Clunk—Clunk—
With each step forward, the sensation of crushed stone and scattered shrapnel passed into the torn soil. As the great fairy magician cast aside his staff and raised both hands—
...
On the Avalon battlefield, the air fell silent. All that remained were the heavy footsteps of steel boots, the cocking of guns, the spinning of chainsaw teeth, and the crackle of decomposition fields.
Senti was stunned.
The other fairies of Avalon—fellow members of the same fantastical lineage as Merlin—also stood frozen. In each other's eyes, they read the same disbelief.
That damned old fool...
Vivian—the Lady of the Lake—gritted her teeth in rage. As a naturally born fairy, or at least one with fantasy-blood lineage, she and others like her could faintly sense the shift in the Swirl of the Root.
"Mother" was still the absolute origin of all things, the start and end of this universe, the keeper of all records. But her concept had changed...
What was once a formless, directionless concept—the "Mother of All/Source"—had become a being of absolute will. A ruler with direction, a supreme creator.
The Swirl of Honkai!
That was the message faintly imprinted in their minds. Even the undefeated and unyielding King of Knights recognized what this meant.
There was no reason to keep fighting. This world no longer belonged to them. As absurd as it sounded, that was the truth: born and raised here, they were now the outsiders.
To the very soil, realm, and grass of this universe, once the Swirl of Honkai settled, the Imperial Army became the natives. The fairies, nightmares, and sea-of-stars fantasies became the invaders—the parasites!
The once-gentle and loving radiance of the Sea of Stars had vanished, replaced by something alien, cold, and repellent.
In short—they were on the verge of surrendering.
But no one expected that Merlin, who just moments ago had been rousing morale like he would fight to the death, would surrender so abruptly.
The whiplash was enough to throw everyone's back out.
"You... you... I..."
Senti stood there speechless, staring at Merlin with raised hands and an innocent look. Her whip raised mid-strike, all her pent-up fury stuck halfway, her finger trembling as she pointed at the flowery mage.
"You damned foppish bard! That was shameless!"
Merlin's meek, agreeable approach completely short-circuited Senti's brain.
She only seemed wild and attention-seeking on the outside. Compared to Fu Hua, she was more decisive and grounded, but deep inside, she still retained the wonder and innocence of a newborn—curious about the world, longing for it, full of life. Smart? Not so much.
And now, the enemy had surrendered—first, even—and Selene herself had just given the order to begin terms of surrender. According to Imperial military protocol, this called for exemplary treatment. Reward the wise who yield.
Regardless of what kind of reward, at the very least, punching was not on the table.
Violating Selene's direct order? She didn't dare. Couldn't she see how the "kamikaze" battle nuns behind her had already stopped attacking?
If she were caught beating a surrendering officer, she'd definitely be hauled in for misconduct. And she was truly terrified of Selene, who could squish her like a pufferfish.
"Ahem... my lovely lady, sometimes, self-preservation is a form of wisdom."
Sensing the increasingly unfriendly looks from his fellow Avalonian fairies, Merlin coughed lightly and quietly shuffled a bit closer to the side of the battle nuns.
Vivian and the native Avalonians: Shameless old bastard. We'll just watch you pull your tricks.
"I'm one of yours now," Merlin said easily. "What's that treaty called again...? Ah, yes. The Geneva Convention. Surely a nation as prosperous and mighty as yours would treat its talent well—especially someone as gifted as myself."
With grace, Merlin shifted identities and even began flattering himself.
"What an amusing person."
Watching Senti lose ground in the verbal exchange, Fu Hua issued instructions to the nearby Imperial officers to begin the formal surrender procedures—while simultaneously ordering heightened vigilance.
Stepping forward, she added, "Lord Merlin, with your talents, I imagine both the Empire's military and diplomatic agencies would welcome you with open arms."
"After all," she said with a half-smile, "your illusions and survival abilities made quite an impression on me. It's been a long time since I was this angry. That cannot go unpunished."
And she meant it. As a prospective Grand Caster, Merlin's proficiency—especially in nightmare and illusion magic—was undisputed. His ability to stay alive? Even more infuriating.
If they didn't obliterate all of Avalon—or destroy this entire parallel world—there was always a risk he'd pop up again from some corner. But now, with everything under Selene's dominion, there was no need. Blowing up Selene's property? Fu Hua wasn't that reckless.
Killing him was out of the question. He might not even be the real body—maybe just a nightmare clone. But it didn't matter. The grudge still stood.
Step—creak—
With that thought, Fu Hua began slowly walking toward a visibly awkward Merlin.
"Ah... once the illusion is cast, it's out of my control," he stammered. "The technique adapts to its subject's context..."
His eyes darted around. From the corner of his vision, he caught sight of several battle-hardened illusion victims creeping up with ominous smiles.
Realizing the danger, Merlin tried to explain.
Crack!
Gloves on, joints popping, Fu Hua stepped forward with methodical seriousness.
"A prisoner of war must behave as such. As a field commander in this war zone, I believe I have full authority to deal with a POW."
"Rest assured—we have ample healing supplies. We always reward those who surrender wisely. No scars. No side effects. Just... a bit of temporary pain. It'll be over quickly."
...
Somewhere in the Earth-Moon orbit of a high-dimensional universe—
"Is it over...? Tch."
Esdeath withdrew her gaze and raised her straight-blade saber, the reflected cold light glinting in her icy blue eyes. Her breath was heavy—that sense of inner fullness made her murmur to herself:
"A return surge...?"
"Stronger again... Her Majesty grows more unfathomable by the day."
As one of Selene's subordinate Herrschers, Esdeath wasn't like Sebas or Alyssa—creatures born from the Honkai Beast lineage that could scale in power directly with Selene's own ascension. But she did receive a share of the power feedback.
"So the extinction campaigns are ending... and we're switching to reconstruction. Still, the moon—there's probably no point rebuilding it."
Post-conquest rebuilding was Esdeath's forte. She'd done it so many times that the Imperial Army had developed a streamlined protocol.
Sheathed her blade, Esdeath turned back to the shattered silver lunar landscape. From afar, it looked like a vast, crystalline ice flower—its frozen, jagged petals bridging broken planetary fragments into a cruel, breathtaking unity.
Yet beneath that beauty was a chilling terror.
Below the ice, the moon's disintegration hadn't stopped. Fragments of its mantle convulsed. With no crust to contain it, molten magma surged out through the frozen shell—racing outward in all directions.
As lava churned within the thick layers of ice that formed the moon's pseudo-terrestrial structure, a powerful shockwave tore through the layers, detonating a massive orange-red mushroom cloud right before Esdeath's eyes. Hundreds to thousands of kilometers of thick glacial crust shattered. Flame and crystal rose into the void together.
The Moon's flower seas, ancient castles, and fabled beauties—all turned to ash.
"Hoh, there's a strange beauty to this destruction."
Just as Esdeath prepared to order the Imperial Navy vessels stationed nearby to begin securing mundane control of this warzone, a voice—hoarse yet charming—sounded behind her. Her blue eyes widened.
"Your Majesty."
As close as they were, and as loyal as Esdeath was, she still saluted respectfully.
Selene's silver hair whipped wildly from the moon's exploding shockwave. With a graceful bend of her elbow, she gestured for Esdeath to rise, murmuring as she cupped her chin, "The palace of Earth's UO Crimson Moon... True Ancestors, is it."
She paused.
"Esdeath, send orders: the advance troops are to eliminate all vampires, ghouls, and True Ancestor types on Earth."
In the Type-Moon world, True Ancestors weren't born of the Root. They were Gaia's creations—a means to check humanity when direct retaliation was impossible. Modeled after humans in both body and mind, they were ultimately flawed—plagued with a thirst for blood.
Such defective beings—Selene could wipe them out with a thought. But military merit and the noble title system were among the pillars of her empire. Her warriors deserved the chance to claim heads.
A self-reinforcing system—this was how Selene's empire remained vibrant even beyond mere conquest. This was civilization.
Alas, few superiors looked after their troops like she did.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Esdeath pounded her chest with a closed fist, smiling.
Selene observed the scene before her. The Earth, now bare, felt oddly incomplete without its lunar twin.
Snap!
With a flick of her finger, the frozen lunar ruin blazed with energy. Surging energy tides radiated from her touch, sending tremors even through the nearby Imperial Navy ships in orbit.
The ice melted. As if reversing time, volcanic ash floating in space collapsed back to the surface. The shattered lunar fragments reassembled, returning the moon to its former glory—minus the flower seas and castles. Esdeath immediately understood this was not time reversal.
"Much better."
"The major battles are over. What remains are reconstruction, surrenders, and minor rebellions. I imagine, Esdeath, you're already thinking about switching posts again?"
Selene turned with a smile.
Three paces behind her, arms crossed, Esdeath didn't hide her intentions.
"Your Majesty knows me well. I, Esdeath, am but a hunter from the northern province of the Empire. I live for war, slaughter, and the hunt."
"Even if you didn't like it, you've got no escape. Curze is still tied up at the Budo front and can't be stationed here. Azem's Iron Warriors and Leiva's Black Templars legion are both tied up building the capital world. I can't favor one over the others."
"Pulling replacements from the capital would be a logistical nightmare."
This wasn't something Selene could resolve in a snap. Even if she opened a spatial rift and pulled a general directly here, the Imperial apparatus was vast and intricately linked. There were procedures—handoffs, transitions.
As for the Type-Moon world, Selene had other plans. No single Astartes legion would be granted full recruitment control over this realm. At most, the Third (Black Templars), Fourth (Black Templars), and Eighth (Night Lords) would receive more troops, materiel, and supplies from this world.
This was standard Imperial doctrine: conquest could be led by a single or multiple legions. When it came time to collect taxes, the bounty would be split according to the pre-invasion agreements among legion commanders.
"I will appoint you as the direct military overseer for security within the Type-Moon world," Selene declared, leaving no room for debate.
"Understood!"
Esdeath stood tall and firm.
Selene nodded.
"One more thing—after this warzone is settled, report to Alyssa's front. The future capital and governor-general's seat for this world... will be established in the Original Universe."
"Though it's currently destroyed, the foundational structure remains. I've nearly reached full mastery of the Type-Moon world. It will be restored soon."
"When the time comes—Esdeath, notify the Imperial Foundry. Draft a full proposal for constructing a stellar-sector capital and submit it to me."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
...
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