Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Within this newly forged arena, Rex's power condensed into a tangible pressure that made the very air groan. His gaze remained locked on Little Red, who was still catching her breath amidst the flowers and debris.

"So?" Rex's voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of an avalanche. It was not a question but a demand for a final accounting. "What did you do to my brother? This is your first and last opportunity to answer. I will not repeat myself."

As he spoke, the space in front of him began to warp. Particles of silver light, sharp and cold, swirled from the atmosphere and from his own shimmering aura, weaving together in a complex, terrifying dance.

They forged a blade of impossible length and cruel design, his claymore, reborn and upgraded, its edge seeming to thirst for reality itself. With a final, resonant sound, the weapon fully materialized.

Rex's hand settled on the hilt; his knuckles pressed against the dark metal. He looked down upon Little Red from his elevated position; his silverish aura blazing around him was like a corona of judgment.

In that moment, he was no longer just a man or an emperor; he was a vengeful divinity, descended to pass sentence upon a sinner.

The pressure emanating from Rex was enough to make the very light in the barrier-dome waver, a divine wrath made manifest. Yet, Little Red merely continued to rub her neck, a teasing, defiant smile playing on her lips. She offered no resistance, no hostile energy, only a maddening, placid acceptance of his fury.

"Rex, please stop."

Cleo's voice was a soft counterpoint to the roaring silence of his power. She appeared at his side, her small, delicate hand coming to rest upon his own where it gripped the claymore's hilt. Her touch was a plea, not a command.

Even with her intervention, Rex's gaze remained locked on Little Red, his eyes burning with a controlled, murderous intent. The anger radiating from him was a furnace, hotter and more focused than anything Cleo had ever felt from him.

Yet, it was a cold fire, meticulously channeled. This was the legacy of the last Kaelzar emperor's tampering, a combat mode that did not erase emotion but forged it into a weapon of ice and absolute calculation. He let out a short, sharp sigh, the sound like cracking stone. "Why are you stopping me?" he asked, turning his head to look at her.

His gaze met her own, which held a profound, innocent sorrow. "She is not my sister," Cleo explained, her voice heavy with grief.

"The body is that of my sister, but the entity controlling it is a failed program, a ghost in the machine born from my people's desperate, damned search for power at any cost." She let her hand fall from his, turning fully to face the fallen form.

"Virus," Cleo declared, her tone shifting from personal to imperial. "It is enough. Your game has gone too far. According to Kaelzar law, I should eradicate you for your insubordination against the royal family. But as our race is all but extinct, all I can now do is lock you away."

A haughty, silvery laugh escaped Little Red's lips. "Aha~, I don't think you have what it takes, my dear~." She brought a hand to her cheek, looking at Cleo with utter arrogance.

"The only one capable of sealing me was the Kaelzar Empress herself. And you... my dear... are just a little princess of a fallen empire~." It was the most contemptuous tone Rex had ever witnessed, and it was backed by terrifying power.

With the Virus unleashed, Little Red's combat prowess rivaled a low Tier 7 powerhouse, making her the single most formidable force in the remnants of the Kaelzar arsenal.

"It is as you said, Virus," Cleo conceded, her voice dropping to a whisper that nonetheless carried absolute finality.

Then, her golden eyes ignited. A torrent of golden data screens and ancient tech symbols erupted into being around her, orbiting her form in a complex, beautiful dance.

A brilliant, data-stream halo materialized behind her head, and her immaculate white wings unfurled to their full, majestic span, now etched with glowing, golden circuitry that pulsed with awakened power. Her entire being was transformed, no longer just a princess, but a vessel of a lost empire's authority.

"Under the name and authority of the Ancient Empress of the Kaelzars," her voice echoed, layered with the voices of a million lost souls, "I request access to the collective database. I demand the execution of the locking protocol upon this renegade Kaelzar life form!"

The space between them shimmered. A towering hologram of a woman materialized, breathtaking and terrible in her majesty. She possessed two pairs of vast, white wings, larger than Rex's or Cleo's, every feather inscribed with living tech-marks and flickering holo-screens. It was the hologram of the Kaelzar Empress.

Her gaze fell upon Little Red and held no anger, only a profound and weary disappointment. She simply raised her hand.

[Permission granted. Initiating Locking Protocol.]

Little Red's arrogant smile finally broke, but not into fear but into a kind of mad, ecstatic revelation. "Hahahah~! So my little sister had the authority all along! The key I searched for so desperately was with you this entire time! Hahaha~! You are truly great, my little sister!" Her laughter was a mix of triumph and surrender.

"I will meet you again, little sis~!"

As the protocol took hold, the malicious light in her crimson eyes flickered and died. Her body went limp, all animation and personality extinguished in an instant, collapsing to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been severed. The arrogant Virus was gone, leaving only the silent, empty shell of Cleo's sister.

Meanwhile...

[Unknown Location — Khrissary-Controlled Sector — War Front]

The throne room of the Khrissary Queen was a cavernous space, a monument to biological engineering where the very walls pulsed with a slow, rhythmic life.

In the absence of Xytrallia's true, colossal form, the hall felt even more immense and echoing. The only occupant, aside from the silently attending bio-constructs, was a massive black wolf sleeping in a shadowed corner, his tail giving the occasional, lazy twitch.

"Ummm~, and who might you be?" a playful voice chirped. Yssera, the most energetic and least conventional of the princesses, was crouched before the wolf's face. She reached out a delicate, chitinous finger and poked his black nose gently.

The effect was immediate. Lykos's head snapped up, his green, feral eyes snapping open to focus on the unfamiliar Khrissary before him. A low, telepathic growl echoed in Yssera's mind, devoid of sound but thick with warning. "Who are you? And why do you smell so familiar?"

Yssera giggled, completely unbothered by the display. "Mmm~ me? Well, I guess you wouldn't know who I am. I've been... doing stuff here and there while trying to run away from my responsibilities, hehe~." Her laughter was light and childish, a stark contrast to the militaristic precision of the swarm around them.

She stood up and puffed out her chest with immense, prideful drama. "I am the rarest and most unique in this whole swarm! I am none other than the future queen of all this! You are in the presence of the mighty me! The princess of this swarm~"

As she proclaimed her title, a spatial tear ripped open silently behind her, shimmering with greenish energy.

"The mighty 'you' who has accomplished no more for the swarm than any other princess and has hardly advanced to Tier 3," a mature, resonant feminine voice stated from the portal. The voice was calm, yet it carried an absolute authority that made the very air still.

Yssera froze mid-pose, her confident expression melting into one of sheer panic. She spun around quickly, her wings drooping. "Ehem... hehe?" she stammered, nervously looking at the majestic woman who now stood before her. "Hello, Mother...." she mumbled while slowly lowering her gaze to the floor, not daring to meet Xytrallia's eyes.

But in stark contrast to Yssera's submissive behavior, Lykos padded forward. He approached Xytrallia, who was in her powerful humanoid form, and lowered his great head in a gesture of deep respect and familial loyalty.

"Welcome back, Mother," his telepathic words rang out, clear and strong enough for Yssera to hear, cementing the true hierarchy in the room and leaving the playful princess to face the consequences of her neglect.

"Uh? MOTHER?! Since when?!" Yssera practically jumped out of her skin, her shock overriding her fear. Contrary to other swarm queens who spawned thousands of nearly identical offspring, Xytrallia was notoriously selective.

Her brood consisted of only seven sons, making Yssera, her sole daughter, the eighth. The arrival of a new sibling, especially one she hadn't been told about, was a monumental event.

"It has not been that long; he is the youngest of your siblings," Xytrallia stated, her voice calm and measured as she glanced at the loyal Lykos. "And even though he is the youngest, he has already solidified his power at Tier 4." Her gaze then shifted back to Yssera, a world of unspoken comparison hanging in the air.

She let the silence speak for itself before deciding, with a slight sigh, to leave the topic there. "And you..." She trailed off, shaking her head minutely. "It is better not to say anything else about this topic."

Yssera's shoulders slumped, the initial shock replaced by a familiar sting of inadequacy. But then, Xytrallia continued, her tone shifting to one of clinical analysis.

"Mmm, I have found the reason why you cannot surpass Tier 3."