japanese and Saderan delegations were of the greater design unfolding around them. Raias only hoped the chaos to come would spare the Japanese envoys.
Across the chamber, Zorzal's irritation grew increasingly visible. His movements became sharper, more erratic—until suddenly, the prince smirked.
Raias answered with a faint smirk of his own.
At the center of the hall, Emperor Molt lifted another goblet of wine and brought it to his lips.
Moments later, he screamed.
The goblet fell from his hand as the Emperor clutched his throat in desperate agony. Blood burst from his mouth as the color drained from his sun-tanned skin. His body convulsed violently before collapsing onto the marble floor.
Panic erupted.
Screams filled the hall as soldiers stormed inside with swords drawn and shields raised. Senators and officers turned on one another in sudden suspicion, eyes darting across the room as the tension of betrayal ignited like wildfire.
The Japanese delegation immediately formed a defensive circle as their guards moved to protect them.
The Imperials responded as well. Calmly, almost lazily, they reached into their pockets and began retrieving their nanosuits.
"They are my father's killers!" Zorzal roared, his voice cutting through the chaos as he pointed accusingly at the foreign delegations.
At once, Saderan soldiers raised their shields and leveled their swords toward the outsiders while attendants hurriedly carried the dying Emperor from the chamber.
"Prince Zorzal! Brother!" Pina shouted, forcing her way forward until she stood between the soldiers and the gathered delegates. "Stop this madness. Father wanted peace. If we attack them now, this war will never end. More fathers will die, and many will never return to their families."
She raised her voice so the entire hall could hear.
"Therefore, I propose a full and proper investigation!"
"Preposterous!" Zorzal bellowed. "You would have me—have this empire—side with the very killers who have slaughtered thousands of our citizens?"
His voice swelled with fury.
"I, Zorzal El Caesar, declare myself protector of my people and avenger of their blood! Those honorable men who wish to join me in making them pay shall have both my blessing—and the favor of the gods!"
He raised his hand, demanding the attention of the chamber.
The pro-war senators answered with a thunderous roar of approval.
"It turned uglier than I imagined," Raias murmured quietly. "But still within our calculations."
A faint smirk rested beneath his helmet.
As Saderan soldiers slammed their shields together in preparation for battle, the Imperials calmly activated their nanosuits. Though still unarmed, the gleaming armor was more than enough to face any primitive force the empire could muster.
"Princess… I think you must take a side now," Raias murmured as the situation rapidly deteriorated.
"Brother, if you do this, there will be no turning back!" Pina shouted in defiance, her eyes burning red as she faced him.
"They are the ones who began this," Zorzal declared, his voice rising with fury. "I stand here as the rightful ruler, delivering vengeance upon our enemies." He pointed his sword toward the foreign delegates. "My soldiers—attack!"
"Captain!" Maiya shouted, already drawing a volkite pistol from her armor.
"I know," Raias replied sharply. "Execute the protocol. Everyone—cover fire!"
In the next instant, hell broke loose.
Imperial delegates opened fire with their energy weapons. The metal shields and armor of the Saderan soldiers proved utterly worthless against the blazing discharge of volkite beams. The incandescent heat incinerated anything it touched, turning flesh and steel alike into drifting ash.
With transhuman precision, the Imperials cut through Zorzal's soldiers in moments. One after another, the attackers collapsed into dust beneath the storm of energy.
The crown prince himself cried out in terror, his hands trembling uncontrollably.
"Your Highness!" Tyuule shouted, seizing his arm in desperation. "We must leave—now! We need to bring as many senators with us as possible!"
"Tyuule…" Zorzal's voice quivered, but a spark of desperate hope returned to his eyes. "Yes… yes, you're right. Let's get out of here!"
As he fled the chaos, several pro-war senators watched his escape and quickly followed. Having already received prior instructions from the prince, they slipped away with a number of servants, each marked by a distinctive green bracelet.
Behind them, the slaughter continued.
The onslaught did not cease until every soldier who had stood against the Imperials had been reduced to ash. Only after several silent moments did the weapons finally fall quiet.
Raias lowered his volkite pistol and cleared his throat.
"Soldiers, make a tactical retreat. Secure our embassy and proceed with the next protocol," Raias commanded, his voice carried across the comms to every Solar Guardian present.
Without another word, they moved.
Their withdrawal was precise and disciplined, forming a protective formation around the Japanese representatives as they exited the hall. The sheer presence of the transhuman warriors froze anyone who dared approach. Behind their helmets, glowing red visors fixed upon every Saderan nearby, their silent gaze enough to halt even the boldest soldier.
"Princess Pina," Raias said calmly. "It is your time."
By then, Raias and his men had stepped outside the building—only to find themselves surrounded.
Ranks of Saderan soldiers had formed a tight shield wall around the courtyard. At the center stood a legionary officer, a man wearing the skin of a beast draped over his helmet.
"By order of the Saderan Empire, you are under arrest for the attempted assassination of our Emperor!" he proclaimed, his voice roaring across the courtyard.
"My apologies," Raias replied coldly, his transhuman presence pressing down upon every mortal within earshot. "But it seems full-scale war is now inevitable."
His gaze swept across the soldiers.
"We have already demonstrated how easily we can obliterate your fortress—burn your men and crush any resistance you offer. Today was meant to celebrate peace. Yet you accuse us of assassination."
His tone hardened.
"The Imperium does not answer a second summons."
Gritting his teeth, the prince's herald raised his standard.
"Kill them!" he shouted with unrestrained fury.
His command was answered by the rising hum of plasma and volkite weaponry.
"Fire."
The single word unleashed a barrage of ionized projectiles. Burning beams cut through the air, reducing shields, armor, and flesh alike into drifting ash.
"Call the Thunderbirds and return to our embassy," Raias said calmly, staring down at the ground where Saderan soldiers had already been reduced to blackened dust. "Arrogant fools."
Moments later, several Thunderbirds descended from the sky.
Their massive frames settled into position, forming an imposing barrier between the Imperials and the surviving Saderan soldiers—who could do nothing but stare upward, caught between fear and hatred as the gunships arrived.
"We will transport you all to our embassy," Raias stated to the Japanese delegation.
"But—" One of them began, only for Raias to gently interrupt.
"We will manage the diplomatic repercussions. Consider this an evacuation," he assured them, his tone calm and reassuring.
The Japanese exchanged brief glances before nodding in agreement. One by one, they boarded the Solar Guardians' transport craft.
The journey took only a few minutes.
From the cockpit, Raias watched the city below as the Imperium quietly prepared for war—just as it had always intended. Automated cannons rotated into position. Walker units stirred to life across fortified positions, their machine spirits awakening in anticipation. Every weapon system waited in cold silence, ready to unleash devastation at a single command.
When they disembarked, Raias was greeted immediately by the embassy's Ferrous Mind.
"Captain Raias. Colonel Gax is waiting for you," the artificial intelligence informed him, its voice precise, cold, and calculating.
Without delay, Raias entered the arcology.
Inside, the embassy was already transforming into a war machine. Drones were being assembled in silent rows, while towering automata were deployed toward defensive corridors. Yet these preparations were not meant for a prolonged Saderan assault—they were designed to secure the aftermath.
Moments later, Raias stepped into the Teleportarium.
A brief flash of light carried him across the structure, depositing him within the command center.
"Gax," Raias greeted.
"Raias. Your operation concluded splendidly."
"What about the Saderan forces?" Raias asked immediately, his eyes already fixed upon the planetary map of Falmart projected before them.
"Only the garrisons of the core provinces have mobilized. The others will require time." Gax manipulated the display through the noosphere, shifting the holographic map with streams of indicators and live battlefield feeds.
"What about the Edge?"
At Raias' question, the map shifted again.
The projection expanded, revealing a region far beyond what he remembered. The territory appeared distorted, spreading outward like a devouring shadow swallowing the edges of known space.
"The situation grows more dire with every passing hour," Gax replied. "The faster we occupy this planet, the better."
The hologram shifted once more, settling upon the capital of the Saderan Empire.
"Because of our embassy's structure," Gax continued, "the Saderan army has concentrated its forces around us."
"Classical siege," Raias said. "I assume they intend to starve us out. What do we plan to do about it?"
Even as he spoke, his WAR-CASTER interfaced with the surrounding data streams, analyzing the battlefield situation and constructing potential strategies before Gax could even respond.
"Don't tell me this will turn into a negotiation," he added.
"Indeed," Gax replied. "The order arrived this morning. I intended to announce it later."
He placed his hand upon the command table. With a subtle movement of his fingers, the hololithic display expanded, summoning a larger field of shifting projections. A long encrypted transmission appeared before them, its layers wrapped in dense strands of coded data.
Raias studied it carefully.
"This… is different," he said slowly, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"According to our analysis, this encryption pattern could only have been produced by Lord Malcador."
The weight of that statement changed everything.
"Colonel," Raias said formally, his tone hardening into stone. "Does it concern my status as Dominatus?"
"Perhaps," Gax replied. "But from what I understand of this section…"
He manipulated the data again. The encrypted message expanded outward before fracturing into trillions of microscopic data spheres. Each fragment rotated and shifted as Gax dissected the message layer by layer, examining its structure.
After several moments, he focused on a single portion of the system.
"There."
He pointed toward a section of the projection where a swirling mass of yellow data shimmered like a miniature storm.
"Dominatus signature," Raias said quietly, his voice heavy. "What does Lord Agral think of this?"
"The formal announcement will arrive in two days," Gax answered. "As for our leader… he was the one who instructed me to allow you to read this message before anyone else."
His tone lowered slightly. Raias could hear the tension beneath it.
"Do I have permission to download the data?" Raias asked.
"I can transfer it to you now," Gax said. "Be careful. It may sting."
With a sudden gesture, the encrypted transmission surged forward, flooding directly into Raias' WAR-CASTER.
Pain followed instantly.
The force of the data struck his neural interface like a violent pulse. Raias remained standing, but the sensation burned through his mind. Compared to what his brother once endured, it was minor—but it was still enough to draw a thin drop of ichor from his nose.
"I recommend you visit the Medicae," Gax said, his voice carrying a trace of concern.
"No need," Raias replied, steadying himself. "It will heal in time."
He straightened.
"Permission to return to my duties, Colonel."
"Permission granted."
Raias gave a brief nod before turning and leaving the command chamber.
______________________________________________________________________________
Tyuule watched as Zorzal raged before her.
The prince hurled anything within reach across the chamber—cups, scrolls, even a small table—while shouting accusations at anyone unfortunate enough to stand nearby.
"Those barbarian invaders… attacking me, a crown prince, in my own palace!" Zorzal spat, his eyes bloodshot with fury.
"Your Highness," one of his loyal men said carefully, though ambition sharpened his voice, "this is a grave transgression. If we wish to make them pay, we must consolidate power. A coronation would secure your authority."
"I know!" Zorzal roared. "Our soldiers have already besieged their metal fortress. We will starve them until reinforcements arrive."
His breathing slowed slightly, though the rage still burned in his eyes.
"But first, we must deal with something else."
"What is it, my prince?"
"We purge the traitors," Zorzal growled. "I will not tolerate senators who dare question my decision for war."
His gaze turned sharply toward Tyuule.
"Tyuule… did you track every person who accepted their bribes?"
Every eye in the chamber shifted toward her.
Tyuule studied their faces.
Greed. Ambition. Hunger for favor.
They wanted Zorzal's approval. And just as the Imperium had predicted, they would compete among themselves to claim the most heads.
"I will prepare a list," Tyuule said calmly, her gaze meeting Zorzal's without hesitation. "With my master's permission, I require a little time to compile it properly."
"We don't have that much time, whore!" Zorzal suddenly lunged forward and seized her by the throat, his grip tightening as his breath grew ragged with bloodlust.
Tyuule did not resist.
Outwardly, she maintained her calm composure, even as the air slowly faded from her lungs.
"Very well…" she rasped, her voice strained. "Then I will need a pen and paper."
"There you go!" Zorzal said with a sadistic grin.
He released her throat, allowing Tyuule to collapse forward as she coughed desperately for air. With a casual flick of his hand, he threw a sheet of parchment and an ink bottle at her feet.
"Write."
At that cold command, Tyuule began to write the names she had been instructed to remember. It took a short while, but soon more than a dozen names filled the parchment. Each belonged to an important senator—men whose wealth had grown through trade with the Imperials and the Japanese.
"Good… good." Zorzal savored the moment, his eyes gleaming with vindictive satisfaction. "Take this list to the army. I want every one of their heads mounted on spikes."
"By your will." A soldier stepped forward, took the parchment, and quickly departed the chamber.
Silence settled for a moment after the door closed.
"While we wait for the manhunt," Zorzal said at last, leaning back with a crooked, predatory smile, "Tyuule… come here."
Reluctantly, Tyuule approached him and lowered herself to her knees. Her eyes closed briefly.
Every muscle in her body burned with restrained hatred.
Yet her face wore the mask she had perfected over time—a submissive smile carefully crafted for survival.
Zorzal answered it with a smug grin, savoring the display of obedience that fed his crude ego.
And so the former queen bowed her head, outwardly compliant as always.
But beneath that fragile performance, another truth coiled quietly within her.
Revenge was coming.
___________________________________________________________
The Saderan capital burned in fire and blood.
Millennia-old noble families were stripped of much of their wealth, while their lesser peers were hunted through the streets like animals.
In their search for their master's enemies, Zorzal's legion spared no one—servants, slaves, or common folk. Anyone with even the faintest connection to the accused traitors would pay in blood.
Yet this vast bloodbath did not unfold without design.
Before the purge began, messages had quietly spread throughout the Empire. If a noble bloodline wished to endure in the paradise promised by the Golden King's salvation, they were to follow the instructions given.
And so the Tyuuli household was now flooded with refugees.
"We must flee!" one senator shouted toward the figure standing before him and several others.
"Patience, Senator Brutus," the man replied calmly. "Zorzal's men cannot reach us unless we allow them to."
"Then why are we still here?" another demanded, stepping forward with bloodshot eyes.
"A clear path is required," the man answered with a faint snarl that startled those nearby. "Zorzal's soldiers are scattered throughout the streets. One lucky shot would be enough to kill any of you."
Then, without warning, reality cracked.
The air shuddered as something forced its way into existence, space bending aside to reveal what had been hidden between moments. A towering metallic humanoid emerged—black, immense, and utterly inhuman. Its mere presence crushed the last remnants of bravado within the Saderans.
"The instructions have been given."
The giant's helm parted with a hiss, revealing the face of a man within.
"You will follow us. But first, you must wear this."
He unfolded his hand, revealing a small metallic device shaped like an insect.
"Place it upon your clothing."
One by one, the senators fastened the tiny constructs onto their togas. The devices clung to the fabric, their delicate limbs anchoring them in place.
When the last of them complied, the transhuman's helm sealed shut once more.
"Brace yourselves."
A flash of blinding white consumed them.
For a heartbeat they were swallowed by the Immaterium—a fleeting tunnel of unreality that carved through space and time, collapsing impossible distances into a single instant.
Then the light vanished.
Their feet struck cold metal flooring, and a current of artificial air brushed against their skin.
"Welcome to the Imperium's sanctuary, Saderans," the man said, a faint warmth in his voice.
Many of the senators had already witnessed the Imperium's marvels. Yet this sanctum was something else entirely.
It had been built from white marble veined with gold, the precious metal fused directly into the stone itself. Across the walls and towering columns were vast mosaics—countless figures shaped in colored stone, embedded so deeply into the structure that they seemed almost alive. From certain angles the scenes appeared to move, as if the stone itself carried memory.
They depicted battles on an impossible scale.
Armies clashed beneath alien skies. Titans strode across burning fields. Silent though they were, the images stirred something deep within the hearts of the men who looked upon them.
"Welcome to our sanctuary."
The booming voice belonged to a golden giant standing before them.
He held a halberd upright in one hand, its immense blade gleaming beneath the artificial lights. His mere presence carried an overwhelming sense of authority, a quiet promise of absolute domination.
"Will the Imperium protect us?" one senator asked, his voice still clinging to a trace of wounded pride.
"You seek asylum," the transhuman replied, his voice low and resonant with inhuman grandeur.
"Yes."
"Your nation burns," the giant continued. "Consumed by the civil war that now approaches. Here, we remain untouchable."
He paused, his gaze passing across the gathered nobles.
"So tell me, Senators. My Emperor desires the prosperity of mankind. Yet I must know the intentions of those who would become his subjects."
Silence answered him.
Outrage flickered across the faces of the Saderans. Their clenched jaws, stiff postures, and restless breaths were nakedly visible beneath the transhuman's gaze.
But before the tension could erupt into open defiance, the matriarch of the Tyuuli household stepped forward.
"If we refuse," she asked steadily, "what will become of us?"
The golden transhuman studied her in silence.
Her gaze did not waver. There was no visible trace of fear in her eyes.
Yet he detected something else beneath the surface.
Desperation.
"You would remain honored guests under our protection," he answered calmly, his eyes never leaving hers. "For an indefinite time."
The matriarch glanced back toward her daughter.
The girl returned a soft smile, her eyes carrying a quiet, knowing look.
The matriarch smiled in return before turning again to face the towering figure.
"My love," her husband said slowly.
She gave him a small nod.
"We, the Tyuueli familia, accept your terms," the patriarch declared. "We shall bend our knee to your overlord."
"The Imperium shelters and rewards those who swear beneath her aegis," the golden giant proclaimed. "But doom awaits those who oppose her."
At his signal, a mortal attendant stepped forward, carrying a golden aquila with great care. The double-headed eagle gleamed beneath the chamber's lights as it was brought before the Dominatus.
With a deliberate motion, the transhuman lowered the symbol.
Caution lingered in the Tyuueli patriarch's eyes, yet resolution burned there as well.
He knelt.
Lowering his head, he pressed his lips against the aquila in a gesture of solemn submission.
"By the Emperor's decree," the Dominatus declared, his voice reverberating through the vast chamber, "the Tyuueli household is accepted among His Majesty's subjects—protected within His embrace and nurtured beneath His light."
The words echoed across the hall, carrying with them a message the gathered Saderans could not ignore.
Doom… or salvation.
Before anyone could respond, a group of synthetics entered the chamber bearing a massive golden chest. It was wrought with exquisite craftsmanship, its surface adorned with intricate ornamentation and crowned with an aquila that radiated authority.
When the chest opened, it revealed a cloak of deep crimson silk—simple in form, yet unmistakably of the finest make.
The Dominatus lifted it carefully before presenting it to the Falmartian patriarch.
"This cloak is granted to those who submit themselves to the Imperium," he said. "It is both a gift and a protection."
With solemn grace, he draped the cloak across the Tyuueli patriarch's shoulders.
"Wear it with pride, son of the Aquila."
The Dominatus then turned his gaze toward the remaining senators.
"One of your brothers has risen from the dust of the earth," he said. "Now I demand each of you give your answer to my offer."
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AN: Sorry for the very late update. These few months have been rough for me.... I hope you liked this latest chapter. See you again