Lord of the Truth

Elsewhere in Mid Sector 100—

"...."

Beneath the looming shadow of the colossal moon that seemed to devour a quarter of the sky, Caesar sat as though carved into a scene of legend. Both his legs were propped up lazily on the balcony's stone parapet, while his hands were interlaced calmly behind his head.

His eyes remained shut, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. He swayed gently forward and backward in a rhythm that looked almost meditative, as if he were rocking himself into serenity, pushing all the weight of war momentarily aside.

His posture, unshakably relaxed, clashed with the reality that he was clad in his full military regalia, every piece polished and imposing except for the absent helmet. That detail alone lent his image an almost iconic aura, a timeless impression, as though he were not a man but a living painting—an eternal figure suspended in motion.

Yet… if this were truly a painting, then the chaos unraveling behind his back would certainly never fit inside its frame.

"This must not continue any longer!"

"What we once thought of only as distant expectations has already manifested into hard reality—and worse, it has come crashing upon us much sooner than any of our projections suggested!"

"A host of planetary emperors, each at the terrifying Realm of Nexus State, have begun joining forces and coordinating their actions against us. They are not merely sending armies or representatives in their stead. No—they are personally moving, stepping into battle themselves. How many times in all the annals of the sector history has such a thing ever occurred?!"

"What can we possibly do to halt them now? Our strength is insufficient to withstand their combined pressure. Our greatest chance lies in the two elderly mercenaries we've hired—but even they cannot possibly secure a victory should another full alliance of Nexus States rise against us!"

…Only six years earlier, Theo had managed a desperate stroke of luck, hiring a female Nexus State and delivering her to Caesar. Her presence had turned the tide, enabling the annihilation of the final bastions of their enemies after the previous hired Nexus State had failed to produce even a shred of meaningful results.

The First Army, emboldened by that success, immediately mobilized once more, aiming to crush the dangling remnants of hostile empires that had been left incomplete for too long—chief among them, the Iron Boar Empire. Yet fate revealed its crueler hand. Just as their assault was underway,

several rulers of neighboring empires converged upon the Iron Boar capital to defend it. Their combined number swelled until four Nexus States stood united in its defense.

It goes without saying: the Cradle Empire's army had no choice but to retreat in haste. The two mercenary Nexus States fought fiercely, suffering grievous injuries while buying time for as many soldiers as possible to escape. But in the end they withdraw anyway when the battle took a turn to the worst—leaving behind half of the Cradle fleet exposed and without a shield. That fleet was mercilessly crushed, reduced to wreckage drifting in the void.

The loss was staggering—an injury not merely to their forces but to their pride. Yet, tragically, it was only the opening act of what would follow. From that day onward, the alliance of planetary rulers who had tasted victory against the Cradle Empire for the first time in centuries grew bolder. Their appetite sharpened, they pressed their luck, moving in unison to strike at Cradle colonies scattered across the worlds they had once claimed as their own.

In the span of only three years, the Cradle Empire was forced to endure catastrophe after catastrophe. Five slave world cataclysms lost, thousands upon thousands of soldiers perished in distant colonies, and, naturally, an incalculable amount of war materiel—ships, weapons, fortifications—was ground into dust.

And yet, for all of that devastation, they did not lose the planets themselves.

Why? Because those planetary emperors had little left at their disposal besides their own formidable bodies and strength. Their armies and fleets had long since been obliterated by the might of the Cradle Empire.

They could march, slaughter, burn, and perhaps station a token garrison here and there. But inevitably those pitiful garrisons were swept aside, and the planets reclaimed in turn.

Their true purpose was never to conquer—it was to bleed the Cradle Empire dry. To sap its momentum, force it to halt its expansion, compel it to focus on merely reclaiming what had once been theirs. To chip away at their strength increment by increment, all while their own homelands recovered precious time to breathe, to stabilize, to prepare for the storms still looming ahead.

And in this strategy—they had succeeded.

"Those two old farts are utterly worthless! And His Majesty, our so-called Silent Emperor, is even more useless above them!" General Martin roared, his voice hot with fury, fists clenching as if he might strike the stone itself. "We may hold three Nexus States within our grasp, but what good are they if we cannot trust them to fight a single decisive battle for us?!"

"What then are we to do?" Alexander leaned heavily forward, resting his chin upon the back of his hand in thought, his tone sharp yet weary. "Shall we continue these endless cycles of hit-and-run warfare? Years have passed since this situation arised, and in all that time we have gained only two new planets. Our timetable has been derailed beyond measure. I fear unless we discover a way to shatter that cursed alliance once and for all, we shall fall even further behind the timeline."

"At the very least," another voice interjected, "we must increase the forces stationed on each world. No more gathering them in a single bastion and shifting them like pieces on a board when danger calls. If we spread our strength across many worlds, the enemy will hesitate before moving recklessly. They will know that striking blindly means being struck in return, suffering wounds of their own!"

"...Supreme General," among those assembled, it was Victoria—who had been quietly watching Caesar the entire time as he lounged upon the balcony—who finally broke her silence. Her voice was gentle yet carried a steady weight, like a ripple breaking across still waters. "Do you have any thoughts, any instructions for us to follow?"

"...."

The moment Caesar was directly addressed, the others reacted instinctively. Alexander, Raiden, and the rest of the gathered commanders shifted their attention toward the balcony. The space fell utterly quiet, as though all the air itself had paused in expectation.

There was no doubt each of these figures was a genius in their own right—brilliant minds forged by centuries of experience and hardship. Many of them were far older than Caesar, veterans of countless wars and political storms.

Indeed, in the Greenland campaigns of the past, Caesar himself had leaned upon their knowledge, gleaning wisdom from their scars and their tested strategies. He had been the attentive student while they played the role of the seasoned masters.

And yet, in the planetary wars that had erupted more recently, something had shifted. For reasons they could not fully understand, Caesar's vision outstripped theirs. He saw paths through the fog of uncertainty that they could not. His leadership carried a sharpness that seemed to pierce the veil of the future itself.

With each passing year, the gulf in foresight and command between him and them only widened.

The youth they once regarded as an eager disciple had turned into a sovereign commander before their very eyes—maturing faster, surpassing them in judgment, and still continuing to grow as if destiny itself nurtured him.

"Your Supreme General," Caesar spoke at last, his voice steady yet indifferent, "still does not understand the purpose of this meeting you requested. There is no need to trouble yourselves with what lies beyond our control." He released a slow exhale, his eyes remaining serenely closed, his tone edged with weary clarity. "To stop that alliance is impossible without Nexus States who are ready to sacrifice themselves for the Empire's survival. Victory will never come from those mercenaries we pay to fight."

"Then what are we supposed to do against them, Supreme General?" General Martin's face tightened with tension, his brows furrowed deeply, and his thick, fiery beard seemed almost to burn brighter with the intensity of his anger. "Are we to bow our heads? To surrender to them without a fight?"

"The battles to come," Caesar replied sharply, cutting through Martin's rage, "will be battles of the Shadow Swords, not ours to claim directly." He paused, then elaborated, his words calm but precise as blades, "I will entrust the entire responsibility of dealing with that alliance to Leonid. He will watch their movements closely, evacuate the planets they set their sights on, and once their armies withdraw, he will return our forces to reclaim what was lost. That—whether you like it or not—is the only effective solution we have."

"Understood." Leonid, who had stood silent among the generals until now, finally stepped forward.

Before Caesar allowed the moment to drift, he continued his instructions with deliberate clarity: "As for the rest of you—return your attention to the invasion of new worlds. Take only our finest, the elite of the elite. Keep the gates active at all times. Should the Nexus State alliance descend upon you, retreat swiftly and without hesitation. Once they leave, return and strike again—or target another planet entirely. And so you will continue, again and again, until our objectives are met."

"...This is shameful. Humiliating beyond measure." General Martin lowered his gaze toward the floor, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his pride smoldering as if struck by chains.

"Humiliating," Caesar interrupted firmly, ceasing his gentle rocking at last. He leaned back with authority, the motion deliberate, and opened one eye that gleamed with cold defiance. "is that we do not possess even a single true Nexus State of our own—and yet, despite this, they still cannot stop our relentless advance. So raise your heads. Adapt to the storm as it comes. Bend with the current until we discover the final solution."

"Heh~ Understood, Your Highness."

"Understood."

"We will do as you command."

"Hmm?" In that instant, Leonid's face shifted. His brows drew sharply together as though he had just caught the scent of something grave. He turned abruptly toward Caesar, his voice low but urgent.

"Supreme General, we have news about Lady Renara."