The Empire Trembled

The Conqueror trailed thick black smoke like a great bird with a broken wing, then slammed into an imperial landing pad. After a shriek of scraping metal, the hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, and Craig appeared in the doorway.

The guards around him fell silent. Their eyes widened in disbelief and horror.

Was this really Commander Craig, famed for his strength?

His skin was shriveled and wrinkled, like bark weathered for a thousand years, clinging tight to his bones. His body shook uncontrollably with every step, as though a gust of wind could knock him over.

He was no longer the empire's blade, but an old man whose flame of life was about to go out.

"His squad... where are the others?" a recruit whispered to the veteran beside him, his voice trembling.

"I don't know... He's the only one who came back." The veteran's voice was just as dry.

Craig raised his clouded eyes and looked over the crowd. His voice sounded like gears ground down to their limits. "Take me to the grand regent."

When the news reached the imperial command hall, that beating heart of Viltrum's supreme military power fell into an eerie silence for the first time. Every movement, conversation, and command froze at once.

Two towering soldiers supported Craig—or rather, dragged him—to the center of the hall. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. With all his strength, he lifted his head toward the mountain-like figure on the command platform.

Thragg.

Grand regent of the Viltrum Empire. His body stood over two meters tall, packed with explosive muscle, every inch seemingly forged from pure strength. He looked down at Craig as a god might regard an ant, without a trace of emotion.

"Speak." One word, yet it carried enough weight to crush