Imperial Capital Standard Time, three days later.
Honkai Dimension — The Imperial Capital's Grand Palace.
As the sun set, the Sacred Selene Empire's Empress, the Divine Empress, the Goddess of Finality, Goddess of Creation and Life, Queen of All Races, Sovereign of Authority and Judgment, Xel'naga, Origin, God of Chaos, Master of the Warp... (followed by several tens of millions of regional honorific titles) ...Selene was occupied with her routine governmental duties.
Outside, wars raged on—but no matter how chaotic the world became, Selene remained at her desk, quietly handling state affairs.
One after another, memorials arrived bearing long-winded salutations filled with endless titles. "Why," she muttered irritably, "do they insist on writing so many of these every single time?"
Her eye twitched as she looked over another of the old-style memorials filled with pompous double-headed-eagle insignia and archaic ceremonial phrasing typical of the Old Imperial Capital.
This, she thought, was already after she had abolished countless redundant and repetitive honorifics—titles like 'Protector of Such-and-Such' and 'Sovereign of So-and-So.'
By all that was just, she wasn't even boasting.
At first, Selene had found it novel and even flattering—her vanity thoroughly satisfied. Every time she signed official documents, she enjoyed seeing the grandiose, awe-inspiring titles listed after her name.
But as the titles multiplied, the novelty vanished. When her signature page alone had to be extended onto a new sheet, annoyance took over.
Thankfully, she had stopped that trend before it spiraled out of control.
Otherwise, even if she allowed only the abbreviated forms or the official core titles used in major Imperial worlds, she'd spend half her day signing names like she was composing essays.
Still, a few of the most formal and ceremonially traditional honorifics were retained for high-level documents—either to denote importance or to reflect the sender's seniority, such as in annual or quarterly departmental reports.
"Well, at least you had the sense to use only the most well-known titles within Imperial territory," she murmured with relief. "If you made me handwrite the full list, I'd make you copy it a million times instead."
Flipping to the final page of the file, she ignored the cumbersome preface and went straight to the blank signature line reserved for her name. After signing and stamping it, Selene nodded in satisfaction.
Rustle, rustle.
"Alright, let's begin, Dr. Stylish, Dr. Catherine Halsey."
Having finished with that document, Selene handed the folder to her adjutant—her governing intelligence aide, Mendicant Bias. Then she looked up briefly at the two figures standing at the foot of the dais: the Chief of the Science Bureau and one of its department heads.
"If I recall correctly," she said, lowering her gaze again, "the quarterly report from the Central Science Bureau has already been reviewed."
"So, for two scholars who rarely leave the Science Bureau to come to this palace—a place so far removed from academic serenity—I assume you bring good news."
In other words: don't tell me you're here asking for more funding again.
"My most honorable, beautiful, supreme, wise, and generous sovereign," Dr. Stylish began with theatrical flourish, bowing deeply, "your humble Chief Scientist indeed brings good news to report..."
"The miniaturization project for the Trans-Spatial Engine you personally commissioned has made a breakthrough!"
"Oh? Has it now..." Selene replied slowly, her tone deliberately stretched.
"Do you require additional funding from me to make this 'breakthrough' progress even faster?"
"Yes, yes, of course, Your Majesty's insight is divine!" Dr. Stylish beamed, nodding eagerly. "That would be most welcome!"
"Then tell me," Selene said, leaning back, "what exactly does this 'progress' mean? Have you finalized the design blueprints? Produced a working prototype? Established a production line? Or achieved mass production?"
"Er... cough, cough. None of those, actually. It's... a trophy recovered by the Arbiter Fleet of the Judicator-class Expeditionary Force."
At least he was honest. Anyone bold enough to appear before Selene to request funds was never thin-skinned.
He knew perfectly well where Selene's limits lay. As one of her original retainers, his eccentric and flamboyant behavior was tolerated—but deceit or concealment in official matters was absolutely forbidden.
In the Honkai Dimension, where omniscience was pervasive, information could be delayed or ignored—but never hidden. Cross that line, and death was certain.
"What?" Selene's tone turned sharp. "Say that again."
Selene couldn't help but laugh. "So, the project hit a bottleneck, you haven't even deciphered the captured technology yet—and you dare to come before me celebrating and asking for funding? Also, what do the Inquisition's and Ministry of War's tribute gifts have to do with you?"
"How could they not?"
Clearing his throat dramatically, Dr. Stylish launched into an exaggerated performance. Under Dr. Catherine Halsey's unimpressed gaze, he spun in place—one thousand four hundred and forty degrees on one foot—before sliding ten meters across the crimson carpet embroidered with the golden double-headed eagle.
The palace attendants stared, the silent Custodian Guards at the doorway did not move, and even the Flügel floating near the ceiling looked startled—but Dr. Stylish ignored them all. His eyes were fixed only on Selene.
He placed a hand to his chest and knelt on one knee. For once, the unrestrained eccentric's expression turned solemn. Looking up at Selene, who continued signing documents with near-mechanical efficiency, he spoke earnestly:
"My Empress, regarding the findings from the 23,625th Frontier Fleet of the Inquisition's Pathfinder Division, I humbly submit that they warrant your utmost attention."
"Stop the theatrics. Speak plainly."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Dr. Stylish straightened slightly. "In the unnamed frontier region of the 23,625th Inquisitorial Expedition, the fleet seized several alien starships, along with industrial production lines and military technologies. Upon initial disassembly and testing, I discovered that their so-called 'hyperspace engine' far surpasses our standard plasma light-speed engines and trans-spatial warp drives in miniaturization, stability, and energy efficiency."
He hesitated a moment, grimacing as if swallowing pride. "Compared to that, my own mass-producible miniature warp drive project is... a failure."
"After more than half the project's duration, maintaining the high standards required for a warship-class engine while making it scalable has proven impossible. At best, I've reduced the engine size to about five hundred meters—and even then, only by heavy compromise, with all performance metrics at the lowest acceptable tier. It can barely power a frigate or destroyer."
"But the captured samples—those include single-pilot starfighters barely seven or eight meters in length!" His voice flared with excitement, eyes blazing like twin furnaces. "And yet their hull structures, armor grades, and weapon output are ridiculously weak. They couldn't compare to our atmospheric gunships, much less a proper Imperial voidcraft."
"The gap between Covenant and UNSC vessels is significant, and while the A–13 Grand Sector (Warhammer) has yielded little so far, Forerunner technology still requires time to fully analyze. However, the engine technology from this 23,625th frontier—especially the structural and material sciences—is precisely what we need!"
"It could even serve as a technological bridge," Dr. Stylish continued cautiously, "Your Majesty, I request permission to personally travel to the 23,625th frontier and establish a large-scale experimental Forge World—with Imperial funding, of course."
Ah, so it was about funding after all.
Setting down her seal, Selene tapped her desk thoughtfully.
Engine technology—Dr. Stylish's obsession with it was understandable. It was a field as vital as warship construction or the development and standardization of Imperial armaments.
For an interstellar empire, it mattered far more than developing military bioengineering projects—like hard-cellulose Godzilla tissue, electromagnetic bio-fields, subdermal refractive barriers, charged particle rays, or Ghidorah-class gravitational field weapons.
Selene knew her Navy's character all too well.
Their ships were massive—not only because she favored the "bigger is better" design philosophy, but also because their engine chambers simply couldn't be any smaller.
In the beginning, Imperial naval mobility had relied entirely on Selene's own Honkai Energy output. The widespread use of the Herrscher of the Void's powers—sheer brute force—had carried the Empire through the hardest years of early technological accumulation, growing stronger through the plunder of countless worlds.
Even now, in the interstellar age, though the Imperial Navy was vast, powerful, and monstrously over-armed, it still gave off the impression of brute force over finesse.
Every ship capable of superluminal travel or trans-spatial jumping was at least three to four kilometers in length—minimum.
Across the Empire's bustling interstellar routes, small craft under ten meters in length—like those ubiquitous Star Wars starfighters—were nearly nonexistent. The void was dominated by colossal titans of steel, great fortresses that dwarfed mountains.
Most Imperial starfighters were docked within the hangar bays of massive warships, deployed only during battle. They lacked the endurance of Star Wars-class fighters and could not perform frequent, short-range trans-spatial jumps as effortlessly as flicking a switch to cross a galaxy in an instant.
Selene's Empire desperately needed such mature miniaturization technology.
She herself could personally create starfighters through sheer power and bestow upon individuals the ability to roam the cosmos—but that was not technology. It was divine will, not civilization's progress.
After a long contemplation, Selene finally spoke. "How long will it take?"
"In the Science Bureau, you already oversee countless projects," she said flatly. "If progress stagnates for too long and funds are wasted, I'll have your hide. You'll no longer be Chief Scientist—you'll be sent to the Agricultural Worlds to raise pigs for me."
Upon hearing this, Dr. Stylish, who had served Selene for many years, knew immediately—he had succeeded.
With a graceful flourish, he retrieved a document from the dimensional pouch at his waist and presented it respectfully onto Selene's desk.
"Please rest assured, Your Majesty. The related projects are under the supervision of my assistant and students, with Dr. Halsey coordinating between departments. And if worst comes to worst, Dr. Mobius will intervene. Knowing her temperament, she would never allow my 'exile' to go unpunished."
His tone was faintly bitter.
That woman—Mobius—was as venomous as she was brilliant. Her temperament was insufferable, yes, but her talent was undeniable. Though Dr. Stylish failed to recognize that he himself was even less tolerable.
"And where is Mobius now?" Selene asked.
"I hear she's interviewing new recruits. Apparently, one of them has some sort of 'snake' motif. She seems... quite taken with the creature. Kindred spirits, I suppose," he said with thinly veiled disdain.
"Oh."
Raising an eyebrow, Selene asked no further. Signing the funding approval for the Imperial Science Bureau, she opened the next folder without lifting her head. "What? Still here? Hoping to stay for dinner because you heard Esdeath and Durandal brought me some new 'fruit' samples?"
"Your Majesty's insight is divine! Your humble servant withdraws at once."
Overjoyed, Dr. Stylish bowed deeply and retreated toward the grand doors, careful not to show his grin until he stepped outside. Then, unable to contain himself, he quietly pumped a fist in triumph.
"Dr. Stylish," Dr. Halsey remarked dryly as she followed him out, "I must say—your performance back there was indistinguishable from that of a court jester."
"What of it?" he shrugged. "Jesters and flatterers—they're useful. That's what matters. Half the people in that room don't even qualify to play such a role."
Returning to a more serious tone, he added, "Catherine, I'll be dedicating my main efforts to the 23,625th Frontier Sector—the construction of the experimental Forge World. I'll transfer the projects you previously requested under your oversight."
"Understood," Halsey replied with a nod.
She was well aware of Mobius's ambitions toward Dr. Stylish's position—and their ongoing rivalry. Still, securing new funding and establishing a Forge World without cutting into the Science Bureau's main budget was a victory for them all.
Smiling faintly, she remarked, "The hyperspace engine truly is a magnificent technology. Even if the UNSC's FTL drives were powered by Honkai Energy instead, they'd still fall far short."
"To enter hyperspace in seconds... to jump in and out repeatedly within ten seconds... while maintaining stability and endurance—and in such a compact form. I can hardly resist the urge to see their production lines myself."
"Haha, you'll get your chance soon enough..."
...
Outside, the setting sun cast long shadows across the palace walls. The once-golden archways gleamed with divine radiance beneath the amber glow.
Through the reflection in the glass window, Selene gazed at her own reflection—calm, poised, unflinching. After resting briefly, she rose from her chair, exhaling softly.
"Work is endless," she murmured. "It's time to clock out and rest."
She entered the washroom to refresh herself, then donned a simple yet elegant white-gray dress, its cuffs adorned with vivid scarlet rose embroidery—an ornament so rare that few could ever pull it off.
Casting one last glance at the holographic war map hovering above her desk, her gaze lingered on a few highlighted warzones. She whispered, "Do your best... my children."
Those regions, while vital to reinforcing and solidifying the Empire's foundations, required no direct intervention from her.
Her focus lay elsewhere.
"Ah, little Alyssa... I do wish we could trade places for a few days."
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven