Chapter 73
Chapter 73
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 73
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Fury
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Founding emperors were invariably no slouches when it came to personal valor, let alone Set Heinrich—his empire had been carved out through a century of his own relentless conquests, his battle record legendary beyond question. In a surge of fury, he lashed out, sending a powerhouse like Yunes flying. The gale whipped up by the golden greatsword even gouged a massive slash over forty meters long into the surrounding walls!
Yunes smashed through several stone pillars in midair before crashing into the high platform with a thunderous boom. The senators up on the platform were all frozen in terror. Douglas barely clung to the railing to keep from falling, his face nevertheless draining of color. “W-what’s going on? Impossible, impossible—”
“Mr. Douglas! Chairman Marcus! The Imperial fleet is invading en masse—they’ve already entered the atmosphere!” The screen above the podium flickered with static as the monitor’s panicked, disheveled face filled it. “Please evacuate to the anti-air base immediately! Hurry! We must initiate a strategic withdrawal!”
Evacuate be damned—the Emperor himself was standing right in front of them! Douglas smashed the communicator down with a bang, then looked up to see a vast swath of night sky exposed through the collapsed roof. Waves of starlight were sweeping in from the horizon like a tidal surge—that was the Imperial fleet, and they had truly breached the atmosphere!
“What about the anti-air fortress?! What about the Rod of the Gods?!” Douglas whirled and seized General Abel by the collar, roaring hoarsely. “What the hell is the military playing at?! Did you just throw open the gates and let them stroll in?! You traitors in league with the enemy—”
“I follow only Chairman Marcus’s orders,” Abel cut him off. “If you have any complaints, take them up with the Chairman.”
Douglas’s hands trembled as he released his grip, turning in disbelief toward Marcus.
“The Rod of the Gods is primed for strike, but control lies with the Marshal.” Chairman Marcus hauled his short, squat, dirt-smeared frame up from the ground, looking absurdly comical as his voice quavered weakly. “I… I was just following protocol. Control of S-class air-to-ground weapons belongs to the Supreme Military Commander—that was approved by Parliament back then.”
…Parliament had approved it because Celia was dead! The Supreme Military Commander position had effectively gone to the Chairman! Douglas nearly exploded in curses. He never imagined this spineless puppet of a Chairman would dare to act on his own!
“If the Alliance falls today, you’ll be sinners for the ages—you, you—”
Douglas spun to berate Celia, but as he looked up, his heart turned to ice:
The Imperial vanguard fleet was diving from the heavens, encircling the auditorium building. Countless gun muzzles glared down like the eyes of the Grim Reaper, all locked onto every soul inside!
·
“Are you alright, Celia?”
Set Heinrich strode forward, but before he got close, Celia leaped down from above. His crimson-gold saber streaked through the auditorium like a meteor before he caught it with a snap. “I’m fine.”
Heinrich’s pupils dilated slightly. Celia didn’t look fine at all—blood streamed from one hand, his hair was disheveled, his collar askew, and a thin line of blood traced his cheek, stark against his pale skin.
Though his bearing remained steady and composed, without any real sign of defeat, such a disheveled state was rare indeed. Heinrich’s heart stirred faintly. “Did you slack off on him once you saw me coming?”
“Call it what you want.”
“Was that really it?”
The probing was blatant. Celia paused, then countered, “What if it was?”
Heinrich fixed him with a steady gaze, his eyes traveling from Celia’s hair tips to his heels, scrutinizing every inch before breaking into a faint smile. “Nothing much… But since you trust me that much, I can’t let you down, can I?”
A thread of undisguised killing intent laced his voice.
What Alphas hated most wasn’t the lack of Omegas—Omegas were rare enough that if none were around, so be it. What they loathed was someone else coveting an Omega they’d already claimed. That hatred for being cucked ran from commoners to emperors alike.
Heinrich’s beastly instincts had already sensed the threat from Yunes. What ignited his killing urge was that Yunes hadn’t even registered the mark he’d left on Celia!
—His male instincts were potent enough to make any Alpha feel intense threat and rejection through a mark. Yet it had no effect on Yunes!
That meant Yunes’s Alpha pheromones were extraordinarily potent—potent enough, perhaps, to overwrite the mark he’d placed on Celia!
No Alpha could tolerate that. Yunes’s status instantly escalated from “key figure in the enemy forces to be eliminated” to the Emperor’s personal nemesis. Heinrich suddenly reached out, wiping the blood from Celia’s cheek, and murmured, “If I kill him, what would you say?”
Celia met his gaze, his expression indescribable. “You can try it and find out what I’d say.”
At that moment, the Ninth Fleet’s high command descended rapidly from the fighter swarms overhead, special forces in tow. Leading them was the scar-faced man from the military academy mech tournament. He froze at the sight of Celia, but before he could hail the Emperor, Heinrich flung his blade aside and charged toward the Dark Star Warriors’ formation!
“Your Majesty!—”
Heinrich didn’t break stride, but Celia glanced his way. The scar-faced man choked back his words, hesitating before bellowing over his shoulder, “Ground assault teams, advance! Protect His Majesty! Intercept those Dark Star Warriors!”
The troops he’d brought were evidently the elite of the capital guard’s elites. They scattered like tigers in an instant, surrounding every Dark Star Warrior present with overwhelming numbers. They also forced open the iron cage holding Dean, swiftly extracting him.
Celia narrowed his eyes at the scene, then asked abruptly, “What’s your name?”
The scar-faced man gripped his twin daggers, retreating half a step warily. “Honored to be asked, sir. Name’s Isaac.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I’m not from the Alliance. Joined the Empire mid-Galactic War and was granted the rank of Major General by His Majesty’s grace.”
Celia nodded. After a pause, Isaac ventured hesitantly, “During the Venus Fortress battle… I was just a lieutenant then, but I still owe the Marshal my life. Shame I’ve got nothing to repay it with…”
Celia cut him off casually. “Different sides. No need to thank me.”
Isaac’s hint laid bare, he turned away awkwardly.
Thick smoke billowed from beneath the high platform. With a series of cracks, Yunes’s mutated form reverted to normal. Seconds later, he gritted his teeth and rose. “Heinrich…”
Black lightning coalesced into a blade that flew to his hand. He pointed it at the figure emerging from the smoke. “Do you want to die, Set Heinrich?!”
“You said that once already at the Royal Military Academy, but the result was Dark Star Hall’s crushing defeat, slinking back to five-dimensional space from White Heron Star.” Heinrich stepped from the smoke, his black uniform stern and immaculate. The Bianhu silently morphed into a slender, gleaming black-gold longsword. “Dark Star Hall’s ambitions deserve praise, regardless. But your folly ruined it all. The moment you allied with the Alliance, your fate was sealed—utter annihilation…”
Yunes sneered, mockery filling his eyes. “You really think Celia will abandon the Alliance to side with the Empire? You don’t know him, Guard Captain. Do you even realize he’s the one who’ll sacrifice anything for his goals?”
“Isn’t that exactly why he’d choose to cooperate with the Empire?” Heinrich raised his sword, revealing the night sky choked with descending colossal warships. “—You think any of you are leaving here alive today?”
From the shattered roof, the entire visible sky was blanketed by the Ninth Fleet. Countless cannon blasts twinkled like stars, ready to engulf the earth in flames at any moment. Yunes narrowed his eyes, a chill flashing in his yellowish vertical pupils. After a beat, he sneered toward Celia. “Is this your plan?”
Celia said nothing.
“You think driving out Dark Star Hall with the Empire’s help would be that easy? You think you can send the Ninth Fleet back where it came from? Celia, you’ve just handed the Alliance’s core to the Empire on a platter—”
“Shut up!” Heinrich roared, his Bianhu longsword slashing toward Yunes’s neck in an instant!
It was a battle unseen in years: Yunes, emissary of the extragalactic mystery force, versus Set Heinrich, the most absolute autocrat in Milky Way history—trading lethal blows on the stage of the Alliance’s central government.
The colossal clash shook heaven and earth. The entire building shuddered, collapsing walls and platforms booming dully. The shockwave staggered even the Dark Star Warriors poised to charge. The scar-faced man and his soldiers stumbled forward a few steps before toppling.
Celia drove his saber into the wall to steady himself. Through the smoke, the Bianhu blade abruptly lengthened, hurling the blood-spewing Yunes airborne. Heinrich followed with a reverse overhead slash:
“Die—!”
With a wet squelch, blood sprayed. The golden sword pierced Yunes’s left chest, pinning him to the ground!
It all happened in a flash, as if the air itself froze. The Dark Star Warriors stood rigid.
Isaac’s face relaxed.
Celia’s remained impassive, betraying no emotion.
“Hahahaha.” Yunes lay there, then burst into laughter. “Hahahaha…”
Heinrich gripped the hilt overhead, frowning faintly—then his expression shifted—
The wound through his heart barely bled, as if plunged into void. Laughing, Yunes seized the blade and slowly wrenched it free, sitting up!
Heinrich’s pupils contracted. “You…”
The gaping black wound healed visibly, flesh vanishing beneath black armor. Yunes reached back, spacetime warping into a vortex behind him—a long void rift yawned:
“—Now you know what he’d say?”
Heinrich started forward, but Yunes flashed Celia a sinister smile and flipped headfirst into the black hole!
Identical spacetime portals opened behind the other Dark Star Warriors, who dove in one after another. Imperial troops lunged to block them, but a repulsive force hurled them back—the venue cleared of Dark Star Warriors in moments, save a few corpses strewn about!
·
“This is…” Isaac’s face turned ashen. “What the hell?!”
“Five-dimensional space tech,” Heinrich answered before Celia could. “Even their black armor has spatial devices—impenetrable defenses.”
He turned to Celia with a wry smile. “So what were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” Celia’s tone was flat. “Trying is good.”
Heinrich stowed the Bianhu, the golden sword reverting to an unremarkable black bracelet on his arm. He descended the rubble, eyeing Celia up and down without restraint. “What a earth-shattering return.”
“…”
“Pity the Alliance is as weak and useless as ever, letting others fight on its turf… Speaking of which, those senators look familiar. I figured they’d have followed suit and died martyrs long ago.”
Heinrich glanced back at Douglas, who paled and retreated half a step before snapping, “Celia! Do you even know what you’re doing—?”
Celia interrupted. “I figured once Dark Star Hall left, you’d have the sense to hide.”
Douglas’s face twisted spectacularly.
Watching Celia unleash his sharp tongue on someone else was always a delight. Heinrich smiled at the shell-shocked senators, malice unmasked in his eyes. “Don’t worry, gentlemen—no more blood today. I guarantee the cannons overhead won’t fire. If you need a definition for their presence, at least for today… they’re salute cannons.”
He inclined his head deeply toward Celia, posture humbly deferential, though his eyes blazed intensely.
Celia gave a faint snort, saying nothing.
Douglas’s face darkened. He gritted out, “Salute cannons? Celebrating your bloodless takeover of the Alliance government?!”
“The Alliance government died fifty years ago when it surrendered. You’re just its ghosts now, grasping at Dark Star Hall’s ambitions and greed to minimally harass the Empire.” Heinrich paused, his voice proud and clear. “—Yet I generously announce that the Empire will make peace with the Alliance. In fact, that’s why I’m here today.”
The senators’ faces shifted in that instant, a riot of expressions.
“…” Douglas thought his ears had failed him. He stiffened before erupting, “Who said we’d make peace with you? Who has the authority—” He cut off, whirling incredulously toward Celia. “You—!”
“I never agreed to that.”
Celia’s voice was soft, but every eye in the venue snapped to him. The Ninth Fleet officers stared unblinking, riveted.
Heinrich chuckled and shook his head. “Why say it so absolutely, Celia? You know every eye in the Ninth Fleet is on you right now. That military seat’s been held open for you… Besides, everyone knows all Alliance forces on this planet combined can’t match the Ninth Fleet. Any resistance will end just like fifty years ago.”
If hearts could shout, every Imperial officer would be cheering the Emperor on. Those nearby clenched fists tight, cheeks twitching with tension.
And sure enough, the Emperor played the sentiment card:
“For half a century, the Ninth Fleet has made a pilgrimage to Red Soil Star every ten years to honor you, Celia. You might not know them, but their familiarity with you rivals any Shining Legion soldier. Their faith in the nation and loyalty are no less genuine than any Alliance troops’.”
“Commendable,” Celia smiled faintly.
Emboldened, Heinrich stepped closer. “No irreconcilable hatred divides us. Though our sides differ, our hopes and efforts for humanity’s future align. The Alliance’s replacement is the tide of the times. You know even without the Empire, something else would rise—no polity endures forever. The Alliance has simply reached its time to exit the stage.”
“Precisely, I ask you to set aside national and ideological divides and join me in looking toward humanity’s shared future—not just Alliance or Empire citizens, but all future polities’…”
Heinrich paused, voice grave. “So today, I don’t wish to resolve this with blood. History has greats who ended wars through peaceful evolution. I hope we can join them. Then in a thousand years, when they read the annals, they’ll see how wisdom and peace advanced history here and now…”
Clap, clap, clap.
“Born orator, aren’t you, Heinrich.” Celia raised a hand in light applause. “History should record this fine speech of yours.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Heinrich’s heart sank faintly. “I’m just trying to avoid bloodshed.”
“Thanks for your unchanged hospitality these fifty years, but I notice while you spoke, the cannons overhead never shifted an inch…” Celia glanced skyward. Countless probe lenses broadcast the mockery in his eyes across the fleet screens. Many officers averted their gazes awkwardly.
Celia waved amiably at them, then turned to the Emperor. “The Alliance can’t be peacefully evolved into the Empire. So can I take it today’s bloodshed is inevitable?”
Heinrich’s expression stayed composed, but cold sweat dampened his shirt.
Everyone had a weakness, Emperor or not. Celia might not know his, but he’d struck it squarely—
He feared failure in persuasion.
Over a century of Galactic War, the Empire had induced countless Alliance surrenders, relying on political dialogue by the end. Heinrich had once been supremely confident in his eloquence—until Red Soil Star fifty years ago, his sole and final failed inducement. Marshal Celia had flatly refused, dying a martyr.
That moment taught him language’s frailty. He hadn’t lost on political skill, but to the Alliance spirit’s laughable illusion.
Pain shadowed Heinrich’s heart for fifty years. In countless midnight reveries, recalling Red Soil Star’s sand sea under nightfall, he’d ask: If again, could I sway Celia? With more time, would the end differ?
—Reflection always yielded no.
He could only watch Celia march to fate’s death, a tragedy scripted from the start with parting as its finale.
“Celia…” The venue fell deathly silent. At last, Heinrich rasped, “I don’t want to threaten you… but if the Alliance rejects peaceful evolution, the Ninth Fleet can’t return empty-handed…”
Celia watched him quietly, then asked after a beat, “Must we fight?”
“…We must.”
“You’re sure you’ll win?”
“We will.”
A half-smile flickered in Celia’s eyes. Heinrich shook his head, solemn. “I know you trust the Shining Legion, but it’s decayed now—the Ninth Fleet’s tail has pinned it outside the atmosphere. They can’t intervene. Give it up.”
They locked eyes. After a moment, Celia turned his head and called out, “Karyan?”
Karyan looked up from his light computer. “Yes.”
“Status of the Shining Legion?”
“Currently holding the uppermost high-altitude defense layer, with locks on all Ninth Fleet tail vessels. Enemy ground forces have entered the atmosphere.”
“Enemy traces around the space fortress?”
“None.”
Heinrich cut in coldly. “Imperial ground forces control your space fortress’s surface command center. All C-class and above fortress cannons are locked down—Celia, the Alliance is cornered. What do you have left?”
Tension choked the air; breaths held, a pin drop audible.
Alliance senators paled in fear; Imperial officers gripped weapons, edging toward the Emperor.
But then Celia smiled faintly, beckoning Heinrich.
“—Come here.”