Triumph's Glory Star Gate Spaceport.
A multicolored space-time vortex slowly rippled. Under the direction of the spaceport's control tower, violet light surged through the surrounding area and emitted a dazzling radiance.
The mass of light responded at once. Like a comet trailing a long violet tail, it passed through wave after wave as the magnificent prow of a warship pierced the luminous veil of the Honkai trans-spatial webway like a sharp blade.
Soon, one point of light after another appeared behind the first battleship. An entire returning squadron followed close behind, vast numbers of warships resembling a school of fish emerging from the void. Their diminishing plasma trails operated at low output, guided by the distant lights of the Star Gate spaceport.
Within the fleet was a battlecruiser specifically assigned to transport certain special "talents."
Inside a corridor running through the vessel's central cabin section...
Much like the Black Marlin of the Astartes Third Legion, an opulent decorative style served as their calling card. Double-headed eagle banners and military standards hung from ceilings throughout the corridor, while oil paintings and reliefs vividly depicted the Legion's many symbols and emblems.
Every design had been hand-carved by master craftsmen, filling them with an air of nobility and glory. These banners also represented the beliefs of Liver and the entire Black Marlin Legion.
Glory and splendor!
Click, click...
Metal high heels struck the polished marble floor with crisp sounds.
Leaning against an automatic door, Cú Chulainn slowly opened his scarlet eyes. A hazy feminine silhouette appeared at the far end of the corridor. He closed one eye playfully, grinned, and revealed a row of white teeth.
"Yo, my dear mentor. You went out of your way to look around. Did you see anything interesting?"
The approaching woman wore a violet-black bodysuit woven from sheer, tightly fitted fabric that clung to every contour of her figure. Beneath the translucent material, only a matching set of undergarments covered the most intimate parts of her body, while the rest of her fair skin remained faintly visible through the gauze-like weave.
The alluring outfit embraced her voluptuous curves and long, shapely legs, lending her an intoxicating beauty that tempted anyone who looked upon her. Her red eyes seemed condensed from flame, while her bewitching purplish-red hair fell to her waist. Several strands brushed across her delicate cheeks and hung over her full chest, swaying gently with every step.
Her fair skin, beautiful figure, and exquisite legs radiated limitless allure and lethal temptation at every moment, making others want to transform into ravenous wolves, pounce upon her, pull her into their arms, ravage her, and subdue her.
Even the battle-hardened Imperial Navy personnel passing through the corridor found themselves involuntarily attracted to the enchanting woman despite already having families. An impulse rooted in the biological instinct to reproduce surged within them.
After all, they were not in combat, with nothing but killing filling their minds. Moreover, judging by the situation, she would soon become another subject under the God-Empress' rule. There was even less reason to think only of slaughter or treat her as nothing more than a beautiful skull destined to be severed.
Since that was the case, they were sailors of the Imperial Navy, not ascetics, eunuchs, or machines. On the contrary, as vigorous young men, what was wrong with feeling stirred after seeing such a beauty?
Nor was the woman before them the only beauty capable of inspiring such thoughts. In truth, even the God-Empress herself could not escape becoming the subject of private fantasies. Her peerless and alluring beauty, queenly demeanor, and womanly majesty had long made her the supreme goddess in the hearts of countless men.
Naturally, fantasies could only remain fantasies.
Such thoughts were harmless, and what people imagined while satisfying their private desires remained their own affair. However, anyone foolish enough to create or circulate blasphemous works involving the Empress would discover that the Imperial Inquisitors possessed no sense of humor regarding such matters.
Thus, even if a military adjudicator came, they would dare say the same thing. They were men. What was wrong with feeling desire?!
Ahem... Of course, none of them dared actually touch the woman before them. Military law was far too severe and brutal for that. At most, they might pursue her properly. However, according to the brave souls who had already tried before them:
'That woman is fierce, a thorny rose. Anyone wishing to pursue her should first consider carefully whether his strength qualifies him.'
'Brothers, I have already suffered a crushing defeat. I'm out.'
'Can't afford that. Definitely can't afford that...'
Thanks to the advanced internal communications network, almost every sailor aboard the battlecruiser learned within a single minute that a thorny rose was traveling aboard their vessel, and that quite a few of their colleagues had already met with disaster.
...
Slowly straightening, Cú Chulainn produced a cup of hot tea as though performing a magic trick. Sensing the faint fluctuations of magical energy surrounding his mentor, he could not help sweating slightly. His expression became indescribably strange.
"Mentor, did you fight someone?"
"Surely not. Why did they make no move? With their tactical discipline, that shouldn't have happened. On the previous battlefield, they truly... never gave you any chance to resist."
Scáthach's cold and beautiful face carried a faintly indifferent expression as she glanced several times at her tactless disciple. She reached out to accept the tea and answered openly without attempting to conceal anything.
"No. It was merely a spar. Although they tried to hide it, those burning gazes felt as though they were stripping me naked..."
"I do not dislike such straightforward people. They are unquestionably qualified warriors. No... They do not require my judgment or acknowledgment. When they invited me, I followed Celtic tradition. If they defeated me, I would accept their invitation to dine together."
Scáthach's voice resembled a rich wine aged for a thousand years, stirring the heart and leaving an endless aftertaste. But Cú Chulainn had been beaten by this old woman since childhood. His heart was like iron, and he remained completely unaffected.
He nodded. "I see. That does suit your style, Mentor. Besides..." Cú Chulainn grinned. "Since you came back so quickly, not one of them succeeded." His tone was completely certain.
"Obviously."
Holding the teacup, Scáthach looked toward the reliefs lining the corridor and continued in an elegant, light voice. "They possess the highest average individual quality of any soldiers I have ever encountered, along with the strictest discipline. However, a one-on-one duel is not a battlefield. They still lack experience."
That was a modest assessment.
Forget the sailors of the Imperial Navy. Even if an Astartes warrior came, Scáthach would feel no pressure. As always, a duel was not a battlefield. The two were entirely different matters.
"Sétanta, sometimes you truly should learn from their discipline and self-restraint. Even the third-rate formations disparagingly named Servitor Armies possess overall qualities beyond anything you or your Red Branch Knights can match."
"Yes, yes." Cú Chulainn spread his hands helplessly and spoke in a lazy tone. "I finished my apprenticeship ages ago. At least leave me a little dignity, Mentor. Stop calling me by my childhood name in front of everyone."
"And according to what you said, there are training grounds and arenas aboard this enormous ship! How could anything like that be complete without me, Cú Chulainn?"
"Wouldn't it be a terrible waste not to test this genuine flesh-and-blood body?" As he finished speaking, he flicked his heel and sent the scarlet demonic spear into his palm, preparing to head toward the training grounds and loosen his muscles.
At that moment, clap! Clap! Clap!
Resonant applause and a dense series of heavy footsteps came from around the corridor's corner. A towering Astartes warrior in violet armor slowly emerged with ponderous strides.
"Words worthy of a warrior, Lord Cú Chulainn. I admire that attitude. Unfortunately, you will temporarily be unable to use this vessel's training facilities. There is no need to hurry, however. I hope you will display the same abundant enthusiasm for training once we reach the Imperial Capital."
Surrounded by a squad of Astartes warriors, a Black Marlin officer in master-crafted armor of violet trimmed with gold approached Cú Chulainn.
He carried a master-crafted helmet with a transverse crest beneath one arm. His hair was silver and his eyes violet. A golden halo behind his head projected a void shield field. The double-headed eagle insignia upon his chest gleamed brightly amid magnificent gilded engravings. A pure white cloak hung behind him, while violet-and-gold ribbons and medals adorned the space between his pauldrons and chest.
Judging by his bearing and appearance alone, he was unquestionably a handsome and dignified officer of aristocratic bearing, courteous and cultivated in every action.
"We have reached the Imperial Capital, everyone." As he spoke, he looked toward Scáthach, who stood calmly to one side holding her teacup. He smiled faintly and glanced along both sides of the corridor. "No wonder those young men trained so diligently during our return journey."
The Black Marlin officer did not linger. He walked past Cú Chulainn and waved without looking back. "I will wait for you at the landing pad. You have ten minutes to prepare."
"Oh, thank you very much..." At that moment, a white-haired incubus poked his head out of a cabin and hurriedly called after him.
Behind Merlin came Artoria, Waver, and the assembled Knights of the Round Table. When Jeanne, Chiron, and Avicebron emerged among them, Scáthach paused slightly and raised an eyebrow. She had not seen them earlier. Had they joined the others after she left to explore the ship?
After a moment's thought, Scáthach understood. "Heroic Spirits likewise chosen, conscripted, and resurrected."
There was no time for idle conversation. After exchanging nods, the chosen "lucky ones" followed the naval personnel through the lengthy cabin section and arrived at one of the combat decks within the ship's belly.
Once they reached this area, the abundance of decorations visibly diminished. The Imperial military's habit of treating gold like common soil had made Waver's liver ache throughout the journey.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Their vision suddenly opened onto a vast hall. Nearly a thousand drop pods hung within one corner, and the armored plating beneath them could clearly be opened. Scáthach and the others were all too familiar with such equipment.
When a landing operation began, the hatches would open and thousands upon thousands of drop pods would be rapidly deployed from assault cruisers or battleships, descending like a storm of flaming meteors.
Beside the deck training grounds where the drop pods were stored, more than a hundred fully armed Imperial Auxilia soldiers in lightweight power armor were training. They carried basic infantry weapons. Some practiced close combat while others trained in ranged shooting, honing their coordination through company- and platoon-level assault exercises.
On the other side...
The gunfire there was even denser. It was a heavy-weapons training ground. Deafening blasts resounded as bolt rounds, heavy bolts, incendiary weapons, meltaguns, plasma charge weapons, plasma shells, and more detonated in rapid succession... Within the energy shields, bursts of flame erupted too quickly for the eye to follow.
Waste was irrelevant. The Holy Selene Empire possessed staggering wealth. The resources consumed by such routine exercises amounted to no more than a negligible fraction of every resupply.
As one of the three founding Legions, the Black Marlin truly did not lack such supplies. They were not some miserable chapter from the 41st millennium, unloved by both father and mother.
As Merlin and the others passed through the various areas, they all realized one thing. The Astartes officer from earlier was displaying the Empire's strength to them.
Heavy armored vehicles, large-caliber automatic cannons, rocket artillery, heavy tanks, massive combat platforms, heavy plasma cannons, heavy melta tanks, lance tanks, and countless other machines built for war stood piled among mountains of supplies and equipment.
Most striking were the Titan war machines parked inside the hangars like mountains, along with vortex torpedoes, cyclonic torpedoes, atmospheric incineration torpedoes, Honkai energy fission bombs, virus bombs, radiation bombs, and many other weapons of mass destruction stored within stasis fields... They seemed to warn the newcomers against harboring any disloyal thoughts.
The arsenal they saw aboard this single warship alone would have been enough to scour the entire solar system several times over.
With such large-scale, systematic armaments, even a child granted the proper authority could apply five pounds of pressure to a button and cause destruction across an area greater than anything Scáthach could achieve even by exhausting every trace of her strength.
She was somewhat curious. Why had the Empire specifically conscripted them and brought them to the Imperial Capital? What tasks would they be assigned?
Surely they had not genuinely been resurrected merely because some "good woman" her foolish disciple had encountered wished to honor a promise of a duel.
Scáthach shook her head and cast aside the distracting thought. Without making it obvious, she glanced from the corner of her eye at those traveling alongside her.
Chiron, the renowned sage of Greek mythology and teacher of countless heroes... Merlin, the guide of King Arthur... And then, strangely, an ordinary person, Waver Velvet, a lecturer at the Clock Tower and the Lord and department head of Modern Magecraft Theory, Lord El-Melloi II...
Teachers. Instructors. Scáthach keenly detected the faint commonality between them. Connecting it with the Imperial soldiers she had previously observed training, a certain conjecture surfaced in her mind.
"Teach... whom?"
...
The Swirl of Honkai.
The orbits of countless galaxies, universes, and dimensions turned and intertwined like mechanical gears, entangling with one another as they moved in what seemed to be an endless cosmic cycle.
At the center of that boundless region of space lay a void vortex that drew countless stars into ceaseless rotation. Above the central void stood a "tree" rooted within the flowing vortex, surrounded by suspended nebular raiments of incomparable beauty that shifted through endless transformations.
Selene's true body silently observed the movements of those countless universes.
A newborn universe resembled a bubble that had only just emerged from a bubble wand, still exceedingly fragile. Under Selene's maintenance and acceleration, however, it gradually stabilized.
Then came the Big Bang, the universe's expansion and growth, the stabilization of cosmic space, the formation of planets, the birth of life, and life's explosive proliferation...
Crack!
The evolution of life abruptly stopped. The "bubble" burst, and the collapsing universe dissolved into fluid-like matter that gathered within the vortex.
"Sigh... Another failure."
Her magnificent scarlet eyes opened. Selene pinched the fragment, of which less than half remained, and a flash of regret passed through her gaze.
"This was the closest I have come to success."
Drawing upon the experience and references provided by the authority of creation she had usurped from the Swirl of the Root, Selene had already conducted many experiments. She had attempted creation, true creation, yet every attempt had ended in failure without exception.
If she merely wished to create an empty shell, a barren and desolate universe, Selene could succeed. Yet no matter what methods she employed, she always failed to create living beings.
"But that is only natural. I am Finality, the embodiment of endings and destruction. No matter how greatly my power expands in quantity or quality, even if I can blot out the heavens and destroy a universe with a flick of my fingers, the fundamental inclination of my power remains utterly opposed to creation and hope."
The appearance and flourishing development of the Holy Selene Empire had nothing whatsoever to do with the essence of Selene's power. The Empire existed only because Selene had found an alternative path.
Behind its prosperity still lay endless conquest and plunder.
"Transcendence... is difficult."
Realizing that this was not an obstacle she could overcome quickly, Selene voluntarily shifted her attention elsewhere. "For now, I should deal with the matters at hand."