Incorporeum: Between Science and Sorcery (Third Clarke Rewrite)

by Roasted Rowel

A hundred centuries had passed since the Twilight of Man, their legacy carried by their bio-engineered descendents who soon conquered the stars and mastered the art of sorcery. When an irresponsible goddess opened a portal into a dimension where the line between magic and technology blurred, she would face the consequence of her blunder.

11. Chapter Ten: Alnus' New Town

A/N:

Kirov of the USSR:

- Vastator Legio -

They are the Alliance finest warriors, these soldiers who gave themselves to the cause of our great nation. Like clay they are molded, and in the furnace of war they are forged. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall they be cladded and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle. They are the bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Fae.

They are the Vastator Legionnaires, and they shall know no fear.

A: Indeed fellow Battle Brother, indeed. That aside, this is really cool. I knew someone would recognise it the instant I wrote the Vastators down ;) thanks for the giggle.

Reader: If this story went real popular those historical flashbacks could use their own spinoff. The world building and lore of this story is immense. Im enjoying this story.

A: I'm glad you're enjoying this, (hopefully I didn't get too far ahead of myself).I mean, if anybody else wants to create a spin off, be my guest. Not that I expect anybody would, but hey if someone out there at the farthest corner of earth for some reason is interested, then go ahead.

Guest: Since the dragon is dead and it's scales are pretty valuable, will they go back to its corpse and skin it?

A: Oh well that's, [REDACTED]. You'll [REDACTED] out soon enough in [REDACTED]. Hope my answer is satisfactory.

Babushkas truck: ["W- we just survived a Flame Dragon's breath. What in Wareharun's name is this carriage made of?" Tuka murmured..]

Tuka learns the power of stalinium.

A: Spent hours looking what it meant. Did not regret it at all.

Oh and you also forget to mention americanum; metal alloy fused with freedominum and fossil fuel to keep their space vehicles liberated and bulletproof.

---

Chapter 10: Alnus' New Town

Orcus, a weapon of unparalleled might. A mithril beast held by the hands of Hierarch's greatest champions. A weapon wrought by the mechanical instruments of machine-forge and the woven strands of sigil-master, each piece constructed from the delicate work of classified tech-magic and the handiwork of skilled spellcraftmen.

Oreyah Huskein Elzeburn grasped the metal beast in his hand, feeling the cold exterior through his power armour's neural-linked nerve bundles. It felt light in his grip, his fingers looped around the nonexistent trigger - the weapon subtly linked to his armour, and in extension, his mind. The man furrowed as he felt the faint whispers of million souls, a soft whine behind the background of his psyche.

There it was. The faint screams of tainted souls, the tortured shriek of the dead. It unnerved him back then as much as it did his battle-kins, but the discomfort was a thing of the past, long had he been desensitized by it.

Oreyah had come to learn a lot of the weapon's truth when he was first bestowed with it, along with the secret it carried, many of which couldn't be exposed to lesser men. The Fletch Warsight Vastator of the Mist Guard Sectum left a silent whisper upon his lips as the firearm clasped on the mag-lock holster. It felt heavier now, but not a weight that could be sensed by the physical touch, he could feel the emanating power humming deep in its core, a weapon expected to be carried till his death. It was heavy indeed.

The Scythe-Pattern Kairos-Forged Orcus was his preferred mortem weaponry. Lean yet bulky, prominently angular in all of its glory. Like many of its sub-variants, the Scythe-Pattern had a large cylindrical body that extended from the stock to the barrel. At the front of said weapon was where a gaping maw of the Orcus were, a ring of stub-like teeth could be seen within the yawning jaws of death, and filaments of strange energy pulsate at the inner wall of the muzzle. Extended from its cylindrical body was the vosilk coated handgrip, constructed from micromachines designed to alter its shape according to its user's appendages.

Made from the forge world of Kairos, customised to fit his preference, the Orcus was to him like a man was to his pet. It harnessed the essence of the dead and the dying - their souls, long ravaged by the horror of Overscape dragged into rigidspace and encaged within a small mystical capsule.

Oreyah had personally seen what horror such weapons could inflict even before he was a Vastator. Firing a fusillade of mortis-bolt, the immaterial projectile resembled more like the grey solid slug of a railgun until it imploded and its inner content exposed, unveiling the nightmarish terror of uncounted souls screaming, clawing and thrashing. Their maddened minds ripped flesh and armour alike, twisting solid carapace and breaking molecules into scattered particles. It was most effective against incorporeal beings and equally deadly to the corporeal body as well.

The Orcus blaster was the closest imitation of a disintegration weapon wielded by the Alliance, and a very cursed weapon at that. To pervert the soul and use them as instruments of death was a sickening thought - unfortunately, when faced with horror of the incomprehensible, it was a necessity.

The Herald of Alliance rose to his feet once more, the gravmotor and mechabundles within his suit whirred silently, carrying the strength of a thousand men. It amused the Augmented, how a stacked plate of adamantine and orichalcum could challenge a demi-god in combat. Not that he would of course, to be chosen and titled as a Vastator meant to practice patience and caution.

They were taught to be confident, even arrogant at times, but never incompetent - to gauge the enemy's strength and tactic was imperative to be a part of the elite. To overestimate oneself or underestimate the enemy was a path to downfall only expected for lesser mortals.

The air around Oreyah swirled, his gaze darted to the new presence in his chamber. Much like him, clad within adamantine armour, enhanced by molecularly etched runes and sigils, the man was a Vastator. His heavy footsteps echoed the metal floor, even with a great quantity of mechabundles hidden behind the composite carapace, not a sound could be heard through his movements - not even the faintest creak of metals.

"Battle-kin Oreyah Huskein Elzeburn. The ship is ready," the man's baritone voice laced with power and experience that would take Oreyah half a century to rival. "We will be departing soon, is there anything else left for you to complete?"

Oreyah, once an ordinary minotaur from the humble moon-colony of Tarnyth, now a fully fledged member of the elite Vastator, esteemed forces of the Alliance - the Hierarch's personal sword and shield. He grunted in response, the foldable helm enclosed his head once more, immediately and briefly assaulting his vision with multitudes of data and sensors before it dissipated into ambient noises.

"There is nothing left for me here," uttered the enhanced minotaur. "Lead the way."

---

The hallway was stark grey, with a linear row of luminate gems affixed across the ceiling. Their footsteps echoed the hard floor, the sound of metal against carapace resounded.

Clad in Ferociter-Pattern Bastion Power Armour, Oreyah's stature loomed over the passing maintenance droids. Like many of Vastator's armours, his' was made lean yet bulky, congregated pieces of adamantine alloy fused with variety of exotic astral-elements. Each armour part segmented into slabs of ablative carapace; with the torso, the abdomens, the limbs and various moveable joints segregated into multilayered barrier of polymedium and ether-metal.

His face hid behind a blank mask, with a horizontal slit of reinforced orichalcum-glassinite placed before the eyes.

The thorax was made to be thick, and so were the forearms and legs, hiding multiple coats of extremely durable armouring. The mechabundles, a coiling mass of nanite filaments made to imitate the movements of muscles, each strand possessing the strength of dragon's sinew.

Oreyah had gone through myriads of gene-enhancement and cyber-augmentation to achieve such superelven level – as a minotaur he had already wielded the strength to bend steel, however such power was only but a fraction of what he had now.

"Arcanist Sezkhan had received a message from the Authorium Senate across riftspace. It is about Terra," exclaimed the other Vastator, an ebony elf from the planet of Iscar. He was noticeably smaller than Oreyah, yet bulky under the power armour all the same.

The minotaur raised a brow, his body shifted as he perked his ears in interest. "Terra? what happened?"

"Ah, you haven't heard already?" The Vastator elf, Makhael Ostavon, said. His tone hid a hint of mild surprise. "I suppose news hasn't reached every corner of the galaxy."

"The galaxy is a large place, Esteemed Ostavon. When every world had their own problem to deal with, I doubt whatever news from a random planet would even reach outside of Sol. Now, tell me, what is it about Terra that is of concern?" Behind the slit-visor Oreyah furrowed his brow, the minotaur's mind raced with incessant thoughts.

"It is a long story, but one I can shorten for you. There was a warp-bridge that opened to a Garden World from another universe, bringing a horde of Feral Worlders unto the ecumenopolis. From what I know, the Lunar Defense Department encountered a new race of aliens, potentially fae, at the other side who not only brought with them potent thaumaturge but also purified arcanite. The same arcanites that were claimed to have manifested in realspace naturally."

Oreyah's eyes widened, there was a slight shift in his movements. The minotaur furrowed even deeper, disbelief crossed his face. "Purified arcanite in realspace? How is that even possible?"

"A mystery that is being investigated by the Scrutor Agency as we speak," replied the elf.

Ultimately, as they sauntered forth, the two augmented men found themselves at the end of the corridor and into a massive docking station where multitudes of starships congregate and rest. Oreyah let out a muffled grunt beneath his helm, impressed at the grand sight.

A great hall, larger than some of his homeland's historical structure, with large numbers of massive vessels, their bodies dwarfing small buildings. They were imposing constructs, spacecraft built by wright stations at the corner of every star system. Even the smallest of them seemed titanic from afar.

Oreyah's gaze slowly drifted before it landed upon one particular starship, different from the rest. Amongst the myriads of Longswords, Broadswords, Daggers and Shortswords, all of them mighty vessels of the Enforcer, one particular ship was different. Whereas many of them here were heralded under the command of the Celestium Mobilis, the ship before him was not.

Unlike the standard blade-shaped Mobilis starship, the Eques-class Talon was a small vessel with a striking angular design, in contrast to the usually streamlined nature of Enforcer's ships. The Talon had a long, rectangular fuselage with a row of cubical spine placed at the side of its body, with its upper surface wider than the lower portion. The Talon was dark green in hue, and a scant trace of sapphire blue across the side of its body, along the edge of the ship's rectangular main hull.

Simply dubbed as the Stalwart Wanderer, the corvette was created specifically for the Vastator in mind. Armed with multitudes of cloaked weaponry, ranging from hyperlaser cannons to wraith-missile ordnances, the Stalwart Wanderer was not a ship to be trifled with.

"What do you know of Terra, Elzeburn?" Makhael Ostavon continued their conversation as they made their way to the Eques-class corvette.

Oreyah had heard plenty from the famed planet, a world where many beings in the galaxy were aware of whether it be through legends, myths, historical facts or other means. The Maiden World that birthed the Precursor, and in turn, every life in the Milky Way. One that was deemed sacred by some and blasphemous by others.

"I know that it is a treasure trove of paleotech relics and I know that the Sovereign is willing to sacrifice an entire star system to claim that world."

"Treasure trove is a bit of an overstatement sadly," replied Makhael. "There is only ever records of fourteen recovered artefactorum and only half of those could be reverse-engineered."

"That is still an impressive amount," murmured Oreyah. To find a world that even possessed a trace of a paleotech was a miracle in itself, to find them intact and plentiful could be considered a divine fate.

"Ah, Vastators... a pleasure meeting you both," came a sudden voice deep within the hallway. Amongst the myriads of people who walked within the docking bay was a peculiar fae from the Perseus Sector.

Oreyah stared intently to study the man. He was a scylla, a seaborn faekind evolved from a water world. Unlike merfolks, another aquatic fae, the scylla were a species of cephalopods, exhibiting traits similar to the Nukcrosian Kraken. They had a humanoid upper body with a smooth, almost glistening, sheen coated their skin. Below their waist, where one would expect legs were instead replaced with eight pairs of suctioned tentacles acting as a means for locomotion.

Although some subspecies of scylla had evolved to possess tentacle-like keratin growths above their head, the person before Oreyah had hairs expected for standard fae. Additionally, the scylla was heavily augmented, his pair of normally webbed hands replaced with mechanical limbs. His previously eight organic tentacles are now octuplets of mechabundle tendrils. His eyes were both heavily modified, subtly glowing blue as it pierced through the Vastator's retina with a deep calculating gaze. The scylla's throat and lungs, along with the majority of his internal organs had been altered and replaced with biomechanical tissues.

Truth be told, Oreyah doubted whatever being before him could be called a man anymore. "You are Arcanist Sezkhan I assume?"

"That would be me," came a feminine voice from within the Talon. A footstep could be heard from the ship before the person revealed themselves. She was a diabolus, especially of the oni subspecies, a rare sight within the Alliance - especially given the Sovereign and their governing species.

The afreet-genus fae didn't have a wing, only a pair of sharp horns that peeked through her temple and a dagger-like tail flickering behind her. The diabolus in question had a soft maroon complexion and stark green eyes, along with a noticeably sharp fang hidden behind her soft violet lips.

"I see," Oreyah murmured a reply, hiding his cautious stance behind a stoic mask. A diabolus within Alliance's space was rare, and one working within the Enforcer was even more so.

The scylla motioned himself forward, using his six tentacled limbs to maneuver. The man extended one of his cybernetic arms. "Greeting, this one's current designation is Sigmantus Ophintian-IV from Ascavan of the Vini System. An honour to meet you."

Oreyah clasped the scylla's metallic hand, raising his brow at the cyborg's static voice. "I am Oreyah Elzeburn, Flect Warsight from the Mist Guard Sectum."

"And I am Makhael Ostavon, Ardent Warsight, also from the Mist Guard Sectum," introduced the ebony elf. "Sir Ophintian... I assume you are a part of the techmagus department?"

"Our agents are needed for this mission. The Stalwart Wanderer requires intensive care from me and my crew. I am also here to study the Gate," stated the scylla.

"The Gate?" Oreyah murmured.

"Ah, that will be discussed later," exclaimed Makhael. "Come now, let's not waste anymore time."

---

The Stalwart Wanderer soared across the void, propelled by its plasma-gravitic thrusters. The choir of warped space churned the power of the Ether as it prepared itself for a rift jump.

Deep inside the ship, located near the front portion was where the meeting chamber was held. Oreyah sat upon a levi-chair, facing towards others within the room. There were two Vastators, him included, along with an arcanist, a techmagus and several other crewmen of the spacecraft.

His gaze slowly wandered the room, eyeing every soul inside. He could see the anxiety leaking from their stoic faces, anxious at the presence of two Veiled Apollyons. It was to be expected, for those who knew of their existence would also be aware of their feats and capabilities - to comprehend the might in which they possessed.

"Ladies, gentlemen," the diabolus arcanist broke the silence. Her voice was terse, cordial and formal. "I appreciate your presence on this ship, I know that you are all clearly concerned about this matter."

Oreyah kept his gaze affixed, and did not once let his mind wander. The auto-sensors integrated within the suit gave him a constant reminder of the potential threat that could possibly appear at any moment. Despite half his attention being on the room, the Vastator was more than capable of focusing and absorbing all the information given by the arcanist.

"During Terra's Dragon Cycle Celebration Day, in 6th Apra of M100. One of its cities, New Yox, was attacked by an extradimensional invading force. They came from a warp-bridge collectively known as the 'Gate', which connects our dimension into their Garden-Class Feral-Type Civilisation Planet. Yes you heard correctly, it is indeed a feral type civilisation - barely any sign of industrial production or vast infrastructural development."

"Sorry for interrupting, but are we really sure they are the one responsible for opening that... 'Gate'? Couldn't it be possible for there to be a third-party involved in this? Have we checked the local system and their neighbouring planets?" One of the high ranking officers inquired.

"I cannot really say for certain, but all the testing has led us to believe that the Gate draws its power locally from that planet," the arcanist explained. "We also believe that the native civilisation is not responsible for the creation of the Gate - the energy signature from the structure only leaves one conclusion. It is made from arcanus, so take a guess."

"Pantheon..." Makhael grunted.

"Not just any Pantheon, an extradimensional one, not local to our universe. A spectral entity we have no knowledge or information of - nothing to draw conclusions or theories. The best we can manage is speculations and comparison," added the arcanist.

"I see... I suppose that is where you need our help," concluded Oreyah.

"Hm, yes. To be frank, I've requested the help of the Red Halberds... but I don't know if they will accept," murmured the diabolus.

Oreyah quirked his brow. "And why is that? Aren't they suitable for this? The Red Halberd specialises in immaterial threats after all."

The arcanist sighed, both hands crossed against her chest. "It's because I'm a diabolus."

"Ah, I see... my apologies..." Oreyah murmured.

The arcanist simply waved her hand, showing barely any concern of such a subject. "It's fine, I understand where they're coming from. I appreciate that you are here, your help is greatly needed."

"It is the least we can do," Makhael, the elven Vastator, replied stoically. "Oh before that, I have a request to make."

The diabolus blinked before she leaned to the side, sharing a glance to the techmagus. "Sure, what is it?"

"I want all records and finds relating to the Pantheons diverted to my database and every information regarding the Gate along with it. I also wish to know all the future projects involving that warp-bridge."

The arcanist flinched, before she were to answer, the scylla techmagus chimed in. "I'm afraid your last request is a little too high for our pay grade. If you wish to, we can discuss this further with the High Command in charge of the expeditionary force."

"I see... very well then, I suppose that concludes our meeting," stated Makhael as he stood up, the levi-chair automatically slid backward and folded itself.

The arcanist nodded, "all the files of the mission will be uploaded to your database. Oh, and be advised that there are a few incomplete addenda in the documents, it will be sorted out by the next few days."

The veteran Vastator simply nodded before they both vacated the room, leaving the officers, the arcanist and the techmagus. However, it was not long before the other crewmen left to leave the two last members within the meeting chamber.

The arcanist, Elysebeth Sezkhan, groaned and collapsed to her chair, the anti-gravity propulsion keeping the furniture upright. "That was tiring..."

"We have no time to rest," urged the scylla, his vox-carrier carrying a heavy baritone voice behind the static tone. His mechabundle tendrils slithered and carried him across the room, myriads of tiny mechanical limbs responding to his mental command, each flickered and twitched at every movement he made. "Our destination is approaching fast, you will have to present yourself better than this."

The diabolus sighed, pushing away a strand of hair slightly tangled to her tiny horns. "I know. Can you at least fetch me those caffeine drinks?"

The techmagus let out a series of cybernetic chirps and beeps, the closest one could get to a groan with a bionic voice box. "It is called 'coffee', Lady Sezkhan."

The diabolus groaned as she planted her face on a table. "Urgh, yeah... whatever it is you Orioners like to call them."

"First of all, I am from Perseus Sect-"

"Okay whatever just get me my drink," Elysebeth cuts him off with another light groan. "And make sure it's hot this time."

The techmagus paused, with only the constant chirp of his vox-carrier filled the air before he replied. "Yes Ma'am."

---

Coda Convoy, Falmart

Lucas stood and stared at the crowds of humans kneeling and praying for their deceased, a mourning ritual not too dissimilar to most cultures in the Orion Sector. Although he was, for the most part, desensitised by death and the grief it wrought, he was far from being unaffected by the scene. It reminded him of his early years during the war.

Men, women and children gathered as one - a congregation of families and friends uttering their last whisper of respect before never again seeing those they lost. Despite the beauty of the grassy plain, it was a somber and quiet scenery.

He eyed the other half-god, how she personally greeted the villagers and assured them of their grief, slightly lifting their spirits. Lucas sighed, turning to face Emily.

"What do we do about that dragon?"

The esper-kitsune settled herself near a rock, both eyes staring gracefully towards the mourning humans. "Captain Jaeldabor said that he had contacted the base. There will be a team retrieving that corpse soon."

"A shame. It was a living fossil just hours ago," Lucas remarked.

"Well, I'm sure the museum will appreciate it nonetheless. Now that's all aside, what do we do with... her?" Emily subtly gestured at the black-clad apostle.

Lucas sighed, both tired and weary after the fight. At least he could account that the girl was somewhat helpful, if not a bit too eager during the fray. "Keep an eye out I guess. Besides, I don't think she's bad, the villagers seem to like her."

"Lord Bright, Lady Pluton?" Hendrick approached them both, his eyes briefly darted to the congregation of mourning civilians. "The Ursa had already been fixed, roughly speaking, and we're ready when you are."

Lucas gave the squad captain a brief nod before he encroached on the kneeling humans, examining the way they gathered and muttered their prayer to whatever gods they believed. He let out a soft whisper of sigh, a hint of guilt for the responsibility he had to endure.

"Chief," he called out to the old man, the head chief of Coda village. The man slowly stood, his frail body was a dichotomy to his steely gaze. There was still strength hidden behind the aged man. "My men will be heading to Alnus, is there anything else you need?"

"You have our gratitude, kind stranger. Thanks to you, the dragon is no longer of concern, we will return to Coda immediately. However, I do have a request to make," murmured the village chief hesitantly.

Lucas raised a brow and inquired. "What is it?"

"There are... many lives lost today, some of the children, women and elders here lost what little support they have. If it is not too much trouble, I beg you to keep them with you. They have nowhere else to go."

"Or perhaps they can take you all in," Rory suddenly and abruptly chimed in.

Lucas was visibly taken by surprise, his first instinct was to flinch and blinked, tail swiftly swayed. He did not expect that, neither did the other Enforcers.

"Wait, why?" A question that Lucas and the chief village shared.

"I don't know if you noticed, but there seems to be a great deal of bandits lately around here and Coda isn't one of the most well defended towns. If you want anything in return, you can ask me and I will do my best to indulge your request," Rory exclaimed as her arms crossed.

Lucas' gaze danced towards the rest, eyeing the people who gathered to peer into their conversation. He was not entirely against it. After all, Terra would probably be delighted to have a hundred more abled bodies to help them in this eventual colonisation. "Well they are free to do what they want, but I don't think there's any reason to believe they would want such a thing."

"Well Milord, if it does not trouble you, our men are strong but few, many of my people have succumbed to the dragon's rage. I - I fear that we have no strength to face a bandit raid with these many forces," murmured the village chief in shame. "Though it would be my utmost desire to return to our home... If what Her Holiness says is the truth then I'm afraid the choice is not in our hands. So please, name your price, I will-"

"There is no need for that," exhaled Lucas, briefly darted his glance to the other apostle. Curiosity brimmed his eyes as to why she would trust them, mere strangers, to help these townsfolks. Not that he was complaining of course. "Truth be told, our town is in need of a workforce as well."

"We will do what we can to serve you Warriors of Steel," exclaimed one of the young men, his gaze brimming with great zeal. After they had witnessed a biblical battle, many of their commoner audience were in awe at the otherworlders and their godlike might.

Such prospect unnerved Lucas greatly, only reminding him of the many cults he had inadvertently created during the War of Woe. It was not a very prideful side of his history.

"No!" One of them suddenly declared, earning the attention and glare of a few others. He was a bit older than the other male, however far from ancient. The man had a greater toned bod, his arm laced with a deep forgotten scar. "With all due respect, I cannot afford to leave my house. I can't just leave my farm be."

"Quintus, you are an idiot. We don't have the time nor effort to go back," another villager proclaimed. His voice was both met with agreement and the opposite.

"That farm was my family's heirloom, it is the only heritage left from my grandfather," the man heatedly retorted.

Before the dispute would disproportionately grow, it was halted by Emily, who once again displayed her might. With a simple yet imposing psychic presence, the weight of it was enough to silence them. All eyes were turned towards her, even Rory's wasn't unaffected by it.

"Look, we are not forcing anybody to join us in Alnus. If you want to go back, go ahead, nobody's stopping you. Don't need to make a big fuss out of this," she huffed annoyedly.

"I admire your virtue, Foxy, but I'm afraid these people cannot afford to risk themselves for that," Rory exclaimed.

"Foxy...?" Emily murmured as she furrowed.

Lucas perked as he studied the dark apostle's behaviour. She was less callous to mortal life than he had initially anticipated, unlike the majority of conceited self-proclaimed half-gods in the galaxy. That, at least, had slightly elevated his view of her as a respectable person. "You are surprisingly nice."

Rory responded with a soft hum from her lips. "I may not look like it, but it is my duty to serve for death as it is to preserve life. Besides, it would be a shame for these people to die at the hands of criminals."

"That doesn't sound like a job for the 'Apostle of Darkness' now does it?" Lucas commented. His gaze then averted to the rest of the villagers, followed later with a sigh. "Well I suppose I'm far from acting as the 'Apostle of Light' either. Okay then, you are all coming with us. Any concerns you might have will be addressed once we arrive. Before we go, does anybody else have anything to say?"

---

A Few Miles Away

His breath felt heavy and constrained, his legs wobbled after he had given his all. The man collapsed, the cowl that covered his head subsequently fell to reveal his brown, dirtied hair.

He was a simple traveler from the east, one who had traveled across the great desert and the deep plains. Cairo Del Almanos had heard the distant tales of the Gate and had personally wished to observe the sacred land with his own eyes, to record the moment and share his journey with the people in his hometown. Yet, he had to bear witness something far greater and terrifying.

It was not long before that he had just rested under a decent shade, watching the wind softly caressed his cheek and ruffled his hair. Cairo was greatly exhausted, taking a moment of respite under the tree before continuing his journey. It was then that he caught sight of the famed Scarlet Beast of Terror. Its glistening crimson hide was noticeable several leagues away, the fright of its flame could be seen licking the ground near itself.

Cairo's first instinct was to flee, to turn on his heel and carry his steed away from the tempest. However, he stayed on his feet and stared. The man did not regret the moment as his eyes lay witness to a miracle from god. Though it was difficult to tell from a distance, he could see carriages of iron engaging the dragon along with the support of three strange people.

One was clearly a mage of sorts, and the other two were creatures of unparalleled strength. The centuries old dragon fell, its neck scythed by an unknown magic and its thick draconic ichor pooled the dainty green ground.

After it all ended, the man fled. He knew not what meaning could such an occurrence be, but he knew that it was perhaps a divine intervention. Cairo had heard many tales from priests and bishops of the miracles of heaven - yet it was only this moment he was given the privilege to witness one.

The man hadn't expected his journey to be interesting. Now however, he had much to tell indeed.

---

Clover Castellum, Alnus Hill, Falmart

Lelei let her gaze wander, her eyes lazily roamed the land as it blurred past. The mule that had served them prior had all but tired out, leaving it mostly useless to continue the journey. Their wagon was then, subsequently implemented with the same mystical instrument. A rather pleasant coincidence as she herself was curious of its enigmatic nature.

Given the opportunity to study it up close, Lelei had tried to pry into the inner workings of its complex system - only to find a level of engraftment and mechanism beyond her comprehension. Not that it surprised her, being that they were capable of defeating one of the four great dragons.

The sight of the dragon's death was deeply instilled into her mind, a part of her was still reeling in disbelief and denial.

Her lazy gaze did not last long as they finally reached their journey's end. The mage's eyes widened once more, her thoughts reflected by Cato's baffled remark. What was once a plain green meadow, a dainty rolling hill of grass now fully converted into a labyrinthine of a city. Although its size was incomparable to Sadera Capital, the sheer complexity of it far exceeds anything they have seen.

The city was guarded by layers of silvery wall, both thick and tall. At the top of the wall itself, where one could see several pillars arranged apart from each other were a series of perched iron ballistae, eternally vigilant. Within the walls themselves one could see countless numbers of angular structures whose architecture surpassed the likes of Imperial Palace itself. Made from steel, glass and stone, carved upon them myriads of engraving and patterns far too delicate and intricate for human hands, each building was likened to opulent sculptures.

Lelei whispered a soft gasp from her lips, eyes trailing the great arching gate that separates the outside from the inside. Where one would expect a bridge to cross, the entrance was simply barricaded by a wall of light; mage-barrier, she recognised. When the ethereal wall shimmered away, parting itself to grant way for the convoy, Lelei took every drop of moments to soak in the scene before her.

What she mistook to be glass and iron were in fact forged from crystals and mithril. Each building had a strange yet elegant blend between rigid geometry and organic curvatures. Each building was never the same, most of them had taken either triangular, hexagonal or curving patterns within their design.

"M- mithril!" Cato the Sage stammered, his body quaking in disbelief. "Those are real mithril!"

Even Lelei was flabbergasted, this was not merely a display of wealth, it was a flaunt of celestial fortune. This city alone was worth the price of half the continent. Her interest piqued once again. When their carriages stopped, Lelei quickly dismounted, her foot planted firmly on the smooth grey floor. She could spot a strange geometric pattern on their road, like a series of runic sigils carved along the entire trail.

Lelei slowly let the whispers of realisation cling to the back of her mind. Her eyes traced the roads, the walls of the buildings and the strange pylons they had erected near the streets. Each and every layer of it hidden strings of magic, a faint trace of mana so subtly slithered between them. It was beautiful. All the more regrettable that the Empire had chosen to attempt and destroy all this.

"I have so many questions," Cato murmured behind Lelei, exasperated by it all.

Lelei gathered her thoughts and eased herself. "Me too, Master."

---

Rory was equally awestruck as the rest of the mortals. Her lips were sealed as her eyes danced the landscape. Everything within resembled an artistic depiction of the Divine Realm, the buildings were so stylised and immaculate it was rather difficult to believe that they were tangible and real.

The pearlescent hue of its metallic husk compliments the iridescent gemstone carved along with it. The myriads of structures encompassing the land were sculptures made from sublime power. It made Rory question whether they were truly a nation ruled by mortals, perhaps an idyllic servants of their gods, an empire directly governed by their deity.

"How did you manage to create all these?" Rory commented, her prior confidence slightly waned.

"Robots and fabricators," Hendrick half-heartedly replied.

"What a peculiar name for work labourers," Rory giggled, both excited and nervous at the prospect of their existence. This sight alone was proof that their presence would be of great interest for her and her god, a faction that would inevitably shift the tide of balance in the world. For the better, or worse.

Their vessel slowed down to a halt, the ever present hum of background chirp silenced, leaving only the gentle howl of the breeze. Rory waited with bated breath as the subhuman men and women alighted the iron carriage. Her gaze trailed the elf girl besides her, visibly shaken and nervous of the whole ordeal.

The breeze of fresh air once again suffused her lungs, yet a new scent pervades her senses. Rory could feel the strange hint of metal and the sweet pheromone of rose. The demi-goddess had her gaze roaming the polished yet ultimately empty town.

"It is beautiful..." remarked the elf of Koan.

"We have to get you all checked first," Aerulle approached, her hand softly clasped around the girl, who in turn only managed a squeaky yelp.

Rory glanced at the congregation of carts, their previously sinuous movements continued into jerky motion now that it had no occupants. They filed into a rank like trained dogs, each formed as a straight line. The scene was rather comical for the apostle.

Her gaze then rested on the two most peculiar and interesting figures amongst them. A demi-god catfolk and an archmage foxfolk, both possessing power that far exceeds mortal limitations and bear mysteries warrant her curiosity.

Rory's curiosity was not only limited to their nature but their skill and prowess in combat as well. From what little she could discern from the short battle was that they were each very capable warriors. The catfolk, though possessed battle experience that were noticeably inferior to her own, still display a level of skill far more immaculate and refined than centuries of continuous trial and error. His weapon, a divine work, was also an object of interest hiding vast power within.

The fox woman on the other hand was unlike any sorcerer Rory had ever seen, wielding magic unlike any she had ever known. She had mistakenly presumed it to be wind magic, but that was obviously proven false with the lack of gale during the battle and the sheer precise manner in which objects were lifted, thrown and manipulated. It was especially disproven when she displayed her power to inflict powerful, imposing force over the dragon.

They were an enigma that layered upon enigma, a series of mystiques that hoards secrets even Elange and Ral were ignorant of. This simple revelation had only made Rory smile.

---

Physicorum Fort, Clover Castellum, Falmart

Vando Basalt, the Orb Tertiary General of the expedition had expected for something eventful to eventually happen during their reconnaissance - but never had once anticipated this.

Two hundred new people ready to be claimed as their citizens.

The dwarf was rather impressed, it was a right step for cultural absorption. To entice the natives with their technology, wealth and prosperity; slowly gaining a foothold over the world and spreading Alliance's dominion. It wouldn't be long before words and rumours spread, hopefully gaining enough traction to sway the influence of local power.

Still, the unauthorised verdict was a bit of an administrative hassle, one Vando could easily overlook - considering the person who made the decision. The files he had gathered shed some light that they were settlements from a town called Coda and a forest-village known to be Koan. The former a human settlement, and the latter, the ivory elves.

A lukewarm liquid rested within a polymeric white cup, the internal runes keeping the temperature stagnant and unchanging was brewing at his side. Vando looped his fingers around the grip where he raised it to his lips, the warm sludge flowed into his mouth and slid. Caffeine and all the imitative chemicals soared the activity in his brain, refreshing his thoughts.

The myriad of data files on his desk was not enough to satiate his curiosity. Thus, Vando summoned the Champion of Light for a brief inquisition.

The shift-door dematerialised into several thin filaments, where Lucas Bright, the Godless Apostle, entered. His slow amble gave Vando an ample of time to organise his desk, before the apostle sat in front of him, eyes fleeting the room.

"You called me?" Lucas remarked, resting one elbow on the armrest as he inclined himself against the backrest. The levi-chair, as always, subtly purred under any movement he made.

Vando had always admired the so-called 'Man of The Myth'. He who wield powers and skill envied by many, one that the Vastators only had a fraction of. "The reports are adequate as it is, but I want to hear it directly from you."

"I don't know what much more I can give to you," Lucas replied.

"That girl, the apostle. I don't think she's who she said she is," Vando avowed.

"No she is not. I reckon she's something close to Bast or Vishu," Lucas admitted.

"A war god." That word came out barely a whisper, the dwarf's grip upon his cup tightened. It was an instinctive fear that any Enforcers were trained to feel. After all, Death War had not only revealed alien threats outside of the Alliance but the metaphysical one as well. His thoughts fleeted back at the Athena Massacre or the Anubis Bombing, the archaic holo-tape sent shivers to his spine, displaying how much of a threat the gods possessed.

"Hmmm, I doubt she's here for trouble. If it's any consolation, her weapon is simply an indestructible halberd and that's about it," Lucas uttered.

Vando blinked, waiting for further elaboration before he blinked again after realising there was none. "What do you mean?"

"I know it's... shocking really. Emily had tested that claim through her psychokinesis. It really is just a simple stick with a really sharp end," Lucas commented.

Vestige, the weapons of the divine, were a symbol of an apostle's might. They were forged from the residual essence of Pantheons and augmented with forgotten techno-magic. Though they came in a varied and diverse form, all of which differed depending on its wielder, every one of which were extremely potent and destructive weapons. Although most Vestige had taken heavy semblance to archaic weaponry, it was far from being crude or primitive. Some possessed the power to control the Rift, others displayed the might to bend the literal space itself and a several few showed to be the master of corporeal energies.

It was unthinkable that a weapon of mass destruction, something likened to a continental destroyer, would be comparable to a simple tool that was no more impressive than an adamantine sharp stick.

"That is... somewhat of a relief," Vando murmured. Other than their apparent immortality or their inhuman strength, an apostle's Vestige was one of the few things that made them truly dangerous. Their immortality and enhanced physiology, though difficult, could be countered - yet their ethereal weapons were something else entirely.

Every Vestige was an engineered tool with remnant technology from the Age of Precursor. Suffice to say, even their simplest of equipment were a divine work of craftsmanship as well as an incarnation of the deepest hell.

Yet still, the revelation did only but quell a sliver of Vando's worry. The truth of gods and their activity in this world was a subject of great concern and may perhaps heavily affect future decisions taken by Terra. One would not dare to think of the consequences of how a portal connected directly into the domain of gods could potentially bear a forbidding fruit.

The dwarf extended the question, prying what more he could of the deities and their servants, their theology and their cultures. A conversation that soon detract into the topic of the locals and future planning for them. Their previous jobs were mostly agricultural in nature, tending to crops and fields - a task made obsolete by the existence of machinery.

However, seeing that this planet had yet to relish in the concept of automation or mass production, such worries were unfounded - for now. Perhaps a trade could be established in the near future if they could provide the natives with simple occupations. The negotiation with Elbe, from what he heard, was smooth sailing.

Vando silently furrowed, this expedition had slowly shifted its purpose as time weaved. The vengeance for Sadera was less prevalent now that other factors began to take place – many organisations had taken great interest to invest in the expedition, hoping that they could get their hand on the rumoured arcanite.

It wouldn't be too long before this war inevitably ends, cultural assimilation would be one of the foremost priorities taken by Terra and supported by the Alliance. Perhaps it would take a decade, centuries... whenever or whatever it may be, this planet would forever be changed in the future - for the better, or otherwise. Not that it concerns Vando at the slightest.

"I am more intrigued with the two sorcerers you've managed to encounter. One was a prepubescent girl and the other one was an elderly man, correct?"

"She's an adolescent actually..." Lucas stated. "But yeah, that's pretty much it. They're both local to Coda, I believe. From what little we could gather, they are both sapphire-class spellcasters."

"Their theurgic tool will be a subject of great interest," Vando stated.

An exasperated sigh escaped Lucas' lips. Of course that would be the first thought conjured by the general. He was not surprised, the promise of progress was abundant in this magic-rich planet, yet to render the people here as mere products for advancement - it did not bode well with him.

"I advise caution when dealing with the natives. They are rather confused and frightened."

"I am aware, Lord Bright. All that aside, the administration had listed off all the people we will be taking in. Some of them seem to be very promising," Vando remarked.

"Have you decided on their occupation now?" Lucas muttered his surprise. His thought then wandered, a brief interjection of different memories slid into his brain. In an instant, he shifted the conversation. "Wait before that – what will be done to that dragon? We've left it kinda rotting there..."

"Worry not, we've sent a team to retrieve that specimen. Though, I would appreciate it if you can take that fight closer to the base, it would make our job easier." Vando chuckled.

"Sending a leviathan-class pyromancy dragon near our only base? Sure, why not, I can't see anything wrong with that," asserted Lucas with a wry smile.

"That all aside, I must thank you for your support Lord Bright. Your assistance has been of great help. There is more I have to inform you though, both the good and the bad news."

Lucas was unperturbed, he knew that the inevitability of misfortune would soon come to bite him. The apostle grunted, the soft whine of his levi-chair reflecting his irritance. "What happened?"

"The good news is that we will get more reinforcement soon," Vando exclaimed. His word was met with a perked brow and twitching ears. The dwarf then drew a sigh. "The bad news... It's the Vastator. Mist Guard to be precise."

"Fuck."

---

In the span of two hours that Tuka had spent gawking at the immaculate town and their monolithic structures, they were all gathered into one building where the otherworlders performed their weird ritual on them. None of which seemed intrusive or harmful, just a little odd. Perhaps a customary greeting from whence they came from.

Tuka was not complaining, she was given the opportunity to examine their strange contraptions and myriads of varied golems ranging from man-shaped puppets to floating spheres. They were rather entertaining to the eyes, she felt like an adventurous pioneer discovering new creatures. A sentiment that she no doubt, others shared.

A brief reminder of her village immediately had Tuka's attention averted and her eyes roamed the interior. Many humans had gathered and made themselves comfortable, the golems had given them sustenance and comfort, treating them like nobles. The young elf's eyes then landed on a smaller group, huddled together, staring at everything around them, trepidation and resignation washed over their expression.

Their apprehension instantly gutted Tuka's brief moment of wonder, reminding her the horror of the dragon and – her father. The elf gasped, a flash of blurred memories whirled in her head in a frenzied haze. She recalled a great wall of flames, the thick smog and distant echoes of screams. She shuddered, there was something terrible in the deep corner of her mind yet she wasn't able to pry what it was.

Tuka remembered her father, their relatively joyful and peaceful life. She remembered the time she first hunted, the time she trained with her father, the time of her first casted magic. The memories that fleeted her mind then slowly rot, the idyllic images shifted to nightmarish monstrosities. Her breathing was ladened with a heavy weight.

Then suddenly, she felt a jolt to her side. Tuka spun, her gaze darted to meet another pair of cerulean eyes. The elf took a moment to take a good look at the girl, a human past the age of fifteen or perhaps closer. Her aqua teal hair was short, reaching to her nape, her cheek had a slight rosy hue against her olive complexion. The girl was draped in a Rondelli robe over a simple clean dress.

"Are you alright?" The human girl asked, her monotonous voice matching her blank stare.

Tuka's brief confusion seeped away before she shook herself off her stupor and muttered an answer. "Y- yes, I am fine. Just... overwhelmed, I guess."

The girl continued her staring for a few seconds longer before she sighed and plopped herself near Tuka. "I understand."

There was an awkward silence that followed a few seconds after. Tuka spent most of that time staring at the girl and the hall.

"Uhh... y- you're from Rondel," Tuka decided to strike the first conversation. She intended the words to be as questions, but it was delivered like a statement. Nonetheless, the message was all the same.

The girl averted her gaze, her deep blue eyes were almost similar to the catfolk's. "I've come to Coda to train magic with my master. We were supposed to stay in that village for a few more months... however the appearance of that dragon and the subsequent events admittedly affect our circumstance."

"This place... I have never imagined— I cannot believe that this is real," Tuka finally addressed her current situation. The clarity of her condition sobered her thoughts, a final weight of realisation washed over her as the elven maiden steadily was aware that she would no longer be in the comfort of her home - forced to live in a place she was unfamiliar with.

Despite the elegant beauty of its architecture and the stupendous ethereality it presents - this place was not her home, she was not meant to be here. That revelation did little to change her mood.

The elf opted to distract herself, finding the presence of the human girl to be strangely comforting. The blinking haze of metalled creatures was an appreciated distraction from her somber brooding.

The building, a massive hall erected from opaline stone and pearlescent metal. The architecture was impossibly intricate, a quality almost similar to the sinewy trace that ran along the spine of the tree trunk. Embossed windows that rose to the height of man, strangely angular patterns seeped deep into the walls and spread along the flat ceiling. Its internal complexity was equal to its exterior, with spiralling gemstone carved into the very floor and walls, expressing its ethereal beauty.

There was more metal than there was stone, embedded deep into the founding structure, buried and sculpted from magic - or so Tuka assumed.

Tuka's eyes traced the girl's staff, before it fell to her finger in which the human had taken the time to run her delicate finger across the smooth bench.

"The walls are imbued with magic," uttered the girl.

Tuka wasn't surprised, although still expressed her wonder. "How can you tell?"

"There is... a presence almost similar to an enchanted sword. It is strange," Lelei murmured. Her soft ramble stopped before her attention was wholly on the elf, the girl tilted her head. "My name is Lelei La Lelena, by the way."

"T- Tuka Luna Marceau." She stammered out, her prior trepidation was leaking through her voice. Tuka took a split second inhale and resolved her strength. "Miss Lalena... do you know why we are here?"

The young girl turned to face the blank ceiling, where glowing gemstone illuminated the place. "I gather that they wanted to assess our arrival."

Tuka's eyes narrowed, her palm closed to a fist. "Why?"

"They are taking us as their own. We are to be residents of this town in return for our servitude," Lelei remarked, her tone barely expressive.

"Are you not worried?" Tuka's voice hitched, a tinge of fear cracked between her sliver of weakness.

"No. I trust them."

---

Rory stood amongst the crowd of people. Her eyes never left the uncounted chariots that roamed the geometrically carved road. The spark of intrigue never dimmed in her retinas.

The otherworlders had taken their time to perform strange practice in greeting newcomers - that is by prodding them with myriads of bizarre contraptions. At least it was rather entertaining to see. Then they were each given a piece of rather luxurious ornament, a cerulean bracelet made of superlunary crystals and possessed a surprising amount of elasticity.

'Identificator Wristband', Rory had heard them called it. A piece of trinket that seems to be of great value to these otherworlders - does it bear some sort of cultural significance? Was it something religious? Her gaze fell to her wrist, where the piece of jewelry glimmered under the harsh ray of the sun. It was much lighter than other gemstones of the same size, a weight almost equivalent to a roll of crumpled papers.

"Name?"

Rory perked, immediately averting her gaze to the man clad in grey. In his hand, he held a flat piece of obsidian paper-thin slab, a faint glow could be seen on its surface.

"O- Octavia Mir Spurius," murmured a woman in response. Her hand clasped tightly unto a young boy, whose eyes looked upon the man in stupor.

The apostle watched as the questions were repeated to several more villagers, followed by segregated grouping of people based upon their families and loved ones. It reminded Rory of a time when an old kingdom once rallied their citizens to be slaves. It made her heart thump, the blood surged forth and her shoulder tensed.

However, whatever violent urges crossed her ancient mind subdued when the catfolk apostle appeared. There was an air of regal casualness to him, along with the subtle presence of a chained beast hidden behind those dainty smiles.

And as always, flanked to his side was the same fox woman as before. Her auburn hair fluttered under the wind. Draped in a plain shirt, cream blouse over a leathered pants, it was a stark contrast to the usually aggressive appearance of her battle dress.

Rory eased her muscles, the tightening of her fingers waned. "What is the purpose of this?" The dark apostle subjected her question directly to the catfolk, seeing his raised brow.

"All... this? You mean this process? Well, it's a standard procedure to integrate them into this town. After all, they've lost a place to call home and we conveniently needed people to run this town."

"Quite convenient indeed..." Rory murmured, her attention fleeted to the rest of the confused villagers. "What are you planning with them?"

"That's not for me to decide - but the most probable answer would be to give them a home, a job and a paycheck to form a functioning settlement," Lucas answered.

"Why? What is the purpose for all this? What benefit does it bring to you?" Inquired the demi-goddess, her genuine curiosity leaking through her indifferent persona.

"Having a local population would be beneficial to set up future trade with nearby nations and the fact that we got people working for this city is another plus," chimed Emily.

"So you are using them as a means to gain something?" Rory asserted, she knew her assessment was tactless - for the lack of better words. However, the apostle was wholly dependent upon their immediate reaction to her claim, their initial response would pave way to her view of them.

The catfolk did but chuckled, one reaction Rory did not expect. The man inclined himself against the smooth wall, his eyes adrift along the black road. "I cannot deny that, but you'd be naive to think that the Alliance doesn't want something in return. It is... our wish – nay, our goal rather, to unite all the races under one collective banner. To have every civilisation across every star becoming a bastion of harmony. This is merely another step, amongst thousands others, in reaching that goal."

Rory paused, slightly taken aback, before her lips curled in amusement. "That is admittedly a beautiful objective, but don't you think it is a little too optimistic?"

"Hey, we're not the one who governs our nation." Emily retorted from Lucas' side.

Rory eased herself with a giggle, finding their comments to be entertaining. The apostle sat on the side of the street, eyeing the still continuing process. "You speak of this 'Alliance'. What is it actually? Is it the name of your empire?"

"Hmmm, to a point, yes. It's full name is the Harmonic Alliance. It is a coalition of several different races and vassal systems under its regime, spreading the idea of unity and cooperation."

Rory let her eyes trailed at a passing otherworlders, a bunny warrior, a dwarf and an elf, walking side by side without a care in the world. The apostle curled her lips, letting out a contented sigh. "I can see that."

"Fascinating," came a sudden toneless voice.

The apostle spun her head only to see a Rondeli mage, fully equipped with a magic staff and garbed in a robe. Her curved face, unchanging. A blank, inexpressive mask. Beside her was a Koan high elf, fidgeting nervously in her green elven dress. Her hands twiddled together as her eyes roamed the immaculate city in concealed reverence.

"Your empire, it is called Alliance?" The mage girl questioned the apostle so casually, where many people of her stature would've collapsed into a fervid devout.

"The Harmonic Alliance, to be exact. An empire of four million wor– four million nations," Emily corrected herself.

"F- four million nations!?" Tuka the elf gasped, her legs quivered. She couldn't comprehend such a scale, one larger than anything Sadera could muster.

"Well, they are small nations, each of them. So I suppose it is somewhere along..." Lucas furrowed, trying to find a reasonable and believable answer. "Six continents."

"Impressive," Rory murmured, genuinely surprised to hear such a scale of power. It only reinforced her presumption that these were not mere brutes from a random country. They were an intercontinental polity, who possibly claimed the entire world as their own - one Sadera and many of its ambitious predecessors could only dream of.

"Where do you come from, Lord Bright?" Lelei questioned.

Lucas blinked in surprise, eyes slightly widened at her words before he pursed his brow. "How do you know my name?"

"The Knights of Steel spoke of you in great reverence," Lelei pointed at the group of armoured Troopsmen that passed by.

"Knights of Steel, huh?" Lucas stifled a chuckle. That was yet another moniker given to the Terrestrial Troopers of the Armed Enforcer. "Well, to answer your first question would be quite the task."

Lelei, Tuka and Rory waited with bated breath, eyes unblinkingly staring unto his own. The Godless Apostle wordlessly ended his sentence, an action met with consensus of disappointment.

"You all should be going now, seems like they're going to send you off to your home," Emily chimed in.

"Home, huh..." Tuka murmured, her eyes glazed the angular buildings.

---

Unknown Tavern, Unknown Town, Falmart

"I swear it is true!" Exclaimed the man in a heated cry, one fist slammed hard against the wooden table. The plates and glasses rattled, water content spilt.

The man, for the patrons of the tavern, was what many would call deranged. His disheveled coat and messy hair was enough proof of it. His glazed eyes widened yet his pupil shrunk, the ring of a bag gathered near his eyes.

"You mean to tell me that you saw a fuckin' Flame Dragon and it got killed by... what as it again?"

"A man with lightning in his hand," he spoke at a hurried pace. Half of his rambling was barely legible. The others that surround him either chuckled or gaze at him with great pity.

A larger man approached the deranged person, a soft yet firm grip fell upon his shoulder. "Excuse me mister, but please don't cause ruckus in my establishment. If you wish to, then I suggest you take your business... elsewhere." The man stared, in petrified silence before he meekly muted himself to the corner, mumbling hexes in whispers.

It was a scene that was under the full appraisal of a knightly group, sitting a few tables away from the man. Chief amongst them was an Imperial Princess, third in line of throne and leader of the Rose Order of Knights. Flanked to her side, clad in iron and cloth, were other members of her venerated subordinates - each were once ambitious young nobles who shared her dream.

"Well, what do you think?" A question surfaced amongst them, a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and jade green eyes, Hamilton Uno Ro. Her ornate armour had its lustre slightly dimmed after days of constant travel - marred by dirt and grime.

"What do I think? The food here is stale, the booze is cheap and the air stench of rotten vermin. Isn't there anywhere else we could be?" Complained the swordmaster knight, Norma Co Igloo. The rim of his mug stained deep amber.

"Norma," groused Hamilton.

The young man sighed, placing the booze to his side as his eyes lazily grazed the tavern, not hiding his discontent for even the slightest. "What are we even doing here? Gathering knowledge? The only thing I hear is the rambling of that drunkard over there. Well, at least he was entertaining."

Then suddenly, the front flap of the door slammed opened, revealing an ornately garbed man. His emerald tunic was slightly draped under his stark scarlet mantle and a large bag to his back. His hair was slick black, with a face of sharp visage. The man's eyes roamed the tavern before it landed on the insane man. In a haste, the person approached the deranged with an ardent stride.

"You," his voice boomed, gaining the attention of the crazed man. The person was obviously high born, a commoner would be incapable of buying such opulent attire. "You spoke of the Flame Dragon?"

The crazed man was wary at first, eyeing the noble with a hesitant glare. "And what of it?"

"I want to hear it." He stated with an absolute zeal. "I want to hear that it is not just me who saw two iron carriages fighting against the bestial calamity."

In an instant, the other man gleamed, a fervent excitement rose in his heart. "Y- you have seen it too right!?"

"Lord Paullus?" Pina interjected, surprised to see a noble merchant from the east.

The merchant, in turn, was equally surprised but quickly shelled his reaction and performed his usual ritualistic greeting to one of higher stature than him. "Princess? It is a surprise to see you here."

"You too, Lord Paullus," murmured the redheaded royalty.

Hamilton, her right-hand woman leaned close to her princess. "Who is this, Your Highness?"

"Oh, this is Lord Paullus Uno Dorotheus. He is a textile merchant from the east of Eulusia, I have made several trade with him. Most of the silk of your armours are his work," Pina introduced.

"What brings the Rose Order here?" Queried the merchant in a hushed tone, ignoring the maddened man at his side.

"It is... of royal matter. All of that aside, what do you mean that you saw the Flame Dragon?" Pina addressed.

The merchant paused, his calm demeanor shifted to a noticeable degree. There was a trace of hesitation in his amber eyes as it roamed the tavern. "I... wish you to keep this a secret till I am sure that I am not tricked. That said, when I was traveling near the Numbran Plain, a path towards this town, me and my entourage saw a marvelous spectacle. Though it was a difficult sight to comprehend from a distance, we saw a dragon with a coat of red, fighting against a small group of men and two great bestial husks. That is not the most absurd, it is the fact they won led me to believe that my eyes are playing tricks on me."

"They won against a Flame Dragon!? You cannot be serious?" Norma's eyes bulged. Normally, he would dismiss it for yet another man's spiral to insanity - but the princess seemed to deem the man with some respect, thus he held that thought.

The merchant shook his head and sighed. "I must admit, it was a battle that happened in the distance. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a mere trick of the light."

"How can a mere trick of a light make you see a dragon?" An older knight amongst them, Grey Co Aldo, commented.

"Because to suggest otherwise would mean that I have truly gone mad," replied the merchant with a casual indifference.

His word was met with a heavy silence, only the murmuring chatter of other oblivious customers and the soft clatter of glasses as ambience. Pina and her knights allowed the silence to engrave the revelation into their head, dawning upon the absurdity of such a claim.

"Are you sure you weren't drunk or somethin'?" Norma, one of the few men amongst the Rose Order broke the silence with a sceptical tone.

The merchant was not offended, merely chuckled at the fact. "I suppose so, but how can thirteen men be drunk at once on a journey to a distant town?"

"It's still possible," Norma insisted, still dubious of the story. "It in fact, is much more possible than something could hurt, let alone kill, a Flame Dragon."

"Norma, be civil please," Hamilton hissed, much to the man's amusement.

"I must apologise Princess but I have a place to be. Tis a pleasure meeting you all," said the merchant before he eventually departed.

Pina watched the retreating form of Paullus in confusion and apprehension. She knew that it was no more than ludicrous rumour with no basis - but a lingering doubt surface in her mind, a whisper barely audible at the corner of her conscience. The princess sighed, the weight of her shoulder had only but heightened. Fresh memories before arrival of this town pervade her thoughts.

---

Few Days Ago, Unnamed Manor, Falmart

Beyond the vast green plain, amongst the various cottages and buildings within the prosperous town, Pina and her entourage had arrived upon a large manor once belonging to the House of Elbe - where the King of Elbe supposedly had taken one among many lands near his kingdom.

The vaulted windows and great squares of stone across the walls and various alcoves atop. It was a magnificent building, yet only a shadow of Imperial architectural beauty. Still, Pina was left impressed with the manor, it was obvious the original draughtsman was a man of art.

Thus, it was quite the disappointment when she discovered that the Elbian King had all but perished during the Battle of Alnus - leading credence that their enemy wasn't as meek and pathetic as the Imperial Senate first assumed.

---

Clover Castellum, Alnus Hill, Falmart

Given the nature of the city and the imposing elegance that stretches across all of Alnus, it didn't surprise Tuka to bear witness to a small palace made of opaline stone, pearlescent steel and prismatic crystal.

Its size dwarfed her, an architectural marvel that took the form of a massive pyramidal structure, where the top layer carved into an angular cuboid. The metallic outcropping of its exterior was laced with decorative patterns, weaved to great intricacy and opulence.

The entrance, a vast archway reinforced with heavy metal, fused to glittering gemstones and formed a strange blend of crystal-iron. Its external complexity surpassed any fortresses built by mortals of the past. The consistently sturdy, durable appearance was almost comparable to the most fortified Imperial bastion. It was rather ludicrous to think that it was nothing more than a public bathhouse; a concept alien to all of the newfound citizens.

Tuka took a hesitant step inside, the warm air felt pleasant to her skin and the soft scent of some unknown fragrance was soothing to her mind. Her feet carried her within, wandering through the near labyrinth-like structure in brief confusion before finally setting afoot inside the women's changing room. Her gaze adrift to the side, eyeing the sturdy iron-stone fused wall with great reverence. It was a contrast to the usual wooden structures of her elven village or the usual stone cottage of human's abode.

The ceiling was traced with lines of glowing gemstone, providing harsh white light to the interior.

"Oh, there's somebody in here," chirped a voice from the entrance.

Tuka swivelled her head, momentarily disconcerted before she calmed herself. She recognised the Apostle of Emroy as any mortal do - it wasn't hard to dismiss her uniquely tailored priesthood dress. The short apostle took a dainty step forward, staring at the walls, the ceiling and even the floor with what seems to be astonishment.

"I cannot believe they manage to create all this in a month," Rory voiced giddily. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised for the same people who can hurt the Flame Dragon huh?"

"Your Holiness? Are you here for a bath too?" Tuka striked a conversation as she stripped herself off her green ranger shirt, the emerald dress folded neatly to the side.

"It has been so long since I've been given a chance of one," smiled the demi-goddess. "Ahh~ I can't believe the otherworlders has something like this."

"To my knowledge only nobles would have an indoor bath, is this what it's like?" Tuka questioned as she slid off from her last cloth.

"To an extent," Rory replied. Her halberd was placed aside. "Although, nothing this fancy."

Their conversation continued for a little while, however it was abruptly halted by the presence of another. Her recognisable blue hair, draped in Rondelli mage robe and wielded a magic staff at hand was known to all of Codan Village. Her impassive stare roamed across the room, appraising the interior and its contents.

"Ah, there's somebody in here."

---

The bath itself was a divine work of art fused with heavenly craftsmanship. It was not massive, at least in comparison to some noble mansion - but it was nonetheless impressive. A chest's deep pool that covered nearly ten meters on both width and length. The water kept at a perpetual lukewarm, with a barely hazy refraction rippled on its calm surface.

Tuka left a sigh of content escaping her lips, finally letting herself the pleasure of an exceptional lave. Compared to the cold water in their village's well or the fresh stream from their river, the pool was brimming with heat and fragrance. The tingling sensation tickled past her spine, spreading through her nerves.

"Woah," the Apostle of Emroy murmured, eyes closed to be fully soaked in the otherworldly sensation. It was much different than the bathtub from the church - the water felt more invigorating, broiling with a thick concentration of minerals seeping into their bones. "By Emroy, I could get used to this."

"Did the otherworlders really build all this in a month?" Tuka muttered.

"Alliance," Lelei remarked impassively. Her eyes glazed the ceiling, studying the glowing crystals with great intensity.

"Huh?"

The mage girl turned to face the elf and once more repeated her word. "They are called the Harmonic Alliance. A coalition of four million nations under one banner."

Rory smirked, "oh I almost forgot that they are an empire."

"An empire of magic," Lelei added with a subdued nod. "And yes, they have built this in under a month."

"Amazing, they must have a lot of excellent workers," Tuka exclaimed excitedly. She knew some beastmen were strong, with the bunny warriors and catfolks being a few prime examples, but she didn't know they were capable of this much talent.

"No, I believe it is the golems who built this," Lelei replied matter-of-factly. Her eyes drawn to the ivory ceiling, a gaze tracing its angular patterns. "I have seen a few of them roaming the city, their shells are made of bright orange steel."

"Oh I've seen those before!" Rory stated, her rapid movement splashed the water. "Those golems are made of metal, and they're floating too."

"I have no idea how they manage to construct those things. Iron golems only ever existed in theory, it is practically impossible." Lelei murmured.

Their shapes were also far beyond what Lelei would imagine a metal-forged golems would've looked like. She pictured a lumbering beast of shining steel, its body huge and imposing, coated in thick iron, with massive metal slabs coalesced into an anthropomorphic shape. Their eyes glowing and brimming with energy and life, a heart made of mana crystal, entrapping a spirit within.

The otherworlder had perfected those dreams through different methods – none were the lumbering, imposing beasts but instead they were sleek and elegant, body tampered with great care and fine detailing. Each limbs and ligaments, every portion of their form were segmented into delicate pieces, like a knight's armour or a beetle's carapace. Their joints connected with bundles of rope-like cables, akin to thick muscles.

Instead of the glowing warm eyes, what greeted were the cold and black stare of their onyx iris.

Lelei recalled vividly as she stared into one, its boxy form gliding the air like a fish in the lake. Its many, insect-like arms whirred and moved in a jerky motion, so swift yet so rigid. At the tip of each of its pointed fingers, came forth a beam of warm amber glow; where stone, metal and glass materialised through thin air. Not only were they impressive constructs, crafted so meticulously, with every part of their body made to shift and twist so perfectly but the golems were also masters of magic as well.

Lelei recalled how her eyes glued in great wonder as the soul possessed iron puppet conjured stone and steel from its delicate hands, through enigmatic sorcery that borders on divine magic. The closest of it would be earth magic that could manipulate stone – and iron, to an extent. However, no chant nor spell could ever replicate the work of the golem, to manifest material out of nothing but light.

The emergence of the Gate was already intriguing in itself, but the presence of the Alliance had made it tenfold more fascinating.

"I wonder what the other side of the Gate is like," Tuka whispered through an exhaled sigh. The elf imagined buildings such as this, a grand architectural temple, stretching across the land surrounded with lush, thick forest. She imagined the magic-powered wooden carriages crossed their obsidian street with numerous merchants selling their wares at the side, bartering their goods.

The elf silently glazed her eyes to the wall, showing its solid sturdiness a contrast to her own home. Then came the image of flames that scoured her village, with the screams of the unfortunate threatening to cloud her thoughts like thick smoke that once clogged her lungs. The elf gasped lightly, unnoticed by the two beside her. Tuka held her breath, berating herself for letting her mind wander.

The Koan elf closed her eyes, letting the horrors of the past be obscured under the soft blanket of comfort within the pleasant warmth of the pool.

---

Physicorum Fort, Clover Castellum, Alnus Hill

Duran was brought into a black room. His nervous glance roamed the interior in fervent pace. It wasn't dark, far from it, he could make out the details of the walls and its elysian geometry.

His finger subtly traced the pearlescent slab they called a 'table'. Save for the fact that it lacked the legs expected for furniture of its nature, the so-called table was rather mundane. It felt cold to the touch, and there were no visible or physical irregularities - smoother than even the glasswork of cathedral buildings.

Duran remained seated till the centaur emerged from the seamless door. Their vaulted gateway never ceased to amaze him, how it slid and submerged itself amongst the wall like the shimmer of water surface. Truly, a grand display of their mastery in mysticism.

The human studied the equine beastman, eyes perked when the demi-human brought forth a strange instrument onto the table. It was flat and cylindrical, a noticeable silver ring on its uniformed surface, with six slightly protruding triangles that folded into petal-shapes. Nothing in its appearance indicates peculiarity, other than its expectedly impressive artistry.

Then wordlessly, Duran's vision was assaulted by an array of iridescent light, flickering like candles before they formed into solid yet equally intangible shape. The human gasped, eyes widened as the room suddenly brimmed with wonder. It was an ethereal beauty no place in Falmart could replicate - like peeking through the veil of heaven, a brief slice of its celestial splendor.

"What is this?" Duran managed a squeak, afraid that his voice would somehow wither away the coruscant.

The centaur's deft touch shimmered away the opalescent spectre, the immaterial sculpture bent under his command and warped to his will. "This is what we call a holo-projector or a lucent-caster if you're a nerd, the fact remains that this device casts a spectral image you see here of what we call a 'hologram'. Well as you can see... It projects an illusionary representation of a real object. It is a device of many purposes, with varying degrees of applications."

"...I can only wonder what manner of application it could be used," Duran murmured. He found himself once again lured into the complexity of their instruments, how even the smallest of contraption was a wonder of magecraft.

"One amongst those myriads of implementation is its ability to create a tridimensional rendition of its real life counterpart. You could say... an immaterial replica."

The device left a surprising chirp, before the collective ribbons of luminesce swarmed into an incomprehensible form. The constant yet subtle waiver of its prismatic lustre then rippled and expanded from a coalition of unfathomable light into a throng of tiny specks that enveloped the room. They float the air like swarms of multicoloured fireflies, the soft glow of their pearlescent hue plucking the beauty of existence.

"This is–"

"Stars..." Duran murmured, recognising the significance of the display. His eyes sparkling in awed delight, the childish wonder bubbling into his aged mind. Forgotten memories resurfaced, reminding him of the simple time of his ignorant childhood.

The centaur's momentary amusement quickly averted as he continued. "Correct. This is a map of what you would probably call 'heaven'. Now, bear with me, this is going to get complicated."

Duran drifts, locking his gaze with the beastman in a zealous determination. "I am here to learn the best I can."

The demi-humans had told him that they would be revealing to him the nature of their empire. He was all sorts of nervous, excited and ardent. What would an empire with grand architecture, brimming magic and powerful steel-beasts look like? What would an empire dominated by various subhumans be? A vast continental power that spread across their world or an island of clandestine nature?

"First, you need to comprehend the concept of space." The centaur's hand was swift in its motion, under his masterful touch, the 'hologram' wavered and swirled like the rippling surface of water. Duran was given a sight of a massive sphere, one where he could see strange patches of fog roamed high above its intricately green and blue surface. He could see the uneven surface of the ball, a contrast to the delicate beauty of their architecture.

"What is this?" Duran questioned.

"The world," the centaur replied and with a flick of his finger, the sphere expanded, zooming into the landscape within. "A random world, not of ours, but a world nonetheless."

'So it is true...' Duran's mind whispered in reverent awe.

Imperial scholars had debated for centuries regarding the nature of the world and its shape. A sage of Rondel had once proposed the idea of a spherical world - a theory met with scrutiny from various churches of gods even to this day. Though acceptance of that theory was abound now, there was still lingering doubt amongst the scholarly community.

"If you have a question, go ahead." The centaur urged him.

Duran thought long and hard, gazing at the ethereal image of a landscape, admiring the detail that no map could replicate. He felt like a god with the world in his hand, peering through the curtain of mortals from heaven.

"How does... nothing fall downward? It is after all, a massive sphere..." Duran didn't know much about the original spherical world theseus but he was aware that there was a great controversy in its proposal - one of them regarding the topic he addressed.

"The concept of 'downward' only applies to a force that pulls everything to it. This is what we called 'gravity', a universal, almost pervasive force that pervades across all of existence. Every world, within its core, has the gravity that I mentioned, a force pulling everything of what you call 'down'."

Duran furrowed. "Then... how does the moon and the sun resist such a force? They encircle the world don't they?"

Without a moment's pause, the landscape shrunk into a display of the world in its entirety once more, yet it did not stop there, the image shrunk further, the iridescent form of the orb diminished into a grape's worth of size. Duran held his tongue, squinting as he analysed the rendition. There was another smaller ball, it steadily motioned in a consistent ring-shape movement around the small world.

He didn't need an explanation for that. "It is the moon."

"Correct. You ask me why the moon doesn't just fall from the sky? A very, very good question. The answer is simple - gravity. Or rather, I should say a lack of one. The aforementioned omnipresent force is only applied on its local sphere of influence... the moon is quite further away."

"And why does it orbit around the world? How does it keep itself afloat?" Duran's inquiry delved even deeper. A priest would answer it to be god's miracle, a scholar would scoff and state the futility of his question to hide their ignorance. However, the centaur was none of those - he already knew the answer.

"Like I said, gravity, and inertia too I suppose. Tell me, if you throw a ball, where does it go?"

Duran blinked, surprised by the sudden question. "Uhh, further away. Until it drops down by the same force I suppose you call that 'gravity'."

"Now imagine, in the empty void beyond the world, where the presence of gravity is quite faint and the only force that propels you forward is the momentum you've generated. Coupled this fact with the same faint trace of gravity just beyond the border of the world - then you got this phenomenon."

"It is... still quite confusing but I suppose I can manage," Duran rubbed his head. He was here to learn of their empire, why had it turned into a scholarly education? Not that he was complaining, to receive the same wisdom from a sage would cost him several fountains worth of Suwani. "So I suppose the sun is of the same nature?"

"Not quite." Grinned the centaur, only to further cause Duran's headache. The image shrunk even more than before, what was once a sphere of green and blue was now but a small dot of dim emerald. There were other mote of orbs too, all of them rotating around a large ball of infernal light - its baleful flicker roaring against the empty tide of the void.

"That is..." Duran murmured, eyes widening as he leaned forward, taking in the scene in disbelief.

"This is the sun, the glaring light that shines above the sky. On average, it is about hundreds of times larger than the world. It is extremely bright and hot that even from millions of miles of distance, you can feel its heat."

"And those other orbs...?" Duran pointed at the myriads of small opalescent balls rotating around the glaring blaze that is the sun. He felt small, so insignificant - all he ever knew was but a tiny speck compared to Flare's Light.

"Those are other worlds, all of them orbiting around the sun. Their distances are separated by many million miles, a gap so great that it is practically invisible from where you stand."

Duran's mind clicked, his gaze shot up directly to the centaur. "Do you... come from one of these worlds?"

The centaur chortled, his upper body arched to a ramrod posture before his hand once again performed their diligent tasks. The vastness of the sun shrunk even more, the motes of floating orbs practically imperceptible - a great splendor of celestial beauty unveil a swarm of vast iridescence, vast numbers of small light-orbs flooded the room.

"Remember those stars I showed you?" The centaur remarked. Duran only managed a mute affirmation, eyes never leaving the trails of light clusters. "Those same stars, each of them are their own suns with their own orbiting worlds similar to the one I showed before. Every dazzling twinkle you see in the night sky is each their own sun, their distance separate from each other in a breadth you cannot imagine."

Duran felt his heart drummed, the world slowed around him as the quickened rasp of his breath reached his ears. He felt his stomach lurched, his muscles tensed. "Impossible..."

"By now I think you'd understand that impossibility is what we bring to the table."

"All of those speckled stars, were they each a sun?" Duran let the weight of such revelation dawned upon him. The sudden realisation made him immensely aware how truly astronomical the entirety of existence was. Was this a knowledge kept within the high vault of heaven? Was this information appropriate for a mere mortal like him to bear? Is this not a sign of hubris, to peek through the divine realm?

The severity of it made him slumped deeper into his seat, his hands clasped tightly till the colour drained. He wanted to, with all of his might and wit, to deny this, to rob this revelation off his conscience and accuse it as mere otherworldly deceit. Because to do otherwise would mean to review the world through a different, far more terrifying, lens. He held his tongue, because he knew for a fact that it was far from a lie.

Duran did not know what cast his decision, whether it be the faint nudge within his mind or the sudden resolve in his heart but he readily believed the demi-human. "Tell me more." He knew not where the conversation was heading, he had expected a brief insight to their nation and their power - not this.

The opulent glint of thousands stars diminished in size but not in number nor concentration. They gathered like a great congregation of fireflies, into a spiralling, prismatic mist. It was an immaculate beauty, unrivalled divinity in its appearance. Duran would've no doubt if it was a god. The sparkling stars that lit the blanketed night was all but a glimpse of all this.

"We call this a galaxy, it contains roughly about a few hundred billion stars, along with nearly trillions of worlds. Some had come to call it the Sea of Constellation," the centaur answered Duran's unspoken question.

Hundred billion. It was a number beyond Duran's grasp, but one he understood verily to be above millions. It was as numerous, if not more, as grass in a meadow or pebble on a mountain. How could it exist - for unfathomable numbers of worlds, like the rolling sand amongst the sandy dunes, each houses innumerable life with their own nations and cultures. He felt tiny, the great Kingdom of Elbe was barely a passing mention amongst the magnificence of this cosmic theatre. The entirety of the world was even less than a speck.

How can gods wield this much power over this many worlds? Then it struck him, were the gods even that powerful to begin with? In Falmart, they were the literal puppeteers of nature, the mountains, the plains, the sea and the sky bent to their will. Yet, what is all that amongst this expansion of space? What is the Light of Flare, but only one candle amongst untold millions? What is a world, but a tiny rock adrifts the void?

Then, without warning, Duran felt his heart soothed by a foreign presence. There was a strange pressure in his mind, not unpleasant but definitely not of his own thoughts. The King of Elbe gasped, only now realising he had held his breath.

"Need a breather?" Commented the centaur of what seems to be, for the first time, genuine concern.

"I- I am tired," Duran murmured.

The centaur did not move from where he stood, his gaze remained locked but had softened. "Wanted a rest?"

"Aye, that would be appreciated."

---

It was a rather short respite. Even with all of the existential horror, accompanied along with it was a deep unrivalled knowledge. Duran's decision was laden with trepidation, a bubbling anxiety to appease his inquisitiveness and a dreaded silence to learn the eldritch truth.

The air grew heavy and palpable, almost robbing Duran from his bated breath. His eyes traced the gathering of stars, the so-called Sea of Constellation. He could only guess what divine power would shape it to be like this, a spiralling filament of lustrous glimmer weaved the dark void of space. If he were to describe it, the shape was likened to the Eye of the Storm; a painting he had seen in the Church of Elange.

"Shall I continue?"

Duran's answer was hesitant, barely a noticeable nod. Though every fiber of his being screamed for him to learn more, to unveil the secrets of creation - a portion of him was paralyzed with dreaded horror. The world was large enough from where he stood, to learn its insignificance to the greater cosmos was a frightening notion.

"Aye."

The previous image of the spiralling constellation was replaced with another, its difference was subtle but noticeable nonetheless. The formations of stars were placed at a varying angle, the edges of the so-called 'galaxy' were far sharper, terminating at five pointed tails each coiled and gathered towards the nebulous center. And much like the previous one, it was equally stunning.

"This is called the Milky Way galaxy," the centaur exclaimed. "It is where we, those you call the 'otherworlders', reside."

"How do you know this?" Duran asked.

"In due time, Milord. Now, please observe."

The scene expanded till it reached a yellow star - no, a sun. Then it zoomed even further, finally settled on a world of grey and blue. Duran's eyes widened slightly at the sight of a strange geometric pattern that crossed the landscape, they glistened like steel, with a tiny kaleidoscope of formation visible from above.

"This is Terra, a world the Empire tried to invade," the centaur exclaimed.

Duran paused, hiding his shock behind a deep inhale. The Elbian King studied the world through the lense of gods, peering the land from high above, where everything was but speckled beneath his presence. "Your world has a strange colour of forest. All I can see is an endless expanse of grey and silver. Are those... dunes of some sort? I have heard of a land, far to the west. It told of a great desert where endless sand encompasses as far as the eye can see."

"You can say that," the centaur answered half-heartedly. "Now, prepare yourself, I will show you our 'nation'."

Duran furrowed, finally ready to meet with the truth. He wouldn't be surprised if they had conquered their entire world, with such power, none could resist them. Yet however, his previous thoughts slowly dripped away when the image shrunk, showing the 'galaxy' once more. Great dust clouds of stars gathered in great multitude, a sea of iridescence blessed Duran's eyes.

"I will change the colour of the stars for a bit," said the centaur a second before all of the tiny dots of yellow, blue and red instantly shift to a bland grey. "There, now all of the blue dots here are the representation of our territory."

"Wait, what—"

The endless grey that once were now replaced with multitudes of blue motes, most of it concentrated within one of the five tails, although there were still plenty spread across, scattered like grains. The King of Elbe's momentary confusion dissipated, replaced with a great apprehension and terrible realisation. He was no fool, he knew what this image represents. Amongst the spiralling constellation, a small portion of it was marked with a deep cerulean hue.

"A- are these... y- your empire?" Duran allowed the revelation to settle in his mind, a heavy presence fell on him. His regal status suddenly felt insignificant, his title as a king felt like an insult now.

"Yes, four million worlds. All of them, under the regime of the Harmonic Alliance," smiled the centaur so sweetly, as if his word meant nothing, so little.

Duran wanted to scream, to deny the man's claim and accuse the beast of a liar, an attempt to intimidate him. However, all of those thoughts remained nothing but lingering whispers in his conscience, never leaving his lips. "Four million..."

What is a worm to a dragon? What is a peasant to a god? What is an ant to a man? What is a king to existence?

Nothing.

He looked up, finally understanding why they seemed so nonplussed to the vast continent the Garden had to offer. What is a world, compared to four million more? This domain was nothing but a small patch of dirt amongst their vast nation. The Elbian King smiled, finally comprehending the futility of Sadera's effort.

"How?" Duran murmured the question, gaze locked with the centaur. "Y- you said the distance between the closest suns is hundreds and millions of miles away. Then tell me, how did you cross that distance?"

The image of stars ended in a flicker, replaced with a large image. Duran blinked, briefly baffled before he squinted his eyes and studied the ethereal sculpture in great detail.

It was shape of a sword, yet clearly far from being one. The long, flat 'blade' was slightly thicker, upon its body were lined metal frames and a noticeable amount of tiny protrusions, too detailed to be a handheld object. The 'hilt' was strange, with a cylindrical extension upon the rainguard - resembling almost like an observatory. The side of the blade itself was a horizontal gap, tiny but still perceptible, where one could see a row of small protrusions from it.

Even stranger, was the 'grip' of the 'sword', simply extended into a strange cylinder, coated in odd angular shape and terminated at a large hole where the pommel should be.

"This isn't a sword," Duran commented, a word spoken from a man who had trained with such a weapon for decades.

The centaur nodded. "Correct. It is a ship, one named as the Adjutor-class Broadsword. A moniker given for its shape."

"An apt name for such an odd design, but I do not see how this explains how you cross stars... or how this ship even floats in water anyway..." Duran furrowed. He wouldn't be surprised if it was magic, after all, that seems to be the common theme with the otherworlder.

"It's not a seaship. It's a starship."

What left of Duran's lips was a resigned sigh. "... I shouldn't be surprised. I supposed it is propelled by magic?"

"Something like that."

[End of Chapter Ten]

---

Scentipedia, Free Galactic Encyclopedia

·—0—·

=Harmonic Alliance=

Capital: Centralis Regium

Official languages: Omni Lingua, Seraphia, Endo Regionis, Exo Regionis, Archeovox

Major Species: Orion-Dominant fae such as the Seraphim, Elf, Nekomata, Usagimimi, Kobold, Kitsune, Jackalope, Lamia, Harpy, Centaur, Dwarf, Halfling, Pixie, Merfolk, Dryad

Minor Species: All faekin of the Mammalian, Insectoid, Reptilian, Florian, Aquatoid, Avian and Amphibian species.

Type of Government: Oligarchic Confederation

Head of state: Hierarch of Harmony; Theta Regius, Iota Regius, Alpha Regius, Sigma Regius and Omicron Regius

Governing body: Authorium Senate

Military forces: Armed Enforcer; Terrestrial Trooper, Reaper Division, Proeliator Cognition, Celestium Mobilis, Astrum Sentrian, Legio Vastator, Vis Defensionis

Internal security force: Scrutor Agency, Scutum Adjudicator

—[0]—

The Harmonic Alliance is one of the top three largest and most powerful political entities in the galaxy rivalled only by the Sovereign and closely by the Prosperitas. It consists of over four million worlds, most of it centers around the Orion Arm and spread throughout the other four major sectors. As a stellar empire, the size of the Alliance cannot be measured in terms of contiguous territory, but only in the number of planetary systems in its control.

Though many threatened the supremacy of the Alliance, ranging from the various alien forces across the galaxy - both tangible and immaterial, as well as myriads of planetary incursion and rebellion from the Outer Region, the Harmonic Alliance remains to be the bastion of unity and peace - or so it is told.

[History]

The genesis of the Alliance truly began in the 500.M98, starting on the paradise world of Centralis Regium. Before the Alliance was even formed, Centralis had maintained a stable alliance with a few planets through long distant interstellar communication. These other fifteen worlds includes Terra, Mars, Novarix, Hortus, Ferrum, Astromon, Celementis, Ascavan-I, Ascavan-II, Osmosi, Endromidas, Oston, Primitus, Secuntus and Terterus - all of them are in a close proximity within each other.

When the seraphim of Centralis discovered warp travel, they first reached contact with Sol System, followed by the other neighboring allied worlds. This was when the Harmonic Alliance first established itself. As they spread out and colonise other systems, this interplanetary campaign was named as the First Sphere of Expansion; an effort propagated by the Hierarchs, supported by the Authorium Senate to set their foothold across the galaxy. It took them only five hundred years to claim a million worlds under their dominion.

Although some initially refused, their defiance was easily quelled through decades of cultural assimilation and extraplanetary influence - slowly siphoning away the local governing power, replacing them with Alliance staff.

Their expansive campaign continued for another five hundred years until the Orion Civil War in 000.M99 inadvertently struck. The separatist council of seraphim within Centralis, gathered numerous support from hundreds and thousands of worlds that led to a revolt against the Hierarchs. It was a war that eventually ended after 005.M99. The aftermath of the war saw rapid changes within the Authorium Senate and constituted the founding of the Scrutor Agency.

The immediate period after the Orion Civil War saw the establishment of the Second Sphere of Expansion, a subsequent interplanetary colonisation campaign which was the continuation of the First Expansion. It was a several centuries long campaign, which saw the Alliance claim over two and a half million worlds and more to follow. In this time frame, the Alliance had met many foes and allies alike, all of which subsequently dissolved and assimilated into a part of their greater empire. This expansion effort, unhindered for eight centuries, was suddenly threatened by the abrupt encounter of the Sovereign of Stratum.

During the 800.M98, an Alliance's exploratory fleet discovered a Sovereign system; such an encounter sets the spark that soon alights into a violent blaze. Though there was no conflict during their brief encounter, it was one riddled with tension and rife with suspicion.

This tension, continued for another more century eventually bloated and snapped when both the Alliance and the Sovereign had sought interest on the same planet named Lapide. After months of strenuous diplomatic struggle - a Sovereign governor hastily claimed the planet as their own and forcefully expelled all Alliance's presence within the world.

In response, Celestium Fleet Admiral Lyron Tenebris bombed the planet into oblivion out of spite - an action resulting in Sovereign's declaration of war. It was during this moment, 900.M99, when the half-century long strife was named by all inhabitants within the galaxy as Death War or the War of Woe.

In the first few years during the war, it was merely a small skirmish between the border of the Alliance and Sovereign, a constant guerilla battle between neighbouring star systems and planets. The scale of the conflict however rapidly accelerated into unprecedented growth, resulting in the death of billions when it first started.

The Deus Imperator, ruling monarch of the Sovereign, seeks to achieve a swift and decisive victory, develop more of his army and the eventual creation of the terrifying Dreadknights. In response, the Hierarchs of the Alliance created the Legio Vastators and even desperately sent their Astrum Sentrian into battle. The war and strife lasted for five decades, with millions of worlds falling to anarchy and hundreds more completely eradicated.

The Death War was so devastating that it threatened both empires under a constant state of collapse. So crippled were the pair that the momentum of their effort began to wane - many worlds, both from the Alliance and Sovereign became disillusioned by the conflict. The steady decline of both superpowers eventually forced them to sign a peace treaty, resulting in the end of the war during 950.M99.

Core Worlds

Core Worlds are a special classification of planets that first established contact and form the foundation of Harmonic Alliance. There are only sixteen Core Worlds, Centralis included, and they have all proven to be an essential part of Alliance's history - becoming very influential planets in the galactic empire.

Centralis Regium: The capital world of the Harmonic Alliance, housing over fifteen billion bureaucratic seraphims.

Terra: An ecumenopolis trade center, being one of Alliance's most pivotal economic wealth. It is also a cultural importance to all races in the galaxy, being the mother world of the Predecessor. Additionally, it is the only planet to have more than three, let alone ten, unearthed paleotechs.

Mars: An industrial juggernaut mainly focuses on biotechnology and genetic engineering.

Novarix: The first founding Bastion World, being the initial establishment and foundation of the Terrestrial Troopers and also the origination of the Nova Segmentia.

Hortus: A preserved garden world, where all of its inhabitants occupied the underground system of the planet, leaving the local biosphere intact. Its unique ecosystem has made it an exotic export for local flora and fauna.

Ferrum: The first forge world, a planet entirely dedicated to manufacturing and technological mass production.

Astromon: A gas planet with a large ring of artificially created landmass near its stratosphere. Its local governor has access to a powerful paleotech tool that can peer into the galaxy in great detail within real time.

Celementis: A planet bearing vast thaumaturgic knowledge and advanced metaphysical research. It has become a domain for the prestigious few to learn from its academy.

Ascavan-I: A world dedicated to agricultural exports from animal production.

Ascavan-II: Another world dedicated to agricultural export from plant production.

Osmosi: A water dominant world dedicated upon the development of aquatic-based military force.

Endromidas: A throng world. It is a planet that dedicated most of its resources in funding for interplanetary colonisation.

Oston: An ecumenopolis moon entirely dedicated to the entertainment industry.

Primitus: A gas planet with vast exotic minerals.

Secuntus: A terrestrial planet that produces a larger quantity of arcanite than Terra - although mostly of lesser quality.

Terterus: A world with a massive crater, one of the few planets with mostly intact Black Monoliths and thus providing great insight into the Predecessor's history and understanding of the Ether.

[Political Structure]

The Alliance is ruled by the five archseraphs collectively known as the Hierarchs of Harmony. The nature and responsibilities of these Hierarchs varies but they all operate under the same consensus. Their psychically linked subconscious disallows dissension between the members of the Hierarchs.

Although, for the rest of Alliance's population, the system seems to operate under democracy - it was merely an illusion kept secret, known only by the Authorium Senate and few others. For every two centuries, the Hierarchs recycle their bodies, uploading their consciousness into another corporeal vessel. Although their memories and knowledge remain the same, their identities and personalities are each subtly different from generation to generation.

This constant recycling of bodies is adequate to hold up the illusion of democratic empire influenced under the vote of the masses.

[Alliance Organisation]

Beneath the Hierarchs are the governing body of the Authorium Senate, divided into five major vessels; the Council of Security, Council of Defense, Council of Society, Council of Economy and Council of Foundation. Each of them are under the jurisdiction of their designated Hierarchs. The Authorium Senate itself held dominion over the Technocorum Foundation (manufacturing industry), the Principilate Sorcerum (sorcerous organisation) and the Voidon Scythe (Reaper representative).

Technocorum Foundation - the main techno-sorcerous industry directly under the Authorium Senate's control. They are an organisation that oversees all technological development within Alliance space and monitors the activities of smaller independent corporations. The Technocorum also is responsible for developing military technology for the Alliance and one that administers the various war machines the Armed Enforcer possesses.

Principilate Sorcerum - an agency that oversees the development of the Ether in a sector of space. If a world is reported to have a sudden influx of unwarranted thaumaturge or a star system inexplicably under a hail of rift-storms, the Principilate is the one to handle the situation.

Voidon Scythe - a representative organisation of the Reaper Division, as it is technically a vassal entity within the Alliance. It carries the will and intent of the Reaper Division, ensuring a stable alliance between the interplanetary coalition and the void-wielding nation.

Outside even the Authorium Senate's control is the Scrutor Agency - a secretive intelligence organisation that many only knew of its name and purpose. The Scrutor Agency handles sensitive cases, information extremely confidential that only the Hierarchs have the right to bear. They are also responsible for redacting and controlling the network of information between planets, sometimes keeping an entire star system clandestine if need be.

Within the sectors of space, beyond the grasp of the Senate, is where the Sectoral Administration governs their own region of space, under the Senate's order. They have over thousands of departments each responsible for performing their administrative duty.

Donec Tabularum: Star mapping agency.

Donec Logisticum: Handles the logistics to facilitate local planetary supplies.

Aurum Propellente: Financial agency.

Donec Apothecarum: Public health agency.

Salutem Investigationis: Research and study of virulent diseases.

Militus Ordinatio: Facilitate the logistics of military production and development.

Mercator Ordinatio: Control and oversee interplanetary trading network.

Principale Repraesentativum: Act as a mediator between the Authorium Senate and local planetary government.

Donec Governum: Administer the selection process and quality of local governor.

Donec Proccesum: Paperwork processing department.

Census Tierum: Threat assessment department.

Orbis Tierum: Planetary classification assessment department.

Donec Navigatus: A subset organisation of the Celestium Mobilis that oversees the logistics of Alliance's naval force.

Populous Obscorus: Estimate the planetary population and the capacity of its local biosphere.

Oblectatio Ordinatio: Galactic entertainment department.

Educationem Ordinatio: Galactic education department.

Arbitum Ordinatio: Galactic law department.

Chrono Ministrum: Historical and archival reformation of local culture.

[Military]

As a major faction within the galaxy, the Alliance maintains a wide array of military forces. There are countless trillions of fighting armed men and women under the Alliance's dominion. Similar to its political organisation, its military are rife with diverse sub-factions independent from each other, with their own duties, tactical acuity, chain of commands, gear of war and overall objectives. Though varied and self-sufficient, cooperation between separate organisations is far from uncommon - with missions often in conjunction with one another.

The vast majority of Alliance's military falls under the jurisdiction of the Armed Enforcer, a large confederation of various sects and units controlled directly by the Authorium Council of Defense. Although attempts to standardise their forces were made countless times, the sheer size of their system made it near impossible - especially with the lack of direct contact to the Outer Region.

The military forces of the Alliance consist of;

(The "—" symbol is the representation as a subset branch under the main organisation)

Vis Defensionis: These are independent armies raised and commanded by the Governors of individual worlds. They are the local planetary defense force, predominantly lacking in conformity between different regions, even Defensionis within the same local system are widely different from their neighbouring planet.

Terrestrial Division: The largest single military arm of the Enforcer, consisting of vast armies of trained faemen. Each Troopsmen are different depending on their local segmentia-pattern, each specialising in different tactics and strategies.

—Tellurian Elite: A subcategory of the Trooper, they are the elite forces amongst the Terrestrial Division.

Celestium Mobilis: The main military naval force, controlling vast warfleets and spacecraft tasked for space combat, intergalactic exploration and interplanetary troop deployment.

—Lancea Classem: Spearhead of the attack force.

—Clypeus Classem: Interstellar defense force.

—Voyagus Classem: Navigators of uncharted stars.

Reaper Division: An agency of magic-nullifying assassins that specialises in subterfuge and covert operations.

Proeliator Cognition: Department of armed psychics.

—Warseer: Esperic infantry force.

—Psychotitan: Esperic heavy armoured unit.

—Astropsychos Mobilis: A naval branch of the Proeliator Cognition.

Astrum Sentrian: Elite guardian of Centralis Regium and the personal sentinel agents of the Hierarchs.

Legio Vastator: Genetically modified and cybernetically enhanced supersoldiers.

[Alliance Domain]

The Harmonic Alliance claims dominion over four million worlds and star systems, most of it concentrated within the Orion Sect and the rest are evenly dispersed throughout the other Arm Sectors. The disparate and widespread nature of their galactic-nation made it difficult to sustain a centralised government, thus the Alliance divide their administrative zones according to each of the five Arm Sectors; the Orion Sect, Sagittarius Sect, Norma Sect, Centaurus Sect and Perseus Sect.

These sectoral territories are not necessarily equal - as the Orion Arm houses a greater concentration of Alliance world than the other Sectors while the Sagittarius Arm houses the least amount - but it is nonetheless effective. Each of the major Arm Sector has its own macro-regions and sub-sectors within, each of varying degrees of size and concentration.

The Alliance's dominions are further separated by three layers of territorial rings, segregated from the Central Space, the Inner Region and the Outer Region. The Central Space, where the nexus region of Harmonic Alliance is located, is inhabited by five hundred planets under Seraphim dominion and centers around the Centralis Regium.

Outside of the Central Space is the Inner Region, a sphere of territory encompassing the vast majority of the Orion Arm with roughly a million worlds. It is mostly planets that were first assimilated and colonised during the First Sphere of Expansion. This is then followed by the Outer Region, which is the outermost layer of Alliance territory, encompassing the vast majority of the galaxy save for the farthest fringes of Sagittarius, Perseus and Norma Arms. The Outer Region are systems claimed during the Second and Third Sphere of Expansions - each Arm Sectors consists of roughly 750,000 of Alliance's worlds.

Those within the Inner Region are often the most prioritised by the Harmonic Alliance and those of the Outer Region are treated as vassal systems - even when not explicitly stated so. The vast majority of stars within the Inner Region are composed of advanced civilised society that had mastered spaceflight while the opposite is true for those within the Outer Region.

Despite its seemingly massive territory, in truth the Harmonic Alliance barely claims a little more than 0.002% of the galaxy. Its millions of colonised worlds are less than a speck within the hundreds and billions of stars that coalesced into spiral constellations. Thus in reality, many of Alliance's worlds are very dispersed across space, separated by hundreds of lightyears away from each other. Even the vast exploration done by the Voyagus Classem encompasses less than 10% of the Milky Way, leaving another 90% largely unknown, its information only gathered through long distant observation.

Thus, in spite of the disparity of Alliance's deceptively spacious territory and the Sovereign's rather clustered domain, both empires are in actuality equal in numbers and population.

[Local Government]

Each planet and system is allowed its own government system, as long as it does not conflict with the greater Alliance and its core ideology. Because of this, the local government often varies widely between worlds, with some practicing democracy, others enacting monarchy.

Each governor, either elected through the vote of the masses or sustain power through hereditary means, is responsible for maintaining the peace and order of their world - and if needed, provides some form of a tithe to the Alliance. The local planetary governor, colloquially known as world barons, is given a duty to enforce the will of the Alliance through myriads of methods whether it be subtly or directly.

Planets within the Inner Region are often directly supported by the Alliance, constantly reinforced by the Sectorum Administration - provided to them with technology and resources. This however, is only privileged to the systems of the Inner Region and those of the Outer Region are most often than not, neglected, only provided with the barest of support from distant starships. Many of the Outer Regional populace are not even aware of the larger Alliance, blissfully ignorant to the chaos of the galaxy.

[Culture]

The customs and culture of each world differ from each other, although all of them share the value of unity and prosperity and also viewing paleotechs as near-sacred artefacts. In most cases planets within the same sub-sectors often share closely similar cultures to one another, their traditions influenced by their native Black Monoliths.

Language

The Omni Lingua is a common tongue of the galaxy, and thus the Alliance. It is not a true language in a sense but a culmination of psychic speech patterns. It is the understanding of many astral-scholar that all sapient minds share the same mind pattern regardless of their dialect or tongue, this coalition of psychic language birthed the Omni Lingua. It is spoken throughout the galaxy, often described as almost melodic to outside listeners.

However the dialects of the Inner Region and the Outer Region slightly differ, separated by distance and culture. The former, speaks in Endo Regionis and the latter, the Exo Regionis. Two subset of Omni Lingua developed specifically by Alliance's structure of literature.

Archeovox (represented as pseudo-latin in English) is an ancient language once used by the Predecessor, now utilised by the Alliance for official or scientific naming convention.

[Economy]

The Alliance uses a shared currency in the form of Platonite, or commonly referred as 'Plats'; an etheric metal, under right enchantment, could be converted into immaterial data. The value of Plats remains consistent across the stars, barely ever changing or affected by local economies.

In spite of this, native currencies still do exist and are often subjected to fluctuation of the local market. Taking in the form of Credits, Digits or Slab, they each differ from one world to the other.

Credit: A digital currency commonly used in developed worlds.

Digit: A silk-like currency produced from some kind of bovine, prominently in use by the majority of Outer Region.

Alloy Slab: A piece of solid crystalline material, generally tartarite. It is mostly used as a form of physical currency kept in a deep vault somewhere on a planet.

[Travel]

Interstellar travel is often done for bureaucratic, military or business purposes. Though uncommon, in the relative term, Alliance's interstellar travel are rarely for commercial purposes. However even those are mostly limited to their region of sub-sector, rarely ever a civilian would need to venture beyond their own sector, let alone outside of Alliance space.

Whilst the military and the administrative department freely voyage across the stars through the current of the Ether, public transportation usually utilises the Spheris Gate located at most star systems. This complex network of intergalactic gateway allows for stable yet rigid transportation, granting the Sectorum Administration an easier method to monitor the progress of its public interstellar network.

The Alliance's rift engine uses the omnidirectional current of the Ether to sail itself across space. Through this safe and consistent, but ultimately inflexible method of interstellar travel, it allows their empire to rapidly grow and spread. Their travel speed is also affected by the distance they travel, wherein a longer jump would mean a delayed arrival and a shorter jump would be the opposite.

The interval of warp travel is entirely dependent upon the distance between the stars, where a much closer warp jump would have little temporal delay but a much farther warp jump could cause major deviation.

LY= light year

1–3000 LY: A light year is equivalent to a second.

3000–6000 LY: 1–10 light years is equivalent to a second.

6000–10,000 LY: 1–10 light years is equivalent to a second.

10,000–30,000 LY: 1–10 light years is equivalent to a second.

30,000–50,000 LY: 1–20 light years is equivalent to a second.

50,000–100,000 LY: 1–20 light years is equivalent to a second.

[Communication]

The Alliance had somehow managed to understand the secret internetwork of the Black Monoliths; ancient obelisks that exist within many worlds and are somehow interconnected with each other. Through the study of the Black Monoliths, the Alliance had created something known as the Helmien Web, usually shaped as a massive pylon hidden underground that connects to each other through the Ether in a complex webway network with each other. This allows for instantaneous interplanetary communication between distant stars.

The way it works is that each planet within a sub-sector are interlinked with one another, and from that they tethered to the Arm Sector nexus, where each one is then directly connected to the greater web.

[Alliance Dating System]

Every world in the galaxy uses the same dating system, one that has been inscribed upon each and every Black Monolith in all regions. It is a calendar system derived from Old Terra's dating structure, and one prevalent across all cultures.

The "Universae Tempore", as it is named, are taught by the Pantheons and in turn, to the mortals. Using Terra's planetary and solar rotation; one standard year is considered to be every 8760 hours and each standard month is considered to be every 730 hours. Due to the relative nature of time, it is expected for there to be slight dilation between sub-sectors but such minor contrivances is barely a bother.

{100,000 AH/000.M100}

The AH stands for After Horizon, a reference of the Age of Horizon, where all of Faekind first awakened. The Alliance also uses the Martian dating code, one that is now common across modern literature. The first three digit numbers are the "fraction year", followed by the 'M' a symbol to represent the millennium then subsequently with the number of said millennia.

Months

Januar: Month of Dawn

Februar: Month of Rife

Morum: Month of Manticore

Apra: Month of Centaurus

Junus: Month of Nectar

Julius: Month of Dragon

Augustum: Month of Crown

Septenum: Month of Unspoken

Octobri: Month of Fall

Novembri: Month of Spiral

Decembri: Month of Eve

Tredecembri: Month of Dusk

Millennial Designation

Fragmentus Millennium: 1–9999 AH

Decem Millennium: 10,000 AH

Viginti Millennium: 20,000 AH

Triginta Millennium: 30,000 AH

Quadrata Millennium: 40,000 AH

Quintis Millennium: 50,000 AH

Hexatis Millennium: 60,000 AH

Septem Millennium: 70,000 AH

Octem Millennium: 80,000 AH

Novem Millennium: 90,000 AH

Centuris Millennium: 100,000 AH

Centuris Deci Millennium: 110,000 AH

Centuris Viginti Millennium: 120,000 AH

[...]