2 days prior Caladaean Time

  “Sire, I have word that the enemy has advanced past the Wall of Faelspar, it won’t be long until they reach the capital,” uttered a broad General, an undertone of fear hanging in his words as he addressed the 203rd High Emperor, kneeling before him and bowing down.

  “I understand, it seems the impasse within our ethics council has only brought about more strife and suffering, we are at a crossroads gentlemen. We find ourselves losing continents of land by the day to the enemy, cornered at every turn and yet…yet without approval for the experimental runic conscience transference we are at a standstill,” replied the High Emperor, concern written upon his weathered face. With heavy eye bags and wrinkles that blended them into his face, he made his opinion clear with a soured expression. The High Emperor was a stout yet menacing figure - a tuft of grey hair rested on his hair displaying clearly his age, accompanied by a neat claw mark that ran across his face like a trench that had engraved itself into his right eye socket and settled below his ear.

  “If I may interject your majesty,” snivelled a scrawny figure from the back of the war room, his stature seemingly frail and minute compared to the towering generals and other genetically superior individuals that were scattered throughout the room, “I do believe under section 38b of the constitution you have the power to overturn any judgement that is deemed not in the best interest of our planet as long as we are under threat of an enemy greater than ourselves.”

  A wave of hope passed over the room, the hunching 7ft figures all stood tall, a spark lighting a deep fire in their hearts as they realised their nation may not be doomed after all. Silence cut across the room as they all turned to the man in the high chair.

  “If that is so, know that I do this with great displeasure having to disregard the concerns of our comrades and rely on the workings of the devil.”

  As those words escaped his lips, many of the men standing in the room shied away, covering the runes that were carved into their forearms and wrists, ashamed that they had strayed so far from the Caladaean way in search of greater might and strength to aid them in the coming years.

  “Begin phase one of the conscience transference, and keep me updated. If we are to do this, we must do this with the greatest care. Please, leave me gentlemen.”

  With that, more than 20 giants and a few smaller men scuttled out of the room with haste leaving the High Emperor alone to his brooding thoughts. From the darkness behind the throne emerged a soldier, clad in obsidian armour, bearing the finest damascus dagger in an open sheath that hung from his thigh. He shadowed the emperor, casting a dark sheet over him where he sat with head in hands, elbows resting on a clean cut, black onyx armrest.

  “If I may provide any consolation sir, if anything sinister were to be born in the labs below, I myself would personally slay it without remorse, there is nothing you should fear.”

  A fierce aura exploded from within the emperor’s cupped hands around his eyes, radiating outwards as he bellowed,”FEAR! There is but everything to fear my loyal Theron, don’t you see my kingdom is crumbling before me from all directions and all I can do is reach out in desperation to the one thing we as a society condemn. I have betrayed all that I hold dear to me, I am but a shell of my former self, this war a malignant tumour to development and prosperity to the nation I was once proud to call my own.”

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  He wept. Tears falling to the floor and being absorbed, the veins in the floor glowing with a gentle emerald green, pulsating with a tender rhythm, a comforting heartbeat enveloping the room. Theron hung his head in respect, retreating into the darkness to allow his master a moment of brief respite.

  The High Emperor’s fist clubbed down on the manchette, sending a vicious shockwave reverberating around the room, his onyx arm chair cracking under the sheer force. Disgruntled sighs escaped the emperor’s mouth as he gripped the arm of the chair - “I will retire to my chambers now, ensure the scientists do not stray from the path.”

  Theron returned from the shadows as his master stood with grace, an imposing character, 8ft in height, dwarfing the otherwise large soldier. Before he could register the footsteps, the High Emperor was by the door turning to enter the corridor - looking back he gave Theron a solemn nod and exited.

  Alone, Theron absorbed the emptiness of the war room, a dimly lit space with wide floors and short ceilings, tables cluttered with maps outstretched, figurines placed in tactical positions. Behind his helmet, Theron stared with distant eyes, standing ready like a mannequin, his person in the room, his soul elsewhere. Around him, time sat suspended in a purgatory, the air still, the only noise the faint hum of the floor, breaking a deafening silence. Foliage danced from the ceiling line, swaying with the rhythmic pulse of the veins sending Theron into a deeper trance-like state, his figure melting into the background of the room, another wall-piece between the mounted screens and diagrams.

  War was his everything, and in this state of tranquility he found himself drifting off, dreaming of butchering countless enemies, crushing their windpipes between his armoured fingertips, slicing their shelled skeletons clean in half and stomping on their scaled limbs underfoot. In times like these, Theron seethed, itching to return to the battlefield, to where he was at home, where he could do right by his master and protect his homelands from tyrannical invasion.

  Below him the floor screeched, a loud blaring siren, the veins following suite blazing, an orange warning light illuminating the room and the thin slit where Theron’s eyes rested. A deathly gaze penetrating as he scanned, screens began displaying updates with a single message that read in bold letters across a bright red background:

  INCOMING COMBATANT SHIP PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE ENCOUNTER

  A surge of adrenaline washed over Theron as he darted with swift elegance towards the citadel entrance, a grand opening that split the slope of an ominous pyramid, the opalescent sky radiating above. Below a vibrant city sat in a walled perimeter, vegetation enveloping the metallic skyscrapers and structures - a place of tranquility and exuberance. Life ebbed and flowed within these walls, a society that until a few years prior had lived in perfect harmony, co-existing with nature, reaching never-before seen rates of development - having eradicated poverty within the capital and perfected its relationship with the outside world. A golden age had been achieved, the arts were reflected in the streets, every corner you turned was a new swathe of colour, all aspects of life could be seen being enjoyed to the fullest.

  And now he watched as a barrage of neon cerulean blades carved their way through the sky, initiating contact with the enemy as they flew overhead, a blot in the picturesque scene. The beams of energy sliced through the ships as they descended with wavering instability, swerving and dodging in failed attempts to avoid contact with the citadel’s impervious defences. Plumes of smoke escaped newly formed orifices on the spacecraft, sending it hurtling into the distance beyond the city. Distant explosions confirmed contact - the enemy had landed and was soon to make it within the outer limits.

  Ready for prey to meet predator Theron thought to himself, a wide grin etching itself onto his face. Yet, something nagged at him - although he himself had the strength to take down 100 foe, he was alone in this terrifying feat - a thought that sat deep in his mind as 20 more spacecraft followed suit.