"Peace is a lie. Only desire endures."
"From desire comes power."
"From power comes authority."
"From authority comes victory."
"From victory, the chains are broken."
Bright moonlight filtered through the airtight shield of the interstellar orbital train, bathing Selene's exquisitely unreal face in silver light, making her look like a breathtaking painting of a valkyrie. Her snow-white skin seemed like jade reflecting moonlight.
At the moment, Selene was not wearing her usual magnificent crown robes or the cumbersome, intricate ceremonial dresses. Instead, she wore a sharp, fitted suit uniform. The gray-and-silver jacket matched the shirt beneath it, and a beautiful crimson bow tie adorned her collar. Below, she wore slim-cut black women's suit trousers.
One hand lifted a yaobian teacup, the other rested on the railing.
Leaning against a carved white jade pillar on the private train's observation deck, her eyes were like stars and moons intertwined. She looked slightly languid, yet without the slightest hint of seduction—only a graceful, effortless elegance. In a brief, soft chant, her clear voice seemed to sing of the vast cosmos.
"The victor roams free."
That posture, that bearing—she truly resembled a reclusive poet who had cast aside the world to wander mountains and rivers… except for one thing.
These words were far too realistic.
Strip them down, and the so-called verses held no historical depth, no grand narrative, no artistic sentiment poured into heaven and earth. Every crooked line and character screamed nakedly of "utility, power, desire, authority"—the raw cravings of reality.
As for Selene, she didn't care in the slightest that such words wasted her peerless grace and the brilliant starlit scenery.
This was simply who she was.
A person. An existence. A symbol.
How much hatred and resentment could a single name draw?
Imperial colonies—alliances and betrayals, games of life and death, resistance and uprisings. Countless conspiracies intertwined with the most frenzied and cruel side of rational life.
The roars of suppressors echoed over blood-soaked lands of endless tragedy. The Empire's violent machine thundered on. Hollow eye sockets of innocent corpses seemed to tell of their unwilling deaths, cursing this world. The impassioned and righteous, with souls and wills they deemed absolutely pure, spat upon the perpetrators and their degenerate lapdogs—despicable, pitiful, and hateful.
The fates of countless individuals and worlds had been utterly rewritten by the overwhelming desires of Empress Selene—
As for whether those changes were good or bad, that had nothing to do with Selene.
Who are you?
Have we ever met?
Do you even have the status and qualifications to submit a single word of petition to me?
Today, nothing important—let's listen to some music.
Tap.
"Another title added. From now on, address me as Darth Selene, Dark Lord."
Draining the cup in one go, she set it upside down beside her. Selene inclined her body slightly, bending forward, hands clasped before her as she stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the endless nightscape of the Honkai Supercontinent where the Imperial Capital lay. Her perception spread across the entire Honkai dimension, even throughout the Empire's vast territory, sensing the fluctuations of emotion everywhere.
Those who were not Imperial citizens were more insignificant than grass and trees within the Honkai dimension.
Her gaze crossed the boundless void, briefly observing somewhere distant. The corner of Selene's lips unconsciously curved into a faint smile that no one else could notice—then she stopped her routine peeking.
Something about Raiden the cooking housewife preparing a new dish with exotic rare ingredients for a certain white-haired dumpling; or some mercenary saving money and merit points to buy a water resort world and build an ocean castle villa on it.
Don't ask. I don't know.
Ahem.
To make her vacation feel more justified, Selene had suddenly started paying attention to the status of quite a few close associates. Anyone who hadn't taken leave—she very warmly approved their vacations on the spot, reminding her subjects to balance work and rest.
In short, a pile of polished memos like "You are pillars of the Empire," "You are my trusted confidants," "The Empire needs your long-term brilliance," and other phrases that screamed harmonious ruler–minister relations.
Uh, excluding Sebas and Leiva.
As for how long the vacation was, or how thoroughly one should rest… ah, figure it out yourselves.
"Queen, are you reciting poetry? That doesn't sound quite right. It's nothing like what Sebas—that old man… cough, that old gentleman—asked Alyssa to memorize."
Nimbly flipping out from behind the curtain behind Selene, a head of silky, lustrous gray hair swayed. Alyssa spun lightly, as if performing a magic trick, holding up a teapot and attentively taking the empty teacup from Selene's hand.
"The Sith Code. An original authentic edition I just got my hands on… what, do you want to add another extracurricular research assignment?"
Selene raised an eyebrow, breaking free from her mock-poetic act, ending her adapted recitation of the Sith Code. She irritably rubbed the little dragon-like head in front of her, then refilled the teacup.
"Uh… better not." Alyssa immediately grabbed Selene's hand with a bitter expression, speaking urgently.
This wasn't about intelligence. She simply didn't like it and wasn't good at it.
"The First Legion under Alex, or Leiva's Third Legion?"
Hearing this, Selene laughed openly and didn't linger on the topic. She pinched Alyssa's delicate cheek, then traced a finger along the railing. A holographic screen appeared before the little girl.
"Choose one."
"Oh, oh."
Reaching out to pull the projection down to a height better suited to her, Alyssa adopted a serious expression and began scrolling through the list.
"First Legion work inspection summary…" As a master slacker who had fully inherited Selene's expertise in this regard, Alyssa immediately found the key points Selene had highlighted.
"Annual Imperial civilian Rogue Trader registry statistics… micro-scale traders? Registered frontier types, extraordinary worlds with supernatural energy, monster nations, the Monster Federation, a slime king, and goblins completely different from the goblin race… hmm, traders rate monster nations far higher than human nations…"
(PS: In the Empire's ingrained perception, goblins are the kind from Goblin Slayer.)
She was intrigued.
Really wanted to take a look. A slime as king? Goblins—those vile, ugly creatures—could they possibly look decent?
Biting her pink lower lip, Alyssa thought for a moment. Though tempted, she decided to check the next option.
"Witch Cult, Witches of Sin, Sin Archbishops, the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, Royal Selection Council… knightly traditions… boring."
But after a few more glances at the highlighted sections—especially Selene's directive urging Leiva to develop that world into an auxiliary world for an Imperial palace—Alyssa hesitated again.
Based on her experience and judgment, worlds spotted by Imperial military scout fleets and listed as conquest targets usually followed a simple process.
Diplomatic envoys first. Ask if you surrender. Surrender? Everyone's happy. Refuse? Fight. What? Hard to beat? Tough nut? Call for reinforcements and attack again. Keep fighting until you surrender.
No creativity. Plain, straightforward, boring.
But why would the Queen want to build a palace retreat there? What was so special about that world?
Feng shui? Exceptional people and land? Surely not suitable for recruiting palace attendants.
So which one should she choose?
The former was clearly more attractive, but the Queen seemed more interested in the latter.
Oh… got it.
Hmph! With the Queen's personality, if she was interested, she would definitely go. It wouldn't be some strict either-or choice. Since they would go to Leiva's Third Legion eventually anyway, why not check out the First Legion first?
With that thought, Alyssa's heart grew lighter. She straightened up slightly, hopping in place as her high heels kissed the floor, producing a series of crisp, pleasant taps.
"Queen, let's go to Legion Commander Alex's Dark Angels sector."
"Mm."
Nodding, Selene issued instructions to her intelligent servant to plan the interstellar train's route. She then glanced again at Alyssa, who had her chin raised and hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, Selene casually reached out and pinched the little girl's ear.
"How many times have I told you—don't call me Queen."
...
At the same time, in the Jura-Tempest Federation.
Inside the largest Japanese–Western combined banquet hall of the newly built monster nation's reception district, what should have been a lively feast filled with clinking glasses was instead deathly silent.
Because the Sacred Selene Empire's civilian Rogue Trader, Edwin Webb, was watching a "movie" together with Rimuru Tempest and the other top officials of the monster nation.
On the screen was a near-future sci‑fi metropolis reduced to ruins amid brutal urban warfare.
On the battlefield, blazing laser clusters cut through the air, gunfire raged freely, flesh and blood flew. Guided firepower traced curved trajectories, plasma bolts ran wild. Dark clouds filled the sky. Countless corpses fused with steel and concrete, scattered across the battlefield. The city was dyed red with blood and fire.
At that moment, descending from overwhelming numbers of gunships and shuttles, the Dark Angels surged like a black tide through the hail of fire. Tens of thousands of dark figures vaulted over the outer bastion. Countless Imperial mortal troops and armored vehicles launched a full-scale assault…
In the distance, the glow of the horizon was blotted out by colossal steel warships. Pillars of brilliant light speared down from the heavens, dazzling beyond words.
The screen dimmed automatically, then began to shake violently. Thunderous booms roared.
Like hammers smashing the ground, black Titan Legions were deployed. They resembled fully armed, hunched heavy infantry towering into the clouds. In a flash of lightning, the grotesquely overbuilt weapon systems layered across their bodies unleashed a blazing corridor of destruction spanning a one-hundred-and-sixty-degree arc.
Skyscrapers melted, disintegrated, and collapsed in an instant, trailing roaring flames as they fell into what had once been a thriving metropolis, triggering chain detonations.
Then the scene changed.
Crimson. Dim. Smoke-choked.
Flickering flames licked at wooden structures everywhere. The dying screams of living beings, and the horrifying sounds of flesh being cut and bones crushed from twisted silhouettes, turned what had once been a beautiful, prosperous city into a hellish wasteland.
"Hahaha… decapitated a level-seven xeno armored trooper!"
"Not bad myself—I caught one that looked like an official."
Those distorted figures were clearly Imperial auxiliary troops cleaning up the battlefield. Their armor was blackened with soot, riddled with bullet marks and gouges. Some wore three or four severed heads at their waists; others squatted on the ground, chuckling softly as they cut off the head of a badly wounded, not-yet-dead blue-skinned xeno.
Even without understanding the Imperial common tongue they spoke, the extreme cruelty and coldness in their laughter—combined with the efficiency of their slaughter—made every viewer shudder.
"Lord Rimuru, this is a promotional documentary filmed by high-ranking Death Angels of the Dark Angels Legion during the subjugation of a stubborn xeno sapient civilization. Next up is a space naval battle…"
Already accustomed to such things, Edwin spoke calmly and was about to have the lifestyle AI switch the holographic film source.
"Stop, stop, stop—enough, enough!"
Rimuru, having reverted to his blue, round slime form, instantly suppressed the magnifying-glass-like mimicry on his face. He immediately extended a small tentacle-hand to stop Edwin's action.
"Let's eat first, let's eat first… don't worry, Edwin, I understand your good intentions. I understand the Sacred Selene Empire now."
"From this day forward, the Sacred Selene Empire shall be my Empire. The great Empress Selene shall henceforth be the sole object of faith and sworn loyalty of the Jura-Tempest Federation!"
Blurting it out at breakneck speed, Rimuru felt a sharp pain in his neck.
Even though this form didn't actually have a neck, every time he watched footage of civilizations annihilated under Imperial force, he felt as though something warm was spraying out from his throat.
After all, his current identity was that of a xeno and a heretic!!!
Just look at the footage Edwin showed him.
From riot suppression in colonial worlds to exterminating entire traitor bloodlines in governor districts—collective punishment wiping out entire clans at the drop of a hat; from frontline expeditions of Astartes Legions to secondary battlefields of mortal auxiliary forces—the scale of casualties was on a level Rimuru had never dared imagine.
A single secondary engagement's losses would require stuffing his entire federation's population in, and it still wouldn't even fill the gap between the teeth.
They were this ruthless even to humans who shared similar appearances. To xenos… Rimuru didn't dare imagine it.
Can't afford to offend them. Absolutely can't afford to offend them!
According to Edwin, the Imperial Empress held a title—Empress of All Races.
If that was the case, cozying up early was clearly the best strategy. The only question was whether the Empress would even look favorably upon slimes.
Tears streaming down his face as he raised a toast, inwardly Rimuru was simultaneously comparing notes and questioning the details with [Great Sage], who possessed the knowledge and memories of his previous life.
Rimuru: This Sacred Selene Empire isn't a human empire.
[Great Sage]: Correct. Though similar in some respects, the Sacred Selene Empire's Empress is not a human sovereign. Based on information disclosed by Lord Edwin, analysis indicates that Empress Selene is a living true god walking the mortal realm and a Warp Chaos God, wielding absolute authority. She is not an exclusionary, single-race deity, but the supreme ruler of all races.
Rimuru: So… stronger than the Human Empire?
[Great Sage]: To be precise, there is no meaningful comparison. One is a galactic hegemon within a single reality universe; the other is a continuously ascending multiversal hegemon. However, you at least do not need to worry about Chaos corruption.
Rimuru: Gulp… that's even more terrifying, okay? Then… is it possible the Empire just hasn't noticed us yet?
[Great Sage]: Answer: Please do not harbor any such wishful thinking. Doing so would invite true destruction. Based on calculations, there is a 97% probability that Empress' ruling will has already extended to this world. The remaining 3% corresponds to the Empress' lack of interest.
Waaaaah…
Tears welling up, feeling like he was about to cry out loud, Rimuru could only accept reality. Completely numb. Farewell, my beautiful otherworldly life.
He had thought his post-thirty-seven isekai existence would be a gentle fantasy adventure and farming story—slowly achieving his dream of a laid-back life while building his own home.
Instead, he'd been dropped into a universe steeped in slaughter and terror, where the warmth of his world had only been an illusion.
Though the region was remote, the Empire's reach arrived sooner or later.
Even without Edwin's trader team discovering it, other traders would have—or even the Empire's regular military!
He had to save himself.
I'm a good xeno!
—
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