Black Bullet World — Tokyo Region, City Hall.
Selene stood before the tall windows of what had once been the office of the Tokyo Area's ruler, the Seitenshi. Her gaze drifted lazily toward the sunlight beyond the glass, her expression calm and almost serene.
As the first human metropolis to fall under the conquest of Alex's First Astartes Legion, Tokyo had become the foundation of Imperial occupation in this world. Though the city's restoration was far from complete—its skyline still scarred and broken—it had at least entered the stage of postwar reconstruction.
At its heart stood the old City Hall, repurposed as both the Imperial administrative center and the First Legion's primary garrison. For now, it served as Selene's temporary residence.
Alex had wasted no time in conscripting local labor to repair the structure. Outside, the fires of war had long since died. Many skyscrapers lay in ruins, but a surprising number had survived the bombardments.
The smoke had cleared; the flames had faded. What remained before Selene's eyes were crowds of civilians—faces blank or twisted with resentment—clearing rubble under the barked orders of Imperial Auxilia and Astartes patrols.
Knock, knock.
"Enter."
Creak—
"Your Majesty, these are the officials from the Tokyo Area who have chosen to surrender," came Alex's respectful voice as he entered, bowing deeply six paces behind her.
"Mm." Selene turned her head slightly.
Several middle-aged and elderly men in suits followed Alex into the office, their steps uncertain and heavy.
The moment their eyes met the sight of the towering golden-armored Royal Guard stationed beside Selene—each at least three meters tall—they all fell to their knees with an audible thud.
Though their interactions with the so-called Empire had been brief, none of these men were fools. One did not rise to high office in any government by being naive.
Perhaps their perspectives differed, perhaps their courage failed—but some, no doubt, were simply biding their time.
Since surrendering, they had watched closely—studying these towering warriors, analyzing every detail they could.
And they had learned something simple but absolute: in the Imperial military hierarchy, rank was measured in size and splendor. The larger and more ornate the armor, the higher the authority.
As they entered the hall, flanked by Astartes and surrounded by Imperial troops enforcing martial law across the city, they could feel it—an unseen weight in the air. Someone of immense power was present.
Then they saw Alex—the very commander who had crushed their armies—bowing like a servant before the whute-haired woman by the window. That was enough to silence any trace of defiance.
"We greet Your Majesty!" the officials cried, trembling as they pressed their foreheads to the floor.
Unsure of her proper titles, they had chosen the safest option. When in doubt, calling one's conqueror "Your Majesty" was never wrong.
Selene's crimson gaze swept over them for a moment. "Rise."
Her hand lifted slightly, and to their horror, their bodies moved without command, forced upright by invisible pressure. They found themselves standing before her, unable to avert their eyes.
And what they saw left them breathless.
They had expected a monstrous figure—a giant clad in armor like those black titans who had devastated their world. Instead, before them stood a woman—shapely, elegant, radiant.
Her beauty defied comprehension: flawless skin, soft rose-colored lips, and eyes of brilliant crimson diamond, framed by long, dark lashes that seemed to pierce the soul.
Her form was unmistakably feminine—balanced lines, a narrow waist, the subtle fullness of hips and chest beneath her silver and blue ensemble. The fabric traced her figure with precision, its surface shimmering faintly as it caught the starlight.
Despite her striking appearance, it was her gaze that froze them in terror—those eyes were not human, but an abyss.
At a glance, they felt as though unseen hands had gripped their throats—air vanished, lungs constricted, every cell in their bodies screaming in primal fear.
Selene turned toward her desk, her tone calm yet commanding.
"Enough pleasantries. I have a task for you."
She tapped her fingers rhythmically against the tabletop. "Your performance will determine how I deal with you."
After speaking, Selene gestured for Dr. Stylish to hand over a prepared list to the surrendered local officials.
"Dr. Stylish, the AGV experimental drugs, the Mechanized Soldier Project, the orbital cannon 'Ladder of Heaven'—all of these should keep your research facilities well occupied."
At her words, the white-coated scientist beamed with delight. Bowing in exaggerated aristocratic fashion, he exclaimed, "Daulat Tuanku! (Long live the Empress!)"
Dr. Stylish had thoroughly studied the vast trove of systematic industrial knowledge Selene had granted him—most of it originating from Academy City. Since much of the data was in English, the language posed no difficulty for him.
"You..." Selene murmured, one corner of her mouth twitching.
For some reason, his theatrical display reminded her of that eccentric playwright she had personally encountered during the Holy Grail War—Shakespeare.
"Never mind. As you wish, Doctor," Selene sighed, rubbing her temples before waving her hand. "Royal Guard, accompany Dr. Stylish and assist him in consolidating this world's technology."
For those who were loyal, Selene was lenient. So long as their quirks did not threaten her authority or dignity, she permitted them their eccentricities.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Dr. Stylish cried, bowing deeply. He backed away in small, reverent steps until he reached the door. Turning, he beckoned the still-dazed officials to follow him out—and they hurried after him.
...
When the office had fallen silent again, Alex spoke up, his tone measured.
"Your Majesty, the conquest is complete. This world is now under your rule. Since we did not wage total annihilation, to maintain order most effectively..." He paused before continuing. "I have chosen a strategy of division—recruiting one faction while suppressing another, with the Empire acting as arbiter. The officials you met earlier are part of the group I intend to co-opt."
Alex was unaware of the mental conditioning effect of the Mental Seal. From his perspective, stable governance required subtlety—not blunt force. Divide, pacify, assimilate—until the Empire fully digested this conquered world.
"Good," Selene said, nodding slightly. "This is still an experimental stage. The systems are in their infancy, so act freely—adapt to circumstances as you see fit. Just ensure that this world becomes a proper recruitment domain for the First Legion as soon as possible."
She straightened, her voice echoing with authority. "By Imperial decree—this world is now designated as the recruitment world of the First Astartes Legion."
"The children known as the 'Cursed Children' will be transferred to the Empire's newly established military division—the Sisters of Battle."
"Understood, Your Majesty. I shall see it done!" Alex replied solemnly, bowing low.
Though honored by such trust, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon him. Conquering a world was one thing; governing it was another.
"Your Majesty... how should I handle the vacant administrative posts?" Alex asked hesitantly. "To what extent will I oversee governance? What exactly falls under my authority?"
Selene paused mid-step, considering his question before turning back slightly.
"For now, administrative power will not fall under the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs. The world shall remain under martial law. I will not tolerate any large-scale uprisings."
Then, a faint smile crossed her lips. "As for governance... consider this a starting principle: taxation. In every world, there are two certainties—death and taxes."
Of course, taxation did not mean mere money. It encompassed resources, labor, and manpower.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I understand!" Alex replied, bowing once more.
After receiving his final instructions, he withdrew respectfully.
Selene then approached the Seitenshi's old desk. Perhaps anticipating their victory, Alex's Astartes had avoided unnecessary destruction—the drawers remained intact, their contents largely preserved.
Among the scattered contents of the desk, one picture frame caught Selene's eye. Inside, a silver-haired, violet-eyed girl sat primly on a chair, while behind her stood a burly old man with a face full of muscle and a domineering air.
"A classic case of the servant overshadowing the master," Selene murmured.
When the subordinate's power eclipses the ruler's, one side is destined to fall. Throughout history—no matter the era—such imbalances rarely lasted long.
But Selene? Anyone who dared overstep her authority... their entire bloodline would already have grass growing several feet above their graves.
"Now that all human settlements of this world are under control, it's time to deal with the World Core..."
...
Honkai Dimension — Grand Imperial Palace.
Inside the radiant hall, Arisa and Sebas faced one another in a silent standoff, while the nearby Kinshasa pretended not to notice.
"Sebas, what's wrong with these recruits?" Arisa demanded, arms crossed, puffing her cheeks slightly in frustration. Gone was the affectionate tone of calling him Teacher or Grandpa.
Following Selene's decree to establish the Sisters of Battle, Sebas had no objections—but since Arisa was assigned as their commander, he had resolved to inspect every recruit personally.
Meanwhile, the Palace's chef and all-purpose servant automaton, Speed of Lightning · Susanoo, continued to cook with astonishing skill. After Selene's recent augmentation, it had even gained adaptive learning capabilities—able to study and replicate new culinary techniques on its own.
"Why are so many unqualified? Out of the first batch, only a handful passed! They're already so young—at this rate, how long will it take to fulfill Her Majesty's orders?" Arisa groaned, slumping into a chair at the dining table. Her ahoge drooped listlessly as she stabbed a spoon into a steaming bowl of Danger Beast stew, eating in large, frustrated bites.
Sebas ignored her complaint and instead turned toward Kinshasa, who stood to the side, seemingly daydreaming.
"What is the oath of the Royal Guard?" Sebas asked solemnly.
At once, Kinshasa straightened, his usual relaxed demeanor vanishing. His voice rang clear and resolute:
"Our duty is as immovable as the mountains. Our vigilance shall never wane. Our honor shall endure forever. Yet we shall live in lifelong repentance—tireless, unyielding. We shall never abandon our post. Our Empress granted us life; we shall spend that life in unwavering defense. We are unworthy of salvation; our sins will never be forgiven. But with such guilt, we shall never falter."
When he finished, Arisa's frustration deepened. Sebas' standards were strict, yes—but entirely justified. His reminder through Kinshasa's recitation made it clear: loyalty was the true measure.
Loyalty above all else.
Talent and potential meant nothing if loyalty wavered.
Most of the Cursed Children had passed physical evaluation, but the loyalty tests had eliminated the vast majority. Allowing even a few to remain was already a small victory.
Across the hall, the handful who had passed stood trembling in their new Imperial training uniforms, small bodies stiff under the razor-sharp gaze of the golden-armored Royal Guard.
They wanted to admire the palace's dazzling beauty—to share their wonder with the sisters they'd grown up with—but fear sealed their lips. They dared not even lift their eyes.
Listening to the distant conversation of the high-ranking Imperials, the girls could only guess at their fate. They sensed that many of their sisters had failed to pass the Empire's trials.
For a moment, despair flooded their hearts.
They remembered the overseer's words back in the Southern Lake Barracks—the story of the stained-glass window that bore the Empress' image.
The Empress will protect her people.
And so, in silent prayer, one of the girls whispered in her heart:
"Your Majesty... if you can hear us... please... save us."
Then—clang, clang—thud!
A wave of metallic sound broke the silence. The entire line of golden-armored Royal Guards at the grand doors knelt as one, their motion synchronized like a single heartbeat.
Startled, the young girls immediately dropped to their knees as well.
From the polished marble floor, their tear-blurred reflections revealed a single truth—no one in the hall remained standing.
The only being who could command such reverence, before whom even the Royal Guard would kneel, was none other than the Empress herself.
"Your Majesty," came a clear, silver-bell voice.
Selene's calm tone followed, light yet carrying absolute authority.
"Oh, little Arisa—make haste with your preparations. Alex's First Legion has already begun their grand campaign."
She smiled faintly, her crimson eyes gleaming.
"The journey home has begun."