The Emperor mandated an intense, uninterrupted surveillance of Planet Earth for one full week.
Hundreds of thousands of nano-drones launched into the void. They tracked the blue planet from the freezing dark.
A crushing wave of dread and anticipation suffocated the wives. The fate of their sons hung in the balance.
—*BOOM!*
"One. Two. Three. Four."
Roxy slammed her bare feet into the heavy punching bag. Brutal, blinding strikes. One after the other.
Sweat dripped from her scarred musculature. Her chest heaved violently with every kick, venting a boiling reservoir of caged stress.
She abruptly stopped. Her crimson eyes locked onto the empty wall.
"Don't go killing an innocent, Eris."
---
Layla sat poised in her sweeping Arabian dress. She tilted the porcelain teapot. A fraction of an inch at a time.
Steam coiled from the hot liquid, bending the air into warped, hallucinatory mirages.
Her posture projected flawless elegance. Yet the hand gripping the handle trembled. A single, betraying millimeter.
She exhaled a soft breath that dissolved into the burning incense.
"Malik."
---
—*SLAM! SLAM!*
The ruthless pounding of imperial seals echoed through the administrative office.
Paper after paper. Veronica stamped the documents at terrifying speed. An overwhelming, mechanical dedication that no biological being could match.
Then—a single drop of cold sweat slid down her forehead. It rested on the cold rim of her glasses.
She pushed the frames up with a slightly shaking finger. She ground her teeth in quiet desperation.
"Do not embarrass me before my Lord... Caesar."
---
—*CRACK.*
Deep within the training hall, the upper torso of an armored dummy slid off its waist. It crashed heavily to the floor.
Methodical footsteps echoed in the gloom. The heavy stride of a samurai burying a boiling rage.
—*SHING.*
Kaori slowly slid her katana back into its scabbard.
She lifted her chin toward the vaulted ceiling. A crushing, unspoken burden weighed down her archaic eyes.
*Ryu... whatever the outcome...*
Her eyes snapped shut. Her thumb flicked the guard of her blade.
In a fraction of a second, the remaining training statues violently separated into neatly severed quarters.
*I hope you do not disgrace the honor I have protected with these very hands.*
---
—*SPLAT.*
Inside Camille's private studio, she dragged her bare hands across a pristine white wall. Smearing thick, wet, crimson oil paint in erratic, violent arcs.
She let out a soft, breathy laugh.
She paused, pressing a paint-stained thumb to her chin. She tilted her head with a wide, eerie smile.
*Ah... I wonder what you are doing right now, my daughter Lilith?*
---
—*CRASH!*
A luxury porcelain coffee cup shattered against the heavy wooden door of Isabella's quarters. Boiling liquid splashed across the corridor.
She panted like a cornered predator. Pitch-black stars dilated wildly in her manic eyes.
She screamed, her voice cracking with obsessive fury.
"You greedy little bastard, Dante! You're my son, I know exactly how you operate! You're going to embarrass me in front of my husband with your cheap obsession over money and trashy women!"
---
—*BEEP.*
Hundreds of blue holographic screens bathed Eve's quarters in a sterile, freezing glow.
She sat with her legs perfectly crossed. Cascading data streams reflected across the lenses of her glasses.
*Victor...*
The corners of her mouth twitched into a microscopic smile.
"I anticipate observing your analytical and programming parameters. I expect nothing short of perfection from you, my son."
---
Deep inside her newly constructed wing, Oria lay shivering on her plush bed.
She clamped her trembling hands over her stomach. Hot tears spilled uncontrollably down her pale cheeks.
"Altair... Altair."
She squeezed her eyes shut. The image of Mirai Altair's broken, mutilated face burned in her mind.
*I know it is you... I know that scarred man is telling the truth...*
Her voice broke into a desperate, fragile whisper.
"You are my hope, Altair... Please, do not be a liar."
---
—*RUSTLE... RUSTLE...*
Up in Celine's sanctuary, the ancient leaves of her treehouse swayed. They hummed a deeply melancholic tune.
Celine sat quietly near the edge, her soft eyes fixed on a distant, pale blue dot floating in the skies of Planet Uranus.
She pulled her hands tight against her chest.
"Silas..."
Her voice trembled with warm, maternal dread.
"Tell me... where exactly are you right now? And what are you about to do?"
---
—*RUMBLE.*
The Emperor sat upon his black throne. He rested his chin on the back of his gauntleted hand. He stared down into the silent abyss of his own palace.
*I wonder... should I execute my sons immediately if their insolence toward my station is proven? Or how exactly should We tame this corruption?*
---
Far below. In the absolute deepest, freezing cell beneath the Imperial Palace.
Mirai Altair sat alone in the pitch black.
His empty, hollow eyes stared blankly at the stone floor.
He suffocated on the memories of a slaughtered past. Awaiting a future that would violently execute him if his cosmic prophecy proved false.
---
—*CREEEEAK.*
The heavy metallic doors ground open. One full week had passed.
Inside the Grand Imperial Meeting Room, the absolute apex of the empire gathered around the colossal oval table.
The standard formation remained. The Emperor sat at the absolute center. The nine wives flanked his sides. Mirai Altair was notably absent.
Right in the middle of the table, Nixia remained curled into a tiny ball. Sleeping lazily, completely ignoring the suffocating tension in the room.
But the atmosphere was entirely dead.
Every face around the table was painted in sheer, bloodless horror.
The wives' eyes were blown wide in absolute shock. Their breathing fractured and erratic. The unvarnished truth had finally been projected before them.
A collective, paralyzing disbelief gripped the room.
They witnessed the grotesque, unspeakable crimes currently flooding the surface of Planet Earth.