A Few weeks had passed since the briefing and her assignment. Before reporting to the outpost command on the newly acquired satellite moon of the Imperial Capital, she had one last thing to do.
She was decorating her post in the library, marking her territory so that when she left for the mission, no idiot would dare claim her seat. Or so she hoped.
But she already noticed a few younger librarians eyeing her spot.
"What is that girl doing?"
"I don't know. She's been acting weird ever since she got listed in the mining operations."
"What? Seriously?"
"Yeah. I'm jealous she gets to go out while we're stuck here."
"Well, it's understandable. We're only two hundred years old. Still too young for military operations."
"True, but still…"
She could hear them gossiping about her—not even trying to be discreet about it.
Maybe it was because of her odd behavior, but everyone in the library had been ignoring her. Some even made an effort to avoid crossing paths with her.
She couldn't help but be jealous of those who would stay behind. Meanwhile, those same people were jealous of her for being sent on a field mission.
"Damn it, why me?" she thought. "They could've picked those pricks over there instead."
She could practically feel their jealousy, and it was starting to piss her off. As if she had volunteered for the role. If they wanted it so badly, they could take her place anytime.
Then, a strange thought crossed her mind.
"Wait… Is this what humans call bullying?"
She had read about it in pre-Imperial textbooks. Although she was a novice at dealing with bullies, she knew from history how vile they could be.
So, instead of staying quiet, she figured she should take assertive measures.
…Or maybe not.
She just wanted to vent her frustration over this so-called promotion.
Maybe throwing a few punches would make her feel better.
She shifted her gaze toward the gossiping librarians in the distance.
The two younger ones immediately noticed her glare. Her posture had subtly shifted—feet planted, weight balanced—like a soldier preparing to engage.
"Eek! She's staring at us!"
"Run!"
They scurried off before she even moved.
Watching them flee, she let out a heavy sigh.
"If switching places were an option, I'd do it in a heartbeat," she muttered.
But that wasn't how it worked. The commandant had personally promoted her and assigned her the mission. There was no way out of it.
Still, there was no time to dwell on it. She would be called in for another briefing soon, and she needed to hurry.
She returned to her living quarters and was immediately greeted by the aftermath of her own laziness.
A complete mess.
"Uwaaa…"
She groaned as she stepped inside.
She wasn't always this bad. But over time, the never-ending work routine drained her, and she started getting a little careless. On weekends, she cleaned. But by the middle of the week, the mess returned as if the cycle was inevitable.
It wasn't that she lacked time to clean. She simply preferred reading over wasting energy tidying up.
Especially when she discovered human books.
Of all the literature she had read, nothing compared to the works of the human race. Their stories, their bizarre ideas, there was something about them that fascinated her.
She glanced at her personal collection and sighed.
"I'm going to miss you guys."
Of course, she could upload the contents to her terminal. But it wasn't the same. She liked the feel of paper—turning the pages, running her fingers across the printed text.
After cleaning up and stacking her books neatly, she heard the one thing she had been dreading.
She had even prayed to the Emperor himself, hoping that when she woke up, it would all be a bad dream—that she would still be at her desk in the library.
But reality was persistent.
The voice echoed through the comms.
"Operation Lieutenant Barnett, report to the hangar immediately. Final boarding preparations are underway. The commandant expects you in full gear within the next twenty minutes. You will not be late."
She exhaled sharply.
Great. Here we go…"
Lirica stepped into the teleportation terminal, letting out a deep breath as she adjusted her uniform.
A second later, light wrapped around her, and she reappeared at a designated teleportation hub in orbit.
The hub was nothing special, just another transit station, filled with utility ships, cargo loaders, and personnel moving between off-world assignments.
She walked toward the hangar where she saw a transport was waiting. The place was busy, docking platforms extending into space, containment fields flickering, maintenance drones hovering around ships. There were rows of utility vessels, some looking fresh, others showing signs of wear from repeated deployments.
She eyed the vessel before her.
Manufactured at the Mantantos Orbital Shipyards, Model-CXU-94 Utility Ship.
A massive commercial utility vessel, built for large-scale resource extraction. Its specialized engineering UAVs handled both material analysis and resource processing while harvesting advanced resource nodes. The ship's expansive, uncovered platform allowed it to carry massive loads, making it highly efficient for transport and storage. Practical and packed with modular compartments, meant for carrying supplies, equipment, and personnel. It was escorted by three heavily armed frigates, a precautionary measure in an uncharted sector.
The ship wasn't a dedicated combat vessel, but it had basic defensive capabilities—enough to fend off small threats or deter opportunistic raiders. Not that she expected any, but the higher-ups always played it safe.
"If they were going to go this far, why not just send a battleship?"
After all, before she was even born, there had been no rogue fleets, pirates, or privateers. There hadn't been any opposing forces left to challenge the Empire. There were no rivals, no empires, no resistance.
There was only Asrameda.
Lirica had always known the empire's origins. The war against the Chaos-born, the survival of the Asrameda Galaxy—these were facts, taught from the moment she entered the imperial academy.
When Lirica was a mere child, the first doubt appeared in her mind as she read the history of the Asterran Empire and the universe. It was her most first ever discovery that led her to her path to the library.
But why?
Why was the Asrameda Galaxy the only one ever mentioned?
She remembered her own question.
A universe should have had trillions of galaxies or even more as it ages, or at least, that's what the ancient human records claimed, by chance she found it when she was looking for the oldest record the library has, this was the time when she was yet educated on imperial history.
Yet, in all her studies, in all the history books and records, only Asrameda was ever acknowledged. It was as if the rest of the universe had ceased to exist.
And that was also a strange part. Why did humans even have records in the archives?
Her first hypothesis: Humans may have been an old intelligent race from one of the many dead universes consumed by the Chaos-born.
"Because there wouldn't have been records of them in the library if they existed before us. Our home universe before the Era Perditionis was young, numbering only 100 billion galaxies. But the humans' home universe was already thirteen billion years old and had trillions of galaxies."
In other words, the Asterrans and their home universe were younger compared to the one the humans had come from.
So why was the Asrameda Galaxy the only one left?
She recalled an old text, "Humans may have been one of the first intelligent races to arise, originating from a universe that was over 13 billion years old. Their cosmos spanned trillions of galaxies, each filled with the potential for life. And yet, they were wiped out, along with every other civilization, by the Chaos-born."
That was the last update of the expeditionary archivist that went with the expedition fleet. The last of trillions, erased. The final holdout in a cosmic massacre stretching across countless lost universes.
The answer also lay in one of the Emperor's lesser-known appellations.
Hami Al-Wajud, the Protector of Existence.
To the Empire, the Emperor wasn't just a ruler. He was a god. An irreplaceable being so divine that his mere name repelled corruption of the chaos.
But before the Empire, before the Great Emperor himself, there was the Era Perditionis.
The Dark Age.
A time when every civilization outside Asrameda was erased. When the universe itself, still young, had its expansion forcibly stopped—just steps away from becoming a lifeless void like the countless dead universes beyond Turan's Gate.
Historians once speculated about a phenomenon similar to the human Early Bird Theory, the idea that the first intelligent civilizations may emerge before others have the chance. Human records proposed that if intelligent life was common, then by the time their species developed, others should have already risen. Yet, no traces of alien civilizations were found. They encountered none.
In her opinion, it is foolish because before the Asrameda galaxy's diverse civilizations became aware of the chaos Borns, they were all locked in an endless war with each other due to ignorance and a lack of knowledge about the true enemy.
Which meant that encountering another intelligent species was tantamount to suicide. So she thinks humans are stupid. Despite this, they continued to look for them but found none.
The reason? They were all wiped out.
The Milky Way was one of the last galaxies left behind, much like Asrameda in its own universe. A tragic pattern.
The Asterrans were among the Early Birds of their universe, which was still young and relatively small. Their region of space developed abnormally fast, producing stars, planets, and civilizations before the rest of the cosmos could even catch up. A staggering advantage—one the Chaos-born noticed.
Their home universe was fragile. Still in its early stages. And yet, it was advancing too quickly.
The Chaos-born refused to wait for it to grow further.
The Asterran's universe was still young compared to the one the humans had come from.
The ancient books said it had only about 100 billion galaxies.
But that number no longer mattered.
Because it wasn't growing anymore.
Because the chaos Borns have sent something. Something beyond comprehension.
It was called, The Void Behemoth, Iukudra-thisun.
An ancient abomination, older than time itself. One of the Azgarom's first spawn, the sibling of Mekalthortheplr. It was neither a being nor a beast, but something vast. It was, in its simplest form, a cosmic entity of infinite appetite.
The oldest records claim the Iukudra-thisun ate the universe itself. An entity so large, so beyond scale, that it consumed the universe like mere embers in its gullet.
Universes normally expand indefinitely. But after the Iukudra-thisun arrival, the Asterrans' home universe never got the chance. It was devoured whole—swallowed and trapped inside this unfathomable entity.
For eons, the Iukudra-thisun held them within itself, an entire universe locked inside a being so immense that its boundaries became indistinguishable from the void beyond.
The Asterrans and every other civilization in their home universe had not merely been conquered. They had been part of something whole.
The Marrxyan, an ancient species as old as the universe itself, one of the first watchers and observers of the home universe of asterrans, claimed they had heard the universe struggle to expand inside the stomach of the monster.
For hundreds of thousands of years, they listened to the howls of the universe's edge, distant, constant explosions as galaxies slammed against the walls of the behemoth's stomach.
That's when they knew.
They were trapped.
Everything they knew existed inside something else. It became the foundation of the innate fear of the unknown and the world outside their universe.
And yet, that wasn't even the worst part.
The Chaos-born, Mekalthortheplr, was known to leave one galaxy standing in every universe he destroyed.
He erased galaxies one by one, leaving only a single survivor, He allowed its inhabitants to struggle, to fight against the inevitable. To believe they had a chance, as if he enjoyed watching the last remnants of civilizations linger, suffer, and fade.
Then, when the time was right, he erased them too.
The Milky Way had suffered the same fate. As did the Asrameda Galaxy. They had been spared, not by mercy, but by design. Kept alive just long enough to witness the end of their existence. It was as if the Chaos-born were playing a game, a twisted form of amusement. Erasing galaxies one by one, but always leaving one behind, just for a while, like an animal tormenting its prey before the final strike.
The historians of old had whispered of this final torment. And that was the true horror.
The Empire only discovered this truth when Turan's Gate was activated. Expeditionary fleets, billions of them, pushed beyond the Gate into dead universes.
What they found confirmed the worst.
A disturbing pattern.
Every lifeless universe bore the same signs. A single remaining galaxy, left intact for a time… before being discarded and destroyed like all the rest.
A pattern.
Lirica tried to process it all, but her mind couldn't grasp the sheer scale of the ancient war.
That left only one question;
"Why are we still here?"
"I mean… how do you even fight something like that?
The history has always felt like a tragic fairy tale story. The other, older universes had collapsed under their own weight, consumed by The Rift or other horrors. By probability alone, Asrameda or they as a whole shouldn't have survived just like the rest.
But then she remembered the records, the reports, the structures that still stood as proof of what had come before.
Everything added up. But none of it made sense.
"How do you fight something that swallows an entire universe?"
The war that followed was nothing short of impossible.
"How do you stop an invasion of eldritch nightmares with powers that can corrupt all living things?"
"How do you win with just a single galaxy's worth of manpower, technology, and… what? Psionics? If that's not bullshit, what is?"
The more she thought about it, the less it felt real.
Then there was the Emperor. The Godly Emperor.
What exactly was he? How powerful was he, really?
Lirica frowned as the thought crept in, unbidden.
"Huh? Did I just doubt the Emperor's existence?"
A chill ran down her spine.
To question the Emperor was heresy. Yet here she was.
"This is dumb," she muttered. "I shouldn't even be thinking about this."
"…I gotta stop before this gets me in trouble."
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus. She had a job to do.
To think there'd come a day when she, of all people, would be recording history. It was supposed to be a big deal. Something worth celebrating.
"Now that I think about it, I once dreamt of recording history myself, but I figured that'd be a drag. Too much work. It's more fun to spend days doing nothing."
She blinked.
"Who am I even explaining this to?"
Sighing, she pressed her fingers to her temples.
"…This is so cringe."
At least her visual logs assignment would keep her occupied.
She cringed again.
"I just monologued in my head again."
Whatever.
She pushed the thought aside and turned her attention back to the task at hand. The precautionary measures were likely in place for this new sector they were about to explore.
The fact that the Empire had been transported to a new universe without using Turan's Gate said a lot about how much of an anomaly the Imperial Capital's situation was.
In front of her was the same utility ship she was supposed to board. The same model that was in her mission detail.
Utility ships like these were usually accompanied by UAVs, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, that provided vital support in different operations.
Some reinforced anti-air defenses. Others repaired vessels mid-combat.
The most advanced ones could even function autonomously in battlefield logistics. Among them, the 5D drones were the pinnacle of UAV technology, second only to dedicated fighter-class drones.
And yet, today, one of those supposedly unmanned vehicles was about to be manned, by none other than her, Lirica Barnett Asterra.
A manned crew on a utility ship? Escort frigates? Extra precautions?
The Empire always had its reasons, but something felt off.
She sighed and activated her visual log.
With a simple thought, her internal systems responded, capturing both her words and perspective. Unlike traditional recording devices, her system documented her experiences directly from her thoughts. She didn't even have to speak—just thinking about narrating was enough. The feed is recorded in both audio and video, completely hands-free.
A useful tool. One she often forgot about.
Lirica stood near the teleportation terminal, arms crossed, waiting for clearance. The terminal was a standard transport pad, hexagonal in shape, its surface lined with faint calibration markings that pulsed at a steady rhythm. A thin energy field flickered over it, keeping the spatial link stable.
The control panel next to it displayed a queue list. A few names were ahead of hers, mostly engineers and logistics personnel moving between sites. The system prioritized essential transfers first, so she had no choice but to wait.
[Teleportation Terminal – Transfer Queue]
1.Eng. Kairo Velsin Mantantos– Destination: Lunar Scaffold Section B (IN PROGRESS)
2.Tech. Alrene Koss Mantantos – Destination: Power Relay Hub (READY)
3.Log. Supervisor Dren Holst Asterra– Destination: Orbital Freight Bay (PENDING)
4. Arc. Lirica Barnett Asterra – Destination: Lunar Outpost Hangar (PENDING)
A subtle countdown ticked beside each entry, estimating the wait time. Hers was still flagged as *PENDING*, meaning she'd be standing here for a while.
A few engineers stood off to the side, discussing something over their holo-tablets, their words drowned out by the hum of the facility's energy grid. Drones hovered overhead, moving between maintenance ports, adjusting the station's power flow.
Lirica shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glancing at the queue again.
Still pending.
She tapped her fingers against her forearm, already counting the seconds in her head.
A soft chime came from the terminal, followed by an update on the status panel.
[Transfer Request: APPROVED]
Lirica Barnett Asterra – Destination: Lunar Outpost Hangar
Transfer Initiation in 10… 9… 8…
She adjusted her stance as the countdown started. The terminal's interface flickered, syncing with the teleportation system. A faint hum filled the air as the energy field stabilized.
7… 6… 5…
She glanced at her wrist interface. Everything was calibrated. No last-minute errors.
4… 3… 2…
The air around her shifted. A thin layer of light wrapped around her frame, separating her from the surroundings. The space in front of her warped slightly, aligning with the coordinates of the lunar outpost.
1…
A brief pulse. The surroundings blinked out.
Lirica reappeared inside the lunar outpost's teleportation terminal. The industrial site stretched before her—active but orderly.
The station wasn't complete yet, but the construction process moved efficiently, with structures forming in real time.
The teleportation beacons shimmered faintly, linking the lunar outpost to the rest of the Empire.
Beyond the open hangar, the orbital scaffold wrapped around the moon, acting as the framework for what would become a fully operational base. Reinforced plating segments were being placed by automated drones, each piece fitting into position.
The hangar itself was carved directly into the moon's surface.
The reinforced ceiling was held up by structural plating, hydraulic columns, and exo-struts. The walls, still under construction, had heavy conduits and reinforcement nodes, their surfaces glowing faintly as 5D drones worked on stabilizing the material.
Above, utility drones floated in coordinated patterns, some carving into the rock while others processed debris, converting it into usable material.
The largest models, around the size of a BelAZ 75710, were already printing modular components for barracks, storage, turrets, and docking bays.
Lirica scanned the half-built structures—the framework of defensive platforms, logistical hubs, and command centers rising from the cratered surface.
She was still getting used to the layout.
The moon she had grown up with wasn't here. It had been left behind in the old universe.
Instead, they had this one of many unclaimed moons repurposed by the Empire to serve as the new Moon Outpost Command.
It was a necessity.
The Empire couldn't function without its moons.
They were relay points, surveillance hubs, and logistical anchors.
Moving the imperial capital between universes was one thing, but the original moon, or whatever remained of it, hadn't come along.
Instead, the Empire had secured a replacement, designating it for immediate development.
The outpost itself was mostly a network of interconnected structures, supported by steel struts, being assembled in real-time. Scaffolds weren't needed, 5D drones printed everything bit by bit, constructing the base without extra framework.
The process was straightforward, drones extracted raw material, broke it down into base particles, then reconstructed it into functional components.
Structures were placed immediately, expanding the moon's infrastructure with minimal delay.
She leaned against the viewport, watching as the outpost took shape.
Command centers, landing pads, fortified barriers. The Empire was really going all out in constructing a base.
Her gaze moved to the defensive emplacements already being installed, plasma turrets, shield projectors, artillery positions. A planetary shield covered half the moon, its hexagonal panels flickering as they adjusted.
She exhaled. The Empire was making sure this place wasn't going anywhere.
——————
[Ancient Word of the Day: "Vlog" and "Bullshit"]
"Vlog" was a term from the pre-imperial era, short for "video log." It referred to a form of personal documentation where individuals recorded their daily lives, thoughts, or activities and shared them with the public. Unlike official archival records, vlogs were often informal, filled with mundane details, and frequently included exaggerated emotions for entertainment. Strangely, despite their personal nature, people actively sought validation from strangers. In a way, it was an inefficient yet persistent attempt at self-preservation, recording one's life not for historical importance, but for attention.
On the other hand, the word "bullshit" was a crude yet widely used expression to dismiss falsehoods, exaggerations, or nonsensical claims. Despite its literal meaning referring to bovine waste, it had nothing to do with livestock. Scholars theorize that its popularity stemmed from a time when deception and misinformation were rampant in ancient communication networks. Calling something 'bullshit' was a way of rejecting absurdity, an act of resistance against fabricated truths. Ironically, despite its vulgarity, the term was often one of the most honest statements in a conversation.
She, of course, took great amusement in documenting words like these.
———————