The Inquisition worked efficiently. After the Daemon Inquisitor squad led by John—117 captured one of the Zerg broodmothers, Gloria, analysis of the Zerg specimens and intelligence extracted from Gloria's mind were promptly delivered to Selene's desk.
The broodmother Gloria was to be transferred from the Inquisition's 2107th Expedition Fleet to the hands of the Third Legion Astartes Black Templars, who had come to provide support.
Once all useful information had been extracted, Gloria would either be handed over to the Imperial Science Bureau's personnel, taken to the Garden of the Imperial Capital Palace as a display specimen, or destroyed on-site—pending decision.
The sun set in the west.
In the study loft, Selene bathed in the afterglow of the sunset. She floated down from her hovering carpet and sat upright at the desk.
When facing external officials, it was best to remain serious and proper—especially with Inquisitors, whose fanaticism rivaled even the Word Bearers of the 17th Legion Astartes.
Selene certainly did not want to someday find herself, while traveling incognito, looking up at some landmark, statue, or souvenir depicting her lounging on a floating carpet, legs dangling as she lazily flipped through books while eating pastries.
These people had a history of such excess. Wherever they went, they carved Selene into monuments—not limited to continent-sized memorials, towering statues reaching the heavens, or countless murals…
A continent-sized monument of her lazily eating—that would be far too shameful, far too socially fatal.
Though the Inquisitors always inscribed her actions with the most noble and sanctified interpretations, Selene herself did not wish to see such things!
"The Terran Dominion has already been declared. The Overmind perished with Tassadar, the second Overmind captured by the United Earth Directorate also died under Zeratul's warp blade… and now the swarm's leader is the Queen of Blades…"
Selene muttered thoughtfully, chin in hand, swirling her teacup. Before her, the holoscreen projected the passionate speech of an older man. The loud buzzing of cheers from the crowd carried from the speakers.
The cheers of the masses.
Selene's pupils reflected the image of the speaker.
A middle-aged man of about forty-five. Though not tall, his shoulders were exceptionally broad. He wore a lavish gray high-collared uniform embroidered with a golden wolf's head, and draped across his back was a massive cloak woven with golden threads.
A head of black hair was streaked with gray, and his thick, graying beard showed his age. Yet his gray-black eyes, flecked faintly with gold, gleamed sharp and bright—strong, resilient, ambitious, and ruthless.
"The Kel-Morian Combine's economy is on the brink of collapse. For all who wish to leave that wasteland and seek a better life, Korhal is your safe harbor. To protect the Umojan people from Zerg harm, I have done more than their own ruling council ever did."
"No matter how they slander me, I will continue to strive for the greatest interests of all Terrans. As your leader, I have expanded Terran dominion across human-controlled space and driven economic growth. We will continue to rise, to answer with action against those parasites who only spout empty words and refuse to walk alongside us…"
"…I will restore the glory of our Empire, never bowing to any alien force. I have already tamed the Zerg and crushed the Protoss. Now their creators would take from us what we rightfully possess…"
"Always remember—who is it that protects you best…?"
The powerful, magnetic voice poured into her ears. Within his rhetoric, Selene faintly sensed the aura of one of her own kind.
On the screen, surrounded by red-painted CMC-300 power-armored marines wielding heavy C-14 'Needler' Gauss Rifles and standing over two meters tall, the man at the podium clenched the edge of the lectern, raised a fist, and roared with fervent might.
That charisma, that forceful gesture, that almost hysterical fervor.
"Arcturus Mengsk…" Selene whispered the man's name. Memories long buried stirred faintly. She smiled, turning her head. "What other useful intelligence was extracted from the broodmother's mind?"
Her gaze passed across the hall to Jibril, who had been summoned and now stood nervously at attention.
At this moment, Jibril was wearing a prototype ceremonial dress designed by Sebas.
It carried the light, agile style of the Flügel's attire, but with the upper torso fully covered. An asymmetrical silver epaulet draped with ornate tassels hung over one shoulder, while the cuffs and collar bore decorative patterns of the Empire's double-headed eagle and the single white-wing emblem of the Flügel's Battle Angel Corps.
What left Selene slightly stunned was the pair of high-heeled boots on Jibril's feet—also specially designed. The familiar craftsmanship… Good heavens, how long had it been? When did Sebas learn shoemaking?
Compared to her usual silly demeanor, Jibril now carried a touch of maturity and cold elegance.
With the pure white wings of the Flügel at her waist, the halo above her head woven from geometric rays of light, her iridescent luminous eyes, and the smooth lines of her thighs shown beneath the ceremonial cut of the outfit… her appearance was truly divine.
And then—just as Selene nodded in satisfaction—"Hehe, Your Majesty."
Noticing Selene's gaze, Jibril instantly showed an embarrassed expression. She lowered her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and turned her toes inward as she floated awkwardly in midair, a little ashamed.
Yet, almost against her will, she squirmed toward Selene's direction.
Alright, I take that back.
Selene set down her teacup and rubbed her temples.
It wasn't the clothing at fault. It was her.
Indeed, the more composed Azril was better suited for central coordination and command.
Sebas, it will depend on you whether this child can be corrected.
"Jibril—!"
A low voice rumbled from her throat. Azril, the elder sister of the Flügel standing beside Selene, fixed Jibril with a sharp glare. The surge of killing intent made the drooling girl staring at the screen jolt in alarm, hastily wiping her mouth.
No matter how much she doted on her youngest sister Jibril, Selene still came first.
Without a wielder for their god-slaying weapons, the Flügel would be nothing but hollow living corpses wandering the world.
After the ancient war of Disboard ended in defeat, it was Azril who prevented further mass suicides among the Flügel, even weaving lies to ensure their survival. She revered Selene all the more, who had once again taken up the essence of their kind—the user of the god-slaying weapons.
Even more than their original creator, War God Artosh.
Selene had not erased her memories, only guided them slightly.
Having once witnessed her sisters commit mass suicide after losing their master, Azril wished even more than Selene herself that she endure.
The Flügel needed a master.
"My Empress, within the planetary wreckage destroyed when Lady Alyssa descended, besides capturing the Zerg broodmother, the Inquisitorial Expedition Fleet also discovered the wreck of a human starship during their post-battle sweep."
Remembering her role, Jibril quickly shifted to a solemn, dignified expression. Like a news anchor tidying papers after a broadcast, she smiled gently, holding a holographic tablet and swiping with focused attention.
On the screen, amid underground hives of creep and biomass, the massive wreck of the crashed starship was revealed. As Jibril's fingers danced across the interface, images refreshed—Imperial silver-armored warriors pried open rotting bulkheads, dismantling and recovering sections of the ship.
Fortunately, civilizations capable of interstellar colonization, no matter how uneven their level, still met certain minimums. Many of the de-powered electronic modules were successfully decrypted and restored within the foundry decks of the Imperial flagship.
Partial restoration yielded useful information—this footage of the Terran Dominion's founding Emperor, Arcturus Mengsk I, delivering a speech to its citizens, was one such piece.
More restored fragments were compared with the intelligence extracted from broodmother Gloria's mind.
From them came extensive records about the Terran Confederacy, the Kel-Morian Combine, the Umojan Protectorate, and the fall of the Confederacy leading to the Dominion's rise.
There were also incomplete star charts of the Koprulu sector: coordinates of human colonies such as Tarsonis and Korhal… even Aiur, the Protoss homeworld.
Jibril reported, "From broodmother Gloria's mind, we obtained key concepts: 'Queen of Blades,' 'return,' 'gather,' and 'Zerus.'"
"Since the Zerg's psionic signals don't strictly constitute memories, detailed soul-reading analysis will take time."
"Understood. Who is the commander of the rendezvousing expedition fleet?"
Selene twirled a feather quill between her fingers.
"High Inquisitor Thomas Macefield of the Inquisition's 2107th Expedition Fleet, Imperial Auxilia General 'Kizaru' Borsalino, and the Third Legion Astartes Black Templars' fleet lord commander, Second Grand Company Captain, Legion Champion, Hak… Foo…?"
As she read the last name, Jibril blinked, confirming she had not misread, then glanced sidelong at Selene. Her large eyes seemed to say: for such a lofty title, that's an awfully sloppy name.
Selene thought of the quick-footed, starfish-headed man without a basic attack and chuckled. "Hak Foo… my champion pugilist." Thus, the realspace campaigns held little trouble.
But the progenitor race dwelling in the void warranted Selene's closer attention.
The Xel'Naga.
Born of the void, entirely dependent on psionics, their intellect was highly advanced, having reached the ultimate goal of evolution: to create and to observe lesser civilizations, shepherding them through endless cycles.
Whenever a new universe was born, they descended in avatars, scattering seeds of life, then selecting potential offspring among them.
"Scattering seeds of life… Interesting. Worth a visit," Selene mused, tapping idly on the chair's armrest.
"Let's hope their civil war hasn't wiped them out. The rift in the void… They too must have sensed the unexpected guest. Hmph, how will you respond?" Selene lowered her gaze, pondering silently.
Very well… let's raise the stakes.
"Jibril, for the experimental first battle of the Imperial Guards' Third Sequence Battle Angel Corps, I choose you."
"Eh?"
"Just me? Azril and the others won't go?" For a moment stunned, Jibril's eyes quickly lit up with joy and excitement. She hurriedly asked, "Then… Your Majesty means I'll be going with you, right?"
"I will go, but not now."
"Eh?!"
"I still have pressing matters. As a Close Number and an Irregular Number, do not disappoint me. Little Jibril… take this."
Selene extended her hand. Jibril hurried to the desk, holding out both hands.
Bzzz—!
At Selene's fingertips, Honkai energy compressed into a violet-red crystalline shard.
"When your power is overdrawn, this will prevent you from regressing into a child."
Selene ruffled Jibril's prism-like, rainbow-reflecting hair. Her tone softened, almost joking: "Otherwise, as Dalenst said, if you end up killing the enemy with cuteness, now that would be something."
"Mm… Your Majesty…"
After all, the Flügel were created for battle. Especially Jibril—the most belligerent of them all. Making her a secretary or the manager-maid of Selene's study was a bit of a waste.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Though the shift was abrupt and left her stunned, Jibril instinctively nodded lightly. Then she saw Selene's lips curl into a grin.
"Then—off you go!"
Bzzz!
Selene tousled Jibril's head, locked space, packaged her, tore open the walls of realspace, linked to the Honkai supraspatial network, anchored coordinates, and hurled her through.
All in one seamless motion.
Time to test her in battle.
It would serve to verify improvements made to the Honkai network, now substituting the 'Spirit Corridor,' for supporting Flügel operatives.
Selene met Azril's gaze. Crimson diamond-shaped eyes glowed faintly, piercing the rift of spacetime. Beneath the violet-red firmament, Honkai crystalline eggs of all sizes were already forming. Within their translucent shells, one colorless ring lit up first…
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