Clack, clack—
With synchronized, steady footsteps, soldiers clad in shell armor and light power armor followed their commanding officers closely. Their polished medals and ribbons gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight…
The royal palace of Mitras, previously struck by the sudden assault of the Sangheili warriors, had yet to be fully restored. The entrance hall remained a mess—broken glass and shattered furniture scattered everywhere. Torn carpets and ripped paintings lay in disarray, while the steel and leather boots of the soldiers crunched over the debris with a crack, crack.
Imperial guards standing motionless on both sides of the corridor snapped to attention as the Planetary Governor passed. A moment later, their expressionless faces turned sharply as they raised their weapons in perfect unison to salute. The clash of metal echoed crisply through the hall…
Clack!
Kiana now stood at the entrance of the palace hall.
She glanced around. What entered her sight was a somewhat "aged" and "dim" little palace. The furniture looked worn and old.
Too small, too plain. Not even comparable to her own room aboard the Hyperion battleship…
Wait… what am I even thinking?
This was a small kingdom with fewer than two million people under its direct rule. Even if they possessed such mystical power as the Titans, how grand could one expect their royal palace to be?
Kiana felt ashamed for her sudden thought.
Her smile faded as she walked cautiously through the polished wooden doors opened by the guards.
Hmm… no gilding, mediocre carvings, and none of those rare materials that screamed "precious" at first glance…
Had she been influenced by her elder sister Selene's fondness for enormous, extravagant, and shiny things?
Honestly, when Kiana first encountered Selene's flamboyant, old-fashioned taste, it had taken her quite some time to adapt.
Those colossal pillars that required dozens of people to encircle, the towering domes vast enough for the so-called "Colossal Titans" to host a sports meet inside, the palace complexes larger than continental landmasses…
Compared to the Sacred Selene Empire's excessive architectural grandeur, this modern, minimalist royal palace of a near-industrial civilization truly felt refreshing.
Aside from the throne, there were no luxuries in sight. The most valuable items were probably the books stacked on the long wooden table below the dais. Everything was spotless—the few decorations were tasteful, and several small potted plants stood quietly by the windowsill.
From the layout alone, one could glimpse the owner's personality.
"As far as I know… Lady Historia should be the last remaining person with royal Eldian blood—the Fritz lineage, correct?"
Indeed, the abilities of soul-searching and memory probing were exceptionally useful. With the intelligence backups extracted from Eren Yeager and Zeke Yeager's memories, Kiana had been well-prepared.
It might not have covered every detail, but it was more than enough to handle the initial stage of her work.
"Hereditary titles are out of the question, but ensuring Historia Fritz lives comfortably and peacefully for the rest of her life is well within our means. She's pregnant, after all—a queen expecting a child is a sensitive matter."
Without turning back, Kiana added, "Her treatment can be upgraded one level higher. As long as her demands aren't excessive, they may be granted."
"Yes, Governor!" the guard responded.
Her meeting with Historia Fritz had been brief and efficient.
There wasn't much to discuss. Kiana asked, and Historia answered.
Historia's demeanor was flawless—gentle, well-mannered, and elegant. Yet Kiana could clearly hear the undertone of restraint, humility, and even flattery in her words.
She didn't want to die. She wanted a better life for her child.
It was the selfishness of a mother.
She couldn't bear to let her unborn child suffer the same wandering, uncertain life she had endured as a child.
After finishing the formal questions regarding her treatment and abdication agreement, Kiana had allowed her to return and rest under her maid's support. A pregnant woman standing in the chilly autumn wind to greet her—it was not something Kiana had the heart to prolong.
"Thanking me… just because I'm gentler than the Punishers' usual brutality? Such gratitude… I truly don't deserve it."
Kiana wore her military cap, her expression calm and composed—none of the goofy air she usually had among friends. Her long, snow-white hair shimmered faintly in the slanting sunlight streaming through the arched stained-glass windows, a soft halo surrounding her.
She did not step onto the dais of the Mitras Palace throne. Hands clasped behind her back, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling on her own gloved hand as it picked up several folders from the table.
When had she started wearing gloves as a habit?
Was it to signify her rank? To appear refined? To blend in?
None of those.
Because my hands are stained with blood too…
Kiana knew clearly where she stood—she was no innocent.
From the moment she donned this uniform, she had become a direct participant in the Empire's Grand Crusade, a collaborator in its wars of conquest, and an extension of Selene's indomitable will.
In essence, she was no different from her comrades in the Punishers Legion.
Aside from her slightly gentler methods and her tendency to think further ahead, her hands were every bit as bloodstained as theirs.
"I'll keep walking forward—no matter how difficult this road becomes…"
Kiana drew a deep breath, her red lips parting slightly as she whispered soundlessly. A heavy, suffocating aura radiated from her delicate frame. Her deep blue eyes steadied, flashes of golden light flickering within them as she looked up toward the distant stars through the palace's towering dome.
"Order: seal the Mitras Palace. We move on. I need to restore stability to the territories under the Planetary Governor's jurisdiction as soon as possible. And tighten discipline among the troops."
Even if this island was large and resource-rich, it was clearly unfit to serve as the permanent seat of the Governor's Office.
"Yes, Governor!"
...
The Marleyan Empire.
An ancient nation restored a little over a century ago.
According to the original records, Marley had once been a powerful and prosperous kingdom. But around 1,820 years ago, it was destroyed by the Eldian Empire—those who, through their pact with the Devil of All Earth, gained the Power of the Titans and coveted Marley's riches and land.
It wasn't until a hundred years ago that, under the leadership of the great hero Helos, Marley overthrew the last King Fritz and successfully restored its sovereignty.
By seizing the Titans' power, Marley replaced the retreating Eldians of Paradis Island, claiming a new position of global dominance. For over half a century, it waged colonial wars using Titans as living weapons, subjugating nations and expanding its territories across continents.
A superpower spanning over 35 million square kilometers, Marley prided itself on its strong militaristic traditions.
Although the Marleyan upper echelons had grown overly dependent on Titan power—causing their science and technology to lag behind other nations—and despite their aggressive policies earning them the enmity of nearly every foreign power, Marley still remained a true global hegemon.
Perhaps the official history of Marley differed from the truth. According to Willy Tybur's speech in Liberio before his death at the hands of the Attack Titan, the end of the "Great Titan War" and the liberation of the world from Eldian rule had not been achieved by Marley's hero Helos or the Tybur family, but rather by King Karl Fritz himself.
Marley was merely the fortunate heir—benefiting from a benevolent king's self-imposed exile and inheriting the ashes of the fallen Eldian Empire.
But who cared?
The Sacred Selene Empire certainly didn't.
The Empire couldn't care less about their endless feuds, their tangled webs of "true" and "false" histories. The Empire annulled them all.
Study history? Marleyan history? Absurd.
Go study The Words of the Empress, The Hymn of the God-Emperor, A Brief History of the Millennium Empire, The Complete Founding History of the Sacred Selene Empire, Punishers Legion Campaign Chronicles…
...
Eldian Concentration Camp—Liberio.
Screams, shouts, and cries filled the air. Amid the chaos and noise, several armored vehicles and humanoid tactical frames stood parked at the entrance to the walled camp.
The setting sun cast a deep red glow over the billowing smoke hanging low above the town. Blood-red light bathed the panicked masses in the square, painting their faces with a shadow named fear.
The night here was no longer quiet, and the air no longer fresh. The stench of burning and the metallic tang of blood filled every breath.
Beneath the brim of the golden double-headed eagle emblem, several officers of the Imperial Auxiliary Forces leaned against a tank, glancing over the classified documents displayed on their tactical terminals. One of them pulled a cigarette from a metal case, lit it, and took a long drag.
"Pah… contradictory histories, foolish kings. One incompetent general dooms an army; one inept monarch ruins a nation."
"Pitiful Marleyans, miserable Eldians… After reading the truth behind your so-called history, I can't help but feel proud. How fortunate I am to be born in such a great Empire, basking in the eternal radiance of the Divine Empress."
"Preliminary estimates suggest that over three million Eldians were held in the Liberio concentration camp… and there are dozens more like it across Marley—and even within the Middle Eastern Coalition."
"They took fewer than a million across the sea to escape, then swore off war entirely. Didn't that foolish king ever consider what would happen to the people he left behind?" one officer sneered.
"His 'freedom,' not our concern. Honestly, the more idiots like him, the better."
"Hahaha, agreed!"
Such was the efficiency of the Imperial military. With the army-wide distribution of the psychic interface known as the Mind Resonator, combined with advanced memory extraction and recording devices, the Empire's forces had already uncovered every secret Marley and Eldia tried to hide—including those within the minds of captured Intelligent Titans such as Eren and Zeke.
All classified, organized, and disseminated throughout the military.
Know your enemy, know yourself, and you will never falter.
This was the Empire's standard protocol. Every garrisoned soldier was expected to know every detail about the colonial world under their jurisdiction.
"Sir, this is the roster of the concentration camp's detainees…"
The Marleyan Security Bureau's senior officer—a middle-aged man in a blue military coat and dark cap—gulped nervously as sweat dripped from his brow to the tip of his nose. He dared not wipe it away.
"Hmph. Filth. You should consider yourselves lucky—to have faced such a foolish opponent."
The Auxiliary officer brushed past him without another glance. The man bowed deeply, not daring to move even a step.
Those who resisted were already dead.
Not far away, the ground was drenched in red, resembling crushed watermelons—but the scent was not sweetness, only iron and rot. The "rinds" scattered across the square were not fruit peels, but shredded corpses—twisted faces, blood pouring from every orifice.
Imperial Auxiliary soldiers laughed as they dragged men by the neck and women by the hair, shoving them onto the corpse-strewn plaza. The clicking of rifles being chambered echoed sharply.
General Müller, Admiral Roger Burt, Lieutenant General Larry Walter, Colonel Shawn Ward… once towering figures of the Marleyan Empire—now reduced to livestock awaiting slaughter.
And to die here, in the very Eldian concentration camp they once oversaw—such poetic justice.
The captured Security Bureau officer clenched his eyes shut in despair.
"Open your eyes."
The Auxiliary officer's cold voice made him flinch, sweat soaking his collar.
A cruel smile tugged at the officer's lips as if something amusing had just occurred to him.
"You. Do the execution."
"I… y-yes, sir…"
...
Rumble—!
"Eldians to the left for registration! Non-Eldians, proceed through the right passage!"
In the camp district, an Auxiliary officer walked at the head of a mixed formation of Sangheili warriors and Servant troops, stepping casually atop the toppled head of a massive statue of the Marleyan hero Helos.
"Keep moving! Slowly, now. Don't shove. No panic, no chaos."
The crowd fell into a terrified silence.
"Sir, when will the Governor arrive? When can we become subjects of the God-Emperor and gain citizenship?"
One Marleyan official, who had surrendered early and eagerly, asked the supervising officer in a trembling voice, trying to sound humble.
"Wait," the officer replied with a faint smile, before resuming his inspection of the records and the search for any remaining rebels.
"Keep your formation. No pushing, no rushing."
Moments later, another thunderous boom erupted. From one corner of the camp, a plume of fiery smoke burst skyward as an explosion tore through a building. Shattered glass littered the ground as Imperial soldiers, weapons at the ready, charged forward. A storm of gunfire followed—the dull thuds of bullets striking walls, the sharp crack of ricochets, children's cries, and the agonized screams of the wounded.
One bloodied body after another was hurled out like discarded sacks.
This was the price of disobedience.
Without so much as glancing at the carnage, the supervising officer continued his work, utterly unmoved.
Though the Imperial occupation forces, under Kiana's orders, tried their best to play the part of "liberators," the truth was undeniable—they were conquerors, through and through.
There was no need to disguise it, no need to beautify it. They had come to expand the Empire's borders, to spread the Divine Empress' will, to claim glory and merit through conquest. And to them, these natives—who had yet to earn Imperial citizenship—were not people.
Just livestock. Just numbers in a workforce.
The only reason the cannons hadn't fired yet was because Kiana had given strict, repeated orders to restrain themselves. But if someone still refused to comply—well, should they spare them for the holidays?
"Come on, men! Put your backs into it—the Governor will be arriving soon to inspect our work! This will be the planetary capital, so make sure not a single rebel remains! Clean it up!"
"For the Empire! For the Empress!"
Indeed, Kiana's first term as Planetary Governor would be a long and arduous one.
She would have her hands full.
...
Somewhere high above the sky, a crimson flash streaked across the firmament. The stars rippled like water… and then, as if nothing had happened, the heavens fell silent once more.
—
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