In the fortified backlines of the Dwarven Empire, silence settled where chaos had once thrived. Ninety-five Absolutes remained stationed here, each scarred from countless battles. Five of their brethren had already fallen in the long war against the vampires. Fleets of battleships hung in orbit like steel stars, engines humming, weapons primed for the next raid.
Yet the raids never came.
The vampires, once relentless, had fallen back. No more harassment. No probing attacks. No ambushes in the void. Only silence.
Around the war table, Absolutes muttered uneasily.
"Why have they pulled back?" one asked, brow furrowed. "Is this some trick? Are they buying time to recover before an all-out war?"
Another slammed his fist against the table. "We've bled for centuries, and now they stop? It stinks of a trap."
Their commander, grim-faced, listened without answer. None of them could imagine the truth.
The answer came not from their scouts, but from the main army at the frontline. A message cut across the channels like a blade:
Retreat. Leave the backline. Regroup with the main army. The rear will no longer be threatened.
The Absolutes stared in confusion.
"Who will defend the back if we abandon it?" one demanded. "If the vampires strike, we'll be surrounded!"
But when the Emperor himself spoke, the words froze their protests.
"There is no vampire civilization anymore."
Silence fell.
The Emperor continued, voice steady. "The Golden Lion Empire has taken care of them."
As if to underline his words, a diplomat of that empire appeared at their gates, delivering crates of energy cores and weapon stocks. Supplies they desperately needed. Then, as suddenly as he came, he vanished.
The dwarves stared at the crates, then at each other. No vampires? Impossible. For how long? A year? Five years?
When the frontline commander explained the truth, disbelief turned to awe.
"Seven days," he said. "One week. That is all it took."
It was hard to doubt. They had seen glimpses of Golden Lion power before.
James Furn, envoy of that empire, had once visited their lines. They remembered him clearly—immaculate in a dark suit, suitcase in hand. Ten Absolutes of the Elven Civilization had tried to test him. In less than a minute, all ten lay dead, riddled with gunfire and pierced by unseen blades, their blood dripping onto the void. James had calmly snapped open an umbrella, shielding himself from the rain of gore, then adjusted his suit as if nothing had happened.
Later, his carrier ship casually obliterated twenty Elven destroyers in an instant. The elves, who had sought to block the Golden Lion supply line, were reduced to drifting wreckage. The World Tree Empire, once so arrogant, now carried fear in their eyes when Golden Lion vessels approached.
The dwarves whispered: This is the power of a Type 4 Civilization.
Every dwarf knew the cosmic hierarchy. Civilizations were ranked like stones stacked upon each other. Theirs was strong, yes, but in the grand scale, they were only pawns.
The Golden Lion Empire was Type 4 beings so advanced they moved the stars themselves. Most Type 4 civilizations were nightmares. The Wolven Civilization, for example, enslaved entire races, turning them into experiments or beasts of war.
By contrast, the Golden Lion Empire was merciful, almost gentle. They did not enslave. They did not demand endless tribute. They came, studied cultures and technologies, and departed. Sometimes they offered help. Yet every dwarf understood the silent truth: betray them, and your existence would vanish in an instant.
Supreme General Gurio, the commander of the main army, received the news with a rare smile.
"They may use us," he told his generals, "but they saved us from annihilation. And with their presence, we can resist the World Tree Empire."
For once, hope glimmered where despair had ruled.
----
While the dwarves absorbed their luck, James Furn himself traveled further. On the far side of the fallen Vampire Galaxy lay its human neighbor the Holy Sacred Empire.
His small shuttle glided through the border patrol, sleek and unthreatening, little more than a courier vessel by appearance. What the patrol did not see was the true Golden Lion carrier, cloaked in stealth far behind, its presence hidden from their crude sensors.
Even so, a Galactic Patrol Warship moved to intercept, weapons locking on.
James opened a channel, his tone calm, his smile faint.
"I am James Furn, envoy of the Golden Lion Empire."
The patrol captain hesitated. Golden Lion Empire? He had never heard the name. His scanners reported nothing unusual it was just a lone man, seemingly human, aboard a modest shuttle craft. The vessel carried no detectable armaments.
The captain himself was Eternal level, but the envoy's presence carried a weight he could not place.
"What is your purpose?" the captain asked.
"Trade," James replied simply. "And conversation."
The captain scanned again, cautious. No anomalies. The man was human at least in appearance. That was enough. They feared alien incursions more than strangers of their own kind. At last, he allowed James entry.
For three days, James roamed the Holy Sacred Empire. He walked their markets, observed their temples, listened to their hymns. He saw the same devotion he had seen countless times before—zealous belief in their god, rigid supremacy, certainty that their empire was eternal.
It was nothing new. He had seen civilizations like this for billions of years. They all burned the same, believed the same, and fell the same.
He searched quietly for signs of corruption if whether another Type 4 power pulled their strings, whether traitors lurked in shadows. He found none. This empire was untouched.
At last, the day came.
The cathedral was immense, its ceilings painted with stars, its air heavy with incense. At its center sat the Pope, robed in white and gold, high upon his throne. Cardinals flanked him, their gazes sharp, their power undeniable.
James entered, unhurried. His senses counted fifteen Absolutes in the hall. Across the empire, he had sensed more than two hundred. Enough to rule a quadrant, not enough to challenge higher powers.
He bowed politely, producing a sealed case of trade proposals.
The Pope studied him, then shook his head.
"We do not need most of these materials. Our problem is food."
James tilted his head. "Food?"
The Pope nodded. "We have mithril to trade. For food, we will offer mithril in exchange."
James considered. The Golden Lion Empire had more food than it could ever need. To them, food was cheap. But mithril was new. No vein of it had ever been found within their dominion, and without raw ore they could not duplicate or study it properly. Its properties were unlike any alloy they possessed, resonating with energy in ways that stirred his curiosity. To secure a steady flow from the Holy Sacred Empire was more than advantageous it was the discovery of an entirely new resource. James agreed without hesitation.
The Pope smiled, relief clear in his eyes. For him, the famine threatening his empire might now ease.
James knew better. The Golden Lion Empire did not trade out of kindness. They traded to weave influence.
Before departing, James asked one last question.
"Do you have rare seeds? Perhaps something unique to your empire?"
The Pope gestured, and a cardinal presented a scroll. James scanned it, eyes flicking line by line. Different names, yes but all familiar. He had seen these seeds countless times in countless empires. There was nothing new here.
He closed the scroll, disappointment plain. "We already possess these," he said softly.
The Pope inclined his head, and the negotiations ended.
James departed with his usual calm, suitcase in hand. The deal was struck in food for mithril. Information gained, culture recorded, influence planted.
Behind him, the cardinals whispered. Who was this envoy? What civilization sent him? A shadow of something far greater loomed in their minds.
James himself thought little of it. To him, this was routine. Another Type 3 Civilization. Another pawn placed on the board.
Already, his gaze turned toward the next human empire nearby. Another visit. Another test. Another probe of information before moving on.
For now, he left quietly, as though he had never been there at all.
And in his wake, the Holy Sacred Empire began to wonder if they had just shaken hands with destiny or with doom.