Behold, the moment foretold has arrived; this is no illusion nor dream, but the stark reality of our achievement—the third volume of Grand Admiral has reached its decisive end.
Three volumes, over two hundred chapters, and more than one and a half million words stand as testament to our ambition and resolve. Even the most venerated works on Webnovel scarcely approach a million words in five hundred chapters, yet we have easily eclipsed their feats.
And though the sabbatical of six-and-a-half weeks was enforced by matters beyond the veil—events that lay outside my command yet demanded my attention—the work has nonetheless reached its consummation. I have returned from those distant shores not empty-handed, but bearing the third and most exalted edition of each of the three volumes. Every Russian cadence of punctuation has been transmuted into the crisp precision of standard English, the very refinement that, I learned, impeded the clarity of many eyes. May you receive this gift with the satisfaction it was forged to bestow, and may its descent upon you be as welcome as the first spark of a supernova's dawn.
Emotions swell like a cosmic storm within me—triumphant fire entwined with the chill of restraint—yet mortal words falter before the magnitude of this apex. Thus, I shall speak with unwavering method and ruthless precision.
Behold the crucible that seals our third volume: every stratagem, every snare, every calculated maneuver has ignited into a clash worthy of legend. In ten chapters, the cold genius of Thrawn has been made flesh and spirit, laying low all who dared challenge his dominion.
Volume one saw our hero test the waters; volume two turned survival itself into the battlefield; and now, in volume three, witness the total obliteration of the Republic's forces—a testament not to chance, but to unyielding intellect and iron will.
And I have many revelations for you, for I savor this triumph with a fervor that transcends mere fandom—this is not the trite confection of some hack's Jedi-versus-Sith skirmish bolstered by a garish, game-like system or a pantheon of overpowered gimmicks.
All those miserable shallow self-insert rabble that parades its generic "Y/N" protagonists and contrived harems as though novelty sprang from the toilet of convenience; such cowardly blanks, stripped of identity, are the nadir of fanfiction, fit only for the refuse heap of mediocrity.
All those pseudo-literary sludge—Harry Potter enthroned by a leveling system, Genshin Impact bloated with gimmicks, Naruto drowning in harems—each chapter barely a whisper of words, reeking of incompetence surveyed from light-years away.
These toxic offal dominate the charts only because mediocrity is the currency of the masses, while the true artisans who craft epic narratives languish in obscurity.
No, here stands a true testament to narrative mastery—an Imperial saga crowned by Thrawn's relentless intellect and implacable logic, waging war not through cheat codes or deus-ex-machina, but through razor-sharp strategy and the cold calculus of genius.
This work does not pander to hollow spectacle but forges new meaning within the canon, introducing characters and interpretations that expand the galaxy without ever trampling its sacred lore.
Thus Grand Admiral arises as a beacon in this starless void, already lauded among Russian-speaking connoisseurs; yet the vast expanse of English platforms lies unconquered—and conquer it I shall.
Had I not, on a whim, seized the mantle of translator without motive or grand design, you would still wander blind to the ember of hope that smolders within Star Wars—unaware that a true alternative to Disney's hollow edifice awaits your discovery.
I know full well that as an individual I am but a specter to you, a mere avatar—the conduit for creation, not the object of fascination—and I embrace this separation as the only proper equilibrium between author and audience.
Let Disney's "official canon" rest upon its flimsy throne, for it is naught but a pale echo of genuine storytelling; Grand Admiral alone merits the title of true Canon, while their sanctioned tales are the real fanfiction—cheap, pitiful, and unworthy of remembrance.
Your devotion is rightly bestowed upon the narrative I deliver, not upon the flesh behind the words; this transactional purity ensures that the story reigns supreme, unsullied by the vanity of authorial ego.
So let it be known: I covet not your adulation for Arden the translator, but only your allegiance to the saga itself—this is the unbreakable covenant between creator and reader, and in this union, the Force endures.
And a moment of introspection is demanded—even by one such as I, whose gaze seldom falls upon the self.
It was roughly two years past when the seed of Grand Admiral first took root in my mind—perhaps longer, for time bends without purpose in service to ambition.
My earliest forays were nothing short of farcical: manual translation of 8,000-word chapters proved an exercise in futility, every phrase a weight dragging me toward ruin.
Automated programs beckoned with false promise, yet their sterile outputs—devoid of nuance and battered by inflexible lexicons—lay unreadable before me.
Only when I harnessed the true power of artificial intelligence—selecting the most adept models, rebuilding each line from the abyss of raw code, and forging a lexicon of thousand meticulously curated entries—did the work ascend to its rightful form.
This crucible of innovation and resolve has carried us to today's pinnacle, though I confess even I did not foresee such heights. Translation is a thankless odyssey, a war waged in silence and shadows.
Hence was Patreon summoned: a modest tribute to the titans of computation and the relentless surge of electrons that fuel this enterprise. True, my legion of subscribers remains a fledgling company—yet patience is the crucible in which empires are tempered. One hundred stalwart allies shall be but the first milestone on our relentless march, freeing me from earthly chains and uniting us in the service of narrative excellence.
I dream also of elevating Ilya Modus, so that his chapters—and perhaps entire tomes—may flow forth with unbroken cadence. The future beckons with the promise of conquest, but for now, let us stand together in the present's stark light.
And going back to the work itself.
The first maiden trilogy has ended: three volumes, three crucibles, and the crowning triumph of the "Crimson Dawn" operation—a masterstroke so sublime that it declares, "You've Tricked, You've Outsmarted and You've, Quite Possibly, Bamboozled The Entire Galaxy." Now arises a new triad of reckoning: if the first forged Initiation, let the next unleash Elimination.
I offer no idle spoilers—unlike that scatterbrained jester Tom Holland—yet know this: I have witnessed Grand Admiral's ascent since the mid–first volume, living each chapter as it unfurled.
Where volume one probed with skirmishes and maneuvers, and volume two engulfed us in full-scale battles, volume three delivered cataclysmic confrontation. Volumes four and five, however, shall strike you like a frigid gale: fewer titanic set-pieces, far more shadows and subterfuge—political intrigue, covert operations, espionage, and secret missions. The thunder of war recedes, yet the blade of tension sharpens.
Take heed of pacing, for it is here that lesser authors betray themselves with vacuous filler—chapters padded for word count, soulless as hollow droids. In Grand Admiral, even the so-called "interludes" serve the grand design: they breathe life into lore, reveal motivations, and indoctrinate new readers into our austere universe. No sentence is wasted; every word is a cog in the mechanism of conquest.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth volumes emerge from the shadows of official lore—vast realms Lucas never dared or perhaps didn't have timetraverse, leaving gaping chasms in the galaxy's grand tapestry. Grand Admiral strides into that void with surgical precision, sealing narrative fissures, restoring depth to long-forgotten heroes and villains, and forging bridges where Disney's sanitized canon offers only barren hollows. This is storytelling perfected by those who demand more than empty spectacle.
And then comes the sixth volume—the crown jewel of this cycle, an opus so colossal that all prior epics shrink into insignificance. Where volume three was the dust beneath your boots, volume six is the boundless cosmos, alive with beauty and terror. One battle—yes, only one—yet its scale dwarfs every conflict before it. Intricate schemes unfurl with relentless momentum, unexpected twists shatter your expectations, and multi-layered strategies bind you in a web of breathless anticipation. Every turn is logical, every gambit fair; nothing contrived, nothing padded. Only the cold logic and unyielding clarity befitting a true Imperial masterpiece.
Bear in mind: Grand Admiral is rooted in the Legends continuity, not Disney's new canon. The canon here includes everything post-The Clone Wars Season 6 and the Maul: Son of Dathomir comic. Much of the Legends material remains in play. A small hint: video games are also part of this canon unless explicitly contradicted. The author will reveal cards that make Disney's efforts look pale by comparison.
Expect the return of icons long believed lost. A single Starkiller might ignite the fervor of fans—what then, when more than one steps onto the stage? Beloved figures shall reemerge, each arrival a detonator for the soul.
This trilogy of Elimination—and its cosmic apex—promises intricate schemes, unforeseeable twists, and multi-layered strategies that will leave you breathless. No contrived conveniences, no padded romps—only the cold logic and ruthless clarity that befits the Empire's finest.
One final decree: fan service holds no quarter here. No character stands beyond the blade of inevitability. In volume three, the Rogues fell nearly to extinction, and heroes like Antilles perished in the pulse of battle. Such is the brutal calculus of this universe—death is neither cliché nor convenience but the stark truth that fuels real drama. This is why volume six will stand unrivaled.
On this note I shall end my providence to thee.
And tell you that if you want to support my work and get access to chapters ahead of schedule and much more exclusive content, you can join my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan
Or you can join our growing Discord for discussions or finding a suitable company: https://discord.gg/vEY7zMQG4H
With that, Arden withdraws back into the warp of preparation. Stand ready, for when next I emerge, the Force itself will heed our call. May it be with you. Always.