The Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica.
The Royal Selection.
A half-elf.
Sin Archbishops. The Witches of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Five candidates for the throne.
The Royal Guard. The Sword Saint family—the Astrea lineage.
...
Knock—knock—
A detailed compilation of intelligence lay spread across Selene's desk. Murmuring softly to herself, she half-closed her eyes, slender fingers tapping rhythmically against the tabletop.
"Interesting. Very interesting..."
Some time had already passed. The task Selene had assigned to the Astartes Third Black Templars Legion—constructing the garden world attached to the Empress' traveling palace—was proceeding in full swing.
Since it was to serve as the site of the imperial retreat, the military naturally could not simply open with orbital bombardment as a greeting. Diplomatic maneuvering backed by forceful deterrence was the primary approach. The former took precedence.
As one of the four most prosperous and environmentally superior nations in this world—and the one whimsically chosen by the Empress as the palace site—the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica had naturally become the focal point of the imperial delegation.
The entire nation had been thoroughly infiltrated.
The royal capital, major cities and towns, the Royal Guard, hereditary noble houses, the throne candidates—even the scandalous gossip and hearsay of minor nobles—had all been meticulously collected and compiled.
What Selene found most entertaining were the respective political philosophies of the five royal candidates.
It felt somewhat like a presidential campaign.
The knights, nobles, and bureaucrats aligning themselves with their preferred candidate were no different from the core party members of some campaign office.
The first.
Anastasia Hoshin.
Born in the slums of the Kararagi City-States, she rose step by step through sheer perseverance, accumulated wealth, and eventually became president of the Hoshin Company through outstanding business acumen.
An ordinary human, unable to use magic due to a congenital defect.
She has not explicitly stated a governing philosophy. Her reason for participating in the Royal Selection is to bring the kingdom under her control.
—Analyst's note: Individually weak, supported almost exclusively by the merchant class. Displays early capitalist tendencies. Estimated lowest probability of accession.
The second.
Felt.
Raised in the slums as an orphan and thief. Though supported by the strongest knight of the current era—the Sword Saint—and confirmed as a descendant of the previous royal family, recognized by the Dragon Tablet, she lacks refinement, is fiercely competitive, and possesses an abrasive temperament. She is openly disrespectful to nearly everyone. No special talents have yet been identified.
No stated political platform. Claims to despise nobles, knights, and the kingdom itself. If she becomes king, she intends to tear it all down.
—Analyst's note: A pitiable lucky girl not yet adapted to her status. Without the support of the Sword Saint lineage, despite her royal blood, she would likely be among the first eliminated.
The third.
Emilia.
A silver-haired half-elf. Rumored to closely resemble the Witch of Envy—one of the Witches of Sin who wrought great destruction in history—she is therefore feared and disliked by the populace. Her primary supporter is Roswaal, Margrave of the borderlands.
Her political philosophy: fairness, benevolence, and non-intervention. An idealist who hopes to create a nation where all people are equal.
—Analyst's note: Backed by a powerful noble controlling the military and administrative authority of the border regions. Considerable probability of success.
At this point, a smile curved Selene's lips.
"Ambitious. Self-reliant..."
The Kingdom of Lugunica.
Guarded by its ancient covenant with the Divine Dragon Volcanica, it had flourished for generations. War, plague, famine—every crisis had been averted under the dragon's protection.
Unfortunately, what sustains can also weaken.
Because of its excessive reliance on the covenant and its reverence for dragon lore, the nation's structure had grown fragile. Without the dragon, it could not stand independently. In the face of major crises, it would do nothing but seek aid from the dragon or from the prophetic Dragon Tablet.
In some superficial ways, this resembled the structure of the Sacred Selene Empire.
Of course, only superficially. The problems of Lugunica and those of the Empire were fundamentally different.
I wonder if those dutiful bureaucrats, forever anxious for the Empire's future, have noticed this issue...
Too much power concentrated in the Empress alone. Authority and prestige too irreplaceable.
As long as Selene remained, the pillar stood firm. Even if officials blundered, were dismissed, even executed—it mattered little.
But if Selene were gone...
Has anyone considered that?
Perhaps they had.
They simply dared not voice it. To speak such words within the Empire would likely invite a true—"Open the door, Inquisition!"
With a faint chuckle, Selene did not dwell further on the matter.
There was no need. That was a problem for her loyal ministers to ponder. They probably feared that one day she might grow bored and ascend, abandoning the Empire.
She turned the page.
The fourth.
Crusch Karsten.
Born of a distinguished noble house, head of the House of Karsten. Talented, honest, resolute. An exceptional leader with considerable prestige across all social strata of the kingdom.
Her ideal: to sever the kingdom's covenant with the Divine Dragon, discard excessive dependence upon it, and lead the people toward self-reliance, establishing Lugunica as a truly sovereign great power.
—Analyst's note: A capable pragmatist with both ability and pedigree. Barring unforeseen events, widely considered the most likely to win.
Selene's smile deepened.
Then she reached the final candidate—one highlighted with special emphasis.
Priscilla Barielle.
She had been marked by the Third Legion as the most likely victor?
Selene raised a brow. She had assumed the analysts would focus primarily on Crusch.
"Special attention to this 'Bloody Bride'..."
On the surface, she inherited everything from her elderly fiancé who died suddenly, along with the estates of seven former husbands—hence the epithet "Bloody Bride." Arrogant and unrestrained, bold and domineering, with a personality that brooked no equals.
Blessed with the so-called [Sun Blessing], granting various enhancements and extraordinary fortune during the day. Field investigations confirmed the effect: crops flourished unattended, orchards were free of pests, livestock untouched by plague. A natural production bonus.
Her ideology leaned toward absolutism—"I am the state"—centralized autocracy.
As Selene read on, realization dawned.
Ah.
She understood instantly.
A resemblance filter.
With a wry smile, Selene rubbed her chin.
Why had Priscilla been marked as high priority by the Empire?
Because she bore Selene's shadow.
No rumors of husbands dying, no inherited estates—everything Selene had gained was through conquest and usurpation—but in temperament and manifested blessing, this "Bloody Bride" did indeed resemble Selene during her millennium as the Empire's Grand General.
The same overbearing dominance. The same association with the sun. The same guarantee of prosperity and favorable weather within her domain. The same delight in making others bow.
Others might not see it, but Leiva's legion was one of the Empire's founding three. They would feel the déjà vu keenly.
Then came the concluding annotation:
Suspected bearer of this world's destiny. Favored by the sun. A monarch born of fate.
Selene exhaled softly.
Flattery by implication.
Not entirely wrong, perhaps.
Her gaze drifted back up, finally settling on the name Emilia.
"Hmm. From a purely superficial standpoint, she does seem like a supporting character... An idealist. That assessment fits."
As she murmured, her head slowly leaned back against the cushion.
"Imperial Investigator, shall we suspend the meal service?"
Seeing Selene reclining lazily while reviewing her documents, the goblin attendant Lilina—graceful and composed—signaled the servers to pause and spoke with a gentle smile.
"Once this round is finished, let the kitchen rest."
Selene waved dismissively.
"Yes."
Lilina lifted the hem of her fitted crimson robe and bowed before withdrawing.
As the banquet hall quieted, in stark contrast to the leisurely feast within, the courtyard outside roared with activity. Mobilization cries rang out unceasingly. Explosions of magicules echoed nearer and farther, until they blended into a continuous rumble.
"They've engaged the Falmuth army already."
Hearing the clamor merge into full battle, Selene raised a brow. Her hand paused mid-bite.
Thud.
She rose, snapped the folder shut, and descended the steps. Pushing open the balcony doors, she stepped forward and rested her hands behind her back, gazing toward the distant horizon—where bonfires and magical detonations painted the battlefield in flickering light.
She was in an excellent mood.
A leisurely journey. Fine food and drink. Leiva's palace project breaking ground.
And now this clash between the Demon Lord's Federation and the Kingdom of Falmuth—a rather unique welcome banquet.
After witnessing so many grand interstellar wars, the spectacle of goblins and humans, demonic aura and magicules, swords and spears, warhorses and direwolves—this cold-weapon collision possessed its own artistic charm.
Well—Edwin Webb's sale of firearms did slightly disrupt the aesthetic.
Extending her perception across the battlefield, Selene watched the round-headed goblin Gobta, knocked to the ground by several elite knights, suddenly pull out a Desert Eagle—famous even within the Empire—and shoot a knight squarely through the exposed chest.
Her expression turned faintly odd.
Elsewhere, an armored orc hefted a Gatling gun, ammunition box strapped to his back, unleashing a metallic storm through enemy ranks.
Though the firearms sold by Edwin were rudimentary, they were more than lethal to ordinary Falmuth soldiers when striking vital points. Their flesh had not evolved beyond that vulnerability.
Then—Boom!
A tremendous detonation rolled across the battlefield.
A black fireball expanded and accelerated, devouring all sound. Wherever it passed, nothing remained. Moisture evaporated. Surfaces melted smooth.
Rimuru had pierced directly into the enemy's central command and unleashed a wide-area conflagration.
Within the Falmuth main camp, Selene sensed the distinct spiritual fluctuation of another Otherworld visitor.
"This world certainly has no shortage of [Otherworlders] and [Summoners]..."
Those who crossed into this world often gained skills and magicules.
Summoners were beings brought forth through multi-day rituals performed by thirty or more mages. To prevent betrayal, curses could be engraved upon their souls.
Unfortunately for Falmuth, Selene had already sealed spacetime. Their practice of acquiring military assets through summoning rituals was now permanently cut off.
The Primordial Seven Daemons, the Seven Pillars of Primordial, the Ten Demon Lords, the most ancient Demon Lord—the Lord of Darkness [Guy Crimson]—surely sensed the shift in world laws.
How would they respond?
Selene was curious.
She did not conceal her presence. Nor the malice of her observation.
I wonder if any stubborn fool will come to reason with me.
As that thought stirred within her—
"Aaaaahhh—!"
A heart-rending scream rose from below the banquet hall walls—the three modern-day [Summoners] howling in agony as their voices faded to threads of breath.
Selene tilted her head, listening thoughtfully.
Tsk. Such treasures.
"Worlds like this—axis realms with buy-one-get-many temporal connections—often come bundled with countless spacetime junctions. The development value is hardly low..."
"Little Alyssa, have you finished the 'trace to origin' assignment yet?"
"Mmm... they're too fragile. Two are practically dead already! The third is pitifully weak—touch him with a bit of Honkai energy and he turns into a zombie. I have to keep them alive. It's such a hassle..."
"Hurry it up. I've got a new travel—cough—survey destination log updated here. A very interesting Royal Selection. You'll be interested."
...
Meanwhile, far across the boundless void beyond the jurisdiction of the Empire's First Legion, in the direction of the Third Legion's campaign.
An unnumbered frontier world.
Unaware that Empress Selene had temporarily visited Alex's First Legion territory, Leiva—the commander of the Black Templars and one of the Empire's three founding pillars—was deep in contemplation.
How, exactly, was he to construct from nothing a palace that would satisfy Her Majesty?
He glanced at the requirements again.
Perfectly preserve and showcase the primal fantasy-magic ecology of this otherworld—while embodying the Empire's majestic grandeur—and provide a residence suitable for the Empress' leisurely repose.
Leiva keenly felt the malice of the "client."
—
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