"Still pretending to be asleep, huh, bastard? How long are you planning to keep resting on my lap like that?" Amalia asked sharply.
She tapped Reuel's chest a few times—not hard, but firm enough to let him know she was fully aware he'd been faking it the entire time, quietly listening in on their entire conversation.
"I just didn't want to interrupt your sweet little chat. With the way you two were talking, I figured I might as well lie back and rest a bit… on a beautiful woman's lap," Reuel answered casually.
He opened his eyes slowly, glancing at Amalia and Selene with a teasing look, showing absolutely no sign of guilt.
"How many women do you have?" Selene asked suddenly.
Her tone was cold and intense. She was already pointing a pistol straight at Reuel's head without hesitation.
"Uh... can we talk about this later? Once we're back?" Reuel replied with a tight smile.
"Why not now, bastard?" Amalia chimed in, grinning spitefully.
It was the smile of a woman who knew exactly what kind of man she was dealing with—and didn't hesitate to call him out on it.
"Fine, fine... I'm just worried that if I'm honest now, you two won't want to come with me anymore," Reuel said, trying to defend himself.
"So you are the kind of bastard who collects pretty women and sleeps with them all, huh?"
Without warning, Selene straddled him, pinning him down to the ship deck. Her pistol now pressed directly against his forehead.
"Answer. How many women do you have? Don't say you don't know. And don't even think about lying," she demanded.
"Well… a lot. Quite a few. Including you two," Reuel finally confessed.
He slowly raised his hands, flashing fingers that added up to nearly twenty—as if surrendering to fate.
"You really are a shameless, lust-driven man. So many women have fallen for your lies," Selene muttered flatly, her voice heavy with restrained anger.
She stared at Reuel in silence, then turned her face away and lay back down beside him.
"Are they all from the same world?" Amalia asked next.
Her voice was calm, but her gaze was piercing. She didn't care how many women Reuel had. What she wanted to know was: were they all from the same universe?
"No," Reuel admitted honestly.
"So you do intend to collect women from every universe you visit?" Amalia followed up.
The question was icy and calculated, a verbal blade aimed at Reuel's core. She already knew what kind of man he was—she just wanted to hear it from him.
"Um… not anymore," Reuel answered, clearly lying.
He hesitated a beat before replying. But Amalia already knew. She could read him. This man hadn't fully changed.
"You've never told us what your home world is like," Amalia pressed.
"My world is similar to yours… just with far more advanced technology. We're building an interstellar human empire that stands above all others. I came here to conquer Earth and recruit its people into the Imperium of Man. We need to expand humanity's numbers to spread civilization across the multiverse," Reuel explained without a shred of shame.
"This planet? At best, it's suitable for reserves. I'm constructing a massive space fleet, but I don't have enough soldiers. Thousands of warships mean nothing if there's no one to operate them. Back in my world, we're training troops to strike other universes—to save what's left of humanity."
His voice was steady, as if this insane ambition was nothing but a noble duty.
He then recounted how he had traversed countless worlds—from Resident Evil, Azur Lane, Kimetsu no Yaiba, to Highschool of the Dead.
"Heh... so you're really just a dictator who sugarcoats his mission as a noble cause to save humanity, huh?" Amalia shot back.
"What kind of world is yours? Why are so many people obsessed with killing humans? And why the hell are you building such a gigantic space fleet?" Selene asked, her curiosity showing through despite her skepticism.
"My world is almost like yours… except there was a massive biochemical crisis. Someone engineered a virus that turned humans into the undead. We called them zombies. Anyone bitten or scratched would become one. Kind of like the werewolves in your world. Now, only half of humanity remains. And to build the Imperium of Man, we need a massive population," Reuel explained.
His voice was heavy, painting a grim picture straight out of Resident Evil—which, in his case, was no fiction but lived reality.
"So… are there still zombies in your world?" Amalia asked, eyes wide.
"No. We released the cure. All zombies have been eliminated. My wife now leads a team that recycles the corpses… for the Imperium's construction efforts. Besides, it's incredibly hard to find billions of fresh bodies in the wild," he answered.
"Trillions of humans… slaughtered?" Selene and Amalia exclaimed at once.
Silence fell over them. The thought of trillions of corpses and a dying world made the sunlight feel cold against their skin.
"Your world… it's tragic," Amalia said quietly.
She looked at Reuel in silence—unsure whether she felt pity or creeping fear.
The three of them remained lying on the deck of the captured American aircraft carrier, trying to enjoy what warmth the sun could still offer. But the calm didn't last.
The sound of hurried footsteps approached—a black-uniformed officer, bearing the Aquila emblem across his chest: the symbol of the Imperium of Man.
"Lord Emperor, Marcus has arrived at the prison facility where William is being held," reported an Astra Militarum officer, saluting with perfect military precision.
"So, he's finally arrived," Reuel murmured. "Ready the Inquisitors and the Sisters of Battle. We're leaving now."
Reuel wanted to personally verify whether he could perform the check-in process directly at the facility.
"Yes, Lord Emperor!"
Reuel turned to Selene and Amalia.
"You two coming or not?" he asked calmly.
"I'm coming. I want to see it all with my own eyes. Besides... that prison was built by my father," Selene replied.
Her tone was steady, but her eyes were ablaze. This wasn't just a mission—this was personal.
"I'm not going. I'll stay right here. Sunbathing is much more pleasant than some family reunion full of monsters," Amalia replied casually.
She took a slow sip of her drink, then leaned deeper into her lounge chair as if the world wasn't teetering on the brink of chaos.
Without another word, Reuel boarded the Thunderhawk alongside eight Inquisitors from the Ordo Xenos and a squad of Sisters of Battle led by Saint Celestine. Selene stood by his side.
The roar of the engines split the sky above the carrier deck as the Thunderhawk took off, heading for the coordinates of William Corvinus's containment facility.
---
PRISON LOCATION – CONTROL FACILITY: APEX OF CHAOS
A scout-class Thunderhawk hovered low above the prison grounds. Its sensors locked onto two figures locked in a brutal clash: Marcus and William Corvinus.
William had been completely consumed by his beastly instincts. There was nothing human left in him—only primal rage, predatory instinct, and immeasurable strength. He didn't even remember who he was. He didn't care who stood before him.
His body loomed like a living nightmare. Muscles bulged beneath jet-black fur, and his eyes blazed red—like two miniature hells set in the face of a demon. He roared, and even the skies shuddered. The ground beneath him trembled.
From afar, inside a medivac, Alexander Corvinus watched in silence. His expression was grim—his eyes unable to hide the crushing guilt of seeing his sons tear each other apart.
Alexander Corvinus (in thought):
Please… let the Emperor arrive in time. They are still my sons… my own blood.
Meanwhile, Marcus was barely able to stay airborne. His wings were torn, and blood streamed from wounds that seared through his ancient flesh.
"William! I'm your brother! Remember who you are!" Marcus shouted desperately.
But William gave no reply. He lunged forward with savage force—
CRAAASH!
A massive claw tore through one of Marcus's wings. The ancient vampire was hurled to the ground, crashing against jagged rocks and ruins.
Before he could even rise, William was already on top of him. His jaws gaped open, ready to rip off his brother's head.
"GHHH—AAARRGHHH!! AARRGH—!!! HAAKH—!!"
Marcus's screams echoed into the airwaves, bleeding into the Thunderhawk's comms as it drew near.
"William! STOP! It's me... your brother…" Marcus groaned.
With the last of his strength, he gripped William's leg—desperately hoping to reach whatever shred of humanity might still exist beneath the monster.
But William only snarled—and then—
CRUNCH.
He sank his teeth into Marcus's shoulder with horrifying brutality.
Marcus kicked him off, managing to push the beast back a few meters. He crawled toward a crumbling wooden staircase, struggling to escape.
---
That was when the second Thunderhawk arrived.
Inside it, Reuel stood, his gaze sharp as a blade and calculated like a galactic conqueror. Beside him, Selene silently observed the carnage below, her tension palpable.
"Ding. Host has arrived at the entry point. You may check in via the western sector—directly adjacent to the werewolf subject named William," the system chimed.
"Finally... it's good to be back. This trip was worth it," Reuel replied coldly.
From the cockpit, his eyes locked with those of Alexander Corvinus below. The elder gave a small, respectful nod—an unspoken recognition. Reuel returned the gesture. Loyalty didn't require words.
Behind Reuel, the eight Inquisitors of the Ordo Xenos stood at the ready, their black power armor gleaming in the sunlight. Below the Thunderhawk, a containment cage scaled for Tyranid-level threats was being prepared by the Sisters of Battle.
"Look at that repulsive creature. Capture it alive. Send it to Terra Aeterna. Let the scientists handle the rest—see if it can still be turned back into a human being," Reuel ordered.
"Yes, Master of Mankind!" one of the Inquisitors replied firmly.
Without hesitation, the eight Inquisitors leapt from the Thunderhawk—plummeting like armored meteors, slicing through the sky straight into the chaos below.
---
Down below, the battle between Marcus and William reached its brutal peak.
Marcus had finally lost his patience. He unleashed his full power, attacking William with seething rage. The fight devolved into a savage duel, filled with violence and primal fury.
The last of Marcus's ten wings were shredded by the werewolf's claws. But Marcus didn't back down. With a roar of fury, he broke one of William's legs—repeating history like the battles of feral stars that once shook the cosmos.
Marcus slashed across William's chest with brutal force, drawing a spray of blood. William countered with a wild bite, tearing off two more of Marcus's remaining wings.
They were no longer just monsters. They had become two feral stars—living symbols of destruction.
But just as Marcus was about to snap William's neck, something struck him from the sky.
BOOM.
A towering figure—an Inquisitor over two meters tall—dropped from the heavens and slammed into Marcus with a crushing kick. Marcus's body hit the ground hard, bones breaking, blood spilling from every limb.
William roared and lunged at the Inquisitor.
But Inquisitors were no pacifists. They were not prey. They were the instruments of the Imperium's justice.
Two Inquisitors engaged William in direct combat. Power fists clashed with primal fangs. Bones cracked, blood flew. William held his ground with everything he had, pouring the last of his fury into the fight… but his strength was fading. At last, his body collapsed—unconscious.
Meanwhile, four other Inquisitors surrounded Marcus, who was barely clinging to consciousness. Despite his shattered state, Marcus tried to rise.
A fatal mistake.
One Inquisitor swung an electrified staff buzzing with energy at Marcus's body. Another hammered him with an adamantium-plated power fist. Marcus was launched again—harder, deeper. This time, he didn't get back up.
Above, Reuel exhaled quietly.
The heavy footsteps of Alexander Corvinus echoed as he descended from the transport. His long cloak flapped in the wind. From another Thunderhawk, Reuel stepped out in silence. His posture was upright and firm. His long hair flowed freely, golden eyes sharp with clarity. He wore a simple white shirt and grey coat—but authority clung to every step he took.
As Reuel began to walk alongside them, the system's voice echoed in his consciousness:
"Ding, host has arrived at the entry point. Would you like to check in?"
"Enter."
Ding, congratulations to the host for acquiring the NS5 robot factory facility and raw materials for 100,000 robot units.
Reuel gave a slight nod. NS5. The name sounded familiar. He recalled the classic film I, Robot—about machines governed by Asimov's Three Laws. But the Imperium did not trust man-made laws.
The use of robots must be tightly regulated. Reuel had no intention of repeating the AI rebellions that once nearly destroyed the Imperium of Man. Every unit would be placed under Adeptus Mechanicus oversight, and equipped with manual self-destruct protocols as a last-resort fail-safe.
Down below, the Inquisitors had finished their task.
William, still unconscious, was now strapped to a stasis energy bed—an apparatus usually reserved for creatures on the level of Tyranids. Two Inquisitors stood guard beside it. Cold. Without mercy.
One of them whispered through a private vox channel:
"If it weren't for the Master of Mankind's orders, I'd have beheaded this creature long ago. They're all heresy."
The stasis cage was lifted and loaded onto a Medivac transport for containment.
Meanwhile, Marcus Corvinus began to stir. Blood dripped from his nose and temple. His ribs were shattered, wings torn to ribbons—but his rage still burned.
His eyes locked onto a familiar figure: his own father.
"Father... you did this? You handed us over? All this because of your pact with this man?" Marcus growled, voice thick with bitterness.
Alexander looked at his son—not with anger, but with deep remorse.
"Yes, Marcus. I made a pact. I swore loyalty to the Master of Mankind of the Imperium of Man. I will make you and William human again."
"I was a failed father once. I thought love alone would heal you. But love without action is weakness."
"Now, with the strength of the Imperium, I will right my wrongs. We will live together again. William will be cured of his madness. And you, Marcus... you will be human once more."
Marcus opened his mouth to retort, but Alexander raised a firm hand.
"There is no debate. You are still my son. But loyalty to the Imperium is the price for your redemption—and your brother's. I had no other choice."
He turned and walked toward Reuel, who stood nearby.
"Lord Emperor, how long do you intend to stay here?" Alexander asked with respectful tone.
Reuel looked toward the cracked walls of the prison.
"This place was built by Selene's father. I'm simply here with her… while she makes peace with her past."
Selene stood silent. She stared at the grim prison wall, her hand brushing against a faded carving.
"I... remember this place. That's my drawing. The only one that survived."
She pointed at a small mural on the wall, then turned to Reuel.
"Hundreds of years have passed. Feels good to know the drawing you made as a child still remains," Reuel said softly, gazing at the image of a little girl with long hair.
Alexander approached from behind and offered a formal bow.
"Then if you'll excuse me, Lord Emperor, I'll take William to the ship for treatment."
"Safe travels, Lord Corvinus," Reuel replied.
Marcus was taken away by two Inquisitors. As they walked off, Reuel gave a subtle hand gesture—almost imperceptible.
"Apply light discipline. Make sure they understand who's in command here."
Alexander gave a slow nod.
"As long as they don't die, I have no objections. They're still my blood."
---
IN THE SKY — SOMETHING HAPPENS
Reuel and Selene still stood amid the ruins. A heavy silence blanketed the air… until the sky began to change color.
Cloud banks split apart. Silhouettes of steel emerged from orbit—massive war fleets, colossal and brutal, descending in perfect formation. Warships the size of cities moved slowly, their shadows blotting out the sky.
Reuel looked up, eyes narrowing. He recognized the formation without hesitation.
"Mira Han," he muttered coldly.
An Astra Militarum officer ran up, wiping blood from his temple before saluting.
"Lord Emperor, Commander Han is preparing to seize control of Earth. The main fleet is in position."
Reuel gave a single nod. "We return to the Behemoth. It's time to join Mira."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
Reuel, Selene, and Saint Celestine boarded the waiting Thunderhawk. Its engines roared, and they blasted off toward orbit—toward the colossal flagship Battlecruiser Behemoth, where Mira Han was waiting.
---
EARTH ORBIT — MAIN CONTROL ROOM, MIRA HAN'S FLEET
At the heart of the Behemoth flagship, Commander Mira Han stood before a massive holomap. Earth's terrain was displayed in full clarity, reflecting off her sharp, alluring—and dangerous—face.
"Commander Han, the entire fleet is in combat readiness. Awaiting your command," reported the communications officer.
Mira grinned. The grin of a war queen—wild, confident, and soaked in cruelty.
"Oh, how sweet. Time to visit our beloved 'Master of Mankind'… and take this planet—for me, and for my honeymoon with darling Matty."
She stepped forward with purpose and pointed at the tactical interface.
"Deploy the troops. Secure every military base. Lock down all major cities. I want a live broadcast to the entire world."
She turned, eyes cold as ice, sweeping the command room.
"And if anyone tries to play the hero… fire the Yamato Cannon. Level a major city. Broadcast it. I want the world to know—Moscow is the warning."
"Orders received, Commander Han!" the officer replied loudly.
Earth's skies turned into a hell of steel and fire. Warships tore through the atmosphere, engines blazing bright red, heralding global conquest. The shadow of domination swept over the world—marking the rise of a new power.
The broadcast began. The sigil of the Imperium of Man, the twin-headed eagle, hijacked every electronic device: televisions, radios, digital billboards. Every network had been sabotaged by the adjudant AI aboard the Behemoth.
The world trembled.
Global panic ignited. Civilians ran in hysterics, believing an alien invasion was underway. In major cities, riots erupted as people looked up at skies now filled with unknown vessels—designs unlike anything seen before.
World leaders rushed to command centers, staring out at their cities' skies. What they saw was pure terror: a space fleet of colossal proportions, forged from two war-born universes—Warhammer 40K and StarCraft—united under one command.
They tried to fight back.
Every available jet was scrambled. Missiles were launched. Not a single strike landed. Jets were obliterated instantly by the fleet's automated defense systems.
The skies were lost.
The world had changed.
And now… Mira Han was ready to speak—to the entire planet, from orbit. Beneath the banner of the Imperium of man. In the Underworld universe.