I am the Emperor of Humanity across the Multiverse

February 25th.

The capital of Fertile Star, Odegaard.

The sun was about to set, casting its glow over the vast human city that spanned around 30,000 square kilometers. Despite being the capital, Odegaard only had six space elevators reaching into the sky and a little more than ten buildings taller than 100 meters, concentrated in the city center.

One of these buildings was the Governor's Mansion, painted light gray and marked with the UEG insignia—a bundle of wheat encircling Earth.

The local residents hurried through the streets, rushing to take public transport or drive their private vehicles home. Stores and shopping malls along the streets had long since pulled down their shutters, as the entire city seemed to be in a state of "hurry home."

Even though the riots appeared to have been quelled, the government of Fertile Star had still imposed martial law, enforcing a strict curfew. Residents were ordered to stay off the streets after nightfall.

However, on the rooftop of a high-rise apartment building across from the Governor's Mansion, three groups of snipers and spotters lay hidden.

These six special ops investigators had chosen positions that gave them a full view of Odegaard's police posts, patrols, and visible deployments, as well as a way to covertly monitor the corridors leading to the Governor's office.

The streets of the eastern district housed light industrial factories and storage warehouses. Due to the riots, most factories had been shut down for several days, and even the warehouse security was sparse.

This presented an opportunity for those with ulterior motives—whether rebels or the covert Atlas investigators still operating in the shadows.

The Odegaard police were aware of this, so they had deployed a SWAT team to patrol and guard the area, attempting to limit the rebels' movements as much as possible.

At this moment, two SWAT officers who had just finished a routine inspection were walking toward the armored vehicle parked on the street outside, preparing to regroup with their teammates.

Judging by their equipment and weapons, the SWAT team didn't appear to be as advanced as the police force of Neo-Akira City in the main universe. The biggest difference between them was the absence of personal exoskeletons.

However, their helmets were equipped with face shields that allowed them to monitor their vitals in real-time and receive the latest updates from headquarters.

But after several days of intense work, both officers' eyes were bloodshot, and they were visibly exhausted.

"Yawn…! Yawn—?!" 

One officer, unable to stifle his fatigue, began to yawn, but his helmet screen was suddenly crushed by an invisible hand, which then clamped over his open mouth.

He struggled to break free, but his assailant was far too strong.

As he fought, he glanced at his partner and saw that he had already collapsed, unconscious.

Moments later, he felt a cold needle pierce his neck, and an overwhelming drowsiness pulled him into darkness.

From above, one could see that nearly the entire SWAT team deployed around the factories and warehouses had been incapacitated at the same time. They all fell asleep, losing their ability to fight or act.

Even the drivers waiting in the armored vehicle were not spared, as they too were forcibly put to sleep.

Meanwhile, in a mid-level office inside the Governor's Mansion...

The room was carpeted with noise-cancelling material, and a few green plants were placed around for decoration. A one-way, insulated floor-to-ceiling window faced east, offering a sweeping view of most of Odegaard.

Behind a metal desk sat a middle-aged man in a gray administrative uniform, resembling a military officer, his expression stern. This was Locke Surtay, the governor overseeing all affairs on Fertile Star.

A small, 20-centimeter holographic figure—about the size of a thermos—stood on the desk, reporting to Locke.

"Governor Surtay, there has been no activity from the rebels for the past 36 hours. Surveillance across the city has not detected any suspicious individuals."

The calm, monotone voice echoed in the office.

Locke's face remained grave as he muttered to himself: 

"What are they plotting? Not long ago, they were inciting riots like madmen, even planning to blow up the orbital station. But now they've suddenly vanished? Something's not right... It feels... off."

Sensing his unease, the holographic figure, which glowed faintly red and appeared as a young woman, continued:

"There is a 63% probability that the rebels have retreated to uninhabited areas to prepare for guerrilla warfare. There is a 27% chance they are planning to withdraw, and a 10% chance they are preparing for a suicide attack on a key facility in Odegaard."

"I know, I know," Locke said, looking up at the holographic figure.

"The rebels understand the consequences of continuing their fight better than we do. But why do I feel like this calm is just the calm before a storm? What gives them the confidence? Could it be a rebel fleet?"

"I do not understand human intuition," the AI replied, "but based on intelligence provided by the UNSC, I can confirm that the closest rebel fleet is 40 light-years away and is being closely monitored by the UNSC's Naval Intelligence... mon... mon..."

Suddenly, the holographic figure glitched, its body twitching unnaturally before collapsing and disappearing.

Locke was stunned.

But he quickly realized the severity of the situation.

That holographic figure was an intelligent AI responsible for assisting with administrative tasks and monitoring all activities in Odegaard in real time.

It was "she" who had identified several hidden rebel strongholds, allowing the SWAT teams to eliminate them with minimal casualties.

However, the AI had now gone offline, which was beyond the capabilities of the rebels.

Boom! Boom!

Just as Locke was trying to make sense of the situation, two loud directional explosions rocked the office, as the door was violently torn apart.

A stun grenade was thrown into the room, and then—

Boom—Boom!

The deafening noise and blinding flashes engulfed everything.

Buzzing filled Locke's ears, robbing him of sight, hearing, and balance. All that remained was a relentless ringing.

Even so, the former Marine Corps Major acted on instinct, reaching for the gun in his desk drawer, ready to fight back against the unknown assailants storming his office.

But before he could even open the drawer, he was subdued by one of the invisible operatives.

As the chaos caused by the explosions and stun grenades subsided, four investigators from the special operations team, who had deactivated their optical camouflage, were now standing in the Governor's office.

One of them, kneeling on the ground with his hand pressing down on Locke, reported through the comms:

"This is Chris Redfield. The target has been successfully captured. Over."

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