’In the first century of the third millennium, our generation is honored to witness such a glorious era—the Great Crusade of the Sacred Selene Empire, conquering the stars.
The mighty Astartes Angels, under the command of their towering Legion Masters, have delivered the God-Emperor’s wrath upon her enemies.
Fighting alongside us are the endless legions of the Empire, the godlike Titans of the Forge Worlds, the terrifying blades of the Inquisition, and the untouchable divine might of the Imperial Guard.
All who resist the dawn of this new age shall be utterly crushed.
Comrades, this is our mission!
To unify the forsaken void beneath the reign of our Divine Empress—whether by willing submission or the force of arms.
Comrades, this is our opportunity!
The ignorant, dark millennia have ended. The God-Emperor’s light now shines upon the stars—a promise of a brighter future.
Wealth, power, strength, fa—everything you can imagine awaits within the Great Crusade!
Fight, seize, plunder, claim, conquer, and rule—for these are the pillars that forge the future.
Victory to the Empire! Glory to the God-Emperor! Long live Selene—!!’
—Gan’an Shinomiya, Governor of Sector Eleven, Conquered World-Eleven, Astartes Eighteenth Legion, Salamanders.
...
Fully ard and equipped, Hachiman Hikigaya followed his unit down the ramp of the military transport ship. As they stepped onto the spaceport’s grand marble causeway, they passed beneath a colossal archway, flanked on both sides by towering statues of sword-bearing Astartes Angels.
The golden twin-headed eagle spread its wings high above, its radiance as dazzling as ever.
Two banners descended from the top of the arch, each emblazoned with the Empire’s will. After millennia of darkness, the Imperial Aquila still flew on the edge of the endless void—and it would continue to do so.
As one of the many auxiliary soldiers returning ho for leave, Hachiman Hikigaya scanned the massive arch’s engraved inscription from behind his sealed tactical helt.
’Shinomiya Family...’
With instinctive precision, he swung his arm in salute and marched in lockstep through the triumphal gate, murmuring to himself.
He rembered that before the Imperial Era, the Shinomiya Group had already been one of Japan’s four major financial conglorates, boasting assets exceeding 200 trillion yen, with thousands of subsidiary companies—an undeniable powerhouse.
Now, with Gan’an Shinomiya having quickly bent the knee and pledged allegiance to the Empire, he had been rewarded with the position of Governor of Sector Eleven by the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs. The Shinomiya family’s influence must have reached unprecedented heights.
’Even the deposed ruler probably can’t compare to them anymore.’
Hikigaya didn’t dwell on it too much. He had always been a laid-back person. If not for his family—if not for ensuring Komachi had access to better social resources and proving himself worthy of Yukino—he never would have risked his life in the Auxiliary Legions, strapping his head to his belt in pursuit of military glory.
But now... ’Hehehe...’
Say what you will about the Empire, but its hierarchical system, military ritocracy, and noble titles were certainly enticing. Returning victorious, Hikigaya could already see the rewards lined up before him—property, vehicles, wealth—all within reach. And if he pushed just a little further, even a man’s ultimate dream might not be impossible.
"Attention!"
Clang!
At their commander’s order, the returning auxiliary soldiers imdiately stood at perfect attention, not uttering a single word or moving a muscle.
The over one hundred thousand troops who had disembarked ford into massive square formations. Whether viewed horizontally or vertically, their lines were flawlessly straight.
The towering, bear-like officer who had earlier reprimanded Hachiman Hikigaya nodded in satisfaction.
"Report, sir! Eleventh Regint of the Eleventh Auxiliary Legion, requesting inspection!"
Before the massive formation stood a temporarily raised reviewing platform.
On it, the officers and drill instructors of the Eleventh Regint stood rigidly at attention, surrounding a broad-shouldered, imposing commander in full dress uniform.
This general, arms crossed behind his back, scrutinized the ranks below with an unwavering gaze. Deep furrows creased his scarred face, his expression one of natural authority—terrifying even without a scowl.
The officers beside him remained deathly silent, fearful that the overseer of Conquered World-Eleven’s auxiliary forces might find sothing amiss.
Then, with a smile that was anything but reassuring, the general stepped forward.
"Gentlen, so say that our Eleventh World is nothing more than a resort planet, that our legion is re decoration—cannon fodder at best. That compared to the so-called ’elite’ legions forged in harsher environnts, we are nothing."
"Can we accept such an insult?!"
"NO, SIR!!"
Clearly, a classic case of post-war morale boosting—stirring motivation, instilling discipline, and preventing complacency after extended leave.
On the lavish balcony of the VIP lounge, Selene leaned against the railing, watching for a mont before losing interest and shifting her gaze away.
Not that it was a bad speech—just predictable. Different paths, sa destination. Comparing oneself to a rival was a ti-honored thod of inspiring unit pride. Whether in military chants, competitive drills, or rivalries, finding an opponent to challenge always worked as a motivator.
Selene had no doubt that, sowhere else, the so-called ’hardened’ auxiliary legion that this general referred to was running a similar exercise.
Sothing along the lines of: "Even those soft-bellied resort troops from Conquered World-Eleven managed to take down XXX! Are we really going to let them outshine us?!" or "Are we going to let those ’pretty boys’ walk all over us?!"
She could practically predict the rhetoric without even hearing it firsthand.
And she was certain—absolutely certain—that this Eleventh Auxiliary General had already spoken with the commander of that other legion. They were both playing their respective roles, one as the challenger, the other as the standard-bearer.
For the lower ranks, such rivalries fueled motivation without causing actual conflict. For officers, however, clear-headed leadership was essential.
"Mhm, mhm," Alyssa nodded along, despite having no idea what Selene was actually thinking.
Swirling the wine in her glass, Selene casually called out, "Alyssa."
"Ah, I’m here!" Alyssa instantly put down her massive tub of ice cream, sitting up straight with a cute yet obedient look.
"Observe them—and that auxiliary general’s thods. What do you notice?"
"Eh?"
"I won’t make it too hard on you. By tomorrow morning, I expect an 800-word analysis from you. Do put effort into it—if I’m not satisfied, I’ll lock you in the darkroom. And forget about visiting the food market."
Snap.
Alyssa’s face fell.
Her ice cream suddenly lost all its flavor.
Happiness—gone in a flash.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon/DaoOfHeaven
User Comments
0 comments from readers