At the base of the Spiral, the image of a robotic entity materialized before everyone. Its metallic voice echoed through the hall:
— My name is Kal'ar, and I seek the Emperor for a conversation.
The shock was widespread. The being floated slightly above the ground, its humanoid and artificial appearance striking in its silent majesty. As soon as it made the request, it fell silent, as if waiting for a reply.
— The Emperor hasn't left his planet in many years… Perhaps I can assist you, Untouchable One.
The voice came from Oliver Von Richt, one of the Council members. Kal'ar turned in his direction, observing him for a few seconds before responding firmly:
— Lord Oliver Von Richt… I believe that is your name. I know your lies and ambitions. I am not here to partake in your games. Do you truly think you can deceive me?
Before anyone could react, Oliver began to choke. His throat seemed to close on its own. Desperate, struggling in his chair, he tried to grasp at objects and search for something that, to everyone else, was all around—oxygen. After about a minute of agony, his body went still—his death had not been swift, but it was certainly horrific.
— I will ask again. Where is the Emperor?
— I am here.
From the shadows, near where Oliver had fallen, a hooded figure emerged. His voice was firm and controlled.
— Very well. You will do. Where would you prefer to talk?
— Please, come with me.
The Council remained silent. None of its members dared to question the Emperor's action. They all knew that, while the Council debated ideas, nothing was carried out without his final approval. They understood their place—but the cameras did not. And certainly, neither did the public watching the event unfold.
— How can that thing kill a chief councilor and the Emperor does nothing? That makes no sense.
Tyrin heard the murmurs around him, unease building as the scene progressed. He, too, had questions—dangerous questions. Part of him wanted to understand what was behind all this, but another part feared the responsibility that might come with that knowledge. Perhaps the right question wasn't why the Emperor did nothing, but why the Untouchables were revealing themselves now.
— What could be the Untouchables' goal?
The question slipped from Tyrin aloud, a restless thought unintentionally shared. Custer, who had been watching the scene with somber eyes, responded with a conviction that chilled the room:
— Something is coming. I feel we're at a turning point. And moments like this only mean one thing…
His tone carried the weight of experience. Cassandra, beside him, couldn't resist asking:
— What's going to happen, professor?
— War…
Wars were not uncommon in the Empire. But they were, almost always, localized—disputes over territory, concessions, minor interests. Brief, contained conflicts. But that wasn't the kind of war Custer spoke of. There was something in his eyes, a distant memory. He was referring to the war before the Empire, before law and order. A total war.
— The real question is… Who is the enemy this time?
Humanity had already proven its resilience against the Tyrants, and its cunning before the Untouchables. Always aware of its limits, balancing boldness and caution with precision. But something was changing.
— Why do you think it will be a war like before the Empire? — asked Damian, near Cassandra, trying to understand the professor's reasoning.
— What would make you ask help from a being you consider inferior? — Custer returned, letting the question hang in the air.
— Well… I'd only ask if he had something I don't. But I can't imagine what we have that they don't. They have technology, they have military power. And we have… what?
Damian frowned, trying to pierce the veil of mystery. That's when Tyrin understood.
— Numbers. We are many.
— Exactly — Custer confirmed. — Numbers. If they're asking for help, it's because they know that not even their power is enough. The problem we're facing is too big. So big that only sheer quantity can stand against it.
— But... doesn't that mean we'll just be meat for the grinder? — murmured Eleonora, her voice trembling.
Custer looked at the young ones around him — some pretending not to listen, others clearly shaken. Then he turned his gaze to the small group that, minutes earlier, had surprised him with bold questions. Would it be fair to give them answers? Or cruel to scare them with theories that might be nothing more than his own ramblings?
— You're all dismissed. You may go.
Tyrin understood the professor's dilemma. Without argument, he pulled Damian, who was still fuming for an explanation.
— Shut up, Damian. Let's get out of here. Our next class starts soon. Later, girls.
The group began to disperse, leaving Custer alone, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts that no one there could reach.
Tyrin had thought everything that had happened would go unnoticed by the other professors. But as he walked through the corridors, he noticed something odd: almost all classes had been canceled. Almost all.
To his surprise, when he entered his next classroom, he found Lirina already there.
— How strange… You two are my only students today. Think something happened out there?
Lirina was exactly what she appeared to be: disconnected from the world, obsessed with dissection — the only thing that seemed to light up her eyes. And so it was: another lesson of precise cuts and the usual sound of Damian retching. She didn't even mind, and even reinforced:
— It's part of the process, Damian. But you need to participate more actively. The only way to overcome disgust is repetition. Quantity turns revulsion into routine.
At the end of the class, she smiled in that peculiar way of hers:
— Very good. I'll remember you in my notes. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would show up today. Crazy, right?
Tyrin didn't fully understand the mind of that woman, but something in him knew: behind the loose words and carefree laughter, there was someone dangerous. A cold, determined woman, willing to do anything to achieve her goals.
When he got back to his room early, he was greeted by a familiar scene: his dragon sleeping on its belly, now even bigger than the last time he'd seen it.
— Karma... Wake up.
He had to push him a few times before the dragon sprang up with excitement, licking him with joy.
— Okay, Karma. Enough licking. We need to talk.
Tyrin was troubled. The recent events still danced in his mind. What awaited him now? He knew he wasn't strong — at least not strong enough to guarantee his survival in whatever was coming. He suspected the Untouchables were seeking help to face the Aracnophon. It was the only thing that made sense.
As he bonded with Karma and reflected on his future, something bigger was happening elsewhere.
— You want us to do what?
The voice was harsh, suspicious.
— Spare me your pretensions of loyalty to the humans. We know what you are.
The room was narrow, with metal walls and harsh lighting. The robotic figure that had previously introduced itself as Kal'ar now stood without armor. Her body, surprisingly humanoid, displayed feminine traits — a slim waist, curved form, and short hair. However, her skin had a pale gray tone, and her eyes were completely black, without shine or pupils — it was impossible to tell where she was looking.
— I think we need to talk more calmly. Sit — said a familiar voice.
If Tyrin were there, he would recognize the man: the Emperor.
— How much longer will you play at ruling these humans? I thought your kind were impartial.
— My dear, let's say I'm the exception to a rule... And sometimes, the coincidences of the cosmos should be celebrated. This mistake, in particular, is an opportunity for liberation.
— You still talk like you're reading poetry. Anyway, you're in charge of these apes now, and we need help. With the Insects.
— Wow. I remember when you all thought yourselves untouchable. May I ask what happened?
The woman finally sat down. She still didn't look at him directly — she knew that meeting that being's gaze was to enter a game she couldn't win. Instead, she glanced around, choosing her words carefully.
— We believe they've discovered a way to attack our ethereal form.
The Emperor let out a dry laugh, followed by a guttural sound of fascination.
— Hahahahaha… Now that's fascinating. I didn't even know that was possible! How marvelous... Who would've thought? Insects, breaking ethereality.
— You could just shut up. — The woman clicked her tongue, visibly irritated. — We believe they have help. We don't trust the Tyrants, but... we don't know who else it could be. Perhaps... Chaos has returned.
— My dear... Chaos was destroyed millions of years ago — the Emperor replied, with a cynical, almost amused tone.
— Then why do you still watch us? If you don't expect its return... why?
The Emperor's expression hardened in an instant. His voice cut through the air, dry and authoritative:
— My people are fools. Stuck in the past. Listen carefully: they were all destroyed. I know. I was there. Now stop with these theories and tell me what you need. Men? Women? Children? Let's get to the point — I still have a pile of bureaucracy to deal with after this crap.
The woman hesitated for a moment before responding, choosing her words with care:
— My sovereign requests the Ultras... and the one who commands the Ilutar.
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, confused.
— What do you mean… the Ilutar? They're extinct, my dear. And no, I definitely don't intend to hunt one.
— Actually, Emperor... you may be misinformed. We intercepted a recording from a remote planet. In it, it was clearly mentioned that a new Ilutar controller is alive.
The Emperor slammed his hand on the table, standing abruptly. He turned his back to the woman, staring at the wall as his mind spun in silent spirals. Confusion now clouded the woman's pale face.
— I... — he took a deep breath — will grant the Ultras. But I'll need time. As for the dragon… have you learned anything else?
— Not yet. The audio was intercepted by our spies, but the exact location is still unknown.
— This aid will cost your sovereign dearly.
— He knows that. But he also asked me to make this clear: we are forming an alliance. Against something that could destroy us all. Don't make demands you know we can't meet.
— And here I was... thinking of asking for ethereality tech! — he let out a dry laugh, but his expression quickly faded.
Suddenly, the woman stood with a sharp movement. The Emperor watched her from the corner of his eye.
— Relax, don't worry. — He raised his hands in a theatrical gesture. — I'm not going to ask for that. I only want one thing in return.
— What?
— Find the new owner of the Ilutar... and show him to me.
The woman crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.
— I thought you'd trust your own agents for that.
— They're mere rats, trapped in my maze. — She smirked with disdain. — There are no deals between men and lions. Now, you may go.
Without another word, she donned her armor once more. Her body vanished like mist in the wind, dissolving into the metallic air of the room.
The Emperor remained still for a moment. Alone. His face was shadowed. He muttered, more to himself than to anyone else:
— Seems someone's hiding secrets from me... Could I have been discovered? Impossible. Damn.