The violet light of the new sun bathed the Imperial Suite in a glow that felt sacred. Mali was still holding Anya, his hand resting on her stomach, his mind reeling from the realization of the life—the lives—he had created.
But Anya wasn't done.
Her silver eyes, usually so calm and analytical, were widening. The data streaming behind her irises was moving so fast it was a blur. She grabbed Mali's wrist, pressing his hand harder against her.
"Mali," she gasped. "Wait. The code... it's shifting."
"Shifting?" Mali asked, panic flaring. "Is something wrong? Is the spark fading?"
"No," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of terror and awe. "It's not fading. It's... multiplying."
She looked at him, the Omniscient Eye trait pushing her perception to the absolute limit.
"The resonance... it wasn't one signal echoing. It was... harmonization."
She projected the scan into the air between them. It wasn't a medical readout; it was a Karmic map. And there, in the center of the swirling silver-gold nebula of her womb, was not one star.
There were three.
Three distinct, blindingly powerful points of light. They orbited each other in a perfect, stable triangle—a Trinity of immense potential.
[SYSTEM ALERT: MULTIPLE SIGNATURES DETECTED]
[COUNT: 3] [POTENTIAL CLASS: THE TRIUMVIRATE]
[ESTIMATED POW OUTPUT: GALACTIC THREAT LEVEL]
Mali stared at the hologram. His jaw went slack.
"Three?" he choked out. "Three of them? One was a miracle. Three is... that's a fleet. That's a pantheon."
"Triplets," Anya breathed, leaning back against the pillows, looking overwhelmed. "An Alkahest trinity. Mali... the universe isn't just bowing. It's trembling. No bloodline has ever sustained this much power in a single generation."
Mali looked at the three stars. He felt a surge of protectiveness so violent, so all-consuming, that the windows of the suite rattled.
He had grown up alone. He had grown up hunted. He had grown up scared.
His children—his three children—would never know that feeling. They would never be the prey. They would be the apex of the apex.
But to ensure that... the universe needed to be cleaner.
A dark, dangerous smile spread across Mali's face. The boredom he had complained about earlier? It was gone. He had a project.
"Three children," he murmured, kissing Anya's forehead. "That means we need three times the space. And three times the safety."
He stood up, his black tunic settling around him. The golden light in his eyes hardened into diamond.
"Get dressed, Empress," he said, extending a hand. "We have a Council to terrify."
[THE GRAND COUNCIL CHAMBER - ONE HOUR LATER]
The rumor mill of Sanctum moved faster than light, but even the wildest gossip hadn't predicted this.
The violet sun was still shining outside. The atmosphere on the planet was electric. The Council members were gathered, whispering nervously. They knew something monumental had happened.
When the doors opened, silence fell like a guillotine.
Mali and Anya walked in. They weren't wearing the relaxed clothes of their private suite. They were in full, terrifying war-regalia.
Mali wore the Mantle of the Sovereign—a coat of woven void-matter that seemed to absorb the light around him, offset by the burning gold circuitry on his arms. Anya wore the Weaver's Plate, a suit of liquid silver armor that shifted and flowed like mercury.
They walked to the dais. They didn't sit.
Mali stood before the Throne, looking down at the hundreds of bowing nobles. He let the silence stretch until it was uncomfortable. Until they could hear their own heartbeats.
"The Universe," Mali began, his voice amplified by the room, "has a sense of humor."
He looked at Anya, who stood beside him, looking radiant and lethal.
"For twenty years, the Alkahest line hung by a single thread. A lost boy in the dirt."
He raised his hand, displaying three fingers.
"That ends today. The Empress is with child. Not one. But three."
The room exploded.
Gasps, shouts of shock, and then—a roar of applause. It was the sound of a dynasty being secured. The nobles cheered not just for the babies, but for the stability they represented. Three heirs meant the line was unbreakable.
Mali let them cheer for exactly ten seconds. Then, he raised a hand. The silence returned instantly.
"You cheer," Mali said softly. "But you do not understand what this means."
He stepped down from the dais, walking slowly among the rows of nobles. They parted like the Red Sea, terrified to touch the hem of his void-coat.
"I grew up looking over my shoulder," Mali said, his voice low and dangerous. "I grew up knowing that there were things in the dark waiting to eat me. The Regent. The Void-Lords. The Junk-Barons."
He stopped in front of the holographic map of the known universe in the center of the room.
"My children," Mali declared, "will not look over their shoulders. My children will not know fear. When they are born, this universe will be a garden. A safe, manicured garden."
He pointed to the dark patches on the map—the Uncharted Zones, the pockets of resistance, the chaotic nebulas where ancient monsters slept.
"I am bored with court," Mali announced. "I find peace... tedious. And I have nine months to kill."
He turned to face the room, his eyes blazing.
"So, to celebrate the coming of the Triumvirate, the Empress and I are going on a trip. A Crusade."
He swept his arm across the map.
"We are going to visit every problematic galaxy, every corrupted star system, and every sleeping god that might—even remotely—pose a threat to my children in the future."
He grinned. It was the grin of the Dragon.
"And we are going to unmake them."
The room was paralyzed. He wasn't talking about a diplomatic tour. He was talking about a galactic purge. A pre-emptive strike on everything.
"But... Your Majesty!"
The voice came from the front row. It was Arch-Duke Vane, the Treasurer. The poor man looked like he was about to faint, but his adherence to protocol forced him to speak.
"Your Majesty... surely... surely you jest about the Empress?"
Vane gestured shakily to Anya.
"Her Majesty is... she is carrying the Heirs! The Triumvirate! She cannot go into the Void! She must stay here! In the Spire! In the Bunker!"
Vane looked around for support. "It is a matter of safety! The battlefield is no place for an expectant mother! She must remain where it is safe!"
A few of the older, traditionalist nobles nodded, muttering agreement. "Yes, too dangerous." "Must protect the line."
Mali stopped.
He turned slowly to face Vane.
The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The violet sunlight seemed to dim, replaced by the heavy, suffocating pressure of the Sovereign's Aura.
Mali walked up to Vane. He didn't tower over him. He just looked at him.
"Safe?" Mali repeated the word as if it were a foreign language.
He tilted his head.
"You want me to leave my wife here? With you? With shields that can fail? With guards who can die?"
He took a step closer. Vane shrank back.
"Tell me, Arch-Duke," Mali whispered, but the whisper echoed in every corner of the room. "Is there any place in this universe safer than next to me?"
Vane opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He looked at Mali. He saw the man who had punched a System Admin out of existence. He saw the man who had turned an orbital bombardment into flowers. He saw a being who had rewritten the laws of physics because he was angry.
"Answer me," Mali commanded, his eyes flaring gold. "Is there?"
Vane fell to his knees. "No. No, Sovereign. There is not."
"Exactly."
Mali turned his back on the trembling Duke. He walked back to Anya, taking her hand. She smiled at him—a fierce, warrior's smile. She rubbed her stomach.
"The children are already kicking," she said, loud enough for the court to hear. "I think they want to see things explode."
Mali laughed. "Then they shall."
He turned to the assembly one last time.
"General Kaelen," Mali barked.
Kaelen stepped forward, his cybernetic arm snapping a salute. "Sovereign."
"You have the con," Mali said. "I am leaving you in charge of the defense of Sanctum."
He pointed to Vorlag. "Admiral, you run the logistics. Keep the economy from crashing."
Then, Mali's expression darkened. The playful husband vanished. The terrified father vanished. Only the Sovereign remained.
"I am leaving you a clean house," Mali said, his voice cold and hard as diamond. "I expect it to remain clean."
He scanned the faces of the nobles—the schemers, the climbers, the politicians.
"If I come back," Mali said, enunciating every word, "and I find that you have been squabbling. If I find that you have let the economy dip. If I find that you have engaged in petty plots that disrupt the peace of my children's home..."
He let the threat hang in the air. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"I will not put you on trial," Mali promised. "I will not imprison you."
He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers.
"I will unmake you. I will erase your names from history. I will delete your Houses from the code of reality."
He leaned forward.
"Even if you are standing right here in this court. Do not test me. I am going to war to ensure my children's peace. Do not be the enemy I find when I return."
He looked at Kaelen. "Are we clear, General?"
Kaelen, who looked like he pity anyone who dared cross that line, nodded. "Crystal clear, Sovereign. We will keep the lights on."
"Good."
Mali turned to Anya. "Ready, my love? I hear the Andromeda Sector has a lovely infestation of star-parasites this time of year."
"I've packed the heavy plasma," Anya replied, linking her arm with his. "And the pickles. I'm craving pickles."
"Plasma and pickles," Mali grinned. "The breakfast of champions."
Together, the Sovereign and the Weaver walked out of the silent, terrified, and perfectly obedient Council Chamber.
Behind them, the massive doors boomed shut.
Arch-Duke Vane remained on his knees, staring at the floor.
"Is... is he gone?" he whispered to Kaelen.
"He's gone," Kaelen said, looking at the closed doors with immense respect.
"Thank the stars," Vane exhaled.
"Don't relax, Duke," Kaelen warned, his hand resting on his weapon. "You heard the man. If a single graph goes into the red, he's going to delete you. Now get up. We have a universe to run."
[THE VOID - THREE DAYS LATER]
The Stiletto was no longer alone. It was leading a small, elite strike force of automated drones—Anya's personal project.
They were deep in the Charon Expanse, a lawless sector ruled by slaver-guilds and rogue AI gods.
Or, it had been ruled by them.
Currently, the stronghold of the Slaver King Moloch—a moon-sized fortress bristling with cannons—was burning.
Mali stood on the bridge of the Stiletto, watching the fireworks.
"That's the third fortress today," he noted, checking his System. "[XP GAINED: A LOT]."
Anya was sitting in the co-pilot's chair, eating a jar of spicy pickles while simultaneously hacking the enemy's mainframe to transfer their stolen credits to the Sanctum treasury.
"Moloch is hailing us," she said, crunching on a pickle. "He's crying. Something about 'mercy' and 'he didn't know it was the King'."
"Put him on screen," Mali said.
The holographic face of Moloch appeared. He was a massive, cybernetic ogre, usually terrifying. Now, he was covered in sweat and oil.
" Please! " Moloch begged. " I surrender! I will leave the sector! I will become a monk! Just call off the drones! "
Mali leaned into the camera. He looked happy. He looked vibrant.
"Sorry, Moloch," Mali said cheerfully. "But my kids are going to need this sector for a playground eventually. And you... well, you're a choking hazard."
" Kids? " Moloch stammered. " What kids? "
"The Triumvirate," Mali said proudly. "Coming soon to a galaxy near you. Now, hold still. This won't hurt. Much."
Mali raised his hand.
[SKILL: GENESIS TOUCH - INVERTED]
[TARGET: FORTRESS CORE]
[ACTION: RAPID OXIDATION]
On the screen, the fortress turned white. Moloch screamed. Then, the signal cut to static.
Outside, a new star briefly flared in the darkness, then faded to dust.
Mali turned to Anya. "One down. Seven thousand threats to go."
"We're making good time," Anya said, wiping her mouth. "Also, I think the babies liked that one. I felt a kick."
Mali beamed. He walked over and kissed her belly.
"Good job, team," he whispered to the triplets. "Daddy's just clearing out the weeds."
He stood up and looked at the star map.
"Next stop?"
"The Hive-Mind of Zexis," Anya read. "They enslave sentient clouds."
"Sentient clouds?" Mali cracked his knuckles. "That sounds annoying. Let's go unmake some weather."
The Stiletto engaged its warp drive, disappearing into the void, leaving a trail of liberated worlds and terrified legends in its wake. The Parental Crusade had begun.