The Great Hall of Aryavrat was filled with tension.
Ashoka sat at the head of the long obsidian table, his blue armor scratched and darkened from the Halcor mission. Around him sat his high council — the generals, scientists, noble advisors, and his ever-watchful secretary Priya.
On the table, a hologram flickered: the cracked vault, the hybrid's dying words, and the cryo-pods they had recovered.
No one spoke.
Finally, Admiral Viraj broke the silence.
"My lord… you are telling us that the Machine War never truly ended?"
Ashoka's voice was steady.
"Yes."
Mira, the lead scientist, rubbed her temples.
"Even if these hybrids were dormant, they've survived a century in isolation. That means they have resources, networks, plans."
Priya crossed her arms.
"And now they know we know."
Ashoka rose, his shadow long across the marble floor.
"We cannot treat this like a border pirate raid," he said.
"We face an enemy that once brought Earth to its knees — and may rise stronger this time."
The council murmured nervously.
General Kaul leaned forward.
"Our fleets are still rebuilding. Our industrial output barely covers repairs. If they come at us now—"
Ashoka raised a hand.
"They won't. Not yet."
He looked at the map floating in the air, marking the Outer Rim, the pirate routes, the scattered noble houses.
"They're waiting. Testing. Gathering. Just like we must."
Later, in the private war room, Ashoka stood with Priya, Mira, and Meera, the scout captain.
"Lay it out," Ashoka ordered.
Mira pulled up a series of schematics.
"We've extracted a fragment of the hybrid's neural core. It's more than just an AI—it's a networked consciousness. That means somewhere, there's a central mind. A command core."
Priya's eyes narrowed.
"Cut off the head, collapse the body?"
Mira nodded grimly.
"In theory."
Meera frowned.
"The problem is, we don't know where that head is."
Ashoka clenched his fists.
This was no longer about noble prestige or wealth. This was about survival — not just for his house, but for every human world.
He turned to Priya.
"I want our spies activated in every noble house. Find out who else is hunting Earth relics."
He faced Mira.
"I want the best scientists recruited, no matter the cost. We need weapons that can kill hybrids — and defense grids for Aryavrat."
Finally, he looked at Meera.
"And I want the Sudarshan fleet ready for deep space strikes."
Priya hesitated.
"You're preparing for total war."
Ashoka's voice was low.
"I'm preparing for the future."
That night, alone in his chambers, Ashoka gazed out over his city.
The towers of Aryavrat glowed faintly against the stars. Factories rumbled in the distance. Ships drifted silently through the night sky.
He thought of his mother, the queen who had raised him with iron and fire.
He thought of his father, dying on a distant battlefield.
He thought of the shattered glory of humanity.
And he made a silent vow.
I will not let this house fall. I will not let humanity fall. I will rise higher than any king or emperor before me.
Ashoka Suryaansh, last son of Aryavrat, closed his eyes — and began to plan the greatest industrial and military revival the galaxy had ever seen.
Because the war was coming.
And he would be ready.