One Month Later — Middle Sector 100

"Hmm, Marshal Aro truly did well this time," Peon remarked with a satisfied tone, nodding several times as he flipped through a thin crystalline tablet shimmering with recent updates. "According to the latest reports from the Shadow Swords, he successfully finalized a complete diplomatic accord with the Empire of Stray Predators, the Empire of Abyssal jellyfish, and the Empire of Exiled Peacock—all three have officially agreed to become Wings under our banner. And now, he's currently in advanced talks with both the Empire of Aghrad and the Empire of Green Winds as well!"

"Hm, that's quite an accomplishment indeed," Caesar replied with calm composure, his voice steady yet faintly tinged with dry amusement. He nodded lightly while his gaze drifted toward the floating holographic map before him. "Though, let's be honest—most of the hard work was done by my father. Aro received everything served on a silver platter. Still… it's true that he managed to pull off something tangible with the negotiation. Credit where it's due."

"Ha!" Peon leaned back lazily in his chair, stretching his legs out and propping his boots up on the polished desk in front of him. "So you're saying you're jealous that your father helped him, but not you?" His tone was teasing, but his smirk carried a spark of curiosity.

"Hmm? Do you really take me for someone that shallow?" Caesar waved dismissively with a half-smile that was both sharp and composed. "The strength of the empire isn't divided between us. Cradle and Grave—these are just transient titles, ephemeral labels in the march of eternity. We all stand under one dominion: the True Beginning Empire, the name my father himself gave to our unity. Any increase in its power—no matter who achieves it—will ultimately strengthen us all." His golden eyes swept over the air briefly. "Besides," he added in a quieter, almost contemplative tone, "it's only natural for my father to assist him. The Seed will soon ascend in that direction."

"Oh? You're surprisingly composed today," Peon chuckled, shaking his head. "That's not like you, Caesar. Don't tell me ruling over empires for too long has actually given you some sort of wisdom?"

"Perhaps it has. You should try helping me lead one; maybe you'll absorb a fraction of it," Caesar shot back coolly, giving Peon a brief sidelong glance before turning back toward the mountain of holographic reports on his desk.

The Centennial Cradle Empire's expansion had reached a staggering pace. Battles, conquests, and integrations were unfolding across multiple fronts, each demanding massive coordination. At this stage, there were almost no reserve armies left—the relentless advance had consumed nearly every unit. The sheer volume of daily reports that flooded Caesar's command room was enough to drive even seasoned strategists to despair.

"Hmm? Wait a moment," Caesar murmured, frowning slightly as he sifted through the data stacks. "There's a new dispatch—straight from Middle Sector 99." He pulled out a sealed envelope, slightly worn at the edges, and broke its wax seal. Inside lay a folded parchment stamped with the insignia of the Grave Empire, and beside it, a small metallic data disk gleamed faintly with residual energy.

Without hesitation, Caesar infused his energy into the disk. The device hummed and projected a flickering image midair.

{"Hehe, I formally invite you to attend the inauguration ceremony of the Double-Centennial Grave Empire, to be held two weeks after you receive this message, hehe. If you intend to come as the official representative of the Centennial Cradle Empire, I'll postpone the event until you arrive, hehe. I'd really love to hear from you soon—hehehehehe."}

Crkrrk—

The veins across Caesar's forehead pulsed violently, tightening until they produced a faint cracking sound. His jaw clenched. "That horned bastard…" he hissed under his breath, pointing furiously at the floating projection. "He's doing this on purpose—he's mocking me!"

The holographic message replayed the moment again, showing Aro's infuriating grin—wide, smug, and unbearably taunting—as he laughed throughout the entire recording. There was no reason for him to send such a message. Caesar commanded an entirely different sector; he wasn't required, by any law or order, to attend. Even if there had been a legitimate strategic reason, the instruction would have come directly through the Shadow Swords, not through a personal message drenched in mockery.

Crick Crick

Caesar's teeth ground together audibly. More veins surfaced along his temples and neck as his expression twisted with barely contained fury. The image of Aro's arrogant smile reflected in his eyes like a burning ember.

"Haha, to be fair, the man didn't actually say anything wrong. Why so furious?" Peon said, half-laughing as he tossed a small snack into the air and caught it with his mouth. "By the way… are you actually planning to go? It's going to be a massive ceremony—big names from other sectors are likely to appear. It could be a good chance to publicly strengthen ties between the two empires. If you start moving now, you might make it just in time."

Caesar's glare softened slightly, but the tension in his face didn't fade. He leaned back, deep in thought.

In truth, traveling from Middle Sector 99 to Middle Sector 100 normally required three full years of standard inter-sector navigation. However, with the use of a Spatial Slip Pendant, the travel time could be reduced dramatically—to merely a few months, if executed perfectly.

But there's a clever and rather devious trick that the Shadow Swords are known to employ when they need to deliver messages or move quickly between sectors…

If one of them happens to be stationed within Middle Sector 99, like the Shadow Sword who carried the recorded message to Caesar, he can descend temporarily into Young Sector 99, then pass through a wormhole gate to Young Sector 100, and from there ascend once more into Middle Sector 100.

By exploiting this indirect route, what would normally take three years of travel could instead be completed in just a week or two at most.

"I'm supposed to go to that thing?!" Caesar exploded, his tone full of incredulous outrage. He jabbed a sharp finger toward Aro's laughing face frozen in the hologram, his expression a twisted mix of mockery and arrogance. His mischievous, taunting eyes gleamed like those of a jester preparing to tell the dirtiest, most infuriating joke in existence. "Look at that grin! That smug, idiotic face! Do you actually want me to have a brain hemorrhage?"

"Well, maybe he's a little obsessed with competition," Peon admitted, waving his hand lazily as though brushing away Caesar's anger like smoke. "But honestly, he's harmless. He wouldn't dare cross the line or treat you with real disrespect."

"I know that," Caesar said flatly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, "but the answer remains the same—no." He waved once in dismissal, then snatched the data disk from the air and clenched his fist around it. Crack! The metal shell shattered under the pressure of his grip, fragments scattering across his desk. "I'd rather build my own Double-Centennial Empire from the ground up, and then he can come crawling to my ceremony as a guest—if he dares to show his face."

"Yeah, yeah, that doesn't sound like rivalry at all," Peon said, nodding slowly with exaggerated seriousness, his lips pursed in obvious sarcasm.

"...?! You—" Caesar's head snapped toward him, his expression a storm of disbelief and irritation. "Hey, you were much more tolerable when you were quiet and contemplating suicide. Go back to that version of yourself!"

"My apologies, brother," Peon laughed heartily, raising both hands in surrender. "But if I died right now, my wife would probably resurrect me just to kill me again." He swung his legs down from the table, sitting upright for the first time in hours, his tone shifting into something far more serious. "Anyway, about what I actually came here to discuss—the matter of reducing the battlefronts…"

After the Shadow Swords had restricted several military divisions from returning to Middle Sector 100, Caesar had seized the opportunity almost instantly. He mobilized those now-isolated legions to launch new offensives against every faction that had once sent reinforcements to aid Hedric.

However, such a move was far from easy or safe. First, those factions hadn't deployed their entire strength to help Hedric—they had only committed partial forces—meaning they still retained considerable armies at home. Add to that their citizen populations, many of whom were battle-hardened or spiritually trained, and the resistance Caesar faced was anything but light.

And for Caesar himself, who was already neck-deep in a massive and grueling war within his Star Field, waging battle under the pretext of defending a demonic clan—specifically Rinara and the Wing of the Nine Paths—the strain was enormous. He couldn't possibly divert his full military might toward these external targets. His armies were already stretched thin, maintaining defense lines and supporting other fronts simultaneously.

Worse still, most of those enemy factions he sought to subjugate were scattered across other star fields throughout the sector, far removed from his immediate range of command. Reaching them required days, sometimes weeks, of travel aboard massive warships, threading through complex astral lanes and wormway networks.

And as if that weren't enough, once Caesar began his offensives, other opportunistic factions took notice of the growing turmoil. The scent of war was in the air, and none of them wanted to miss the chance to expand their own territories.

In a single month, the political balance of Middle Sector 100 had begun to shift—subtly at first, but unmistakably—into the kind of chaos that only great powers could create.

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