Published at 27th of January 2026 7:13 am

Chapter 1944 Bad news?

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Mid Sector 100 - Planet Orgenus

"...Is everything proceeding according to plan?" Caesar murmured, his voice low and tense as he rested his forehead deeply into both hands, leaning heavily

over the polished surface of the command desk. The dim lights of the war room reflected faintly on the metallic panels, casting long, sharp shadows that mirrored the gravity of his thoughts.

"Yes, Your Highness," one of the generals, positioned strategically around the room, stepped forward, taking the initiative to speak, his voice steady yet carrying a subtle undercurrent of caution. "All of our armies have been fully mobilized and raised to maximum readiness. We have temporarily halted expansion projects on the R-class planets, and every elite battalion, along with the central armada, has been deployed strategically to regions in close proximity to the conflict zones. Every detail, from supplies to reinforcements, has been meticulously prepared, Your Highness."

"Good... good..." Caesar murmured again, almost mechanically, as if repeating the words might summon reassurance to his mind.

Several months had slipped by since Caesar had sent his father a formal request for support. The harassment from the Seven Thrones Millennium Empire had escalated steadily, becoming an almost constant threat that gnawed at the borders of his sector. He had asked explicitly for either twenty billion pearls, along with a green light to initiate a full-scale war, or, alternatively, direct orders to withdraw from the more distant planets entirely, effectively avoiding any conflict for the next three centuries.

But no response had arrived-neither granting permission, nor denying it.

No word, no signal, nothing at all.

Caesar had then attempted a subtler approach. He had contacted the Shadow Sword Harper stationed at Dawn light Stellar Academy, instructing him to inform his father that his message in Soul Society required his attention. Harper confirmed that his father had indeed seen the messages-he had witnessed it personally.

Then why had no reply come?

Had Caesar's requests somehow tarnished his reputation in his father's eyes? Did his father now regard him as unfit to lead, as a commander who could not be entrusted with such critical decisions? Had he, unintentionally, disappointed him?

...No. That couldn't be it. His father would not abandon him so readily, not after everything they had built together. Most likely, he was waiting for something- some signal, some pivotal event-but what could it possibly be?

In the meantime, Caesar had chosen a path of cautious preparation, balancing between both potential courses of action until an answer arrived. He had frozen all new conquests, summoning every available reserve of soldiers, equipment, and even specialized war machinery. Now, every unit stood ready, tense and alert, awaiting only the signal that would allow them to tear through any enemy forces in the northern region of the Still Pulse Starfield.

This was precisely where the Seven Thousand Thrones Empire had shown its greatest activity, their influence and operations concentrated like a dark pulse over the starfield.

Since the declaration of general mobilization and the deployment of armies to a state of full readiness, the Seven Thrones Millennium Empire had exercised a degree of restraint-but they remained present, a persistent shadow over the northern sectors. Reports had even emerged suggesting that they were amassing a massive force across the planets of one of the multi-planetary empire, possibly preparing for a counterattack.

Tension within the sector had reached a precarious peak... Within just a few months, Caesar would face a choice of immense consequence: either strike decisively against that Multi-Planetary Empire, slaughtering every soldier encountered regardless of allegiance, or abandon the mobilization entirely and withdraw his forces completely-an act that could be perceived as weakness by allies and enemies alike.

And there was yet another, subtler reason behind this vast buildup: the readiness to dispatch the army to the Young Sector at a moment's notice, a contingency plan that required precise coordination and discipline.

"Have we received any updates from the Shadow Swords regarding the destruction of the Orange Vessel?" Caesar asked after a long pause, his tone careful but tinged with impatience.

He had learned of that catastrophic incident shortly after sending his request for support. It had been a crushing blow, not only to the morale of his forces but also to him personally. How could his father be expected to handle the Syndicate's escalating problems while simultaneously being asked to fund billions for Caesar's sector-problems that, to any outsider, seemed minor in comparison?

"Leonid reports that the problem has been resolved," one of the generals responded, his voice calm but lacking any real conviction.

"I know that," Caesar replied, spreading his hands with a faint, almost ironic smile. "But how, exactly? That day alone, a Nexus State and twenty World Cataclysms emanating from the Syndicate were annihilated. How can such a catastrophic issue simply be resolved so effortlessly, without explanation or even a hint of strategy shared with us?"

The generals exchanged glances, subtle and loaded with unspoken questions, before one of them finally turned back to Caesar. "I personally spoke with the Second Sword, Leonid, regarding this matter. Judging from his expressions, his hesitation, and the subtle hints he offered... even he does not fully understand the resolution. The First Sword was responsible for handling everything, and it seems that the scope of his actions remains beyond our comprehension, even to the most informed among the Shadow Swords."

"Theo doesn't possess a magic staff that could allow him to tame the Syndicate," Caesar said quietly, his voice carrying both frustration and contemplation. He leaned back slightly, resting his chin heavily on his hands as he stared down at the polished surface of the command desk. The faint hum of the room's lighting and the distant sounds of machinery from the warships outside seemed to echo the tension that filled the chamber. "...My father must have done something... he must have given something up, made a concession... Something significant, monumental even, has occurred-something only my father and Theo are aware of, and neither of them seems willing to discuss it

with anyone."

"... Could we perhaps change the topic to something that falls within our own authority, Your Highness?" One of the senior generals spoke, his voice trembling slightly as beads of sweat formed along his brow. The weight of the subject was clearly beyond their comprehension, and the magnitude of Caesar's suspicions intimidated them.

"...What else do we have on the agenda today?" Caesar asked with a faint hint of disinterest, though the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his underlying

tension.

"The Empire of the Pit of Destruction is collapsing after the Empress departed decades ago," the general continued, trying to steady his voice. "Her maid, Seraphina, has been struggling valiantly to defend it using the armies and fleets that were established with our funding. However, she is failing to withstand the relentless advance of the Ghasan Empire's overwhelming forces. Reports indicate that she has already lost five planets, Your Highness." "Indeed," Caesar murmured, his eyes narrowing thougtfully. "The Ghasan Empire is preparing to launch a massive, sweeping offensive very soon. If trends continue, Seraphina will lose at least five more planets in the near future. It seems the situation is deteriorating rapidly, and she is barely holding

on."

"And what concern is that of ours?" Caesar asked, a faint, almost amused smile forming on his lips. "Do you expect me to attack the Empire of the Pit of Destruction as well? I have already taken my revenge there-my duty is complete. What happens there now is of no consequence to me, and I have no interest in engaging further in a war that is no longer mine to fight."

"Well, actually..." another general spoke hesitantly, glancing around at his peers as if seeking permission to voice his thought. "... May I propose sending support to Seraphina? She is a good and loyal girl, Your Highness."

"She has aided us greatly," a second general interjected, his voice firmer, though still carrying a note of caution. "She consistently came to assist us without ever receiving an official mission or formal command."

"She saved my life personally on Zornikh-3, and she expected nothing in return

for that day, Your Highness," a third general added, his expression softening

slightly with the memory.

"A loyal and obedient girl," another murmured, almost to himself, his expression betraying a rare moment of warmth. "I do not like to see her in such at

precarious state either."

"Perhaps we can take her in as a wing? Her Lady has abandoned her anyway, leaving her without guidance or protection," the first general suggested, his eyes gleaming with cautious hope.

"...?" Caesar looked around at the generals, surprised at the earnestness and

persistence in their glowing eyes. "Heh~ I have no issue with Seraphina. If she agrees to join as a wing, she is most welcome. And if she refuses... she is

welcome as well. I harbor no ill will toward her either way."

Knock Knock

"Enter." Caesar leaned back in his chair once again, resting firmly against its

high back, and raised his voice toward the chamber door.

Creak

A Shadow Sword, fully clad in a dark mask and hood, entered with measured steps, silent yet purposeful. He placed a small metallic card carefully in front of Caesar on the desk, then bowed deeply before retreating quietly. The soft click of the door closing behind him echoed through the otherwise silent room. "Hm?" Caesar reached forward curiously, picking up the card and examining it.

"...?!"

He then rose slowly to his full height, eyes wide with shock, as if he had encountered a demon itself. The room seemed to constrict around him, the air

thickening as the generals instinctively leaned forward, sensing the gravity of

the moment.

"What is it, Your Highness?" one of the generals asked cautiously.

"Is there bad news, Marshal?" Caesar's voice, though calm, carried a note of unease that immediately tightened the generals' hearts.

The generals' minds raced; they had not heard good news in an age, and the Marshal's expression suggested that today would be no different.

"Oh... yes, there is indeed bad news. Bad, and completely incomprehensible," Caesar murmured, his eyes scanning the card in disbelief. He then lifted his face slowly, his expression a mixture of astonishment and incredulity. "But it is

not bad for us."

"Huh?" The generals exchanged wary glances, each one silently questioning what could possibly be good in such circumstances.

"Return to your posts," Caesar ordered firmly, his voice regaining its

commanding authority. "I do not trust the Syndicate, even if a deal has been reached with them. And I certainly do not trust the Seven Thrones Millennium Empire. Await further orders, which will arrive at the appropriate time."

He sank back into his chair with deliberate slowness, the weight of command pressing down upon him. "...And send word to Renara that I wish to see her immediately."

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