"The God of Games… an interesting divine office."
Selene let out a faint laugh.
Games—social behaviors pursued for the satisfaction of spiritual needs, based on already-met material needs, within a certain time and space, bound by specific rules.
To crown 'Games' as a divine name, to make it a divine office…
In the Empire's conquered multiverse of mythologies, it was the norm for the chief gods, great gods, and divine kings of pantheons to bear titles like Sun, Sea, Sky, Thunder, Death, or Night, and to dominate worldly faith.
But the God of Games—what sort of case was this?
Were the people of that world all so averse to labor, clinging to comfort, rejecting work?
Ordinarily, Gods of War, or even Wealth Gods or 'Gods of Lust' would draw wider faith than a God of Games.
Such a divine office…
It must be either pathetically weak—unable to even count as third-rate among pantheons, never appearing in god-wars, Ragnarök, or any grand mythic events, a disposable extra without even a recognized authority… the first to die.
Or—it must be unfathomably strong. A conceptual god. One who views heaven and earth as a chessboard, mortals as chess pieces, playing with mankind, playing with the cosmos, the entire universe as nothing but its playground.
Her thoughts galloped freely like a wild horse. The crimson, star-like diamond pupils of her eyes slowly narrowed, while an eager excitement rose in Selene's heart.
Selene was intrigued.
She guessed it was the latter.
Just as Selene was musing over how 'Games' could possibly overwhelm the more 'lofty' divine offices, the voice of her chamberlain pulled her from her drifting thoughts.
"Your Majesty, today's meal will be prepared by young chefs from the Salamanders Legion's Conquered World No. 11. They all passed the strict examination of Head Imperial Chef Susanoo. They are rising stars of the culinary world."
The graceful and dignified head maid gave a slight curtsey, gently setting down an enamel teacup beside Selene.
"Young apprentice chefs?"
Selene lifted the cup and took a small sip. The rich fragrance of the tea spread across her tongue. "Susanoo's selection? Is he up to his old tricks again?"
"Mm. I see. You may return to your work." Selene spoke casually, then turned her gaze to her auxiliary intelligence steward—Mendicant Bias. "Continue. Regarding this 'God of Games,' and the intelligence surrounding it—I need to know everything."
"As you command, my Empress."
As the culmination of both Forerunner civilization and the Sacred Selene Empire's Honkai technology, Mendicant Bias did not falter in the slightest. Its explanation flowed smoothly and logically, while also accommodating Selene's current focus on her meal.
"According to intelligence gathered by Commander Horus of the Luna Wolves, it has been established that the God of Games decreed Ten Covenants which ended the great war six thousand years ago and abolished all bloodshed."
"The Ten Covenants?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. They are as follows:
[1] All killing, war, and plunder are forbidden in this world.
[2] All disputes must be settled through games.
[3] In games, both sides must wager something they mutually consider of equal value.
[4] As long as it does not violate the third covenant, the contents and stakes of the game are unrestricted.
[5] The challenged party has the right to determine the game.
[6] Wagers made in the name of the Covenant must be honored absolutely.
[7] For group conflicts, a designated representative must be appointed.
[8] Any cheating during a game, once exposed, results in immediate defeat.
[9] In the name of God, the above rules are absolute and immutable.
[10] Let us all play together peacefully!!"
"As expected of a God of Games. In some sense, one could say He did abolish bloodshed, did He not?" Selene savored her tea, while Mendicant Bias floated silently at her side, its colossal mask face fixed in its eternal expression.
"Would this count as an inheritance of the Mantle?" Selene suddenly asked.
"No. This is no inheritance. That false god's actions do not deserve such a name. The peace under the Ten Covenants is nothing but an illusion—at its root, merely submission beneath the coercive power of divine might."
…Selene couldn't help but feel that sounded uncomfortably like herself.
"The false god set peace in the name of games, but in truth, it stripped the world of its path for progress. The hierarchy of sixteen races, based on their magical adaptability, is deeply entrenched. The disparity in strength between upper and lower races is an undeniable and immutable fact!"
"Unless it raised all races to the same baseline of magical adaptability—including the so-called 'Unknowns' (those nameless beings from No Game No Life, the ones hunted by the Flugel after the Covenants)—and gave them equal opportunities for growth and advancement…"
"Otherwise, it is all nothing but a castle in the air. The root of the problem remains unchanged. Everything gained is no more than a game! The moment the constraints disappear, war will return, and all that the games built will be destroyed!"
"This is not peace. This is not progress. This is a cage!"
As if recalling the past of the Forerunner civilization—its own past—the electronic synthesized voice of Mendicant Bias carried distinct fluctuations of emotion.
"The true meaning of the Mantle is the belief in protecting all life, safeguarding and promoting the flourishing of civilization."
"Protection does not mean 'greenhouse pampering.' Millennia of stagnation is an unforgivable sin!"
"Only you, my Empress, can fulfill the Forerunners' wish for the Mantle."
At this, Selene automatically filtered out the phrases that sounded uncomfortably like her own rule, instead accepting the AI's words of praise with humility.
Why not? These are my achievements—why shouldn't they be praised?
Indeed, she too suppressed all beneath a single divine will, revising Covenants (Imperial law) to regulate behavior. But unlike the God of Games' caste-like system of ossified hierarchy, Selene's Empire thrived with far greater vitality and mobility.
Aside from Selene's own undisputed supreme status, the Empire was a meritocracy. The capable rose, the unworthy fell. Truly, Selene generously gave countless beings the chance to strive.
This was evident in the steadily improving quality of new recruits. A clear upward trend!
Even recruits from tourist worlds devoid of supernatural laws—once they finished the standard Imperial servitor regiment training regimen—without exo-muscle bundles, without powered exoskeletons, without combat drugs, could still defeat someone like Captain America with their bare hands.
From mere colonial infantrymen, step by step through military merit, one could rise to administrative officer, provincial governorate staff, military functionary, junior officer… and generation by generation, even stand before Selene herself to be appointed as Minister of Internal Affairs, provincial governor, Chief of Military Affairs, or Grand General. Not impossible.
Unlikely, near-dreamlike perhaps—but the sixteen-race hierarchy never even allowed the dream.
And then…
"Your Majesty, you have launched the Holy Great Crusade. With every passing moment, uncountable beings are liberated from ignorance, bathed in the light of truth… You, magnanimous beyond measure, are the sole radiance illuminating great souls…"
That's because I want to expand territory, seize wealth, capture populations, plunder technology.
"You eradicate heresies, for they are humanity's bane, twisting lives with superstition, ignorance, and fear…"
That's because they're only allowed to believe in me.
"Though past attempts to unite intelligent beings under the Mantle's ideals of virtue and solidarity failed, you never abandoned them. For one bearing such an unimaginable burden as you, this is your sacred duty…"
…
Selene: ???
Wait, wait, wait—am I really that great? Were my motives really that noble? Why didn't I know this myself?
Even with her thick skin, Selene felt a twinge of embarrassment deep inside.
Looks like her composure still needed practice.
She was used to the praises of court poets, but to hear them from an AI steward carried a certain novelty.
Building a cadre of flatterers—cough, I mean internal affairs intelligence stewards—was quite useful. It really did improve her administrative efficiency. The pilot program was worth expanding.
It seemed that among the few AI of rival 'ultra-superintelligence' tier, the Forerunners' twilight creation—the sister of Mendicant Bias, known as Offensive Bias—should also be brought to serve its true master at her side.
"Stop. Play me the Luna Wolves fleet's live surveillance feed."
Already hearing the faint rumble of serving carts and the soft footsteps of attendants, Selene thought it best not to let Mendicant Bias continue showering her with praise. It was starting to feel a bit strange.
"Your Majesty, this is the appetizer: Golden Eggs Set Meal and Rainbow French Terrine."
Not long after, while Selene was examining the holographic projections displayed by Mendicant Bias, the respectful voice of an attendant reached her ears.
Perfect maids, dressed in black-and-white uniforms patterned with holy lilies, gracefully removed two white porcelain plates from the serving trays, placing them gently on the table. After lifting the covers, they stepped back with composed dignity.
In a way, Selene could be said to enjoy the blessings of many. These palace attendants—selected one from each colonial world—were all exquisitely beautiful, each with a charm that could move the heart. Noble daughters and princesses—who among them was not?
Beyond humans, some had pointed ears, elf princesses from wild alien forests; some bore fish tails, moving within floating bubbles, mermaid princesses from ocean worlds; some carried pure white wings, angelic maidens from magical realms; others bore heart-shaped tails, sharp horns, and bat-like wings—succubi princesses from demon worlds…
Ah, all this, just to demonstrate the Empire's 'equality' and 'openness.' Truly, Selene had gone to great lengths.
"This is Yukihira-style Midsummer Cake."
Yukihira?
The name made Selene pause slightly as she stirred her teacup with a spoon. She hadn't given Totsuki Academy any special consideration herself. Was this Susanoo's doing?
Such a small matter hardly warranted her personal attention.
But its sudden appearance did bring a pleasant surprise.
Perhaps later she should award them a medal for Outstanding Young Chefs?
Resting her chin on one hand, Selene entertained the sudden thought.
"This is charcoal-grilled hindleg of a Super-Danger Beast earth dragon, with chestnut sauce."
"This is Five Nations Five-Spice Fried Rice."
"This is French Country Meat Pie."
...
After giving the dishes a cursory glance, Selene smiled. Oh, mostly meat and carbs—earth dragon meat too. These were all among her favorites.
For Selene, things like balanced nutrition and dietary health mattered little. She could gnaw raw uranium ore if she wished. What mattered most was the sheer joy of eating.
What God of Games? None of that was as important as her meal. Just wait. Once I rush through these affairs of state, I'll come straight to find you!
God of Games, very well—let's play.
"Inform Alyssa, I have a new task for her."
"Your will, my Empress."
...
"She's eating, she's eating! Her Majesty is eating!!"
Beyond the many doors, past the towering guards, movement flickered. Though distant, Soma Yukihira and his companions—waiting after leaving the Imperial Kitchen—could still glimpse the noble figure, surrounded by attendants, bowing her head as she took a bite!
Megumi Tadokoro, her eyes full of hope, clasped her hands tightly before her chest, whispering prayers for her mother's blessing. After all, one of the opening dishes was hers—the Rainbow French Terrine!
"The first bite… second bite… third bite… Her Majesty likes it! Wonderful!"
Truly, when Selene's hand stilled for a moment, Megumi's heart leapt to her throat. But at last, heaven rewarded perseverance—her dish had clearly earned Selene's satisfaction.
"Cha—"
"Don't you dare." ×N
Nakiri Erina, Tsukasa Eishi, Kobayashi Rindou, and Kuga Terunori—all too familiar with Soma Yukihira's habits—had been ready for this. The moment they saw him untie the white headband from his forehead, clench his fist, and raise it with fiery determination, they knew exactly what would follow.
Kuga clamped a hand over Soma's mouth, Erina yanked down his raised arm, while Tsukasa and Rindou together pressed on his shoulders to force him back down.
"Things like 'sorry for the poor hospitality'—this is not the place for that. Keep quiet."
Erina's brows twitched, her eyes wide, as though the words were forced up straight from her throat.
"Apprentice chefs, mind your decorum."
The patrolling chamberlain's voice instantly restored the group to order, all of them standing properly once more.
Hah… so this is the feeling Father once spoke of. Truly, it is unpleasant, suffocating.
Erina thought silently to herself.
...
Astartes First Legion, the Dark Angels. Unnamed frontier world, 2125th Expeditionary Fleet.
The storm had at last subsided. In its place came a silence of pitch darkness. As the temperature dropped, shattered lands lay covered in black, the cremated ash of the world blocking out the warmth of the sun.
"Yaha! Lady Alyssa has triumphed! Two petty beasts are no match for this dragon!"
From the shadows, a massive silhouette emerged.
ROAR—!!
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