Chapter 100
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Where Am I White?!
The air in the communication hall had completely frozen over. After a long moment, the emperor's voice drifted out, vague and uncertain: "When... exactly did you two get here?"
Admiral Aaron was still stuck in a daze from the heavy blow, like a glitched robot with his mouth opening and closing, opening and closing... but not a single word coming out.
Karyan glanced at the emperor, looking like he wanted to say something but holding back, his tone laced with barely concealed sympathy: "Starting from when you asked why I was dissatisfied with you."
The emperor: "............"
The emperor finally lived up to expectations and flew into a rage from embarrassment: "What the hell are you two doing here right now?!"
"Marshal, don't tell me you're dissatisfied with me too?" Aaron finally squeezed some sound out of his throat with great difficulty: "You've got it all wrong. Actually, there's nothing between me and that pretty boy—"
Celia: "No, no, no, that's not what I meant at all..."
The emperor: "Aaron! What did you just call me?!"
Aaron: "He's been squatting at the top of the Empire's Most Unwanted Male list for fifty years—like a fly you can't swat away—"
Celia: "I know, Aaron, calm down, just hear me out..."
The emperor: "That was just an internal Omega Protection Association poll! It's not authoritative at all, okay?!"
Aaron: "So what I'm saying is, Marshal, you can insult my personality, but you absolutely cannot question my taste—"
Celia: "I was wrong, Aaron. I owe you an apology..."
"Enough!" The emperor slammed the table and shot to his feet, roaring: "So what exactly are you two here for?!"
Aaron sat behind the command console with his face covered. Celia patted his shoulder benevolently. Karyan leaned against the doorframe and waved the documents in his hand: "The battle's over. Came to discuss some matters with the marshal. What are you doing here, pretty... Emperor? Inspecting the work?"
"What's wrong with inspecting the work? This is an imperial base station—Empire territory. Can't I come here?!"
"Of course not. This whole mess was your doing from start to finish. Haven't even settled the score with you yet, and here you are checking on the work?"
The emperor vaguely felt like he'd heard those words before. A few seconds later, it clicked, and he snapped angrily: "—Have you all forgotten that Dark Star Hall was drawn here by the Alliance?!"
Aaron kept covering his face behind the command console. Celia kept patting his shoulder with that benevolent look. Karyan turned his head away to flip through files, focusing intently.
"..." The emperor's mouth twitched slightly. After a long pause, he finally voiced the question buried deep in his heart for over a century:
"Just where exactly am I 'white' that you all keep calling me pretty boy?!"
The hall fell into dead silence. Everyone looked like they wanted to speak but held back.
After a moment, Aaron lifted his head and said seriously: "Heinrich, sorry I never told you. What they really mean is that you have the potential to be a kept man."
The emperor with kept-man potential thus stayed behind with vicious glee and had a meal, polishing off the pork chops and diamond fruits left in Celia's bowl—without leaving a single one for Karyan. Anyway, the saliva on them was his own, so nothing to be grossed out about.
Karyan had originally come to discuss the post-war public address to the entire population with Celia, but with the imperial emperor and admiral present, he couldn't go into too much detail and just glossed over it vaguely. Aaron, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He called the kitchen for some booze and started downing glass after glass, filling the emperor in on the frontline situation—after all, the core intel had already been swiped by Celia. With the Empire and Alliance destined to form a joint force anyway, there was no real point in hiding the minor details.
"Rumor has it they still have 16,000 large warships, tens of millions of nuclear fusion drones that don't even sail in real space normally—just travel through 5D space. They only drop out of spacetime rifts right before the stargates, hit the ground running into combat, using bio-light armor squads as their butcher's knife to rip through local garrisons first, then leaping through the stargate."
Aaron tossed back a gulp of booze and continued: "They crossed battlefields spanning tens of thousands of light-years using that method—simple and brutal推进."
Karyan shrugged it off. "And with that simple, brutal method, they crushed the Big Dipper system..."
"No crushing," Aaron shot back immediately. "Just couldn't stop them. The Big Dipper garrison set off in pursuit right away. The garrisons from the defeated systems before did the same. Now Dark Star Hall's fleet has several hundred thousand imperial ships chasing behind. If they catch up—"
"You won't catch them," Karyan drawled lazily. "That's exactly why they use this simple, brutal method—they know you can't."
Aaron's golden eyebrows shot up, and he was just about to retort when Heinrich spoke up: "He's right. We can't catch them."
Aaron immediately wanted to defend his generals, but when he turned, he saw the emperor gnawing on a meat bone in one hand, booze glass in the other, shrugging at him with utter sincerity:
"To smash the enemy, you'd have to mass heavy forces in front of their target stargate, form up a long, thick fleet formation to block them. The imperial fleet chasing Dark Star Hall now is big enough in numbers, but stargates cover too vast an area. In the boundless universe, you can't predict where they'll pop out. By the time you get the intel and rush over, it's too late."
"The Kramel system that got smashed before? Dark Star fleet passes through, they send pursuit right away, but then the enemy dips into 5D space. By the time Kramel's pursuit reaches Big Dipper, sensors pick up the enemy de-dimensionalizing hundreds of light-years away. They whip themselves into a frenzy to get there, but Big Dipper's garrison is already crushed by Dark Star dragon riders. In the end, they can only watch the enemy saunter off, diving back into 5D space."
"Bottom line, our spacetime tech can't match theirs. Their movements are ghosts to us." Heinrich summed it up, then turned to Celia: "What do you think, Marshal?"
"Agreed, Legion Commander." Celia sipped his soup sporadically, his voice hoarse.
That gut-wrenching hunger had come fast and left just as quick. Half a bowl of rice in, and he was full, but for some reason, his mouth still craved more—like his body was desperate to stockpile energy anytime.
Trouble was, with anything in his stomach, drowsiness hit. His thoughts turned sluggish, like congealed gel, eyelids drooping without warning.
"The root cause is Dark Star dragon riders' overwhelming lethality. Local garrisons struggle even when prepared, letting the Dark Star fleet slip through stargates every time." Celia rubbed his eyes, weary: "Main issue is your spacetime tactics can't match theirs... Mobility probably sucks too. Garrison coordination levels are abysmal."
That hit the nail on the head.
The Empire wasn't like the Alliance. The central government held massive control over local system garrisons—but as a class-based hierarchy, the farther out the systems, the more they fell under local nobles. Each sector revered the royals but operated like mini-kingdoms, rife with isolation and suppression between them.
Aaron might be an admiral, the Empire's One-Word Side-by-Side King, but he could only fully command the Gemini garrison under the imperial core. His grip on the armies in nobles' hands below was limited. Plus, this time Imperial HQ had sent Major General Giuseppe to lead—a founding general, loyalty unquestioned, but as a coordinator against those scheming warlord clans? He fell a bit short.
If spacetime tactics couldn't match Dark Star Hall, you'd have to compensate with rapid allied coordination. But if the coordinator was stretched thin, allies mutually suspicious, tanking mobility... how the hell do you chase Dark Star Hall?
So their simple, brutal sweep across tens of thousands of light-years made perfect sense.
"Giuseppe still lacks the backbone against those underlings..." Heinrich mused, tapping the table: "Aaron, after negotiations wrap, replace him. If they won't shape up, just kill a few—they'll fall in line."
Aaron nodded naturally—civilian tales of him as the ruthless killer king weren't wrong. That's how the admiral built his rep.
"And the Alliance?" Celia suddenly cut in. "We're forming a joint army as agreed. Can't have no Alliance rep in command, right?"
Heinrich and Aaron exchanged a glance, a flicker of hesitation in both their eyes.
Command was pivotal. The Alliance joining as equals meant claiming a slice—or half—of it was fair.
But if the Alliance sent Celia himself... even with Aaron, command would tilt hard his way. Everyone knew Celia's prestige, authority, and popular support were massive. If Aaron disagreed, who'd yield—Celia?
"If the Alliance has a suitable candidate, it's negotiable..."
Aaron chose his words carefully, about to steer around the topic with a good excuse, when Celia grinned and clapped Karyan on the shoulder:
"Overall command is crucial. The Alliance commander will of course lead personally. He's our best pick."
Aaron: "...Huh?!"
Fight alongside the mortal enemy! Better if it was Marshal Celia!
Aaron's mood rollercoastered wildly; but before he could protest, Heinrich said oh-so-naturally: "That works. Mid... Marshal Karyan really is the best choice."
—Now you're acknowledging him as marshal?!
Aaron caught Karyan's skin-crawling smirk and went dark in the eyes, regretting not beating the guy down that duel day. The emperor, probably sensing his flip-flop was too abrupt, hurriedly pinned down the bristling admiral: "But command split must match troop ratios—Empire's committing 400,000 warships. How many from the Alliance? Too few, and your say might be... light."
Now the rollercoaster mood hit Karyan, while Aaron perked up: "Right! Gemini garrison has 600,000 warships on standby!"
Karyan whipped around to look at Celia.
"A million warships' worth of muscle..." Celia stroked his chin, smiling: "Alliance total population isn't even that high."
Admiral Aaron looked utterly saved from doom.
"But the pre-war enlistment speech hasn't happened yet. After that, Radiant Legion should see a massive surge." Celia paused, then narrowed his eyes with a smile amid Heinrich and Aaron's stunned stares: "Still won't match Empire numbers, but for say... shouldn't be too light."
Enlistment?
Radiant Legion had already drained the Alliance's adult males dry. More recruits? Drag the old, young, and women to the front?
The emperor blinked oddly: "...Recruit from where?"
Celia didn't answer, just curled his lips meaningfully: "None of your business, Heinrich. Even though you're a pretty—"
Dead silence filled the room.
Celia buried his face in Karyan's shoulder. Seconds later, he lifted it, acting natural: "Even though you're emperor, there's still plenty you can't control... Of course from the galaxy. What, from Dark Star Hall?"
After a long, long silence, Heinrich asked: "...What you almost said was 'pretty boy,' wasn't it?"
"..."
The emperor slammed the table and stood, at the end of his rope: "So where exactly am I 'white'—?!"