Puchi!
"So, you’re saying the Emperor didn’t stay in the Palace District, but after visiting several of the Imperial Capital’s military camps, space naval ports, and comrcial districts, he slipped into the residential wards of the lower city?"
Within Schönbrunn Palace, Selene rested her chin on one hand, quietly slicing her prepared ant-cattle steak with a dining knife.
"Sheele?"
After a mont, Selene recalled who that was. Oh, that chef girl from the lower city.
As for how her casual visit had changed Sheele’s original fate—one of ruin, the death of her family and friends, joining Night Raid as a fugitive, only to be killed by Imperial guards—Selene felt little sentint.
After that chance encounter years ago, when she and the young Esdeath had dined at Sheele’s family restaurant, Selene had completely forgotten about it.
Until now, when the na suddenly appeared before her again. A quick search through past tax records revealed, ah—so I was the advertisent, huh.
Thanks to Selene’s brief visit, Sheele’s parents’ humble ho-style restaurant had risen to prominence in the capital. Not exactly a vast fortune, but now comfortably upper-middle class.
They owned farmland and estates, property, held a small hereditary title for military rit, had modest savings, and a proper business. Wait—a title for military rit? Looking closer—
Tatsumi.
Origin: Lower City, Imperial Capital, 246—Heian Ward.
Occupation: Imperial Auxiliary Army, Colonel rank; title of military rit...
Married; wife: Sheele.
...
"I see. A connection that bore no fruit in the original tiline has, by chance, blossod in my hands..."
Selene smiled faintly and took another bite, then turned her attention elsewhere.
"Still, that Emperor guy..."
The holographic projection on the table displayed the Emperor entering Sheele’s Friends’ House ☂ restaurant in the lower city—ordering the secret nu item, the Selene Set al, chatting happily with the other diners, and playfully teasing a child, a towering giant in white robes.
Selene took it in stride.
Suppressing his overwhelming presence, erasing the fear and awe ordinary people felt toward him and his gene-sons, the Emperor easily blended into the crowd despite his five-to-six-ter-tall fra.
As an eternal being, the Emperor was a fusion of physical matter and psychic essence. That alone explained why the Primarchs possessed such imnse charisma and leadership—because their father surpassed them all.
Yet the sight of him devouring at, downing drinks, laughing boisterously with the locals, playing cup-throwing and finger-guessing gas at the table, and bursting into peals of thunderous laughter—the kind that rattled the sound projectors—was a bizarre one.
Even Selene was taken aback.
So were the Primarchs accompanying him, despite having already grown used to their father’s increasingly eccentric behavior since his resurrection.
"Which one of your faces is the real you, I wonder..." Selene mused, a faint ripple crossing her otherwise calm expression.
A person’s sudden change in character could an either trauma or the release of a long-held burden. Clearly, for the Emperor, it was the latter.
Judging from his past, he was a man of contradictions—humble yet proud, confident yet suspicious; sotis taciturn, sotis talkative; at tis impulsive, at others calm and composed.
But ever since he’d beco Selene’s secretary and relinquished the mantle of "Master of Mankind," he’d lightened up considerably. Even if the sky fell, it was no longer his duty to be the first to hold it up. His deanor had grown cheerful, his attire casual, his tone relaxed.
Completely unshackled—free of restraint, carefree, and even mischievous.
Whatever.
The thought of probing deeper quickly faded. Feeling slightly cheated out of amusent, Selene had no desire to study the Emperor’s true nature. Whether he was socially anxious or a social butterfly ant nothing to her.
It was his gene-sons who would have to deal with their father’s new personality.
All Selene cared about was that this old man was useful—and very useful at that.
That was enough.
Her violet eyes glimred with a hint of anticipation. "Precisely because of such change, the future will be all the more entertaining, don’t you think?"
"Shadow Corps, send a ssage to the Emperor. He needs to report to the A–13 Grand Sector Governorship (Warhamr 40k) imdiately and sort out that ss of military and administrative affairs. Vacation reduced—one day. I’ll give him one day, no more drunken revelry."
"Do sothing useful for once, Emperor!"
As for whether she herself was doing sothing useful right now—Selene ignored that thought entirely.
What? Her personal butler had taken only a few bites of the ant-cattle specialty before burying himself back in administrative paperwork that technically wasn’t even his job?
Without looking up, Selene humd a tune as she swiped a finger through the air to close the monitoring holo-screen, then forked up a small piece of sliced ant-cattle at and gently bit into it.
Mmm!
The perfectly seared crust and juicy tenderness of the at sent a shiver of delight down Selene’s spine. Having impulsively activated her "God’s Tongue" sensory ability out of curiosity, she now found herself in a daze.
The fragrance of butter-seared onions and white truffle had thoroughly perated the ant-cattle at during roasting. Combined with the creature’s own distinct aroma and the faintly numbing, spicy flavor—it was a divine experience.
Until—
Cough, cough...
Selene suddenly felt as though she had been dropped onto a scorched desert planet filled with deadly radiation. Around her danced a horde of ape-like beasts with hunched legs, wrinkled hides, and iron-like claws—the ant-cattle in their natural form.
Scattered stones, rotting carrion, and decayed cellular remnants... That numbing, spicy taste—so that’s what it was. The radiation particles and diseased cells within the ant-cattle itself.
Ant-cattle were voracious creatures, capable of consuming nearly anything. Their diet was absurd—ranging from plasma energy waves to most forms of cosmic radiation.
Realizing this, Selene frowned and silently deactivated her "Tongue of the Gods" simulation.
"Heh-heh~"
Ah, there it was. The deliciousness returned.
Indeed, being too sensitive in taste wasn’t always a blessing. Maintaining a level slightly above ordinary human perception was best.
After finishing her al, Selene dabbed her lips with a napkin and stood. "Attend . I’m leaving the palace."
...
"Glory and fa won through battle—how admirable."
Facing the group of young cadets, the Emperor put down his enormous mug of draft beer and laughed heartily. His long, flowing black hair rippled as he crouched down. The kind, encouraging expression he had worn monts before hardened into one of absolute seriousness—cold, without warmth.
"War is battle, and battle is war. It is full of uncertainty. Such unpredictability may forge a beautiful love story, or transform a spoiled, arrogant branch into a resilient pillar. It can be the crucible that separates heroes from cowards, great leaders from failed commanders..."
The Emperor’s towering, statuesque form—muscular, radiant, and flawless—was like a marble statue co to life. His chiseled features and tightly pressed lips exuded a frigid, commanding aura.
The children trembled before that coldness.
"....."
A boy gnawing on a fried earth-dragon at roll began to shake, trying to speak but unable to find his voice.
"But rember this: chance is always chance. War brings ugliness, darkness, sacrifice, and pain—that is the norm. Do not be deceived by the triumphant soldier’s glory. Their flesh and spirit have endured tornts beyond imagination. Are you ready for that?"
"Children, what you must learn now is to revere war—to understand responsibility and the virtues that co with it."
His earnest tone drew glances from the back of the restaurant, where the Primarchs sat under suppressed presence, doing their best not to attract attention. They exchanged complex looks, silently observing their father’s lengthy sermon.
"War is no child’s ga—it is humanity’s grandest competition. It selects the worthy and eliminates the weak. Everyone feels fear in battle. A coward is simply one who lets fear triumph over duty..."
As he spoke, the Emperor suddenly lifted his head, his golden eyes turning cold as they locked onto a shadowy wisp hidden among the crystal chandeliers above.
In that instant, invisible psychic force swept through the air—
The diners’ faces went blank, their expressions frozen in confusion.
Clatter—!
The black shadow writhed, echoing with unutterable whispers. Its elongated silhouette stretched across the floor, and from that shadow erged a pair of crimson, slanted eyes like those of a demon. Two dark-blue hands clad in black gauntlets reached out, their fingers stained with fresh ink-like shadow—holding a scroll made of precious silk.
The Emperor accepted the scroll, unrolling it only briefly before averting his gaze. It was Selene’s imperial decree of appointnt. From this mont, he was officially designated as the Supre Governor of the A–13 Grand Sector.
All that remained was a formal appearance—an announcent across the Empire—and he could assu office.
"Truly, not even a mont’s rest..."
Without hesitation, the Emperor pricked his finger and signed the confirmation scroll in his own blood, inscribing one of his ancient nas—Neoth.
’The Emperor’—that title would soon fade from official use.
Though Selene had not said it outright, this was their unspoken understanding. On the official docunts of the Sacred Selene Empire, he would refrain from using the title Emperor.
He had no desire to invite endless "impeachnts for disrespect and usurpation" from the ever-watchful censors.
When the signing was complete, the wound on his finger sealed instantly. His dark-golden eyes remained as calm as ever—unmoving, placid, like a still lake.
By the ti the Emperor rose, the children of the cadet corps were still pondering his words. The Shadow Corps had already vanished, as though nothing had happened.
"Children..." The Emperor smiled, lifting his mug. "Beco better than you are."
...
Within the Imperial Palace City—the Grand Administration Building of Internal Affairs.
This governnt complex, directly under the Ministry of the Interior, centered around an imnse cubic do. The vast circular skylight above spanned more than ten miles in diater, and the building’s height rose over a dozen miles.
At the apex of the skylight tower glead a massive twin-headed eagle, wreathed in laurels.
The entire structure was fortified enough to withstand a direct strike from a stellar extinction-class weapon.
In the Imperial Capital—where "land worth its weight in gold" was an understatent—the Grand Administration Building was surrounded by an enormous plaza over a million square ters in area. The space was kept deliberately open, dotted only with a few auxiliary buildings, fountains, and gardens.
If the exterior was solemn and majestic, the interior was dazzlingly opulent—enough to leave even the first-ti visiting governors of newly annexed colonial worlds awestruck.
From the curved embedded gascreen walls at the entrance to the towering vaulted ceilings and the endless corridors carpeted in crimson, from the intricately carved golden wall lamps to the ornate furnishings—every detail exuded the profound might of the Sacred Selene Empire, ruler of all races, scourge of the cosmos, and sovereign of the multiverse.
To Selene, however, it all seed rather plain and modest.
She halted, gazing at her own image displayed upon the colossal wall screen.
Her holographic likeness had been rendered in ethereal hues—guiding a constellation of cot-scales symbolizing authority and order, wings unfurled, reigning amidst the stars.
Thunk, thunk, thunk—
A group of colonial governors—each in their distinct ceremonial robes—approached timidly. Having just finished their first performance review, they trembled before her. So wore their native attire; others had hastily changed into Imperial-issued formal wear, likely after being reprimanded by Internal Affairs officials during their hearings.
"For Selene—!"
"For the Empress!"
"Glory to the God-Emperor!"
...
Upon seeing Selene standing silently, gazing up at the relief mural of the God-Eperor, the entire group fell to their knees in unison, bowing fervently.
Even though Selene had purposely chosen the oldest, most worn outfit from Sebas’ wardrobe, she still looked every bit the noble aristocrat or high-ranking official.
If she was showing reverence to the Divine Empress, how could they not? To be accused of irreverence by the dreaded censors or the Judgnt enforcers could cost them their hereditary rights—or worse, their heads.
Amused, Selene sipped from her paper coffee cup and shrugged. "Huh. Didn’t see that coming."
To further disguise herself, she’d even donned a flat French-style cap and changed her hair to golden blond.
Then, clearing her throat, she turned toward the hall’s administrative attendant AI and asked, with mock formality:
"Where is the council chamber for Planetary Governor Kiana Kaslana’s report session?"
—
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