Before long.
Under AI control, Leroia's red sports car smoothly pulled into a top-level slot in the commercial district's multi-story parking structure. A soft hum came from the magnetic locking system, firmly securing the vehicle in place.
She opened the door, the heel of her boot striking the alloy floor with a crisp echo.
The parking lot was near capacity.
Various hover vehicles were stacked densely like a beehive, with family-use multi-functional pods making up the majority.
Some streamlined pods had cartoon stickers on the side panels—glowing asteroids, grinning interstellar ships, or chibi-style Imperial dragon emblems.
The air still carried the remnants of children's laughter, and with Leroia's extremely sensitive sense of smell, she could even catch the sweet scent of candy—clearly, many families had arrived earlier.
She looked up at the sky.
The azure dome overhead was divided into geometric sections by crisscrossing aerial traffic lanes. Sightseeing crafts marked with "Parent-Child Express" logos glided by, carrying laughter and joy.
Sunlight streamed through the glass curtain walls of the high-rises, reflecting flowing highlights on the car's paint.
As she passed through the connecting corridor, she noticed the walls' holographic screens were displaying festival announcements—
"In accordance with Article 55 of the Empire's Minor Welfare Act, all public facilities are free of charge today for children under 14. Accompanying parents receive double consumer points rebate."
Beneath the subtitles, live footage showed the zoo's gene resurrection exhibit and the lunar-themed amusement park. Children in interstellar uniforms were reaching out to touch genetically adjusted, docile baby triceratops through a force field.
Today was June 1st of Imperial Year 0055—Children's Day in the Human Empire, a public holiday for all children under 14 and their parents.
At this moment, however, Leroia was headed straight for her usual café.
As she entered through the automatic door, it was indeed packed.
Frosted floor-to-ceiling windows blurred the noisy exterior. The simulated chime and automated greeting triggered simultaneously as the doors opened: "Esteemed Member 0336, welcome. Your window-standing spot has been reserved."
The scent of roasted coffee beans and buttery desserts filled the air.
Young people gathered around floating tables, operating holographic interfaces. Parents with children occupied the circular sofa sections. A little girl stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the interstellar map projection on the table while her father scanned a QR code on the table's edge with his personal terminal.
Leroia selected her usual combo on the terminal's ordering interface:
Double espresso milkshake, extra caramel syrup, and four Portuguese egg tarts, topped with edible gold flakes.
Payment completed instantly.
She then leaned against the frosted glass wall to wait.
Her fingertip idly traced the cold surface, leaving behind fleeting trails of mist.
With senses and vision far beyond that of normal humans, Leroia could actually see clearly through the frosted glass.
Outside, colorful holographic billboards played recruitment videos for auxiliary forces. Street-cleaning robots were "sucking up" bits of holiday confetti, and further out, giant holograms displayed news that Universe-18 (StarCraft) had officially become an imperial stronghold and "industrial backyard" under the Iron Hand Legion's management.
A warm sensation spread through her chest.
She recalled the days centuries ago when she had scavenged for scraps in the shadows. Back then, many degenerates among vampires and werewolves saw their mutation as evolution, held contempt for humans, and even took pleasure in consuming human flesh.
But neither vampires nor werewolves truly needed human blood or flesh to survive. Livestock—pigs, sheep, cattle—could fully sustain "them."
Only the degenerates took pride in devouring humans.
It was the Emperor who tore apart the "cloud cover" and cast purified "sunlight" into every corner.
Bloodthirsty fiends were utterly eradicated. The wolf packs that preyed on children were turned to ash in the flames. Yet at the same time, hybrids like her—and many vampires and werewolves who had never harmed a human and sought to live virtuously—were given the chance for a new life.
"Order A04417 is ready."
A female elf server approached with a metal tray, placing Leroia's coffee and desserts one by one on the standing table beside her.
"Please enjoy\~."
As the elf departed and Leroia returned to the present from her thoughts, her gaze fell on the table.
The gold flakes on the egg tart shimmered like stardust under the lighting. The whipped cream on top of the milkshake formed rich swirls, clearly a "caloric bomb."
She lifted the drink and took a sip.
The cream melted on her tongue with a sweet, warming richness. At the same time, through the frosted glass, she gazed at a child fast asleep on his father's back, still clutching a plastic toy energy sword.
The sun of Imperial Year 55 shone equally on all citizens, as if centuries of darkness had never existed.
After finishing the milkshake and egg tarts, Leroia was finally "warmed up."
The metabolic engine of her hybrid body was always running at high efficiency. The refreshments were merely a prelude to the real feast. After all, her daily caloric requirement was many times that of an average person.
She then left the café, instantly engulfed by the tide of light and sound.
The elevated pedestrian walkway hovered hundreds of feet in the air. Below, traffic lights flowed like ribbons, interwoven with crisscrossing aerial rail lines.
She walked across a skybridge lined with glowing guide paths, her boot heels merging rhythmically into the "interstellar symphony" around her—
Electronic waves throbbed from cyberpunk-style storefronts, an elven harpist plucked strings on an open-air platform, and farther away, dwarves shouted rough sales pitches that vibrated the air.
A vivid tapestry of races and civilizations unfurled here.
A female merchant from Universe-17 (Star Wars), cloaked in iridescent feathered scales, brushed past pedestrians.
Several school-uniformed Twi'lek children darted by, their tendrils glowing faintly in excitement.
Leroia's exceptional senses captured endless details—from the pleasure pheromones emitted by Twi'lek cranial glands to the metallic tang from a dwarven forge.
She turned into the neon-lit dining district.
A familiar Chinese restaurant stood out under its glazed eaves, surrounded by giant holographic koi. To reach it, one had to pass through the famous alien tavern street.
The lighting here grew sultry. The air was saturated with alcohol, spices, and pheromones.
Holographic dancers in revealing costumes twirled on magnetic floating platforms. Outside a bar in baroque style, a scantily clad Twi'lek woman was handing out free cocktails emitting purple flames.
Just as Leroia quickened her pace through this sensory minefield, two young men—clearly college students—stumbled out of the 24/7 Zero Hour Bar.
Their eyes were dazed, steps unsteady, but not completely drunk.
One with slicked-back hair suddenly reached out in a half-hearted block and asked, "Hey, gorgeous! Care to join us for a round of special cocktails? We—"
Leroia paused.
Her silver hair shimmered under the neon, and her irises—amber outer ring with crimson inner ring—narrowed slightly in the shadows.
She glanced at the crooked academy emblem on his collar and immediately understood these boys' intent. However, they had clearly misjudged her age.
"Little boys," her voice carried a hint of wolfkin's low-frequency resonance, freezing the young man's drunken grin. "When I joined the expedition, you two probably weren't even embryos."
The boys instantly understood—Leroia was from one of the long-lived subhuman races.
But—
!!!
Instead of disappointment, they grew even more excited, their earlier fear forgotten.
One of them exclaimed, "Goddess! You haven't heard the saying? Wait—don't go!"
Leroia ignored the hormone- and alcohol-addled chicks, turned, and left.
The impact of her boots on the ground exuded pressure, forcing a Twi'lek bartender who tried to approach to stumble backward. The two young men behind her made a noisy racket of frustration and excitement, but were quickly drowned in another wave of electronic beats.
The closer she got to her destination, the stronger the Chinese cuisine's aroma became. The numbing spice of Sichuan pepper and the heat of chili pierced through the alien scents like a cultural anchor.
However—
BZZT—BZZT—!!
Just as Leroia was about to step into the familiar restaurant, the exclusive mobile terminal at her waist suddenly buzzed with a deep, urgent vibration.
The pulsing alert was distinct from regular messages. Even through clothing, it radiated an inescapable sense of urgency.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
She had set her device to Do Not Disturb before leaving, hoping to enjoy a brief respite on her rare day off.
For it to vibrate now, there was only one possibility—a forced-priority call from the military system.
Leroia drew a deep breath, reaching for the matte black device at her waist.
A golden Imperial insignia appeared on the surface. Upon verification, a semi-transparent communication screen was projected.
She tapped lightly—connection established.
"Commander," came a lieutenant's tightly controlled but tense voice. "The new spatial gate has opened. This time, His Majesty the Emperor has personally issued the order. The Glory Legion is to coordinate with the Recon Corps and the Mourner Company of the Blood Angels to conduct the initial integration of Universe-19."
The neon outside the restaurant shimmered through her silver hair, reflecting a flash of icy solemnity.
After a moment of silence, Leroia replied in a low voice, "Understood. Notify First Combat Company. Full assembly today at 1400 hours in front of Gate 19."
"Affirmative!" The officer saluted. The comm screen vanished, and the terminal returned to silence.
Leroia pursed her lips, gaze skimming over the delicious scent at the restaurant's entrance.
She had hoped to savor a rare lunch, but now had to refocus.
She stepped into the restaurant and ordered the simplest set meal—clearly planning to refuel her high-speed "metabolic engine" quickly in preparation for the coming mission.
Scene shift.
Outside New Akra City, Imperial Year 0055, in the palace's central zone.
Once a primeval jungle a century ago, this area had been fully transformed into a nexus linking various universes.
At this moment, the 19th spatial gate hovered silently within the ruins.
Its scale matched the others—still a massive 6 km x 6 km—like a giant mercury mirror embedded between reality and the void.
Its surface shimmered with pale white light, energy ripples pulsing like a living breath.
Each wave sent a deep rumble through the air, reminding all who approached that this was a gateway to the unknown.
Around it, crisscrossing maglev tracks sprawled like veins.
Countless transport shuttles, trains, and floating cargo bays moved in and out in orderly rhythm, carrying supplies and personnel.
It was as if the industrial lifeblood of the entire Empire was flowing into this new frontier through the gate.
The staging area before the gate was a different sight.
On the vast alloy platform stood rows of armored personnel carriers and heavy mechs, radiating an intimidating presence.
Hundreds of specialists in color-coded work uniforms collaborated with synths and terminators to calibrate equipment, stabilize energy, and check portal sensors.
The recon units had already gone ahead.
Numerous bio-scouts had entered the mirror-like light, trailing hair-thin wired tethers behind them.
Mechanical scouts, like silver beetles, filed into the depths of the gate. Soon, live footage would stream back to the screens above the staging zone.
Meanwhile, the Empire's banners fluttered in the wind on the far end of the zone.
The red-and-gold Glory Legion standard stood out on its alloy pole.
A thousand soldiers assembled in formation, their power armor reflecting the gate's pale light, their synchronized movements and cold steel presence forming a flood of iron.
The Mourner Company of the Blood Angels was also present.
Their armor was crimson and dark yellow, etched with ancient Chinese characters and flame motifs.
Though silent, their aura of restrained killing intent hung heavy in the air.
Opposite them, the Glory Legion radiated cold determination. The two forces standing side by side signaled an imminent campaign to expand the Empire's borders—and to face the unknown.
From afar, a figure approached.
It was Leroia.
Her stride was steady. Her silver hair danced in the wind, catching the gate's light like flames of frost.
The clang of her magboots on the alloy floor merged with the sounds of thousands around her, yet stood out with unmistakable clarity amid the rhythm.
The arrival of the Legion Commander was like a signal.
All soldiers of the Glory Legion instinctively straightened their backs.
Her gaze fell upon the silver mirror towering before her.
The unknown was calling—but her heart was calm as still water.
______
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