"We already have collaborators in almost every major city," reported Vulpes, looking me straight in the eye. "While the slave collar campaigns continue, the situation remains stable. It's been effective in keeping the population subdued. As long as we keep them blind, we should complete the process by year's end. By then, nearly all NCR territory will be emptied of useful life. Only our Enclave allies will remain, now emerging from hiding across the Republic."
I watched him in silence for a moment, nodding slightly.
"What about the Brotherhood?" I asked.
Vulpes tilted his head, his tone barely concealing contempt.
"They've sealed themselves inside their bunker and have rejected all attempts to negotiate a surrender. They're more stubborn than the other Brotherhood chapters we've encountered. We've already started pumping nerve gas through their ventilation systems. It's only a matter of time before those shelters become mass graves. Tell me, Gaius… how long do the oxygen filters in power armor last?"
"Seventy hours, give or take, before needing replacement. Assuming they have spares stored, they might hold out a bit longer… but not much. Just long enough to die fully aware," I replied, stretching slowly.
"Perfect," Vulpes said, calmly folding his arms.
"So then… what reward has Picus requested for his flawless infiltration of the NCR?" I asked.
"Just one thing," Vulpes answered, tone unchanged. "He wants us to hand over the profligate Cassandra Moore. Apparently, he has personal matters to settle with her… and intends to do so thoroughly. He's asked for nothing else."
"Simple," I murmured. "Granted."
I rose from my seat and walked to the reinforced window overlooking the city's reconstruction. Slave columns marched by, dragging materials, pushed forward by taskmasters wielding electric whips. It was the rhythm of the new California.
"We'll bring several hundred thousand slaves from Oklahoma to repopulate the territory," I continued. "And I'll begin retiring some of our injured legionaries. Those veterans will be essential."
I turned back to Vulpes.
"We'll found new towns—entire settlements built atop the ashes of the Republic. And they'll be placed in loyal hands. We need a stable, obedient demographic base. I'll discharge twenty thousand of my men. Lanius will contribute sixty thousand more. Malpais will provide another twenty thousand. With that, we'll have a permanent legionary foundation: hardened men, loyal, tested—who will keep control over the massive slave population soon to arrive."
Vulpes nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.
"You may go, Vulpes," I said, not looking up as I moved on to other pending reports.
In the early months of the war, I had authorized an experimental naval operation. I wanted to test the real capabilities of the ships built by Will Faster's men. The mission was simple: capture a series of minor islands under NCR control, sparsely defended. A low-risk deployment. A trial.
They never reached their destination.
No combat was recorded. No distress calls were transmitted. No enemy reported.
For a while, I assumed they'd simply failed—intercepted by a remnant force, massacred, lost at sea.
But when captured NCR records revealed they, too, had no knowledge of the attack…
Something shifted.
No naval alerts. No battles detected. Just debris.
Chunks of steel. Indistinct, unidentifiable remains. That was all the tides returned to shore.
I accepted the inevitable: they had all died. To something. Something that didn't speak. Something that left no survivors.
And that thought unsettled me.
Even now, I struggle to admit it.
On land, I can imagine a thousand ways to annihilate an enemy. Ambushes. Psychological warfare. Logistical strangulation. Open extermination. But the sea… is something else.
The sea conceals. The sea swallows. The sea has no borders.
I began to wonder what horrors might have formed in its depths after centuries of radiation, mutation, and abandonment. I had seen deformities on the coast—translucent-skinned amphibians with double jaws and eyeless sockets. What kind of monster lurks deep below? A carnivorous whale ten meters long? A radioactive squid that could crush an entire ship?
For the first time in a long while, I doubted.
Even with the full might of the Legion at my command, I would hesitate to send a hundred thousand men to drown—devoured by a formless beast that can't be fought with gladius or shotgun.
For days, the idea consumed me.
How do you conquer a sea infested with abominations?
How do you cross an ocean that won't let anything move across its surface?
And if, one day, we reconquer this entire continent… how do we reach Europe? Or Asia? Air travel was an option, but if any state still stood… how could we sustain a supply chain with planes alone?
It seemed impossible.
Until a set of blueprints crossed my desk. Old. From the Enclave.
FEV Curling-13.
One of the Enclave's final solutions. A project designed for the total genocide of any form of humanity they deemed impure. This variant of the Forced Evolutionary Virus didn't enhance the host or grant strength. It brought only destruction.
Minimal exposure triggered uncontrollable cellular mutation. Cells forced to replicate under a biologically incompatible structure. The result was immediate: total organ failure. Death. No exceptions. No treatment. No reversal.
It was calibrated specifically for human glycoproteins. That's why it didn't affect animals.
But that… can be changed.
Nothing stops me from rewriting its genetic structure. Nothing prevents me from widening its target—so it no longer distinguishes man from beast or mutant. Let it attack all living cells equally. Let no creature breathe without paying the price.
And then I found what changed everything.
The vaccine.
The Enclave developed it in parallel. Effective. It had been designed to protect their entire military and scientific personnel if Curling-13 were ever deployed. Once administered, the bearer was fully immune.
Release Curling-13 by air.Distribute the vaccine—limited, exclusive—only to the Legion.
Everything else… dies.
Mutated survivors. Radioactive clans. Twisted beasts. Contaminated animals. Ghouls, supermutants, degenerate cults… anything that still moves in the ruins.
Purged.
A new silence would cover the Earth. Not a dead world. A clean one.
And when nothing remains—when the last abominations writhe beneath a sun with no mercy—we will open The Nursery.
Inside, they preserved full genetic samples of nearly every species known before the Fall. Pure DNA. Original fauna. Stored seeds. Species that haven't walked the Earth in over two hundred years.
From there… we will rebuild.
No...No. That would be too much. Even for me.
To destroy all life on the planet would be an excess that not even history could justify. The cost would be incalculable. The arrogance—unbearable. The right thing, the logical thing… would be to limit its reach. Modify the virus to act only in marine environments. Deploy it in oceanic zones. Let it kill all aquatic creatures corrupted by radiation, clearing the way for us to move beyond the continent.
Sooner or later, the Legion will conquer everything to the north, to the south, and to the east. And when that happens—when no real enemies remain—internal conflicts will begin. They always do. But if we open naval routes to other continents, if we turn the seas into safe corridors, we won't need civil wars to keep the flame alive.
Only an external enemy keeps an empire united.
Curling-13, used as a scalpel across the oceans, will clear the path.
And in time, we will release new species from The Nursery to restore marine ecosystems. One by one. Biome by biome.
In the following years, I continued my work as administrator of the Legion's empire—founding cities, building infrastructure, slowly modernizing the Legion… until the great day arrived.
Caesar died of old age.
The days of the old Caesar had come to an end. His body finally gave in to the relentless passage of time. He died with a smile on his face… completely at peace. The Legion, and every legionary, mourned his death. Mars had claimed his son. And all campaigns were halted until the matter of succession was resolved.
After a week of legionaries weeping for their beloved leader, succession became just a formality. For years, I had already served as Caesar's heir. My face was on the currency. Caesar had taken his time to ensure every new centurion and every new legate swore their loyalty to me—as if I were him.
It all became official the day Lucius broke the seal on the imperial testament.
Inside, without hesitation, it confirmed what everyone already knew:Gaius would be the new Caesar.
The name I had invented in my youth, the face I had shaped in the shadows—were left behind.
I took the name of my adoptive father.
And I became Caesar.
With Caesar's death, I was finally free to fully realize the administration of the Legion's empire.
I used every shred of authority I had been given. I began systematically integrating heavy machinery and automated units into various levels of logistics and construction. Civilian robots, management terminals, and surveillance automatons became extensions of our operational structure. Efficiency soared—though I never made the mistake of relying entirely on machines.
This provoked some dissent from the most traditionalist factions—those still clinging to a purist vision of the Legion. But they lacked real strength. The surveillance network I had built over the years—a constant system of observation fed by informants and undercover agents—allowed me to detect every move, every suspicion, before it became a threat.
Dissent was anticipated.Obedience was imposed.
Expansion continued without interruption.
The legions advanced north, east, and south. Entire columns of soldiers crossed valleys, mountains, and deserts—crushing all resistance with a mix of overwhelming strength and flawless logistics. The blend of discipline, technology, and tactical supremacy left no room for prolonged wars or negotiations.
Each new region conquered was absorbed, reorganized, and set to work in the imperial machine without delay.
There were no more borders—only territory to administer.
The expansion did not stop.
Year after year, new lands were subjugated, reorganized, and turned into legionary provinces. The old nations vanished, leaving nothing behind but ruins and dust. Cities with Latin names rose on the bones of extinct republics. Aqueducts spanned old mountain roads. Imperial roads stretched like steel veins, connecting what had once been fragmented into a single web of order.
Maps began to lose their meaning.
They no longer spoke of countries. They no longer showed frontiers. Only regions assigned to my legates. Zones of responsibility. Coordinates with Roman designations. Each line no longer marked a nation… but a province.
And a time will come—perhaps soon—when I look at a map of the world…
And I will no longer see the world.I will see only Rome.
One land.One language.One Caesar.
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with this I finish this short fanfic,now I will dedicate to finish my other fanic and start working together with my friend another fanfic,I hope you enjoyed this short story.