Across the fortified expanse of Dr. Dew's high command, deep beneath the layered security of sensor-blanketing force fields and matter-reinforced walls, a silence hung in the air. It was the silence of calculated tension, a prelude to planning, where every mind in the room weighed hard truths against harsher futures. Dr. Dew stood with arms folded at the head of the central strategy platform, the faint glow of the room's holographic display outlining his features in flickering blue. Gathered around him were Leonardo da Vinci, Paracelsus, Celeste Starfire Cassidy, Nikola Tesla, and several senior synth-commanders. The room was sealed tight. External communications jammed. This conversation wasn't for public ears.
The data flickering above them painted a grim mosaic—spy drone footage, intercepted vox chatter, and synthetic rats bearing compressed drives with decoded transmissions. The Imperium of Man, the galaxy-spanning regime that they had come into contact with only recently, was far more complex and dangerous than expected. They weren't just another government. They were a theocratic, militarized machine that thrived on war, xenophobia, and brutal conformity.
"They call it the Imperium of Man," Da Vinci said thoughtfully, adjusting the projection to highlight known structure points: Ecclesiarchy nodes, known forge worlds, major segmentum capitals. "A hierarchy so vast it eclipses even the most bloated Earth bureaucracies from the pre-Fall era. But what concerns me most is not their structure. It's their ideology."
Dr. Dew didn't look up. "We confirmed the use of forced compliance. They enslave alien species, treat mutants like walking filth, and hunt down artificial intelligences without remorse. The Mechanicus calls it tech-heresy."
Celeste clicked her tongue, arms crossed over her duster. "Ain't no reasoning with folks who think circuitry's a sin. They'd string me up for just existing, same with Nova Kids, Glitch, even the T-Dolls."
Tesla remained silent for a moment before offering a precise observation. "The majority of their technological advancement stagnated centuries ago. Their FTL travel is based on a transdimensional plane they call the Warp—unpredictable, corrosive, and home to what their records describe as 'daemonic entities.' They don't travel through hyperspace. They sail through madness."
"Speaking of madness," Paracelsus interjected, his voice low, "our synth-animal scouts intercepted… rituals. Worship. Sacrifice. The Imperium condemns Chaos cults, but ironically, their practices and punishments carry the same obsessive zeal."
Dr. Dew changed the display. Now, it showed what they'd recently decrypted: warp theory. Chaotic tides of emotion, belief, and suffering creating a psychic ocean that connected all sapient thought—except, their city was immune. Entirely so.
"The warp," he said at last, "is this universe's answer to mana. A dimension of pure emotion, psychic power, and… hell. Demons live there. Literal demons. Our city is shielded. The warp can't touch us here, not directly. We've theorized this is due to overlapping Isu technology and anti-psionic latticework embedded in our foundational systems. That's why the Imperium's psykers feel nothing. No whispers. No feedback. Just silence."
Tesla turned slightly, his arms behind his back. "And silence terrifies them more than noise. It disrupts their paradigm."
"What do we do?" Celeste asked flatly. "We're in the eye of a storm now. If they dig too deep, we might not be able to lie our way out."
"We prepare," Dr. Dew said. "More than we have before. We take what we've learned and move to phase two. I'm greenlighting Project Ascendant."
The room fell still. Only Tesla smiled, as though he'd been waiting for those words.
Da Vinci stepped forward. "Then we'll begin. I'll prepare the augmentation chambers and optimize the integration protocols."
Dr. Dew keyed in an override. The floor below them lit up and shifted, revealing the full holomap of the fusion project. Koh-I-Noor technology. Metal Gear exo-components. Nikke AI cores. Detroit android neurology. Nier's modular flexibility. Punishing Gray Raven's adaptive combat instincts. Girls' Frontline's tactical network integration. All of it.
"We'll build the first of the Ascendants—starting with volunteers," Dew said. "But we'll do it right. No mind control. No conversion. No robbing them of humanity. Every part will amplify who they already are."
"Who volunteered?" asked Paracelsus.
"Bianca," Dew replied. "And she's already in prep."
Down in the augmentation wing, Bianca Alter stood at the center of a suspended platform. She wore only a simple bodysuit. Calm. Resolute. The artificial sun above her shimmered against her silver-blonde hair as chamber walls closed around her. The machine began.
Her bones were reinforced with magnetically stabilized metal alloys sourced from Metal Gear frames. Her muscles layered with Nikkes' artificial fiber, capable of superhuman tension and recoil compensation. Her nervous system was grafted with T-Doll fast-response software, and her sensory map was updated with Detroit-tier perceptive logic. From Nier came reactive adaptability. From Isu technology, enhancements that bled into her weapons.
Her bow—now reconstructed—could fold into an Isu plasma glaive, channeling targeted destruction through gravitational implosion. Her sword merged the high-frequency design of Raiden's blade, protonic inversion from Fallout, and the nano-reactive systems of Excalibur's memory-encoded structure. It pulsed with layered energy fields, able to cleave through time-dilated barriers.
By the time the chamber opened, Bianca was something more. Something greater. She stepped out silently, each step causing the floor beneath her to resonate—not from weight, but sheer kinetic compression.
"She's ready," Da Vinci whispered.
Dew nodded once. "One person. One army."
Later that night, Dr. Dew and his team watched from a high vantage point as the fusion-tested Titans came online—armored behemoths of power armor, Isu reactor cores, and Metal Gear artillery, shaped like walking knights of ancient Earth myth. Each one towered over the plaza, engines humming with restrained potential.
Tesla ran diagnostics on the central core's interface. "Give it six months," he said, "and we'll be able to deploy Ascendant units and Knight-Titans on planetary scale."
"And when the Imperium eventually finds out?" Celeste asked, quiet now.
Dr. Dew turned from the window.
"Then they'll find a civilization they cannot bully, a people they cannot enslave, and a fire they cannot put out."
From deep orbit, the stars remained silent. But somewhere, in the dark, something stirred.
And Earth's lost children—born of steel, fire, and code—were no longer waiting.
End of Chapter Thirty-Seven
I plan on changing this chapter later because I changed my mind on making the Impaream of Man and chaos super op.