After the Eye of the Emperor erased Planet Xyroth from existence, only cold, glimmering cosmic dust remained.
Scraps of debris drifted in the vacuum like silent tombstones.
In the dead center of this void, directly outside the viewport of the central control room, an entity floated quietly.
The cosmic silver entity bore a roughly human, feminine silhouette.
A body forged entirely from starlight and pure silver.
She lacked distinct human features, resembling a living manifestation of a cosmic nebula. She stood in the freezing vacuum, looking directly at the Emperor behind the glass.
The Emperor did not flinch. His face displayed zero signs of shock or dread.
Instead, his lips parted into a mocking smile. It was as if he had reunited with an old, annoying acquaintance.
"It has been a long time... haven't you grown tired of constant observation, Maiden of the Nebula, Aetheria?"
The silver female's body pulsed with a calm glow, resembling the heartbeat of a distant star.
Her lips did not move. Her ethereal voice—as cold and gentle as a galactic breeze—echoed directly inside the Emperor's mind.
"You fail to comprehend the magnitude of what you have just destroyed, Emperor."
"I crushed a planet of scrap that sought to rebel against me."
The Emperor replied with unshaken absolute zero.
"Trash that dared to invade my territory."
"Xyroth was never originally a planet, Emperor..."
Her words pierced the void. They carried the crushing weight of profound cosmic sorrow, unveiling a truth long buried in oblivion.
*What...?*
"It was a colossal spaceship... torn to pieces in a dark, forgotten era. Over time, their leaders, the corrupt Scrap Senate, agreed to transform this wreckage into a cosmic junkyard."
"They sold the dignity of their race... turning their homeland into a receptacle for the filth and toxins of other galaxies in exchange for wealth."
Aetheria's voice continued, transmitting visions of misery and suffering directly into the Emperor's mind.
"Can you imagine a life born into rotting oil, breathing nothing but toxic smog? The races of the cosmos looked upon the people of Xyroth with utter inferiority and contempt. They were treated as insects. Worthless garbage. They wept blood and oil in the dark, outcast by the entire universe."
Aetheria's silver eyes glowed with a mournful light.
"And from the womb of this despair... the Seven Philosophers emerged. They led a bloody rebellion, an absolute massacre against the corrupt Scrap Senate to liberate their people from tyranny and humiliation. The broken populace believed they had finally won their freedom... that they would finally see a clear sky. But the philosophers... became corrupted by power."
"They quickly established a deformed Utopia. They stripped their people of free will, converting them into mindless machines and warriors for an invading army. The philosophers who led the liberation... mutated into tyrants far worse than their predecessors."
Aetheria paused.
Her glowing eyes locked onto the Emperor's golden gaze. She did not narrate this history to invoke his sympathy. She knew his heart harbored zero mercy or pity.
"Now... by erasing Xyroth, you have not ended a threat... you have opened the gates of hell."
Her ethereal voice dropped, growing heavier and infinitely more severe.
"By expanding your dominion over Orion, and by obliterating the Xyroth army and planet, you did not just catch the attention of galactic insects. You have drawn the gaze of the Titans of Andromeda... the true behemoths, the supreme rulers and emperors of the Andromeda galaxy."
"They will never allow what you did to their vanguard armies to pass unpunished. This... is just the beginning, Emperor."
The Emperor bowed his head. Strands of jet-black hair fell forward, obscuring his golden eyes.
*Fufufu... Heh... Hahahahahaha!*
A maniacal, pitch-black laugh erupted from the Emperor's throat!
The laughter shook the space around them, posing one crucial question: *Does this human care about any danger?*
He raised his head. His eyes blazed with an infinite, sadistic lust for war and conquest.
"The Titans of Andromeda?"
The Emperor roared, his grin threatening to tear his face apart.
"Excellent! Absolutely excellent! I was beginning to grow bored of ruling just one galaxy anyway. Let them come right now, so I can use their skulls as my wine goblets!"
Aetheria observed his arrogance in total silence.
"As you wish, Emperor. You will soon witness a brutal war unlike anything you have ever experienced."
She closed her glowing eyes. She slowly faded away like stardust scattering in the wind, leaving him alone to face his destiny.
The Emperor turned around, issuing his final command:
"Fleet... return to Orion."
---
*VWOOOOOOSH!*
The Emperor's pod docked with the Solar Dynasty flagship.
The absolute second the metallic doors hissed open, the grim atmosphere of war evaporated.
"You made it back, you bastard!!"
Roxy launched herself like a cannonball. Despite her unhealed injuries and shredded muscles, she laughed with savage loudness. She slapped his shoulder with a force that nearly dislocated his arm, entirely indifferent to his blood or open wounds.
Behind her, Celine exhaled a long, trembling sigh of relief.
Her emerald eyes flooded with tears. She pressed her hands over her heart, her knees nearly giving out from the sheer release of tension.
Isabella approached rapidly. She wiped the dust from his face with shaking hands.
She obsessively checked to ensure no deep scratches ruined his majestic appearance.
"Thank goodness... your face isn't disfigured. You are still perfectly fit for propaganda and broadcasting," she spoke while crying and laughing simultaneously.
Kaori stood one step back. She bowed her head in deep, silent respect.
Yet, her eyes shined with indescribable pride.
The corridors of the massive ship erupted. The Orion rookie soldiers and the mechanoid infantry cheered with a single, unified voice that shook the metallic hull:
"Long live the Emperor! Glory to the Solar Dynasty!"
---
On Planet Orion... the sky was blue.
The Imperial expedition returned to the surface. An endless sea of Orion citizens awaited them. The entire populace poured into the streets, raising the banners of the Solar Dynasty.
*BOOOM! BOOOM!*
Fireworks illuminated the capital's sky. The plazas erupted into massive celebrations, music, and victory chants unlike anything the planet had ever witnessed.
The people of Orion and the Imperial army mingled together. They celebrated the overwhelming victory and the horrifying defeat of Planet Xyroth. The blood spilled had not been in vain.
---
After the deafening celebrations concluded...
The Imperial fleet prepared for departure.
The eight Wives, accompanied by the cat "Nixia" (who had been officially adopted as the terrifying family pet), and the elite mechanoid armies headed toward the massive flagship.
They were returning to headquarters on Planet Uranus.
The people of Orion were left to govern themselves, but strictly under the banner of the Solar Dynasty.
At the bottom of the ship's boarding ramp stood Oria.
She wore her simple dress, tears welling in her eyes as she bid everyone farewell. She stood beside her father, General Madi Roll, who stood with military pride, honoring the outcome.
At that moment...
The Emperor stopped at the ship's entrance and turned around.
Layla stepped forward from behind him.
Her sly, elegant smile decorated her crimson lips. She slowly opened her black fan, concealing half her face as she asked with excessive casualty:
"Ara, ara... aren't you coming with us, Oria? The journey will be long, and we need someone to bake our sweets."
Oria froze dead in her tracks.
*What...? Me?*
Her eyes widened in pure shock. She looked up at the eight Wives standing at the top of the ramp, all returning warm smiles.
She shifted her gaze to the Emperor. He observed her with a quiet smile, his hands clasped behind his back.
Veronica, the First Wife, stepped forward to break the silence.
She pushed up the frame of her glasses with her middle finger. She spoke with her standard, hyper-professional absolute zero, masking her true feelings:
"Do not misunderstand. This is a purely strategic decision."
Veronica stated, her voice echoing clearly.
"You possess the path of 'Pure Anomaly.' It is the only missing piece of the Akasha paths within our empire. Each of us holds a specific role, duty, and one or two Akasha paths. Yet none of us wield Pure Anomaly. Furthermore, trust me, we require a skilled chef. You do not want to eat Roxy's cooking. Therefore... the eight Wives have unanimously agreed to the Emperor's proposal... you will accompany us to Uranus."
Veronica looked directly into Oria's eyes.
"You will be the Ninth Wife."
A stunned silence fell over Oria. Her heart pounded so violently it threatened to tear through her chest.
Before she could burst into tears, the tension was shattered by an entirely robotic drone.
Eve adjusted her clinical eyewear. With a face completely devoid of all expression, she added with a dry, analytical tone:
"Statistically speaking... we barely reached an agreement. The ship nearly detonated from jealousy last night, and two failed assassination attempts were recorded among the Wives before reaching this consensus."
*Pffft!*
Roxy burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. Kaori smiled faintly, while Isabella grumbled in embarrassment.
Eve's comedic analysis dismantled all remaining tension in the air.
Oria could no longer restrain her emotions.
Scalding tears of joy streamed down her face. She spun around and sprinted to throw herself into her father's arms.
"Father...!"
General Madi Roll squeezed her in a warm, paternal embrace. He stroked her head with unconcealed pride.
"Go, my daughter. Your place is now beside the Emperor. I will remain here... I will rule Orion as a king on his behalf. I will turn this planet into an invincible shield to protect your backs."
Oria pulled away, wiping her tears, and ascended the ramp.
The absolute second she reached the top, Roxy stepped forward and yanked her into a sweeping bear hug that nearly cracked her ribs!
"Welcome to the family, you fragile little princess! I'll train you until you forge muscles of steel!"
Laughter erupted from the entire group.
The massive blast doors of the flagship hissed shut. The Imperial vessel ascended into the sky, announcing its departure for Planet Uranus and turning a bloody page in history.
---
(The Final Scene)
The cinematic camera pulled away from the departing Imperial flagship.
It swam through the deep vacuum, bypassing planets, nebulas, and dead galaxies... on a remarkably long journey.
The camera bypassed the asteroid belt. It bypassed the red sands of Mars... to finally focus on a beautiful, quiet blue planet swimming in silence.
From the outside, it appeared entirely natural and peaceful:
Planet Earth.
But appearances are deceiving.
The perspective plummeted at breakneck speed, piercing Earth's atmosphere. It ripped through the dense white clouds to reveal a breathtaking, mind-shattering landscape on the surface.
Earth was not as we know it.
An unimaginably opulent palace stood tall. Its majestic architectural style fused classical Roman-Gothic designs, highly advanced extraterrestrial technology, and the absolute dominance of the Empire.
Inside the vast, darkened throne room, illuminated solely by freezing blue torches...
A blond young man sat upon an iron throne.
His features were an incredibly familiar hybrid.
He bore the savagery and arrogance of the Emperor, perfectly spliced with the strict sharpness of Veronica.
He sat with one leg crossed over the other, resting his chin on the back of his hand. He looked down with freezing eyes.
Before him, on the cold marble floor...
A massive crowd of Earthly humans stood. They were not free citizens. They were prostrating, their foreheads glued to the floor, trembling with sheer terror and absolute loyalty.
One of them, a man wearing an Earthly military uniform, stepped forward. He raised his voice to its absolute limit, letting it echo throughout the vast palace:
"Salutations to His Supreme Majesty... Caesar! Son of our Great Emperor... and our revered First Empress, Veronica!"
The blond youth, Caesar, did not smile.
His eyes did not blink.
He simply leaned back against the throne. He interlaced his fingers coldly, looking down upon his personal territory—subjugated entirely beneath his boot.
Fade to black.
(End of Volume One)