'In the first century of the third millennium of the Common Era, our generation has been fortunate enough to witness such a glorious age. The Great Crusade of the Holy Selene Empire has conquered the stars.
The great Astartes angels, under the leadership of their towering Legion Commanders, have carried the fury of the God-Empress to her enemies.
Fighting at our side are the endless armies of the Empire, the Titan colossi of the forge worlds that stand like gods, the fearsome blades of the Inquisition, and the untouchable divine might of the Imperial Guard.
All ignorant beings who attempt to resist the coming of this new era shall be crushed.
Gentlemen, this is our mission!
To reunite the masterless starry skies beneath the rule of Our Empress—whether by willing submission or by force of arms.
Gentlemen, this is our opportunity!
The long, ignorant, and dark night of eternity has ended. The light of the God-Empress shall illuminate the cosmos—it is also a promise of a better future.
Wealth, power, strength, fame... everything you can imagine exists within the Great Crusade! It is all there!
Fight! Compete, plunder, seize, conquer, dominate—such outcomes forge the future.
Long live victory! Long live the Empire! Long live the God-Empress!
All glory belongs to Selene—!!'
—Astartes Eighteenth Legion Salamanders Conquered World—No.11, District 11 Administrative Governor—Gan'an Shinomiya.
Fully armed and carrying live ammunition, Hachiman Hikigaya followed the formation down from the military transport ship. Passing beneath the magnificent marble archway of the spaceport deck, he saw the towering statues of sword-bearing Astartes angels still standing on either side.
The golden double-headed eagle still spread its wings in flight, its radiance as dazzling and resplendent as ever.
Two banners were lowered from the top of the arch. Upon them was painted the will of the Empire. After the long night, the Imperial double-headed eagle still flew at the edge of this endless sea of stars—and it would continue to fly.
As a member of this returning Servitor Army regiment on home leave, beneath his sealed tactical helmet, Hachiman Hikigaya swept his gaze across the admonitions carved into the massive arch.
'The Shinomiya family...'
With movements born of muscle memory, swinging his arms and marching in step, Hachiman Hikigaya passed beneath the triumphal arch, murmuring soundlessly.
In his memory, even before the Imperial Calendar, the Shinomiya Group had already been one of Japan's four great financial conglomerates, with total assets exceeding 200 trillion yen and thousands of subsidiaries—a true regional powerhouse.
Now, with Gan'an Shinomiya having read the situation early and chosen his side swiftly, he had been appointed District 11 Administrative Governor by the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs. The power of the Shinomiya family was surely no longer what it once had been.
'Even the former emperor's authority probably couldn't compare anymore.'
Hachiman Hikigaya could not be bothered to dwell on it. He had always been rather lazy by nature. If not for his family—for Komachi to gain better social resources, for himself to be worthy of Yukino—why would he have thrown his lot in with the Servitor Army, tying his head to his belt and gambling his life?
But still—'Heh heh heh...'
Setting everything else aside, the Empire's systems of hierarchy, military merit ranks, and nobility were excellent. Returning victorious this time, Hachiman Hikigaya could already see a house, a car, and a bank account beckoning to him... and with a bit more effort, even a man's ultimate dream might not be impossible.
"Attention!"
Clatter!
At the command of the leading officer, the returning Servitor Army soldiers all snapped into rigid silence, standing perfectly straight. Not a single person moved.
More than a hundred thousand Servitor Army soldiers disembarked and formed into massive square formations, motionless. Viewed horizontally or vertically, every line was perfectly straight.
Seeing this, the middle-aged officer built like an iron tower—broad as a bear—who had previously drilled Hachiman Hikigaya, nodded in satisfaction.
"Reporting to commanding officer! Eleventh Regiment of the Eleventh Legion requests inspection!"
Before the formation, a temporary review platform had been raised.
Upon it stood the officers and instructors of the Salamanders Servitor Army Eleventh Legion, Eleventh Regiment, all solemn and respectful, surrounding a tall and robust Servitor Army general who stood with hands clasped behind his back, his uniform immaculate.
At that moment, the general's gaze was fixed firmly upon the formation before him. The creases in his weathered face tightened slightly. His broad face was covered in terrifying scars—one of those men who could make children cry without even smiling, exuding authority without anger.
The officers and instructors beside him were so tense they scarcely dared breathe, fearing that this commander of the so-called "tourist world" Eleventh Legion might find fault.
Revealing a smile that only made him look more frightening, the Servitor Army general stepped forward.
"Gentlemen, some people say that our No.11 world is merely a tourist world. That our legion is nothing but for show—padding the numbers—unworthy of comparison to those so-called 'elite' legions tempered in harsh environments."
"Can we accept such an evaluation?!"
"No!!"
...
It was obvious—postwar morale boosting, pressure applied to prevent laxity during extended leave.
Leaning against the railing of the luxurious balcony in the VIP hall, Selene lost interest and withdrew her gaze.
It was not that it was ineffective. Rather, all roads led to the same result. This sort of competitive comparison was far too common. Some units even held singing contests to outdo one another. In short, through healthy rivalry and the selection of a suitable opponent, collective honor could be stimulated.
Selene was certain that elsewhere, the Servitor Army general's counterpart—perhaps commanding a legion from a primary world with far superior infrastructure to the Salamanders Conquered World—No.11 Tourist World—was conducting the same routine.
He was probably saying things like, 'If even those fancy tourists from No.11 can conquer XXX, can we elites fail to do the same?' or 'Can we let those so-called dandies stand above us?!' and so on.
Without even thinking, Selene could guess the rhetoric.
Moreover, this Eleventh Salamanders Servitor Army general had undoubtedly communicated with the commander of that other legion beforehand. One playing the stern role, the other the lenient one.
After all, rivalry among the ranks could spark motivation without causing major trouble. But senior officers had to keep clear heads.
"Mm, mm." Though she had no idea what Selene was looking at and had not listened at all, Arisa nodded anyway.
Swirling the wine in her glass, Selene called without turning her head, "Arisa."
"Ah, I'm here." Arisa immediately set aside the large bucket of ice cream in her hands and focused intently, her expression innocent, obedient, well-behaved, and attentive.
"Look at them—and at that Servitor Army general's methods. What do you see?"
"Huh?"
"I won't make it too hard on you. Tomorrow morning, hand me an eight-hundred-word reflection. Put some thought into it. If it doesn't satisfy me, I'll lock you in a dark room. As for the food street—you can forget about it."
Crack!
With a miserable face, Arisa suddenly felt that the ice cream in her hands had instantly lost all flavor.
Her happiness—gone in a single snap.