Chapter 7: Genius and Madman
Who is the most brilliant mind on Terra?
I am.
It must be me.
Only me.
Nathan Doom held an unshakable conviction: if there existed a mind worthy of ruling humanity — of shaping destiny itself — it could only be his.
The boundary between genius and madness is razor thin.
Nathan Doom walked that boundary with perfect balance.
—or so he believed.
At the apex of a hive-spire in the Oceania arcologies, Nathan Doom removed a cranial helm connected to a dense web of conduits and sensor cables. He rose slowly from the command throne.
His azure eyes were calm.
His short silver-white hair framed a face indistinguishable from that of an unmodified human.
Appearances deceived.
His cerebral architecture had been gene-optimized to operate at extreme cognitive capacity. Longevity treatments and cellular regeneration protocols promised a lifespan measured in centuries.
And these were merely his lesser achievements.
He turned back to admire the throne apparatus — his proudest creation.
A psychotronic cognition array capable of monitoring neural activity across vast population zones… and, when required, influencing thought patterns at scale.
Elegant.
Precise.
Perfect.
Who but Nathan Doom could achieve such mastery?
He approached the immense observation window and gazed down upon the teeming hive below.
"Poor Tang," he murmured. "He does not yet realize his fate. His days as archbishop are numbered. He will be torn apart by those he rules."
His palms pressed against the glass. Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes.
"Will the Angel come for me?" he whispered. "Heartbreaking… perhaps I should prevent it. Yes. Prevent the fragmentation of Indonesia. That would delay Imperial expansion into the Pacific."
Sub-space displacement allowed near-instantaneous interstellar travel, yet planetary-scale deployment remained slow and logistically complex. If the Imperium failed to secure the Indonesian archipelagos, its eastern expansion would stall.
"But…"
He collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat.
"But I want it."
His voice trembled into a strangled whisper.
"Angel… Angel… I want you."
Nathan Doom was both genius and madman.
Control defined his existence. He monitored the neural patterns of his entire population, cataloging thoughts, impulses, and emotional fluctuations. Beauty fascinated him. Perfection obsessed him.
The Antarctic city-state of Auric maintained orbital satellites capable of global observation. Nathan Doom had quietly infiltrated their network decades earlier. His intrusions were so precise that Auric's technocrats remained unaware.
During a routine global survey, a figure had captured his full attention.
Radiant.
Winged.
Impossible.
A divine messenger from humanity's forgotten scriptures.
Beside her stood the warlord of the Himalazian fortress — the self-styled Emperor. Impressive, certainly. Perhaps even extraordinary.
Yet the Angel eclipsed him.
Even Nathan Doom's formidable intuition warned against provoking the warlord directly.
But now…
Now the Angel moved east.
Toward him.
Fate itself was delivering her into his grasp.
"So, Tang," he murmured, rising slowly, a fragile smile spreading across tear-streaked cheeks, "do hurry and die. I am eager to meet the Angel."
He gazed toward the darkening horizon.
"Come, Angel. I will be waiting."
Yuki shivered suddenly.
It felt as if something unpleasant had brushed against her senses.
She looked up toward the palace's anti-scrying barrier. Could someone truly observe her through layered psychic shielding?
After a moment, she shook her head and returned her attention to the mortals assembled before her.
They stood rigid, visibly trembling.
"Please relax," Yuki said warmly. "I am Yuki, daughter of the Emperor. You have been selected because you are among the most capable individuals available."
One officer swallowed nervously.
"Your Highness… may we ask why we have been summoned?"
He was an unremarkable captain elevated through quick thinking and adaptability. Never in his life had he imagined standing before the Emperor's daughter.
"I have a mission for you."
Yuki bowed slightly and met each of their eyes.
"I require you to infiltrate the Indonesian Federation. Your task is to incite unrest — to widen the rift between the archbishop's regime and the civilian population. Imperial forces will intervene at the appropriate moment."
She paused.
"I have one condition: our target is the ruling hierarchy. Civilian casualties must be minimized."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances.
"I understand the danger," she continued. "The Empire needs you. Humanity needs you. Those words may sound distant… so I will speak plainly."
She inhaled.
"Regardless of outcome, your families will be protected and honored by the Imperium. Those who return will receive substantial reward. Those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded further."
She turned away.
"I will return in one minute. Anyone who remains will be considered to have volunteered."
…
When she turned back, every soldier remained.
Yuki smiled and bowed deeply.
"My sincere thanks. Please return safely."
The men stood straighter, faces flushed with purpose. In truth, covert infiltration might be safer than frontline warfare — and the Princess herself had shown them respect.
They would not fail her.
As they departed, Yuki exhaled slowly.
She had absolutely no money.
Aside from her clothing, she possessed nothing.
But that was a minor detail.
Just because she didn't have money didn't mean someone else didn't.
She reached out through the psychic link.
Yuki: Hi, dear Daddy. Are you there?
Emperor: …What?
Yuki: I need funding.
Emperor: Explain.
Yuki: Gold coins would be ideal.
Emperor: ?