While the dwarves bled in the void, the Golden Lion Empire bathed in light and laughter.
For ten years, they had dwelt in this universe, untouched by the storms that raged across galaxies. Their fleets, vast and unmatched, remained idle. Their warriors sparred for sport, not survival. They observed the dwarves, traded them materials, and studied their technology. But they did not fight.
To the immortals of the Golden Lion, life was not measured in wars won or empires lost. It was measured in experiences, in joys gathered like beads upon an endless string.
The Cathedral Rooftop
On the rooftop of the Cathedral of the Church of Mech Order, beneath a sky lit with twin moons, Pope John Paul leaned back in his chair with a booming laugh. His massive frame shook with mirth as he tossed a hand of cards onto the table.
"Four of a kind!" he declared. "The Lord favors me once more!"
Across from him, Azrael Solaris groaned, rubbing his temples. "You've favored yourself three rounds in a row, old man."
"That's because I play with the blessing of light," John Paul replied, winking. His hand hovered dangerously close to his mug of beer. "And perhaps a touch of divine mischief."
Celestriax Solaris narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusing finger. "Divine mischief? You're hiding cards again."
The Pope clutched his chest in mock offense. "Me? Hide cards? I am the shepherd of faith, the voice of eternal cannons! How dare you accuse me of such oh look, is that a comet?"
As the bishops turned their heads instinctively, John Paul scooped a pile of gleaming Golden Lion Coins toward himself. When they looked back, his grin stretched ear to ear.
"You're insufferable," muttered Aurienne Solaris, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed amusement.
"Insufferable?" John Paul raised his mug. "Nay, child, I am eternal. And so is my winning streak."
The rooftop filled with laughter. They played until the stars shifted, then slept, then played again. Eternity allowed for such rhythms.
The Temple of Justice
Not far from the cathedral stood the Temple of Justice, a golden-white colossus that rose higher than any other structure in the capital. At its pinnacle sat Mikael Luminus, the Holy Celestial Lord. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. Meditation came naturally to him; silence was his weapon as much as his blade.
Below, the Valkyries of the Mech Order gathered around a circular table. Their armor, polished to brilliance, caught the lantern light as they went about their leisure.
Seraphiel Dawnbringer, stern as ever, sharpened her rifle's bayonet with steady strokes. Solenne plucked gentle notes from her harp, filling the hall with soft music. Auriel Aurorion hummed along as she polished her lance, while Eternis Radiant swung her fists at the air in playful sparring with her older sister Hierona.
It was a scene of calm discipline, broken only by quiet laughter.
Elyndrynia, the archer, finally sighed, lowering her bow. "I almost wish the Emperor would call us to battle. All this waiting dulls the edge."
Radiara, shy and thoughtful, shook her head. "Peace dulls nothing. It sharpens the heart."
Mikael Luminus stirred, his voice quiet but firm. "And when the Emperor calls, you will see that your edge has not dulled at all. Peace is not idleness. It is preparation."
The Valkyries fell silent, their respect for their commander absolute.
The Entertainment District
Elsewhere, the Entertainment District bustled with music, color, and joy. It was here that the Matu family made their mark, weaving culture into eternity.
Horiu Matu, head of the Music Industry, sat in his office surrounded by sheets of parchment and glowing instruments. His brow was furrowed, his fingers drumming against the desk. For months, inspiration had eluded him. Every melody felt stale, every rhythm hollow. Immortality was both a gift and a curse; time stretched too long, and creativity sometimes drowned in its vastness.
Then he heard it rumors of dwarves, their songs born from stone and fire, their chants echoing in forges as they hammered metal and shaped worlds. A culture new and untested, one that spoke of endurance and survival rather than leisure.
"Dwarves," Horiu murmured. "A people who bleed music from their suffering."
He rose, fire in his eyes, and began scribbling notes onto parchment. "Yes… yes, this is what I have been waiting for. Something raw. Something real."
He imagined his wife dancing to the tune, her sword flashing with elegance, and smiled. "Tia will be delighted."
That very evening, in the Theater District, Tia Matu took the stage.
Clad in flowing silks that shimmered like starlight, she held her sword with effortless grace. The crowd hushed as she began her performance. Each step was poetry, each swing of her blade a stanza. She moved like water, like flame, like the turning of galaxies.
For centuries, she had danced, yet the immortals never tired of watching. Her beauty was timeless, but it was her spirit that held them captive the devotion she poured into every movement, as though eternity itself were watching.
When she finished, the theater erupted in applause. Tia bowed with elegance, her eyes shining. Among the crowd, Horiu smiled, clutching the fresh notes of his new composition. Soon, his music and her dance would entwine into something new something born of dwarven inspiration and immortal artistry.
Meanwhile, in the Entertainment Workshop, their son Quant Matu tinkered with restless energy. Around him lay laptops, speakers, guitars, and instruments of his own design—half finished, half genius. He adjusted circuits, tested sound waves, and scribbled calculations on glowing screens.
"If Father wants dwarven tones," he muttered, tightening a screw on a prototype amplifier, "then I'll build the tools to capture them."
The machine hummed, pulsed, then let out a deep resonance like the echo of a forge. Quant grinned. "Yes. That's it. The sound of stone."
His inventions would shape the next wave of immortal entertainment. To him, work was play, and eternity was never long enough to create everything he dreamed.
Closing Contrast
Thus life continued in the Golden Lion Empire.
The Pope and bishops gambled under the stars, laughing without care. The Valkyries sharpened their weapons in peace, ready yet uncalled. The Matu family crafted art from inspiration, building bridges between cultures.
Far away, the dwarves fought in blood and fire, their empire shrunk to five galaxies, their cannon useless against elven shields. Emperor Thorine Steelsword and Supreme General Gurio stood against the endless tide, while Eluis Elfish pressed ever forward, his Fusion-powered mechs and summoned elementals grinding resistance to ash.
Two empires.
Two worlds.
One drenched in war, the other basking in peace.
And though the Golden Lions only watched, their gaze was keen, their curiosity unending. They had not yet chosen to act.
But eternity is long, and even immortals may one day be moved.