I Am Honkai

"Durandal, oh, you're here too." The hatch slid open as Li Sushang exited the training room. Spotting the pristine knight descending slowly from the spectator stands, she waved and called out.

"Mm." Durandal responded, nodding to Li Sushang and the two individuals standing beside her.

"And they are?" she asked.

Cornelia and Wave, both dressed in iron-gray uniforms distinct from the attire of Schicksal, bore finely crafted emblems of the Imperial double-headed eagle on their chests. These insignias clearly marked them as individuals of notable status—far above ordinary auxiliary or conscripted troops.

The uniforms of the auxiliary and conscripted troops were distinct. Auxiliary troops adhered to a standardized design for uniforms, ranks, and weaponry, all provided by the Empire's logistics department.

In contrast, conscripted troops varied significantly. Typically, recruits from a single world were organized into a regiment named after their planet's numerical designation. The sizes of these regiments, their uniforms, organizational structures, and ranks all varied, as did their equipment, which was provided by their respective Astartes legions.

For instance, some regiments consisted of 6,000 troops per unit, while others exceeded a million. If enough personnel from a conscripted world were promoted to auxiliary status, the world could be elevated to a higher classification. In such cases, it would retain its original conscription obligations while receiving the special designation of being under direct imperial jurisdiction, equivalent in standing to auxiliary forces.

Durandal mused over her limited knowledge: "I must not have clearance to access records of such specialized units yet."

The insignias on Cornelia and Wave's armbands differed from both the emblems of the regiments listed in imperial records and the insignias she had seen on auxiliary officers aboard the flagship. A blood-red diamond-shaped shield framed the emblem of a hunter wielding both gun and blade.

Since being brought aboard the flagship by Selene, Durandal had spent much of her time in the Empress' assigned garden reception hall, poring over imperial texts she was authorized to read.

Even with limited access, what she had learned was overwhelming—she had barely scratched the surface of this vast empire, but it was enough to leave her shaken.

The Empire operated on raw survival instincts, adhering unapologetically to the law of the jungle.

Ancient military maxims preached that commanders should treat their soldiers like family, sharing hardships to build loyalty.

But in the Sacred Selene Empire, only a few leaders—such as Alex of the First Legion, Sanguinius of the Ninth Legion, and Vulkan of the Eighteenth Legion—embodied this ethos. Most generals dismissed such ideals as irrelevant.

Their view was pragmatic: commanders didn't need to match the living conditions of their troops. As long as rewards and punishments were clear, soldiers' desire for victory could be ignited. Why get bogged down in unnecessary formalities?

To these commanders, troops—especially conscripts—were mere numbers to be spent.

As long as the trade-offs were acceptable, even auxiliary forces or Astartes warriors could be treated as expendable assets.

Of course, this mindset operated under a critical premise: results must justify the means.

If someone squandered resources recklessly with no tangible results, they wouldn't need to worry about Selene taking action—Sebas and the Imperial Inquisition would take care of them first.

Based on her observations, imperial soldiers seemed to value competence in their superiors far more than camaraderie.

Whether a commander was kind or harsh mattered little; what soldiers cared about was whether their leader could win battles, secure rewards, and enforce discipline fairly.

If a commander was incompetent, no amount of shared hardship would earn the troops' gratitude.

Even if rigid imperial hierarchy prevented outright rebellion, soldiers would seek transfers, and no elite recruits would willingly join such a unit.

This philosophy was evident aboard the flagship. Except for designated areas such as the spaceport, hangar bays, fortress zones, and certain storage or living quarters, conscripted troops were barred from entering most sections of the ship.

...

"Wave."

"Cornelia."

"Assigned to the Imperial Assassination Corps," the two exchanged a glance and spoke in unison.

They were already aware that these so-called elite Valkyries from Schicksal would remain under the Chief's training until they were fully integrated and combat-ready as a regiment in their homeland.

Since they would be comrades-in-arms for a considerable time, there was no need to hide their affiliations.

"Assassination Corps?" Hearing this, not only Durandal but also Li Sushang looked at the two with skeptical expressions.

"Do we not seem like it?" Wave chuckled dryly as they walked through the broad, polished corridor.

Though technically under the banner of the Imperial Assassination Corps, the "Jaegers" unit hardly resembled traditional assassins. Each member's individuality was readily apparent. Take Wave, for instance—once he activated his Teigu and declared himself the "Carnage Incarnate, Grand Chariot," everyone knew exactly who it was.

Compared to assassins, the "Jaegers" were more akin to a specialized group of executioners.

"Not at all," Li Sushang nodded.

According to the martial arts dramas she loved growing up, assassins—weren't they supposed to dress in black nightwear, scale walls with ease, vanish without a trace, and wield hidden weapons, poison, and blades?

But Cornelia, who had fought her in a brawl, employed an entirely different approach. Her straightforward, brute-force martial arts and overwhelming strength left a deep impression on Li Sushang. A "stealthy assassin"? What a joke.

"You'll find out soon enough. We'll have plenty of opportunities to carry out missions together," Cornelia remarked with a faint smile.

"In that case, I look forward to working with you both," Durandal nodded before following Wave's lead.

As they walked through the flagship's opulent corridors, passing golden gates and stepping onto red carpets embroidered with golden floral patterns, Durandal couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur.

Everything was impeccably clean, and the polished walls reflected the trio's passing figures.

Is this really a fortress battleship? Durandal was increasingly convinced this was more of a colossal palace fitted with engines and fortress-grade weaponry.

The flagship's internal space was astonishingly vast. Even the conscripted troops temporarily stationed aboard were given spacious living quarters.

In theory, the closed design of a battleship might induce a sense of claustrophobia and oppression in its inhabitants.

But not on this flagship. It featured numerous viewing windows and fortress-grade defense arrays. The hangar bays and spaceports even offered panoramic cabins, allowing one to gaze at the cosmic sea or the swirling scenery of the warp corridors.

Feeling the view was monotonous? No problem. Surrounding the golden central palace, the ship also boasted extensive green zones. While these parks couldn't compare to the fully equipped central garden, enjoying greenery amidst a starry voyage was more than enough.

Navigating through the corridors and rounding a colonnade, the trio soon spotted Esdeath's striking ice-blue hair through the wide, open archway of a chamber.

They also caught snippets of her conversation.

"Miss Rita, according to the files, you're classified as an 'S'-rank Valkyrie from Schicksal. By the standards listed, shouldn't an 'S'-rank Valkyrie represent apex combat prowess?"

Pausing, Esdeath leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand as she curiously asked, "Then why does Miss Rita always dress as a maid?"

"You flatter me, General. This is simply Rita's personal choice...."

At that moment, the sound of deliberate footsteps echoed—tap, tap, tap!

Standing at the entrance, Wave lightly knocked on the doorframe and said, "Boss, the people are here."

"Oh?" Esdeath raised her head.

The entire room instantly fell silent.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, ceased their conversations, and turned to look at the three figures at the entrance.

"Lord Durandal! You said you'd only watch for a little while. Why have you..." It was Rita who first broke the silence, the loyal maid swiftly moving to Durandal's side with a hint of reproach.

"Ah, sorry, Rita. I'll make sure to be mindful next time."

"Next time? You're already thinking about next time?" Rita retorted, her tone like that of a doting wife scolding her returning husband.

"Uh..." Durandal was at a loss for words.

Esdeath, observing this, wore an expression of sudden understanding.

Looking at Durandal's demeanor and aura, Hmm, isn't this exactly how General Selene used to act?

Perhaps Durandal, like Empress Selene, was the type to project beauty, seriousness, elegance, and strength—someone who exuded a reliable and flawless impression in public. Yet in private, she might be careless, relying on those close to her to manage her daily life, with someone always preparing thoughtful extras for her.

A female version of Old Master Sebas? That explained a lot.

After somewhat placating Rita with an appeasing tone, Durandal covered her face, clearly embarrassed. She had unintentionally lingered to watch the high-level and evenly matched sparring session, unable to resist its allure.

Gesturing with her eyes to Esdeath for permission, which was granted with a nod, Durandal quickly walked into the room, selected an empty seat, composed herself, and sat down. Raising her head with calm dignity, she asked, "General Esdeath, you mentioned the Imperial Capital is near. How much longer until we arrive?"

Twiddling her fingers thoughtfully, Esdeath turned to gaze out the window. The vibrant purples and reds of the warp corridor had begun to fade, and the void outside churned violently like boiling water.

"We've already arrived."

The next moment, hum, hum, hum—!

The ship trembled as the scenery abruptly changed. The eternal glow of the warp corridor disappeared, replaced by the vast and tranquil starry expanse. From this vantage, one could behold the dazzling beauty of countless stars scattered across the void.

Without atmospheric distortion, the stars in the Honkai Dimension didn't flicker. Instead, their steady radiance enhanced the magnificence of the cosmic scene.

"Wow! It's so breathtaking!" Hearing the commotion, the Olenyeva sisters and Pardofelis were the first to rush over, pressing against the thick observation window with stars in their eyes and mouths agape in awe.

Following them, Kiana and Raiden Mei, Bronya and Seele, Fu Hua and Senti, and even Mobius all stood up and approached the window.

The view from approximately tens of thousands of kilometers above the planet's surface offered a grand perspective.

Orbiting in near-Earth space was the Pride of the Empress Stargate Spaceport, exclusively reserved for the Imperial Guard. Not only was it larger and more heavily armored, but its decorations were also far more opulent.

Primarily adorned in pristine white, it featured extensive gilded accents and intricate crimson patterns.

Within the spaceport, beyond the central passage of the stargate itself, numerous large and small hollow chambers formed its structure. It resembled a massive, perfectly arranged multifaceted crystal.

From a distance, illuminated by countless lights, it appeared like a purple crystalline wall.

The vast port platform was dotted with countless towering columns, each supported by numerous massive red pillars. Every column was intricately engraved with a golden, double-headed eagle in flight, so vivid it seemed alive.

Layer upon layer of crimson and gold imperial banners fluttered like falling petals in the wind, creating a scene of extraordinary grandeur.

"Are you ready?" Esdeath asked, rising to her feet and directing her gaze toward the group from Schicksal, especially Kiana and Durandal.

Even she could see the undeniable connection between them and Selene. Their features and abilities bore too much resemblance to the former Selene.

Even if Selene herself made no declarations, Esdeath refused to believe that the imperial bureaucrats would fail to notice or speculate.

"Ready?" Kiana echoed.

Durandal and Kiana exchanged glances, a flicker of understanding passing between them.

"Ready to stand in the spotlight," Esdeath said, stepping between them and gazing out the window. "To be the center of attention, where every move you make ripples outward to influence countless lives."

"Whether or not you are prepared, from the moment you were associated with Her Majesty and took up positions within the Empire's system, this path was inevitable."

"Unless you die, or prove yourself useless. Otherwise, there is no avoiding this day."

"But," Esdeath turned and raised her hand, clenching it into a fist as her eyes gleamed sharply, "I do not think you are useless."

As the ship entered the port, the massive double-headed eagle insignia of the Stargate Spaceport loomed behind Esdeath, casting its shadow across her back.

"Power, wealth, influence—they will soon pour in your direction. Are you ready to claim them?"

...

Meanwhile, the arrival platform at the Pride of the Empress Stargate Spaceport was teeming with people. Technicians and spaceport staff bustled about, maintaining the operational facilities.

Even more notable were the throngs of imperial officials of varying ranks and the large contingent of Imperial Guard present to receive the arrivals.

Upon receiving the return signal from the Empress' flagship, officials from all corners of the Imperial Capital had promptly left their offices and convened at the Stargate Spaceport.

Like streams flowing into a lake, they organized themselves seamlessly, forming orderly ranks according to their grades, positions, and titles—an unspoken choreography that needed no instruction.

Among them were planetary governors from various colonial worlds, along with heads of the Empire's central departments. To gather such a distinguished assembly of dignitaries in one place, only Selene could command such an audience.

At the forefront of this assembly, amidst the towering figures of officials and giants, stood an elder in traditional butler's attire. Golden-armored giants surrounded him protectively, as though he were a treasure at their center.

The elder's hair and beard were entirely white, and he stood at an imposing 190 cm. Though his age showed, his posture was as straight as an unyielding pine tree.

He raised his head, gazing at the massive fleet docking slowly. A glimmer of gentle joy flickered in his sharp crimson vertical pupils.

...

With wolf-like faces and leopard-like physiques, clad in golden armor and wielding golden halberds, the Imperial Guard commander bowed low behind the elder.

"Lord Sebas, according to Her Majesty's message, these individuals—Kaslana, Ataegina... these royal—uh, no, Her Majesty's... foster sisters? That's not right either..."

The commander hesitated, flustered by the sudden introduction of figures significant enough to warrant Sebas's personal guidance. Their implications left him struggling for the right terminology.

"If your tongue fails you, then keep it silent," Sebas replied without turning, his tone calm and detached. "I told you to read more books, but you didn't listen."

"I... I do read..."

"And what do you read? Military treatises and front-line magazine digests? Not a single piece of refined literature..."

"Ahem, I was wrong! Please don't continue, Lord Sebas. I'll change!" the commander interjected hastily, eager to shift the subject. "How do you plan to handle this situation?"

"We will let it take its course," Sebas said placidly.

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