The sky city of Avant Heim, where the Eighteen-Winged Council resided.
In sending Raiden Mei and Raven to contact her tardy superior, Selene had now entered a separate world apart from Disboard—a world belonging to the Flügel. Wherever her eyes wandered, everything was filled with unreal objects.
Scarlet, twisted trunks, roots, and vines served as the very pillars holding up this space. Even the thinnest roots were dozens of meters thick.
There were no branches or leaves upon them. Instead, there were deep blue magical cubes.
These crystalline substances connected to the body of the Phantasma Avant Heim shimmered with a faint violet under the fluorescence emitted by the Spirit Corridors, swaying with a rhythm like breathing, giving an impression of serenity.
From Selene's perspective, the entire space floated in midair, vast quantities of cubes stacked together in chaotic complexity to serve as 'footholds' in the traditional sense.
Even the dwellings of the Flügel lacked doors and windows as humans understood them. All that existed were massive tree-like trunks and crystalline leaves.
But this was natural—given their special traits, the Flügel could freely traverse space. The absence of ground rendered conventional forms of movement meaningless, replaced entirely by their flight and teleportation abilities.
Any visitor without the ability to fly would find themselves utterly helpless here.
It was no wonder the Flügel were so proud, defying heaven, earth, and even the Old Deus—regarding all beings as prey, and the world as their hunting ground.
They truly were favored by creation.
Selene narrowed her eyes.
Vast amounts of data shimmered in faint-blue projections all around. Until now, Selene had been toying with them idly, moving them with her hands out of amusement.
Amid the clutter of these scattered projections, one region had already been arranged neatly by the Flügel and presented before Selene.
Each Flügel possessed her own treasury of knowledge. Even though the 'Book Sharing Act' had been forcibly passed by Azril some ten years ago, the ratio of opposition to support had been four to four.
For a long-lived race, six thousand years of accumulated knowledge was too vast, too tangled—far from something that could be organized within a decade.
Especially with many dissenters and countless Flügel still slumbering.
And here, before Selene, stood the very image of that opposition.
Selene cast a sidelong glance at the girl standing loyally at her side like a faithful hound.
Jibril.
She had left Avant Heim in protest against Azril's enforcement of the 'Book Sharing Act.' Later, she defeated the previous king of the human kingdom Elkia in a game and claimed the Elkia National Library, where she had resided ever since.
Indeed, this one's temper was fiery. When faced with the Empire's auxiliary forces sent to receive Elkia's library, her lofty arrogance and sharp, disdainful words…
They instantly ignited the fury of the Imperial Army, even that of the Astartes warriors.
Even someone as composed as Raiden Mei, the perfect noble lady (unlike Kiana, Mei was usually calm), was driven to rage by Jibril.
At the mention of the Domain of Sanction, she was ready to cut down this 'mangy bird.'
Both sides were truly ready to unleash.
Had Selene arrived even moments later, the kingdom of Elkia might have already been reduced to ashes.
The Flügel—their strength was indeed real.
Selene had to admit, leaving aside the Empire's conventional forces, even most of the Astartes (Honkai-enhanced versions) were insufficient to handle these 'god-slaying weapons'—creatures that could take nuclear strikes head-on, fly, fire light cannons, and devastate battlefields single-handedly.
Excluding powerful individuals or senior officers of the Empire, without deploying star-destroying armaments or colossal war machines—
Purely in terms of individual combat power, and organized as military units, there were very few forces in the entirety of the Sacred Selene Empire capable of defeating the Flügel outright.
Selene's meticulously crafted Imperial Guard and the Sisters of Silence were among the very few legion-level units capable of defeating the Flügel outright.
A single unit of the Guard suppressing an entire star system was no empty boast.
They were the strongest legion under Selene's command, without question.
As for the Flügel's specific role, Selene was still pondering.
But one thing was certain: she had no intention of entrusting them to anyone else. Like the Imperial Guard and the Sisters of Silence, they would fall under her direct command.
Their extraordinary hunger for knowledge… perhaps guardians of the Grand Imperial Archives? Protectors of the Imperial Library?
Or maybe—personal battle maids?
Or even… the Third Sequence of the Imperial Guard: the Battle Angel Legion?
The Guard themselves still had shortcomings. Reinforcement was needed.
The structural traits of the Flügel offered Selene new inspiration.
Her slender fingers tapped at the void as her thoughts began to scatter…
"Hm? Your Majesty?"
Seeing her Divine Empress suddenly fall silent, the girl known among the other fifteen sentient races as an Exceptional Unit floated up before her.
"Your Majesty, is there something Jibril can do for you?"
She wore a sweet smile, devoid of hostility, clasping her hands to her chest in a sycophantic gesture.
She seemed eager to cling to Selene's arm affectionately, yet at the sight of the Suniaster, gnawed down to its last fragment, she faltered in fear.
Selene's habit of biting into the Suniaster as if it were candy… that—that was even more like a 'God of War' than their creator, Artosh.
That beating in Elkia… it had hurt far too much.
Surely, I didn't alter or tamper with her personality or mode of thought, did I?
Selene realized—Jibril was the hidden masochistic type.
Watching Jibril fidget between desire and hesitation, Selene laughed heartily. After popping the last fragment of the Suniaster into her mouth, she stepped forward and began to ruffle her like one would roughhouse a puppy.
I, Selene, am approachable.
"Waaah… hhhsss… Your Majesty's touch… heeheehee…"
Selene sweatdropped. This girl had the potential to become a hopeless pervert.
Not long ago, she had faced Raiden Mei with such ferocity. When Selene appeared holding the Suniaster, she had shown such bloodthirst, defiant even in despair—
A look that said, Fine, I can't defeat you, but I'll die splattering your blood regardless.
And then…
Jibril had been reduced by Selene to fragments, her body crushed below the head. Again and again, Selene used the Suniaster's power to repair her, only to break her once more. Repeated, endless.
What do you do with a disobedient brat?
Master Selene's methods were guaranteed to work.
Countless brushes with the brink of death led her to perceive the truth. The Honkai webway gnawed at the Spirit Corridors connected to Jibril, devouring her through destruction and rebirth, until it fully replaced them.
Crushed without hope of resistance, Jibril's attacks grew weaker and weaker…
Some strange connection bound her to the being known as the Goddess of Finality. Her instincts seemed to call her, urging her to seek it, answer it, even submit to it…
Naturally, everything that Jibril contained began to change, subtly, imperceptibly.
In the end, at Elkia National Library, before the Imperial Army's landing forces, human citizens, the embassies of other races, and their entourages—Jibril knelt.
For the Empire's auxilia, auxiliary forces, and Luna Wolf warriors, it was nothing unusual. In the Great Crusade, such scenes unfolded constantly. Another lost lamb had simply returned to the fold, bathed in the light of the Divine Empress.
To those who recognized the times, the Empire was always merciful. She would be granted merciful forgiveness.
But the true shock was this—The Empress herself had arrived?!
The Empress, at the front lines!
What were they waiting for? Charge!
Waaaaaaaagh!!!
Compared to the thunderous roar of the Imperial side, the races with embassies in the human kingdom of Elkia were left in sheer shock.
Jibril—who was she?
As the last Flügel created personally by the War God Artosh, a god-slaying weapon—the Exceptional Unit—she once fought alongside her kin against the higher races of Dragonia, Gigants, and even the Old Deus themselves. Together, they slew nineteen Gigants, three Dragonia, and three Phantasma.
On her own, she had even defeated one Phantasma, one Dragonia, and one Gigant—races ranked higher than her own. (Though in return, Jibril suffered one hundred and sixteen wounds so severe they required full restoration techniques.)
To the lower races, she was a true natural disaster!
And now—she knelt. Among the proud Flügel, she was one of the proudest—and yet she knelt!
Jibril's submission marked the premature end of the conflict in the Elkia region.
Under Selene's command, Jibril did not hesitate. With joy, she opened the path back to Avant Heim for her new master.
Selene gazed at the girl giggling foolishly under her caress.
In a sense, she was the first Flügel Selene had personally transformed.
The geometric halo above her head rotated, scattering faint crimson particles. Each time her hair swayed, it reflected like a prism, revealing hazy images of countless red-and-white Honkai Beasts beneath the mirror's surface.
More than a god-slaying weapon of the War God, Jibril now bore traits of Selene's pseudo-Herrscher.
How does it feel, to go from the final unit to the first?
Watching the teary-eyed girl staring at her with nothing but devotion, Selene couldn't resist flicking her forehead.
Was this really the heartless angel of extermination?
The corner of Selene's lips curved upward. She felt joy—or perhaps… amusement?
Artosh, your weapon is quite useful. I'll be taking her.
The arrogance, the bloodlust, the battle-mania of the Flügel—these things were irrelevant.
Selene didn't dislike them.
At that moment—
"Waaah! Drool! Jibril, what are you doing?! Your drool! How disgraceful! Utterly disgraceful!"
Clutching a compiled roster of the Flügel, Azril pointed furiously at Jibril, gnashing her teeth—though was that perhaps mixed with a trace of envy?
In an instant, Azril teleported, pinned down her younger sister, and apologized: "Your Majesty, forgive Jibril's shameful display. I swear, the Flügel are a noble and powerful race. We will not disgrace you."
Startled by her foolish elder sister's outburst, Jibril—still dripping with drool and half-dazed—suddenly panicked and wiped her mouth.
"Your Majesty, I—I apologize. I was careless."
"Enough, Jibril. I do not fault you."
Taking Azril's roster, Selene cast an interested glance at a particularly high branch beneath which hung, prominently adorned with ribbons, the pure head of a Dragonia.
The hobby of collecting the heads of prey—what a peculiar trait.
Selene mused aloud: "At the end of the Great War six thousand years ago, the head of that Ex-Machina—does it still remain?"
"Which one?"
Jibril scratched at her bangs, eyes alight with intelligence.
The end of the Great War was far too broad—she had collected many heads from many races.
"Hm?!" Selene narrowed her eyes, drawing out the sound.
Instantly, Jibril's mind shifted into focus.
"Ohhh, the cowardly Ex-Machina, right? Yes, rare indeed. That battle nearly broke me. Though I won in the end, out of respect for my opponent, I preserved her final remains."
"Bring them."
A simple command.
"Yes! Uuu… Your Majesty, don't be angry. Jibril will grow smarter…"
"Ha…"
Selene sighed softly, amused. Wasn't she supposed to be intelligent? The moment she submitted, she turned into a 'fool.'
I preferred your sharp wit when you were defiant.
Now, let's see… Tsk, the Flügel casualties truly were severe.
Flipping through the roster of surviving Flügel, Selene could almost envision the scene after the War God's fall, when the leaderless remnants despaired and slew themselves en masse.
Written by Azril herself, stroke by stroke, the roster contained not only the names of those who had survived to this day, but also the names of every Flügel ever born—along with the time and cause of death.
At the end of the ancient war, Artosh had gathered the strength of all Flügel to unleash the Heavenly Smite, fusing it into a single Godly Smite. As a result, the entire race was left weakened, and the Ex-Machina seized the chance to slaughter more than half.
Each Flügel had to be crafted personally by Artosh. Even at their peak, their numbers barely exceeded one thousand.
First came the massacre by the Ex-Machina. Then, with Artosh's fall, many lost the will to live and followed him in suicide. Less than a third remained—teetering on extinction.
She was truly unwilling.
Every word spoke of bitter regret. Selene's gaze fell upon Azril, kneeling before her.
After their defeat in the Great War, to stop the Flügel from killing themselves, Azril had lied—claiming that Artosh's final command to her, "When I fall, seek the reason for our defeat," was in fact a command to the entire race.
Only then was the wave of suicides halted. Their post-war obsession with knowledge likely stemmed from this as well.
As if piercing her heart, Selene spoke the reply Azril had yearned for but never received in six millennia:
"Azril, if you still have the remains of the dead Flügel, bring them forth. I am willing to give them another chance."
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