Ismar II—the dying moon-world, soaked in warp radiation, cracked by artillery, and cursed by heresy—was now the center of the gaxy’s unraveling.

  Deep beneath its surface, in Vault 10, Anna Bke and her 200,000 followers—converted scientists, rogue engineers, cyber-augmented zealots—prepared the final phase of her pn.

  “This vault won’t be another weapon,” she said. “It will be a new reality.”

  Her goal?

  Not to defeat the Blood Angels.Not to save humanity.But to summon the full form of Lucifer, using the Altar of Mood Odor she had hidden after Lab 9.

  If successful, she would open a second Warp Gaxy, rger and deeper than the first. This one would drown the stars, and mock the gods.

  The Siege BeginsBut the First Imperial Army, stationed in orbit and monitoring warp spikes, intercepted her.

  The siege of Vault 10 began without mercy.

  K3 artillery hammered her fortress with faith-forged shells, shaking the moon’s crust.Assault divisions surrounded the perimeter, cutting off supply tunnels and warp anchor nodes.Anna’s forces, fanatical and armed with forbidden weapons, held the line—but every bst slowed her ritual.

  The Ceasefire of Blood AngelsThen the impossible happened.

  Blood Angels—50,000 of them—descended from the Endless Blood Dimension. Not to attack humans.

  But to aid them.

  “What she summons,” said one commander, “is not Lucifer’s echo… but his full divine self.”

  “What lives in the Warp Gaxy is only an avatar, a fragment of rebellion.”

  They requested ceasefire.They waited for artillery bombardment to end.Then, they marched into rebel trenches.

  The Sughter BeginsBlood Angels, armed with crimson swords of condensed will and punishment, tore through the rebel lines.

  Each ssh cut through corruption.

  Anna’s elite cyber-augmented warriors fell like paper to fme.Warp-cursed bunkers melted under divine bloodlight.Screams turned to ash before they reached the air.

  By the thousands, her followers fell.Still, Anna continued the summoning.The Altar glowed—a spire of agony in the heart of Ismar II.

  And then—something ancient stirred.

  Intervention from the DivineThe Underworld, built to cim sin, recoiled.

  Anna’s corruption was too much.Her soul had twisted beyond even damnation.

  Not even Death wanted her.

  But Death came anyway.

  From the 8th Dimension, the Grim Reaper appeared.He did not speak.He made no plea.

  Instead, he stood before the true form of Aros, beyond even divine comprehension.

  “She is no longer mortal,” said Death.“She is a fracture. She must be banished.”

  Aros gazed down from realms above understanding.

  He nodded once.

  Permission given.

  The Blood Dulluhan RidesFrom beyond the mortal veil, a Blood Dulluhan—one of the highest executioners of universal w—descended onto Ismar II.

  He rode through fire and pgue, his head wreathed in cold judgment.He entered Vault 10.He found Anna Bke mid-ritual, her eyes glowing bck with multiversal sin, her body twisted by stolen gods.

  He said nothing.

  He only looked into her.

  And in that moment, Anna saw herself in every dimension at once—past, future, corrupted beyond recognition.

  The Multiversal TrialShe blinked.

  Suddenly, Anna Bke stood before seven quadrillion fallen angels—bound in chains of voidfire.

  They stared at her.

  Silent.

  Waiting.

  For the final trumpet.

  A signal that would unmake or remake the multiverse.

  But only Aros, in his highest form, could blow it.

  And only one question remained:

  Would she be destroyed, or made the harbinger of the final war?

  For now, Aros waited.

  As did creation.

  And Anna Bke—traitor, genius, heretic, syer of souls—finally fell to her knees, with nothing left to summon but silence.

  One month after the fall of Vault 10 and the ritual-colpse of Anna Bke, the Empire decred her work archived, sealed, and purged from all official databases.

  Except one.

  A single access channel remained.

  It belonged to her successor: Anna Pungent.

  She entered the Imperial Records Vault personally— escorted by seven Praetorian Enforcers and two Inquisitorial Censors. Her biometric clearance unlocked vault AB-06, where the entire lineage of Imperial war-tech was stored.

  Inside, Anna Pungent faced the records terminal. Her voice was soft, exact.

  “Query: Inventor 0.1 – Anna Bke. Access all surviving weapon blueprints.”

  The system dispyed five files.

  M4A4 Psma Rifle – sanctioned, mass-deployed.

  M70 Lerium Machine Gun – borderline approval.

  AE01 Artillery Cannon – red-zoned but used.

  Warp-Rotavator Cannon – cssified heretical.

  Lucifer Gate Anchor Device – universally banned, dimensional terrorism potential.

  Four of the five were stamped HERESY BY NOBILITY DECREE.

  Still, Anna Pungent didn’t delete them.

  She simply transferred the rights to her own signature and fgged the M4A4 line for further modur enhancement.

  “No one erases the bde. They just dull it until they need it again.”

  Senate Council: June 8, 2209Within the High Chamber of the Senate, the day began with a cold proposal.

  Senator Cacius Annor—the Marble-Voiced Auditor of Core Legal Code—took the floor.

  He wore all bck, eyes never leaving his data scroll.

  “I request a full reinterpretation of Article 391: Death Threats and Weapon Authorization.”

  The nobles grew restless. The chamber dimmed.

  Cacius continued.

  “Current w permits the use of war-grade weapons only in recognized conflict zones. However, ambiguity exists regarding civilians who imply, suggest, or discuss the murder of others—especially in technical, numeric, or quantifiable terms.”

  He paused.

  “How much does it cost to murder a civilian? If the number is uttered, that’s now a tactical proposition—not free speech.”

  The murmurs stopped. The room froze.

  Then came the twist.

  “Are the Imperial Financial Intelligence Agency and the Imperial Record Keepers aiding one another to filter this intel?”

  The response from the nobles and senators was unanimous.

  Two months after taking control of Anna Bke’s legacy, Anna Pungent emerged from her armored bunker at Test Site 88 on the scorched pins of Ismar V. Standing beside a new generation of weapon engineers, she unveiled the finalized variant of her test design:

  The AE01 Field Artillery SystemMax Range: 80 kilometers (30 km farther than the K3).

  Payload: Psma-infused high-density shell.

  Targeting: AI-guided, faith-synced optics.

  Bst Radius: Enough to erase a battalion and leave no crater to analyze.

  The moment the first shell screamed skyward and obliterated the 80 km target, Imperial officers across the testing grid began nodding—not in celebration, but in confirmation.

  It worked.

  It was better.

  It was now ready for war.

  Deployment to War WorldsWithin the next two weeks, the AE01 Field Artillery was ordered into production across every sector cssified as a War World—including Frontier Bck Zone worlds battling Hive Spider infestations, and chaos-warp bleeding zones near the outer rift sectors.

  Factories hummed without pause.

  Materials were logged, sanctioned, and tallied under tight supervision by the Imperial Financial Intelligence Agency (IFIA).

  Their public report was brief and sanitized:

  “Production of AE01 ptforms exceeds quota. Resource throughput stable. Deployment logistics: optimal.”

  Internally, however, the tone shifted.

  IFIA & The TIB: Quiet TensionIn an upper chamber of the Orbital Records Citadel, three senior IFIA executives reviewed private correspondence between security branches.

  The mood was colder than usual.

  “The TIB is effective,” the first agent said, “almost too effective.”

  “The question isn’t if it works,” said the second, staring out across data scrolls of cleared executions and citizen detainments. “It’s how long before it colpses under the weight of its own paranoia.”

  “Or turns inward,” muttered the third. “You investigate jokes long enough, and people stop joking. But not because they’re safe. Because they’re scared.”

  The room quieted.

  A moment ter, the third agent continued—this time measured, not emotional.

  “But… if someone says murder—even in jest—and we don’t act, and someone dies… then what?”

  No one had an answer.

  Only a consensus:

  Threats—spoken, whispered, memed, muttered—must be investigated.

  Civilian trust was less about freedom now, and more about certainty.

  Certainty that no one could say death and walk away without a file logged.

  Anna Pungent’s Mission, ReinforcedFrom her mobile command ship, Anna Pungent received word:Her AE01 ptform was now considered standard doctrine on 312,000 war-designated worlds.

  She nodded once.

  Behind her, a soldier whispered the obvious:

  “They’re not questioning the weapon’s morality anymore. They’re only measuring the recoil.”

  Anna didn’t smile.

  She simply walked back toward her b.

  “That’s because they finally understand,” she said.“Power doesn’t need trust. It only needs predictability.”

  “They already do.”

  The Birth of the Threat Investigation BureauCacius Annor smiled. The trap was already set.

  He presented a motion:

  "Formation of the Threat Investigation Bureau (TIB)."

  Mandate: Investigate numeric or structured threats.

  Resources:

  592,200 VAT-Grown Police.

  1,728,000 Combat-Ready VAT-Grown Soldiers.

  Jurisdiction: Every city, every sector, from Hive to Outpost.

  Legal Cuse: If local police fail to apprehend, the TIB may override and deploy military assets.

  Vote Results:

  60% YES – Security over specution.

  40% NO – Morality breach and authoritarian overreach.

  With the majority secured, the TIB was born—a civil-military intelligence hybrid tasked with silencing potential threats before they escated.

  The CrackdownImmediately, TIB agents tracked weapon transactions across 750,000 designated War Worlds, where Spider Hive Fleets regurly attacked.

  In one month, a massive investigation unearthed false identity rings.

  Six senators, absent from all Imperial Meetings, were exposed for selling forged access to Imperial Record Keeper databases.

  The TIB moved quickly:

  80,000 arrests in one sweep.

  IDs belonged to Imperial Academy dropouts with perfect scores in Documentation Sciences.

  These students were one rank away from being promoted to High Imperial Record Keepers—the ones who control the recorded memory of entire sor gaxies.

  The Empire now suspected that memory itself was being rewritten.

  The Division of AuthorityAt the top, the structure was now crystal clear:

  50,000 High Imperial Record Keepers, each commanding a continent of bureaucrats across every sor system.

  Beneath them: 500 million standard Record Keepers, archiving, filtering, rewriting.

  Anna Pungent’s request was simple:

  “Let me track every weapon blueprint against every individual capable of writing policy.”

  The Empire didn’t say no.

  Not anymore.

  Not after what happened with Anna Bke.

  And so, in the flickering silence of the record halls, Anna Pungent watched the Empire’s spine grow tighter, colder, more precise.

  “There will be no third Anna,” she whispered.

  “The next one will be machine-born.”

  After months of designing weapon systems and structuring kill-zones across half the gaxy, Anna Pungent did something… unexpected.

  She grew bored.

  War was efficient now.Artillery worked.Surveilnce was absolute.

  She needed stimution.

  So she designed a game.

  “EMPIRE: Ascendancy”A massive multipyer online experience, built on Imperial infrastructure, with the full backing of the Imperial Financial Intelligence Agency and surveilnce permissions from the Threat Investigation Bureau (TIB).

  The game premise was simple:Build a nation.Name your cities.Forge alliances.Wage wars.

  But beneath the UI and fshy banners, every feature mirrored the actual command structure of the Empire.

  Imperator, Inquisitor, Legatus, Marshal—all avaible leader titles.

  Military doctrine trees were identical to real doctrine.

  Army unit selection gave real-time defensive/offensive buffs identical to those used by current war worlds.

  Even agency branches—like the IFIA and TIB—could be chosen, granting stealth, surveilnce, or counter-intel bonuses.

  It looked like a game.

  But it wasn’t.

  Surveilnce by DesignAnna submitted a request to the IFIA for 15,000 new operatives—not to spy on government workers.

  But to monitor the pyer base.

  Alongside them, she pced hand-picked, naturally born TIB agents, embedded into guilds and faction boards under alias accounts.

  They watched chat logs.They fgged strategic conversations.They tracked which pyers formed alliances based on rebellion, hate speech, or conquest patterns matching known traitor cults.

  Anna’s rationale was simple:

  “This isn’t Earth.In the Empire, digital behavior reflects tent risk.Let them py—and we’ll find the next threat before they pick up a real weapon.”

  Civilian ReactionAt first, civilians embraced it.

  You could name your empire whatever you wanted—Soria, Bdeborn, United Scorchnds.You could form treaties. Wage war. Betray allies.It felt free.

  But soon, a pattern emerged.

  Pyers who logged only 2 hours per day were considered “low-interest normals.”

  Unemployed, aimless pyers who spent 12+ hours daily were cssified as “elevated risk profiles”—potential cult members, ideological extremists, or emotionally unstable.

  Then came the harassment reports.

  Pyers attempting genuine friendships were mocked, baited, or griefed—even in neutral zones. Toxicity wasn’t random.

  It was a lens.

  Internal IFIA ReviewA senior IFIA behavioral analyst recorded a report.

  “They forgot. This isn’t Earth.Here, we’re not limited in what we can do.This isn’t about policing a chat room.This is about seeing who they are—when they think it’s safe to be real.”

  “We don’t watch because they break rules.We watch because when the rules are optional—they reveal their true faction.”

  Anna watched these reviews with detached interest.

  One pyer’s name popped up frequently: Neruxian13.He was charming. Quiet.He built a utopia. Never fought a war. Everyone liked him.

  Anna Pungent fgged him personally.

  “No one stays pure this long,” she said, her voice ft.“Let’s see who he really is after we remove his peace perks.”

  And across the Empire, millions kept logging in.

  Building fake empires.

  While the real one watched.