The special aromatic candles burned steadily, releasing a crisp scent of mint that sharpened the mind and heightened awareness. The brass nine-branched candelabrum cast faint, overlapping shadows upon the walls, even though the room was already well-lit. Following the monarch's habits, Stephanie always lit these particular candles to prevent herself from drowning in the vast sea of parchment and paperwork before her.
She exhaled a long breath.
It was the fourth day since the monarch's departure, yet the grand Eternal City continued its operations as usual. This office was the brain of the vast, subterranean colossus; each parchment and digital document was an electric signal in its nervous system. A war-ravaged giant, once left in ruins, now slowly stirred back to life under the monarch's hand. Clogged arteries were clearing, and it breathed again—deep, resounding breaths that echoed across the corridors of the city.
If she were to look out the window, she would see the young women of the Sisterhood strolling through the streets, dressed in vibrant, eye-catching attire. They were in training, their bodies brimming with health and vitality, exuding the exuberance of youth. No one could tell what suffering they had endured. No one could see the flames of vengeance burning in their hearts.
Stephanie liked those young women.
She saw them as a testament to the monarch's strategy for forging loyal followers.
No one understood life's cruelty better than they did. No one was more grateful to their monarch. They had sworn to serve with their lives, and so their monarch had given them the harshest training, the most advanced equipment, shaping them into razor-sharp blades. This was only the first wave—there would be another, and another after that. They would carry out the monarch's will, their lives wholly devoted to his cause.
Shaking off her wandering thoughts, Stephanie refocused on the parchment before her.
"Technical Guidance for Prototype Development of the Bloody Rose Power Armor and Researcher Application List."
She glanced at the budget proposal. Beneath Solomon's signature, she signed her own name and pressed his official seal onto the document.
"Third Quarter Budget Request for Alchemical Potions for Sisterhood Trainees."
A series of attached lists bore the signatures of the accountants she had brought in. One item, myrrh, was rejected—the previous quarter had seen an over-allocation, and the excess supply remained unused. The Sisterhood lacked professional financial oversight, often making requests with reckless generosity. This situation would improve once the girls completed their training.
These documents were already processed. But many more awaited her attention.
Since Solomon's departure, the administrative speed of the Eternal City had slowed, as though the great machine had entered a dormant slumber. Only faint neural activity signaled that it was still alive.
Stephanie believed that, had Solomon been here, he would have spotted the Sisterhood's excessive requests at a glance—whereas she had to rely on accountants for verification.
Then, her gaze landed on another thick stack of documents sitting on her desk.
A complicated mix of exhaustion and desire flickered across her face.
This was merely a tiny appendix to a far greater project. The true records were stored in an immense data vault.
The document detailed the blueprint for rebuilding human civilization after an irreversible catastrophe. It outlined how to eliminate poverty, crime, and disease, constructing a utopian, perfect society. If enacted, it would spark a world-spanning unification war—one that would drive humanity into the stars.
It covered everything:
How to persuade nations to join.
How to eliminate opposition.
How to solve food shortages.
How to build industrial infrastructure.
Super Soldier programs in biological labs.
Psychological conditioning initiatives.
Military armament and organization.
Atmospheric flight vehicles and interstellar warships.
Cyber warfare strategies and AI-controlled systems.
Countless challenges lay ahead.
This document was merely the foundation—the first step toward the empire Solomon sought to build.
Key ideological principles were established within its pages:
What system of governance would be implemented?
How would the genetic archive be preserved?
Which research institutions and libraries were critical to protect?
Which extraterrestrial civilizations were viable allies?
The sheer complexity and vast scope of the document were staggering. It was far beyond what Stephanie alone could handle.
It was an unimaginably heavy document.
And when it was put into effect—
It would crush everything in its path.
She hungered for the power it represented.
But at the same time, she feared the endless burdens it would bring.
She was only human. Unlike Solomon, she did not possess extraordinary strength or an enhanced body.
Without the aid of alchemical potions, she might very well work herself to death at this very desk—and die happily.
But Solomon was not reckless. He did not rush headlong into things like a typical cartoon villain who thought a bit of brute force could conquer the world. Governing an entire species was a long, intricate process. He needed manpower.
And it was Stephanie's job to recruit that manpower.
The Eternal City's current administrative personnel were far from sufficient.
Before leaving, Solomon had entrusted her with access to a classified project.
A key hung around her neck, capable of unlocking a reinforced iron door leading to an underground vault beneath the Eternal City. Her iris scan, fingerprints, and DNA were required to gain further access.
Behind that door lay an alchemical construct, personally crafted by Solomon.
She knew when it was to be activated.
She knew how it was to be used.
It was vital to her monarch's grand design.
And she swore she would not fail.
Over time, the Samaritans—Solomon's most trusted agents—would delegate select projects to the appropriate personnel. They would carry out pre-assigned tasks he had left in their care.
Stephanie was one such agent.
The true objectives were written on paper—strictly confined to this room. Nothing was allowed to leave.
The secrecy had to be absolute.
But she was looking forward to finishing her work.
When the monarch returned, he would lead her into battle among the stars, seizing key alien technologies to form the foundation of future military campaigns.
Solomon already had his targets. Preparations were underway.
Wakanda would fall—there was no question about it.
As for the so-called Avengers? They weren't even worth considering. Just a band of uncoordinated, undisciplined armed thugs.
And Thor?
Solomon assured her that wouldn't be a problem.
"This is the Internal Affairs Office. Please connect me to Ms. Tita."
The fantasy in her mind quickly dissipated.
The crushing weight of reality—of endless paperwork—came crashing back down.
Stephanie sighed, dialing the extension.
"Tita," she murmured, rubbing her eyes as she pushed aside the golden strands falling into her vision.
She tried to keep her voice light.
"I need the experimental feedback reports for the Sisterhood's explosive rifles and the stabilized plasma pistols. I need them by tomorrow. Get Wakanda's research division to sign off on them. No, you don't have to bring them yourself—send a trainee."
After hanging up, she shut her eyes and leaned back in her ergonomic chair, releasing a quiet, weary groan.
Then, she made a decision.
"Bring them all in."
She picked up the phone again.
"Move the entire administrative office downstairs. Gather all personnel. We're clearing out three days' worth of backlog—tonight!"
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