The Play Opens, As Expected

Drama—what an ancient and unfamiliar word.

As a noble, Herod had indeed harbored a flicker of interest in this lost form of entertainment, one that belonged to an age of old prosperity.

In legends, when people could eat meat and vegetables every day, they would gather in their leisure time within magnificent halls carved from countless marbles, watching clever actors perform stories from ancient tales.

He would have liked drama.

But definitely not with a blade at his throat.

"You have no right to refuse."

Perhaps sensing his resistance, Fulgrim gripped her sword hilt again and said flatly.

Instantly, Herod felt a chill on his face.

He instinctively trembled and touched his cheek.

It was blood.

In that single instant, she had precisely drawn her sword, sliced his skin, and sheathed it.

And he couldn't even see her movement.

Force.

The most primal display and threat.

Herod couldn't help but swallow.

"Fine, I'll go."

"Boss, that Fulgrim is really nice! Not only did she not cause us trouble, she's even treating us to a drama!"

"A drama! I've never seen one in my life—"

"Shut up, you blathering idiot!"

Walking behind Fulgrim, Herod muttered a curse at his brainless follower.

After he reluctantly agreed to her demand, Fulgrim strolled casually along the Upper Fortress streets.

"Fulgrim, where exactly are you taking us?"

"As far as I know, there's no theater in Karax Fortress."

Even if there once was, it was demolished and dismantled countless years ago.

"Fulgrim?"

She just walked ahead in silence, not answering Herod's questions.

Until her steps came to a halt at the center of the broadest Upper Fortress plaza.

There were quite a few people in the plaza.

Not far off, members of other noble families could even be seen waiting.

"We're not going anywhere."

"The entire Karax is our theater."

As her voice fell, the electric lights that had illuminated the Upper Fortress for countless years went out in an instant.

Silence enveloped everything.

"Shut down the lighting systems. Open ventilation panels 29 through 13."

Received.

Sound array system adjusted. Outputting as commanded.

All existing factory projection devices connected.

Projection outputting.

Standing in the fortress's main control cabin, fiddling with countless fortress system buttons, Kasgar rubbed his temples vigorously.

His combat ability was barely above an ordinary person's now.

If he went down to organize the uprising with Fulgrim, he'd likely just hold her back.

So, after entering Karax through a secret passage, they split up as planned: he would control the fortress's mechanical systems to assist Fulgrim's momentum-building operation.

He had previously suggested Fulgrim take a simpler, faster approach to subdue the fortress.

But she flatly refused.

"No. It shouldn't be that simple."

"This isn't just our battle to reclaim the fortress. It's the starting point of our magnificent conquest of this planet, of this universe."

"Only the most splendid, grand, heroic epic of an opening can match it."

"And in the future, every scholar, historian, playwright, or mere audience member who reads this history will be captivated, will be awed by it."

The reply was very much her style.

But for Kasgar, things were far from pleasant.

According to Fulgrim's plan, she would use a play to awaken the ideals and dreams in every heart within Karax.

And Kasgar had been honored with the role of backstage stage manager for the production.

He wasn't exactly a mechanical expert, but during the month he'd spent learning from Fulgrim, he could still operate machinery on command.

Battle C-1 was about to begin.

Darkness.

Everything plunged into darkness.

"What's going on?"

"Did the power system fail?"

"Run! You want that woman to chop your head off if you don't?"

In the dim square, the assembled nobles stirred in panic.

But in the next instant, their hope of escape turned to despair.

Thud!

Heavy isolation walls slammed down, sealing off every passage around the square.

"Damn it, what kind of game is she playing?!"

"If she's not killing us, is she just here to humiliate the nobility even more?"

Herod pounded furiously against the wall.

It didn't budge an inch.

At this very moment, darkness had swallowed not just the Upper Fortress.

The lower factories of Karax were also shrouded in shadow.

"Damn it, why's the power out?!"

"Great, we're definitely not making quota now."

"Why now of all times?"

Amid the factory's clamor, a projection screen slowly descended, unnoticed by nearly everyone.

"Brothers and sisters, come look—what's this?"

As the voice fell, the entire factory fell silent, like before a movie premiere, with only a few whispers echoing through the hollow dark.

What was this?

A giant tapestry hanging in the sky?

Wait—colors were appearing on it!

With a few startled cries, it lit up, came alive!

Everything emerged clearly!

Colors!

Like the real world, colors bleeding across the tapestry!

In the pitch-black fabric, a beam of light suddenly appeared, adorned with a graceful silhouette.

"It's Sister Fugen!!!"

"This is what Sister Fugen taught us—it's called a screen!"

A childish voice rang out, full of pride, from among the workers.

Ever since Herod took power, child labor had returned to Karax.

But perhaps it was these children, whose childhoods had been dyed by color, who could still recognize the shape of ideals and dreams.

"Fugen? Isn't she the one who murdered the Sherlock Patriarch to become a noble and seize control of Karax—"

"You're lying! Sister Fugen is a good person!"

Before the man could finish, the child angrily cut him off.

"Kid, never mind that fool. Tell us quickly—what is Fulgrim doing?"

Why did she suddenly leave us all, and why return now?

"I... I don't know."

The child hesitated.

"But before she left, Sister Fugen promised us she'd put on a play."

"In the play, we'd hear the best, most interesting stories."

Tap, tap.

Her footsteps were slow and clear.

Under the single pillar of light illuminating the entire hall, Fulgrim slowly walked to the front of the stage.

At some point, she had shed her noble robes and changed into the simple garments workers commonly wore.

Facing the nobles before her and the countless workers waiting behind the screens, she began to speak slowly.

"Brothers and sisters, the story I tell here is no heroic epic; just as all beginnings stem from the past."

Her voice rang out crisp as a lark, harmonizing with the melody she had composed herself.

"Back then, the sky was still clear, and countless stars shimmered in the night; merchant ships coming and going from Chemos vied for passage, like silver plates studded with pearls."

Countless goods and riches were all gathered into their hands in those days; once, Chemos was such a paradise.

Her cadenced tone was yet exceedingly gentle; her ornate yet concise words layered one upon another, even drawing in the restless enemy Herod, who stood uneasy.

"At that time, the people jointly elected several administrators; under their oaths and promises, Chemos would be prosperous forever."

"But—"

Fulgrim's tone began to shift. A contagious sorrow cast a thin mist over everyone's hearts.

"The universe is so cruel: before people could even enjoy themselves, a raging storm suddenly filled the entire sky."

"If you looked up again, the brilliant river of stars was no more; the sky now held only surging yellow sands and endless void."

But the people of Chemos did not surrender then.

"The administrators ate and lived alongside the workers, everyone united as one, facing hardships together."

"'No matter what difficulties lie ahead, we will overcome them hand in hand!'"