The Empire of The Multiverse

Chapter 77 - Dragon

In the cosmic tapestry of existence, amidst the swirling galaxies and celestial phenomena, Magnus the Red, the Sorcerer-King of the Thousand Sons, engaged in an epochal duel with the Star God Moros, the Cosmic Judge. The clash of their powers echoed through the vast expanse, reducing galaxies to mere whispers in the cosmic wind.

Time itself seemed to dance to the rhythm of their conflict. Magnus, with his unparalleled mastery of the arcane, wove spells into the fabric of reality, each incantation a cascade of cosmic energies. The Star God Moros, the Cosmic Judge, countered with a divine prowess that nullified Magnus's onslaught, retaliating with celestial force.

The battleground extended trillions of light-years, with the Thousand Sons wisely retreating to a safe distance, recognizing the cataclysmic repercussions of such a cosmic clash. Yet, even in their retreat, the cosmic tremors reverberated, altering the very foundations of stars and planets.

As the duel persisted, Magnus reflected on the duration of this cosmic dance. Thoughts of his kin, particularly Calista and the dormant Isolde, occupied his mind. A moment of introspection interrupted by Moros's sudden disappearance.

"Reveal yourself," Magnus calmly commanded the cosmic void. A threadline of cosmic energy caught his keen gaze. With a swift gesture, Magnus halted time itself, freezing Moros's impending counter-attack for a fleeting moment.

In that temporal pause, Magnus cast a spell with divine incantations resonating from his staff, "Astral Exile." The radiant glow enveloped Moros, who began to fade from existence. A banishment from the very fabric of the universe.

"That should do it. Perhaps my siblings couldn't achieve what I just did," Magnus mused with a sly smirk. With a teleportation spell, he vanished from the cosmic void, leaving behind a vast emptiness where galaxies once thrived—a testament to the might of the Sorcerer-King.

In the vast expanse of a nascent universe, Moros found himself abruptly thrown into existence following the cataclysmic birth of a newborn cosmos. The remnants of the Big Bang surrounded him, and the intense heat of creation embraced his celestial form. As a Star God, the explosion only served to invigorate Moros, and he absorbed the cosmic energies with a hunger for power that transcended the boundaries of mortal understanding.

Surveying his surroundings with cosmic awareness, Moros contemplated his abrupt arrival. "Where did that damn Primarch put me?" he muttered, his perception extending through the fabric of this budding universe. The solitude was palpable, and the absence of other Star Gods became apparent. "A new universe, only for myself?" Moros pondered, a realization dawning upon him.

Amidst the cosmic void, Moros began his exploration. With every movement, he sensed the vast potential that lay within this fledgling universe. Rogue stars twinkled in the cosmic tapestry, waiting to be embraced by his celestial presence. In the absence of fellow deities, Moros decided to indulge in the feast of a newborn star, absorbing its energies to further enhance his divine might.

Unbeknownst to Moros, his presence marked the beginning of a unique cosmic chapter. A rogue entity, banished from the Prime Continuum, had found a new haven within the branches of the Imperial Imaginary Tree. As Moros reveled in the energies of a nascent universe, time itself unfolded, revealing the destinies that awaited this celestial domain.

Meanwhile, in the Prime Continuum, Magnus sought updates on the ongoing war in heaven. His inquiries echoed through the vastness of the Imperial Imaginary Tree, reaching the ever-watchful Ahriman.

In the ethereal glow of the bridge of the mothership Photep, Magnus materialized in a cascade of arcane energies. Ahriman, the ever-watchful custodian of knowledge, stood ready to provide the Primarch with updates on the unfolding cosmic drama.

"How's the war in my absence, Ahriman?" Magnus inquired, his voice resonating with the weight of authority. Ahriman, a conduit of arcane wisdom, began to unravel the celestial tapestry woven in the wake of Magnus's duel with the Star God.

"It has been five months since your duel with the Star God," Ahriman began, his gaze fixed upon the swirling galaxies beyond. "The galaxy we aimed to bring under our control was obliterated in the aftermath of your conflict, including the Korrks."

Magnus absorbed the information, his expression unreadable. The galaxy, once a target for compliance, now lay in ruins, a testament to the cataclysmic forces unleashed in the clash of god-like beings. Ahriman continued, delving into the recent events that shaped the cosmic landscape.

"One month ago, the Lord of Death entered his Slumber. His opponent was Quara'lokai, a Star God with the ability to adapt and control swarms," Ahriman reported, his tone reflecting the gravity of the confrontation. Magnus nodded knowingly, acknowledging the formidable nature of his brother's adversary.

"Three months ago, the Lord of Flames engaged in battle with Singularityx, a Gravity Controlling Star God. The Lord of Flames incinerated galaxies in the process, using flames of a unique black color," Ahriman added, his words tinged with intrigue.

"Black colored flames?" Magnus mused, his piercing eyes narrowing in contemplation. The revelation sparked his curiosity, a testament to the Primarch's eternal hunger for knowledge and mastery over the arcane.

"Set course to Prospero," Magnus's directive echoed through the chambers, transmitted across the vastness of space to reach the bridge of the mothership Photep. The vessel, bearing the Crimson King, plunged into a portal, disappearing from one corner of the cosmos to reappear near the fabled world of Prospero.

In the opulent confines of the Imperial Palace on Genesis Prime, Fafnir, the God-Emperor, found himself immersed in the mundane yet essential task of paperwork. The vastness of his Universal Empire meant that, even with a legion of administrators at his disposal, certain matters required the personal touch of the divine ruler.

Seated in the regal expanse of his seaside palace, Fafnir perused reports detailing the ongoing War in Heaven. The Grand Strategist's intricate plans and future military maneuvers sought approval from the Emperor himself. Yet, amidst the reports of cosmic conflicts and celestial struggles, Fafnir found occasional reprieve in the eccentric requests from his Artificers.

"These Artificers never cease to amaze," Fafnir mused, his immortal eyes scanning documents detailing inventions and experiments that teetered on the brink of the extraordinary and the perilous. The prospect of a multiversal communications network, a concept that intrigued even a being of Fafnir's stature, gained the Emperor's nod of approval.

However, the divine ruler's attention swiftly shifted to another matter – the perpetual requests for funding from his Artificers were balanced by the persistent demands from ambitious businessmen seeking to loosen the God-Emperor's grip on the Imperium Dominus' economy.

Fafnir, in his eternal wisdom, recognized the significance of economic mastery. With a contemplative gaze, he sifted through the pleas of the businessmen, their desires to ease the monopoly met with the Emperor's measured and resolute response.

"It's not like they aren't having a yearly profit of sextillions," Fafnir remarked, his voice resonating with authority. In a moment, the declined stamp descended upon the paper, a symbol of the God-Emperor's unyielding resolve.

Ever since Fafnir's ascension from the Duke of the North to the mantle of God-Emperor, the economic lifeline of the Imperium rested within his grasp. The intricate dance of business acumen, guile, and a hint of force had woven the threads of economic power tightly into the Emperor's hands. The notion of relinquishing this control was an unthinkable proposition unless it promised something greater for the ever-watchful and eternal ruler of the Imperium Dominus.

"Budo," Fafnir's voice resonated with authority as he handed over a document, "It appears that the Avatars of Khaine have been stirring up trouble once more. Astartes are finding it challenging to neutralize these threats without resorting to planet-wide extermination. Deploy some of our Custodians to address the matter. Let the Universe remember the true meaning of 'Custodes.'"

"By your will, my liege," Budo responded with a bow, promptly leaving the Emperor's office to carry out his orders. As Budo departed, he crossed paths with Esdeath, the God-Empress, preparing to enter.

"Good Morning, Empress," Budo greeted respectfully, to which Esdeath nodded in acknowledgment Esdeath returned the greeting with a nod, "Good morning, Budo. I see you are as serious as ever.". As she entered the office, she noticed Fafnir's smirking countenance, a silent exchange between divine rulers hinting at a shared understanding beyond the affairs of state.

In the expansive headquarters of the Cosmic Militarum, a hive of organized chaos unfolded. The massive room buzzed with activity as millions of officers hustled and bustled, resembling a meticulously orchestrated dance of ants. Every corner of the headquarters was abuzz with officers engrossed in their duties, providing real-time updates, requesting reinforcements, and reporting casualties. In the midst of this orchestrated chaos stood Lelouch, a master tactician and commander.

With a gaze that seemed to penetrate the very fabric of war, Lelouch observed the battlefield unfold before him. Millions of thoughts whirled through his mind at a breathtaking pace, each one a strategic calculation, a tactical adjustment, or a decisive order. His eyes, sharp and discerning, swept across the holographic displays that projected the ongoing conflicts across galaxies. Maps and charts illuminated with vital information formed a tapestry of war, and Lelouch navigated this intricate network with precision.

As officers approached him for guidance, Lelouch's responses were swift and decisive. His commands echoed through the headquarters, setting in motion the grand machinery of war.

Amid the organized chaos, Captain Olivia Reed hurriedly approached Lelouch, her uniform adorned with the insignia of the Cosmic Militarum. "Your Excellency," she saluted, "We've received your orders regarding the deployment of the Celestial Void Strikers. They're ready for action, awaiting the signal."

Lelouch nodded, his violet eyes focused. "Excellent, Captain Reed. Have them positioned on the eastern front. I want a concentrated strike on the Korrk flanks. Create an opening for the World Eaters to advance. We need to fracture their lines"

"Understood, Your Excellency," Captain Reed replied, swiftly relaying the orders through her communicator. As she moved away, Colonel Harrison approached with a holographic tablet in hand.

"Lord Lelouch," he began, "The Eldranthii have reinforced their defenses around the Aether Pylons. Your directive to the Celestial Void Strikers will divert their attention, but our ground forces might face heavy resistance."

As the officers dispersed to carry out their assigned tasks, Lelouch turned his attention to Major Cassandra Ruiz, who stood by a massive holomap displaying the current battlefield. "Major," he inquired, "how is the Gamma Segmentum progressing?"

Major Ruiz glanced at her datapad, fingers flying across its surface. "Your Excellency, the Gamma Segmentum is at a stalemate the Korrks are pouring in non-stop and Eldranthii harrassment is a constant. 

Within the bustling headquarters, a message echoed through the communication channels, drawing attention from officers immersed in their tasks. 1st Captain Logan Grimnar, the leader of the Space Wolves, had relayed a crucial update. Lelouch, ever focused, addressed the officers around him.

"Space Wolves incoming," he announced, his voice cutting through the hum of activity. "Her Royal Highness Wolfsbane has assured us that they'll handle the Eldranthii harassments. Let's coordinate with them and ensure a seamless integration of their forces into our strategy."

Colonel Harrison quickly keyed in commands on his holographic tablet, initiating a direct link with the Space Wolves' command center. "This is Colonel Harrison of the Cosmic Militarum. Captain Grimnar, we welcome your assistance. Our forces are ready to synchronize efforts with the Space Wolves. Any specific targets you'd like us to focus on?"

A gruff voice responded over the channel, carrying the characteristic resonance of a Space Wolf. "Colonel Harrison, we've identified Eldranthii command nodes near the southern perimeter. Hit them hard, disrupt their coordination. The Space Wolves will handle the frontline assault."

Acknowledging the orders, Colonel Harrison relayed the information to the officers under his command. "Southern perimeter targets confirmed. All units, coordinate with the Space Wolves on disrupting Eldranthii command. Let's create an opening for the Wolves to unleash their fury."

As the communication lines buzzed with activity, Lelouch observed the collaborative effort taking shape. The Space Wolves, renowned for their ferocity in battle, promised a significant advantage against the Eldranthii forces. The strategic dance of forces unfolded, with the Cosmic Militarum aligning its movements with the incoming tide of Space Wolves.

A report cut through the continuous flow of information. An officer, tension etched on his face, delivered news of a Korrk Fleet menacing the Draconic Sector. Lelouch's inquisitive gaze fell upon the officer, prompting a swift response.

"Milord, a Korrk Fleet has emerged near the Draconic Sector. Your orders?"

"What does the local Dragon Knight report?" Lelouch inquired, his eyes keenly focused on the unfolding situation. Before a response could materialize, another report interjected, revealing a surprising twist in the scenario.

"Milord, half of the Korrk fleet was struck by a planet. Witnesses claim a dragon made of stars propelled it toward the invaders."

Lelouch leaned back, his gaze fixed on the holographic display before him. The Draconic Sector, a realm bathed in the brilliance of radiant dragons, held a significance beyond its stellar beauty. It was a testament to Fafnir's divine creativity, where the majestic creatures, from the resplendent Gold Dragons to the formidable Red Dragons, found not only refuge but a purpose.

"The Draconic Sector," Lelouch began, his voice carrying a hint of reverence, "is a jewel in the Imperium's crown, a gift from the God-Emperor himself, Fafnir. The radiant dragons, ancient and wise, have made it their home, and they guard it with a vigilance born from centuries of servitude to both his Majesty and the Imperium."

He gestured to the holographic representation of the Draconic Sector, where constellations of dragons danced in celestial harmony. "These creatures are not mere defenders; they are the architects of this cosmic realm. Their nests adorn the solar systems, and their ancient presence ensures a buffer zone of unimaginable power."

Lelouch's laughter echoed through the command center as he contemplated the unfolding events. "Let the Korrks know the folly of their actions, yet I believe they won't comprehend it. A race born for war, heading into the maw of oblivion." His voice, a symphony of calm resolve, resonated in the expansive chamber.

The strategic map before him flickered with holographic representations of stellar battles and cosmic clashes. Lelouch's gaze, a mix of calculated intellect and the weight of a leader's burden, surveyed the celestial theater where forces beyond mortal understanding collided.