Volnir Adrin died at the age of seventy-two — a heart attack claimed him quietly in his chambers, alone and unseen. A pitiful end for an honorable warrior. The servants found him hours later, cold and still, the weight of his reign lingering in the silence of the room. On the 18th of November, 15159, the emperor Volnir Adrin passed away, and the throne of one of the most powerful factions in the universe was left to his son — Johan Adrin, the current ruler of the Terrian Empire.
Under Johan's reign, the empire did not waver; it thrived. The banners of Terria stretched farther than ever before, and the empire flourished beyond the wildest dreams of its founders. Expansion followed every decree, conquest trailed every campaign, and the key to their dominance lay in the emperor's brilliant generals, his unmatched military command, and the ultimate symbol of Terrian might — the God Orbitons, weapons so powerful that their presence alone commanded fear across the stars.
Now, back in the present, an urgent Consul meeting had been called. At the Kaelthorn estate, news of the summons arrived swiftly. As the head of her house, Leonora Kaelthorn was required to attend. The timing, however, could not have been worse. She had been preparing to depart in search of Youri — the husband long believed dead — but with the summons from the Consul, her mission had to be postponed once again.
The message infuriated her. She had been waiting for days, restless and burning to leave. The duties of her rank had chained her to the estate, and with Youri's death officially pronounced, all the burdens of leadership had fallen back upon her shoulders. When Roland returned to the mansion later that evening, he found his sister sitting alone on the porch, frustration etched across her face.
He walked up beside her, lowering himself onto the step with a sigh."What's wrong, sister?" he asked quietly.
Leonora exhaled heavily, her silver hair glinting faintly under the warm dusk light."There's an urgent Consul meeting tomorrow," she muttered, her tone laced with exhaustion. "I'm forced to attend. Which means I can't leave for another two days at least."
Roland leaned back, his gaze on the distant horizon."Don't worry, sister. I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon. We'll find him — no matter what."
His words didn't offer the comfort she hoped for, but he was right. The Tartarusios crew was stranded on Antia, occupied with repairs and maintenance. The universe was vast, but for the first time, she felt they were within reach.
A day later, the Consul assembled beneath the grand dome of Terria's Imperial Hall. Every noble of importance was present — Wistoria, Mikhail, Antonio, and the other lords of the imperial bloodlines. Their expressions were grim, the air tense with uncertainty. They sat in silence, waiting for the Prime Minister to arrive.
Minutes passed before the massive doors opened. Prime Minister Alan entered — and beside him walked none other than the emperor himself, Johan Adrin. His presence alone commanded the room. Tall and broad-shouldered, his black hair streaked faintly with silver, he moved with the calm confidence of a man who had carried the weight of an empire for decades. The golden crown on his brow glimmered under the chandeliers, casting a faint reflection across his deep brown eyes — eyes that seemed to pierce through every man and woman before him.
As the two entered, the hall rose to its feet. One by one, every member of the Consul bowed low in respect. Johan lifted a hand — a subtle gesture — and silence followed. The emperor took his place at the ornate throne set at the center of the hall, the weight of centuries of rulership embodied in that single seat.
Once the ceremonial greetings ended, Prime Minister Alan began to speak. His voice was calm but carried the strain of grave news."Greetings, everyone. We have gathered you all here today under His Majesty's request to discuss a matter of utmost importance — one that cannot be delayed. I believe most of you recall our last session, when we discussed the Zellion incident and the death of Marquess Miller. What I am about to reveal concerns those same events."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Alan's next words cut through the air like a blade."The group responsible for the destruction of Zellion and the death of Marquess Miller is a single rogue outlaw faction — they call themselves the Tartarusios, named after their ship. For two years they have raided our sectors, defied patrols, and shattered fleets. Our forces have failed to match them — not because of numbers, but because of their weaponry."
The chamber fell silent. Everyone knew of the Tartarusios, but few understood the scale of their defiance.
Alan paused, his tone darkening. "What I am about to say will not be easy to hear. One of the God Orbitons — the very weapons that safeguard our empire — has turned against us. And the pilot of that machine… is none other than the late Duke Youri Kaelthorn."
Gasps filled the hall. The words struck like thunder.
Leonora shot up from her seat, her voice echoing through the chamber."What are you saying, Minister?!" she shouted, her hands gripping the railing before her.
Alan met her gaze coolly. "Compose yourself, Duchess. This is no place for outbursts."
Leonora glared at him, fury burning behind her eyes, but she sat down, silent and shaking.
Alan continued, his voice steady but heavy with weight. "It appears the late Duke Youri Kaelthorn was not dead after all. He has operated from the shadows for some time now, orchestrating attacks across our borders."
Whispers swept through the Consul — disdainful, venomous."To think we gave that peasant a noble's title…" one voice murmured."The audacity," said another.
Alan raised his voice. "Order, please! His Majesty wishes to speak."
The Consul immediately fell silent. All eyes turned toward the emperor, seated high upon his throne. Johan gripped the gilded armrests, his expression carved from stone. Slowly, he rose.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant."As you all know, this empire has thrived under one principle — no defeat goes unpunished, and no triumph unrewarded." His gaze swept across the hall. "So tell me, my lords… why has this triumph gone unrewarded? Are these outlaws truly so powerful that they can stand against the Terrian Empire? Or is it that you have grown too afraid to face a mere band of peasants?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"I was forced," Johan continued, "to put a bounty on their heads. And yet, none of you have claimed it. Does the Altopereh frighten you so much?"
From the benches, Mikhail rose and bowed deeply."Your Majesty," he began, "forgive our failures. But to our defense, we were ordered to engage only when a God unit was present."
Johan's gaze hardened. "Did Norda possess a God unit when he faced them?"
Mikhail hesitated, then replied, "No, Your Majesty."
Johan's voice thundered. "Then tell me, was Norda a fool? Or did he simply have more courage than the rest of you?"
Silence again. The air trembled with tension.
The emperor stepped forward, his tone lowering but his words sharp as steel. "This empire was forged in blood — in the defeats of our enemies and the bravery of those who dared to rise. My father and I stood fearless before countless odds, and we prevailed. Everything you enjoy today was bought with sacrifice. So, I ask you — not as your emperor, but as a fellow warrior — destroy them. Eradicate the Tartarusios."
His words echoed through the hall like a war drum. For a moment, silence lingered — then, one by one, the nobles began to rise. Their voices merged in a single cry that filled the chamber.
"Hail the mighty Johan Adrin!"
The chant rolled through the room, unrelenting, fervent.
Yet, amid the roaring devotion, Leonora sat motionless, her gaze distant. The emperor's decree had changed everything. Bringing Youri back alive was no longer an option — and for the first time, the distance between them felt as vast as the space between the stars.