The nuclear missile launched by Liu A'dou stunned the Martians. They never imagined Earth would actually demand payback for what was owed.
"Nuclear bomb?" Slaine's face turned pale at the sight of the mushroom cloud. It was unclear whether it was from blood loss or sheer fear. "You weren't here to negotiate peace."
The princess was also shaken, staring at Inaho. She had invited the Delkalion crew as peace envoys, never expecting them to betray her like this.
"Sorry. This is war," Inaho said, though there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. But then he thought about his parents dying in Heavenfall, and how hard his sister had worked to raise him. Inaho steadied his resolve. He was from Earth, and he would fight for Earth.
"Not bad. Securing the princess first thing. Inaho, if you stay in the military after the war, you'll definitely become a general."
Slaine and the princess turned at the sound of the voice. Their eyes were full of fury when they recognized Count Cruhteo. They thought he had betrayed them.
"You… you turned your back on the Vers Empire!" the princess shouted.
But Liu A'dou ripped off his mask. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm not your count."
Revealing his true face, Liu A'dou switched to a female voice—Femiane's voice. "Is the princess still well?"
The princess's eyes went wide. That voice—it meant the person she'd rescued from the start hadn't been Martian at all. "It was you all along?"
"That's right. I planned the entire Orbital Knights civil war too. Now, princess, please take me to see your grandfather. Let's end this ridiculous war," Liu A'dou said in his own voice.
But before that, Liu A'dou took a bit of the princess's blood and handed it to the major. The major would use it to seal the space gate. Liu A'dou brought the princess and Inaho along, flying straight toward the imperial palace.
Martian air was thin, so most people lived indoors. The palace wasn't anything grand—dim, even worse than Yanglu City's interior. It was probably built by that half-dead emperor on the throne, a knockoff Nordic-style palace, complete with rows of torches.
Fire needed oxygen, and oxygen was rare on Mars. Only the emperor had the right to light torches—and so many at that, replacing electric lights. Typical of feudal rulers—they're all the same brand of stupid.
Martian soldiers glared daggers at them. These were the ones who had attacked their weapons factories and killed over ten thousand people.
"Don't try anything. We've still got enough nukes to drag the Vers Empire down with us. If that happens, we'll go down as heroes and you'll be history," Liu A'dou said with a grin.
The old emperor, frail and withered, glanced at his granddaughter, then slowly shifted his gaze to Liu A'dou. "You've got guts. But all you've done is provoke the wrath of the Vers Empire. My empire has the power to crush all Earth's military forces. You've foolishly invited my fury."
The old man stomped his right foot hard. The ground trembled and a glow pulsed beneath them—that was the effect of an Aldnoah Drive. "I will make Earth pay double."
Once a scientist, then an emperor, then a father who lost his son—and now a dying old tyrant—he had long since forgotten a scientist's mission to help humanity. Now he was just another dictator.
"Grandfather!" Even after the bombing, the princess thought this was Earth's show of strength, a warning to Mars not to underestimate them. Why else would they threaten mutual destruction? Her saint-like nature still wished for peace. Earth had proven it couldn't be conquered so easily. They should end the war rationally.
But the old emperor was too stubborn to hear her out.
Liu A'dou laughed. "Aldnoah Drive, huh? What a dumb trick." He mimicked the emperor's stomp, and suddenly all the light from the Drive faded. "Old man, your time is over. Earthlings can use the Drive now too. In fact, we've already surpassed you. If you dare use Aldnoah weapons against Earth, you'll just be handing us more tech."
The princess stared at Liu A'dou in disbelief. This was supposed to be something only royalty could activate. Yet Liu A'dou did it. Did that mean Earth really had cracked the Aldnoah Drive?
The old emperor's eyes widened as he stomped repeatedly, but nothing happened. He couldn't activate Martian tech anymore? That was the only reason he had become emperor—not because he could govern, not because he had noble character, but simply because he could operate any Martian technology.
But now, he'd lost that power. "Why isn't it working? Why not!?" he shouted, stomping madly, growing more frantic by the second. "I am the Emperor of Vers! I can activate all Martian tech!"
He stood up and bent over, stomping again and again, the ground thudding beneath him.
"Grandfather!" the princess called out anxiously, watching her grandfather unravel. But the old man couldn't hear her anymore.
Suddenly, the emperor froze mid-stomp. A guttural cry spilled from his throat—"Ah… ah…"—and then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, twitching violently on the floor.
"He's had a stroke. If we don't treat him, he'll die. If we do, he'll survive half-paralyzed and won't be able to rule again," Liu A'dou said coldly. "By Vers Empire's rules, that makes you queen now, Princess. You can surrender to the United Earth Government. Unconditionally."
"You!?" The princess ignored him and immediately called for medical help.
"Princess, you'd better gather your ministers now, or I'll launch the second nuclear missile," Liu A'dou warned. At the same time, he used the princess's blood to shut down Aldnoah tech across a wide area on Mars. Wails echoed everywhere.
The ministers rushed into the palace. With the emperor paralyzed, they unanimously appointed the princess—no, now queen—as their scapegoat… rather, their new monarch. Earth now controlled Mars's lifeline. They were at Earth's mercy.
Some refused to accept it. They argued the Orbital Knights could still take Earth. But the queen told them plainly: only 17 Orbital Knight houses remained, and all were wounded. They couldn't conquer Earth.
The room went silent. They no longer had the technological edge they once bragged about. Still, years of supremacist education made them unwilling to surrender.
So someone proposed a desperate plan: overload the space gate again and trigger a second 'Heavenfall.' That way, Earth couldn't occupy Mars.
All kinds of self-destructive ideas flew around. But deep down, they all knew—losing their tech meant losing their power, losing their identity as Martians. They weren't noble or proud anymore. They were nothing. Worse than beggars. Just a pile of trash.
"Surrender." The queen wouldn't allow such a suicidal plan. Besides, it probably wouldn't even work. And it might provoke brutal retaliation from Earth.
They had underestimated Earth. Mars had been cut off from Earth for decades. They had no idea what kind of people now lived on that planet.
Peace was right there. Forced upon them, not granted freely. It felt strange. The queen had never known peace could hurt this much. It wasn't just a few empty words. It was the weight of tens of thousands of lives.
The ministers were silent for a long time. In the end, they nodded. Fine, let the queen take the blame. They would remain the Martian nobility.