Chapter 98
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Genuine Surprise
That was probably the first time in all these years that Heinrich had seen Celia wear an expression of genuine surprise—not feigned, not laced with wariness or hostility, but pure and unadulterated, born purely of astonishment.
He hadn’t expected me to pull that move—Heinrich thought to himself, a faint smugness and malice curling through him.
Of course, the armed coup hadn’t been that long ago, and with the Alliance’s rear still unstable, it was entirely foreseeable that Celia wouldn’t just come himself but would bring Karyan, Mowen, Abel, and the others along. For the Parliament to stir up some trouble in response was only to be expected.
Not to mention that the Konsetlin family’s secret dealings with Heinrich hadn’t exactly been hidden from view. With negotiations at the New Kremlin Palace hitting a wall, for Heinrich to run off and ignite a fire in the Alliance’s backyard was perfectly reasonable. If Celia hadn’t even anticipated that much, it would be an insult to his intelligence.
—But anticipation was one thing; Celia absolutely hadn’t expected Heinrich to actually go through with it.
“You think I’d treat the Konsetlin family as my last resort, holding them back until the critical moment?” The emperor laughed, his ice-blue gaze sharp as a blade.
“You underestimate me, Celia.”
“Granted, by your logic, the Konsetlin family is a super bomb, but one I could only use once at most. Fail, and you’d seize the momentum to uproot them entirely, leaving me with nothing. So you figured I wouldn’t detonate it now—I’d bide my time until after you and I truly joined forces to assault Dark Star Hall, when the Alliance committed everything and left its rear exposed. That’s when I’d light the fuse.”
The emperor leaned forward slightly, smiling.
“So you let your guard down, Celia.”
The entire hall fell into dead silence. The faces around them registered shock, bewilderment, surprise, indignation...
Only Celia closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
“If you’d waited until then, you might even have had a shot at teaming up with the Alliance Parliament to corner the Radiant Legion on the space battlefield.”
The emperor laughed.
“Yes, but I chose not to. Do you know why?”
He paused, studying Celia’s impassive face—he’d already tucked away that flicker of surprise.
The man who held the Alliance’s highest authority wore a mask of perfect calm, still as a deep pool without a ripple. But the emperor knew the shock roiling inside him was like an undercurrent, invisible on the surface but far from settled.
“I don’t know.”
“No, you do.”
Celia lowered his lashes, but the emperor’s hawk-like gaze bore down relentlessly, aggressive almost to the point of aggression.
“You do, Celia. But just like in so many of our conversations, you choose not to believe—out of personal bias. Just like how you refuse to believe right now that I don’t actually want the Alliance destroyed.”
A murmur of uproar swept the room, but the emperor leaned back relaxedly, tilting his chin to look down at Celia.
“You don’t want the Alliance destroyed...”
Celia laughed, a hint of mockery in his tone.
The Alliance delegation—Karyan and the others—didn’t speak, but their eyes and expressions unanimously conveyed the same sentiment. General Mowen even snorted outright, slamming his pen down on the table with a sharp crack. General Abel turned away with a cold sneer.
“Yes. I chose to play the Konsetlin card at this far-from-ideal moment precisely to prove my sincerity to you with actions, not words.”
The emperor ignored the Alliance delegation’s reactions. His tone was hard and solemn, weighing on every heart like a massive boulder.
“Since you won’t let me have it easy, I won’t let you either. But I’ve still left you a lifeline to turn things around. Everything I’ve done has dragged the Alliance down to the Empire’s level of disadvantage—but I haven’t crushed you completely, beyond all hope of recovery.”
“—Of course, you might counter that I couldn’t have done that anyway. But my stance is clear: that day in the Alliance Parliament, not a word of the one-country-two-systems proposal was a lie. I do want to preserve the spark of democracy.”
“As for now—”
The emperor made an elegant, inviting gesture.
“You can focus on handling the Alliance’s troubles, while I’ve bought time to salvage the front lines. Once you’ve thought it through, we can sit down properly and discuss cooperation...”
“But don’t mistake my concession for weakness. The fact that I played the Konsetlin card without hesitation means I have a whole arsenal of moves left to counter you.”
The emperor’s voice was low and magnetic, not loud, yet its heavy menace echoed long in the vast hall.
After a long moment, Celia rose, pushing back his chair, and headed for the door.
“Mowen, contact the Jinshui Star garrison immediately and prepare for nationwide martial law. Karyan, notify all radio stations in Alliance territory—we’re issuing a galaxy-wide public address together.”
Chairs scraped against the floor with a clatter as the Alliance generals stood in unison.
“Yes, sir!”
·
The emperor’s threat loomed like a shadow over every heart, exuding a chill that intensified with every passing second.
As if to confirm his words, the news from the Alliance grew worse with each report—
The day after the Alliance delegation departed, an Imperial fleet appeared out of nowhere beyond Jinshui Star’s atmosphere, disguised as interstellar pirates. They exploited a stellar sunspot storm to create massive signal interference, completely blacking out the space station’s comms.
At the same instant, the Konsetlin family—flush with massive Imperial funding—smuggled in foreign mercenaries undetected and, together with over twenty purple-robed grand parliamentarians, sealed off the Parliament building and all external channels.
Cut off inside and out, with no word getting through—the conditions for an armed coup were all in place. Yet it wasn’t until the day after that the local garrison noticed anything amiss and tried storming the Parliament building—to no avail.
Forty-eight hours later, the standoff reached breaking point.
That dawn, gunfire shattered the predawn quiet outside the Parliament. Major General Dave led the local garrison in an assault, which quickly escalated into fierce firefights. Hours later, the clash spiraled out of control. Foreign mercenaries deployed armed shuttles to encircle the entire government complex. Meanwhile, Parliament broadcast a Proclamation to the People across all of Jinshui:
“Half a century ago, the marshal who symbolized freedom and democracy has finally revealed himself as a power-hungry tyrant. Parliament will reveal the Parliament massacre orchestrated single-handedly by the military just days ago, and calls on all citizens to rise against the military’s brutal repression, take up arms, and fight back...”
By now, the coup had raged for a full week. Through the combined efforts of the military’s generals, Major General Dave finally broke the ground blockade with a mech squadron and sent a distress signal from deep space, a million light-years to the New Kremlin Palace.
·
After hearing the full report, Celia let out a long breath.
To Parliament and the Konsetlin family, they might have held a six- or seven-in-ten chance of victory. But to these professional warmongers in the military, things weren’t that dire...
As long as the Empire stayed out of it, the trouble stirred by Parliament was just a backyard fire—nothing more. After all, the Konsetlin family lacked serious military hardware and relied mainly on foreign mercenaries. And mercenaries, fierce as they might be for pay, were ultimately just a rabble...
But—Celia couldn’t help wondering—why had the Empire stopped stirring the pot?
In the lulls amid the frantic preparations, the thought scratched at him like a kitten’s paw. Whenever he had even a moment’s breather, that little claw would peek out, bringing a prickly, tingling itch that left him staring blankly for ages.
·
Just as Heinrich had predicted, Celia’s counterstrike was swift and ruthless.
The morning’s intel reached them; by afternoon, Radiant Legion warships scattered across the Andromeda galaxy had received the muster order. By midnight, the Radiant Legion struck Jinshui, mech squadrons ripping a gash in the atmosphere amid a storm of fire, encircling the entire Alliance government complex.
That same night, the Gemini Emperor made his way alone to the top floor of the New Kremlin Palace. He traversed the grand, expansive corridor and came to a halt at the door of the long-range comms room. Beyond the transparent ceiling, the starry sea slowly wheeled. The hall blazed with light; three massive AI holobrain arrays rose like pillars from the center, while signals from millions of light-years away scrolled in rows across the floor-to-ceiling holowalls.
Celia stood with his back to him, alone at the control console, one hand propping his temple.
A long-range comms earpiece was plugged into his ear—the emperor knew he was tuned to the battle channel on Jinshui. Perhaps he really was stepping back; Celia wasn’t micromanaging the fight but had left Karyan, Mowen, and the others to coordinate from below. He just sat there quietly, earpiece in, listening to the updates.
His jacket was draped over the arm of his chair, leaving him in just his white uniform shirt. His dark hair gleamed softly under the lights, setting off his snow-pale neck in a study of quiet restraint.
From behind, his shoulders looked slightly relaxed, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows. With his left hand propping his brow, it revealed the lean, solid line of his forearm.
The emperor stepped forward, momentarily dazed.
He suddenly recalled long ago, when he’d still been a mere guard, standing behind Marshal Celia to report intel. Celia had been facing the window then too, sleeves rolled up casually, one hand holding a teacup, the other on his hip, baring toned, wiry arm muscles.
Marshal Celia had fair skin and wasn’t particularly burly; amid a crowd of towering Alphas, he hadn’t stood out. Yet when Heinrich looked at him, some primal male instinct stirred—awe, wariness, even a faint unease.
He’d wondered back then why he felt no Alpha pheromones from the marshal, yet this profound dread all the same. Later he realized it had nothing to do with pheromones—it was pure authority.
Forged in centuries of blades and blood, towering over millions of soldiers—that innate aura of ruthless command and imperial pressure was what made Alphas bow willingly... and what commanded Heinrich’s own respect and fear.
The emperor halted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
Celia’s silhouette didn’t stir, as if utterly absorbed, oblivious even to the emperor behind him.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, starlight glittered in the night. The hall was silent, save for the muffled thunder of cannon fire and scattered blasts leaking from the earpiece. Heinrich stood there, lost in a daze for a moment, before finally murmuring softly,
“Celia...”
No response.
Heinrich leaned in to speak—then froze.
Celia, hand to brow, eyes shut tight, had fallen asleep alone in the cold, empty command hall.