Chapter 1572: Not this time!
"The matter is not nearly as difficult as you seem to think, Lady Renara," Caesar continued smoothly when her only response was silence, his voice patient but edged with certainty. "If your desire is truly to save your empire, then we can and will provide aid from behind the veil. We can supply you in secret with every resource you might need — fleets, techniques, soldiers, treasures — everything necessary until you have purged your court and regained absolute command."
"...And if instead you wish to let go of that burden, our doors will remain open. You will not merely be welcomed, you will be drenched in wealth unlike anything you have ever known, wealth vast enough for you to build a new power from the ground up beneath your banner, if you so choose."
He raised a hand as though painting a vision before her. "And that is not all. The measure of activation that your women acquire through the Blue Arctic Fox blood — our Sky Opening City can provide it in a perfected form, through a specially-prepared, awakened strain of Devos’ blood. I give you my word: the effects will surpass anything you have now, the benefits will be greater, the activation far stronger, and the infusion will be delivered directly into your veins." He waved twice for emphasis, his eyes glinting. "Of course, such research demands both time and oceans of wealth, but you are worthy of it. The bloodline of the Kiumaji Nine-Tailed Fox deserves nothing less."
"...."
Once again, Renara held her silence, her face unreadable.
"Ah—" Caesar began as though to press further, but for once he caught himself, letting the words die. Instead, he allowed her the space to think, to weigh his offer.
The Twilight Spectrum Empire... it was not simply strong; it was an entity that inspired dread across the starfields. With three Nexus States and a royal Soul Master, they were a wall of power, and to topple them — no, even to negotiate with them — was a near impossibility for the time being.
But what truly made them terrifying was not brute strength, but the secrets they possessed. No one could measure how much knowledge they had extracted from Elinor. Did they already know of the Seed? Of the true identity of Human?
The revelation of even one of those truths could set the cosmos ablaze with catastrophe. To tamper with them directly was to invite annihilation. The wiser path was indirect — to bolster Renara, to sharpen her blade and send her anger crashing against them.
If she were armed with weapons, fleets, and technologies and turned against the Twilight Spectrum, they would be forced to divert their focus, while the Cradle Empire quietly bought itself the precious time it needed: time to strengthen, to acquire more Nexus States, to grow beyond the reach of sudden exposure.
As Caesar contemplated this, a voice, soft yet filled with memory, broke the silence.
"...All those years ago, I was nothing more than a girl confined within the palace walls. I cultivated in solitude, I poured over the tomes left by our forebears with tireless dedication, believing — foolishly believing — that by doing so I would one day be a capable ruler." Her tone wavered, then steadied. "But the truth? I failed. I failed miserably."
A faint, fragile smile touched her lips. "All those years ago, I was still powerless, unable to command my people by my own will. They rushed my growth forward, they said, to intimidate our enemies. But in truth, they stripped me of choice, and turned me into a puppet. A puppet locked inside the throne hall, never stepping beyond its borders, a doll in their grasp that allowed them to twist our mighty empire into nothing more than a permissible blood clan."
Her chin rose slowly, her eyes hardening. "And now you speak the same words — you will help me seek vengeance, you will help me unify my realm, only so that I might become a different puppet, one that dances to your hand. Tell me, is that not so?"
"It is so." Caesar did not flinch, nodding with grave honesty.
A short, bitter laugh slipped from her. "Heh — at the very least, you do not bother to hide behind lies." She lifted her enchanting eyes, locking them onto Caesar’s bearded face, studying him for a heartbeat that stretched too long. "I remember our first encounter. Four centuries past, when you attempted to scorch my shard with that dreadful black flame of yours. In that instant I realized just how strange the world I had been born into truly was." Her expression sharpened, voice hardening with gravity. "But even then, I never once believed you were a true threat. You were... merely intriguing."
A delicate smile curved her lips. "And now look at you. Your strength has barely grown — I could erase you with a mere flick of my hand — and yet you dare speak of controlling me. Do you not see how absurd, how laughable, that sounds?"
"I have always been a man who speaks plainly," Caesar replied, his tone firm, unbending. "I have no taste for circling words. If it is lies you desire, I can summon Aro here this very moment, and the two of you may weave illusions together to your heart’s content." His features twisted slightly with a touch of disdain. "That I can aid you, that I can even pose a threat to you with power that you dismiss as meager — that alone proves the immensity of the True Beginning Empire’s might. It is the greatness I extend to you now, the greatness I invite you into."
"...You speak truth." Renara inclined her head faintly, acknowledging. Then she rose to her full height. "But I will not join under those terms."
"What do you mean by this?" Caesar’s brow furrowed sharply, his voice carrying iron. "Are you refusing me outright?"
"I refuse the offer as you have framed it." Renara’s voice cut like steel. "I will not come as a failed empress of a broken dominion, nor as a refugee fleeing her collapsing house. If I join you, I will do so with my crown unbroken and my head unbowed — or else I will walk beside my father into death." She stepped past him, her presence regal even in defiance. "Thank you for the information. It is the utmost I required from you."
Creeeak.
With but a motion of her will, Renara pushed open the colossal gate without touching it, the stone groaning as it yielded. She cast a piercing glance at the four elders standing outside — sharp enough to silence breath — before striding onward. "Come."
"Hey—what happened in there?"
"Did we secure an agreement?"
"Renara!! Speak already!"
The four elders hurried after her, their voices rising with impatience and desperation. They pressed her for answers, tried to wrest any scrap of detail from her, but she gave them nothing.
She ignored them utterly, her steps unwavering, her face carved with an expression that could only be described as rage locked in chains, fury caged but threatening to break free.
------
"...." Caesar watched Renara and her escort until they had completely vanished from sight. He let out a long, weary sigh and sank back into his chair, feeling the empty weight of the missed opportunity settle across his shoulders. "Heh—what a chance wasted."
A shadow detached itself from the gloom beside the seat and glided forward. "Perhaps you would do well to temper your bluntness a touch, Your Highness," the newcomer observed coolly. "You frighten most of those you deal with."
Caesar’s jaw tightened. "A strong ruler does not haggle here and placate there," he retorted, voice ringing with conviction. "He rules as he deems fit. Everyone either accepts that — or they go to hell!" He flicked a hand as if casting off mere concerns, the irritation in him plain for anyone watching: the opportunity to sway Renara had slipped through his grasp.
Then, turning to the figure who had just entered, he asked with brisk curiosity, "And what brings the right hand of the Shadow Swords, Lord Leonid himself, to my presence today? More tidings about the Nine Paths Empire and the Twilight Spectrum?"
Leonid stepped forward with measured dignity, hands clasped behind his back, his expression carved in seriousness. "No, my lord. I carry news delivered moments ago from the Supreme Sword, Theo. I thought it right to bring it to you personally."
Caesar’s brows drew together. "What is it? Has His Majesty chided us for the pace of our advance? Did you tell him that we are preparing a counter-invasion? I have arranged everything — within two centuries at most we will stand as a centennial empire, ready to hold and protect the galaxy seed!"
Leonid hesitated, swallowing once, then pressed on with a steady voice. "His Majesty has chosen Mid Sector 99 as the locus for the elevation of the Artificial Galaxy."
"....!!!" For a heartbeat Caesar’s composure faltered; the news landed like cold water. He slammed a palm against the armrest and rose to his feet in a flash, the motion sharp. "Very well — then announce a full halt to operations here. Our presence in Mid Sector 100 must cease before the week is out. I will summon the War Council and set to work on withdrawal plans at once."
His movements were decisive, already turning logistical wheels in his head.
"First Supreme General — wait!" Leonid cried out, stunned, as if flung by the sudden command. "Surely you are angry?"
"Angry about what?" Caesar shot back, stepping toward the gate with a resolve that made the room feel colder. "It is His Majesty’s empire; he may do with it as he pleases. I am his weapon, not his equal." He did not hesitate. "We will pull back our forces and redeploy to Mid Sector 99 to assist Supreme General Aro — he is achieving better results there I believe. That is all that concerns us right now."
Leonid’s eyes shone with a mixture of admiration and respect. He watched the man who had poured his body and spirit into expanding Mid Sector 100 — the very man who now, without a moment’s wavering, would abandon everything at the sovereign’s command.
"Your Highness," Leonid began, voice steady but urgent, "there is no need for such haste. His Majesty expressly ordered that the offensive in Mid Sector 100 continue at its current tempo, and that you receive the same level of support as before. He said plainly that the conquests here still play a part that has not yet come to pass."
Caesar stood frozen for a breath, then his reaction cracked open. He let out a long, ragged exhale, ran a shaking hand across his brow as if to wipe away tension, and then — in a flash of theatrical fury — bent, slipped off his shoe and hurled it through the air. It struck Leonid squarely in the face like an accusation turned physical. "You should have started with those words, you little shit!" he barked.
*Bam*