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Shen He glanced at Jeanne, who still looked adorable even in anger, and for a moment, he found himself at a loss for words.
If it came to an actual fight, the Empress might not be able to defeat the Saintess.
Despite Joan of Arc's outward gentleness and kind demeanor, her heart was unwavering. When it came to matters of principle, she would unleash a strength and courage that defied imagination.
If she deemed it necessary, she wouldn't hesitate to turn her blade—even on a companion or a child.
That's why Shen He felt a trace of fear.
He had resolved in his heart not to let the Empress stir up any more trouble—his wife was the greater priority.
The banquet stretched into the early hours of the next day. In the end, Shen He nearly gave up on having the Empress interact with the other Servants. She seemed to get along better with Tony and his group, although it was likely just because they hadn't yet seen through the Qing Empress's true nature.
Semiramis was one of those who smiled often but rarely took others seriously.
Shen He wasn't sure whether summoning a Servant like her had been a blessing or a mistake.
One thing was certain though: among all the Servants, she was the only one with a keen interest in Chaldea's operations within the Marvel world.
By the end of the banquet, she had taken the initiative to unveil her Noble Phantasm—the Hanging Gardens of Vanity.
"I recall that building the Hanging Gardens requires transporting specific stone and soil materials from ruins near Baghdad," Shen He murmured, recalling the conditions necessary to manifest the sky garden.
As a positional-type Noble Phantasm, the Hanging Gardens were indeed well-suited for Chaldea's needs. It was, after all, a floating fortress. Consider S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier—a strategic marvel with immense tactical value. The Gardens could be something even greater: a miracle made real.
"That's not all," Semiramis said, eyes glowing with fervent anticipation. "The isolated Hanging Gardens have a unique trait—the more you invest, the more powerful they become. With modern resources, the level of mystery and might they can achieve is limitless. I'm truly excited to see how far we can take it."
"You're telling me the more money poured in, the stronger it gets?" Shen He blinked. "There's no ceiling?"
"Theoretically limitless," Semiramis replied with a sly smile. "The original Gardens of Babylon were never solitary, but through the fiction embedded in history, they became real. Just like a Master's workshop—a virtual construct made tangible—the garden inherits the attribute of falsity. Why should it be bound by reality?"
"Hiss—" Shen He inhaled sharply.
He had originally dismissed the Empress's Noble Phantasm. While impressive on Earth, it seemed lackluster in a galactic era.
Asgard itself was a realm forged within the stars, a divine kingdom among nebulae.
But if Semiramis's Hanging Gardens truly scaled endlessly in power, perhaps Chaldea could evolve into a divine domain of its own.
"It must be built," Shen He decided. "Even if it bankrupts us. In fact, the garden itself is a form of immense wealth. Its economic value could surpass any city on Earth."
History had proven time and again that only open cities thrived. In the original narrative, Shiro Amakusa using the Gardens solely as a war fortress was a tragic waste.
Shen He was already imagining sky-high real estate prices and booming commerce atop the Gardens.
"I'll help raise funds," Semiramis said with an unapologetic, flirtatious smile.
After all, the stronger the Gardens became, the more invincible she would be within them.
When the time came…
Shen He cut off the thought. He focused instead on logistics. As he watched Semiramis grinning slyly, he furrowed his brow.
"Alright, draft a materials list," he said at last. "I'll start gathering resources immediately. Let's build the foundational form of the Gardens first."
Resource management was also a concern. If they ran out of funds, they'd be left with an extravagant but useless construct. The ROI had to be viable.
"The strength of the Gardens isn't just tied to money," Semiramis said, reaching for Shen He's hand. A slight blush tinted her cheeks. "It's also linked to the strength of its ruler. So, Master… you'll need to supplement my magical energy first."
"..." Shen He became instantly alert.
Several sharp gazes converged on him. Every Empress present was a masterful actor—he didn't believe for a second that Semiramis couldn't distinguish between demon-replenishment and mere reinforcement.
Without changing expression, he handed her a portion of dog food, used half his magical energy to bolster her power, and straightened his face.
"This will do for now. I'll observe the Hanging Gardens' performance before allocating further resources."
"Hmph, what a dull man," Semiramis pouted, but her teasing demeanor soon faded.
Only Shen He realized she hadn't actually left—she was simply hiding in place.
He had the distinct sense that her Assassin-class skills weren't suited for lethal stealth missions.
After all, Semiramis was never truly an assassin—she was a poisoner, and there's a fundamental distinction.
"If you don't want to leave, then stop hiding," said Ryougi Shiki, her Mystic Eyes of Death Perception glowing ice-blue as they pierced the veil.
"…"
Eventually, the Empress reappeared slowly, not in anger but with a rare solemnity.
"Your eyes…"
She left the sentence unfinished. After casting a long look at Shiki, she vanished again—this time, truly gone.
Shen He had nothing to say.
His Servants were never a harmonious bunch. With such a diverse array of characters from various worlds and personalities, friction was inevitable. Managing that friction without escalation—well, that was the Master's responsibility.
"Alright, the banquet's over. Anyone who needs rest—go rest."
Rising from his seat, Shen He clapped his hands, instantly restoring the disorderly hall to order.
A sleepless night was nothing to him. He delegated clean-up to the maids and escorted Jeanne from the castle.
Coleson had left earlier in the night to prepare for tomorrow's workload. Chaldea's virtual reality company couldn't operate without him. But Shen He felt uneasy.
As a trained agent, management wasn't Coleson's strength.
He suddenly wondered—could the Empress be suited for administration?
Lelouch had warned him: as Chaldea's influence in the Marvel world expanded, power must gradually shift into the hands of loyal Servants. In case Coleson or Tony's ideologies diverged.
Now was the time.
While considering his strategy, Shen He summoned Coleson, who had just finished a meeting, to his office.
"Coleson," Shen He asked directly, "With the war winding down, what's your primary focus now?"
"There are three main tasks," Coleson replied, echoing his recent meeting notes. "First, production and distribution of virtual sleep pods and advanced weaponry. Second, research and containment of alien artifacts. Third, diplomatic handling of Attilan and Wakanda's emergence."
Even without further detail, Shen He knew these weren't simple matters.
The rollout of virtual tech and civilian-grade robotics would inevitably clash with existing interests. The World Council would undoubtedly test boundaries.
Villainous groups like Hydra and the elusive Mandarin remained active. Others would likely misuse alien tech, increasing pressure on agents and protectors.
And then there were Attilan and Wakanda—each with vast potential. The former wielded mysterious powers, the latter cutting-edge technology and wealth. Their arrival meant a seismic shift in global power structures.
Chaldea couldn't afford to stay neutral. They had, after all, helped shape the current world stage.
Shen He tapped his fingers thoughtfully.
"What about the Extraordinary Individuals Foundation we established earlier?"
"Only a few joined," Coleson said, sounding weary. "Mostly refugees gathered by Skye's mother. Some refused to live on the moon, so we gave them cover identities and jobs. But most super-powered people don't want to be villains, heroes, or tools. Our foundation lacks appeal and authority."
People feared powerful organizations. And Chaldea—backed by a virtual reality megacorp—was terrifyingly powerful.
Even Shen He's envisioned Guardian company would seem militaristic. Most citizens dreamed of being flashy heroes, not disciplined soldiers.
"Do you have a plan?" Shen He asked. "What image should Chaldea present moving forward?"
"The future image?" Coleson echoed.
"Yes." Shen He nodded. "After this war, how do ordinary people perceive Chaldea?"
"Respect. Admiration. And fear," Coleson replied after a pause. "Despite our peaceful message, our power is undeniable."
Even vegetarians fear wild elephants—because power itself is intimidating.
"The U.S. is the strongest country," Shen He continued. "It often displays its might, yet people around the world flock to it. Why?"
"Because once they're there, that strength becomes their strength," Coleson replied, catching on.
Shen He was clearly guiding him—pulling out the conclusion he wanted spoken.
It was leadership, pure and practiced.
Coleson wasn't sure whether to be proud or wary. Shen He was evolving into a true leader… or perhaps even a king.
"So how do we make Chaldea's strength belong to the people?" Shen He asked.
"That's a systemic issue," Coleson answered. "A company structure exists to exploit workers, whereas a national structure exists to protect citizens. Unless… Chaldea creates a city-state like Attilan, offering appealing benefits to attract people. But..."
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
If Chaldea became a sovereign city-state, it would terrify existing world powers.
Unlike Attilan or Wakanda, Chaldea had no racial or cultural divisions. It could gradually absorb the entire world.
"I'm not suicidal. If I ever wanted to rule the world, you'd be the first to stop me," Shen He said, smiling. "I'm saying the city should be managed directly by Chaldea."
That was the key.
A city directly administered by Chaldea—only then could its power be shared and understood.
In Coleson's mind, one clear thought echoed:
Chaldea has decided to take power into its own hands.
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