Sovereign Ascendant

The caves stretched before them, a labyrinth of endless darkness and twisting paths, carved over millennia by forces unknown. It was a place without light, without sound—where breath and movement carried further than they should, where the walls felt like they were watching.

Gaius moved first, his steps silent, his body an extension of the shadows. The others followed, their footfalls disciplined, their presence controlled.

They did not speak.

There was no need.

The Imperial Nobility were unlike any warriors he had ever fought beside.

The Crimson Draconarii—the Imperium's finest, sons of the great Houses, warriors bred from the strongest bloodlines. Each one had been trained from birth in war, in the secrets of Qi refinement, in techniques passed down from their ancestors.

And they moved as if they had been born for this.

Their armor was scarlet red, layered in thick plates of reinforced battle-steel, edged with ceremonial gold. It was ornate and heavy, yet they moved without resistance, the weight meaning nothing to their refined bodies. Each piece of plating was lined with embedded Qi channels, allowing power to flow seamlessly through their frames.

Their weapons gleamed in the dim light—polearms crackling with stored energy, blades humming with razor-thin Qi, gauntlets reinforced with layered sigils.

And when the first Crawlers emerged from the walls, the Blooded Elite showed why they were unmatched.

The creatures lunged from the shadows, claws extended, mandibles clicking.

Gaius moved to engage, his gladius rising—

He never reached them.

The nobles cut them down before they could even touch the ground.

Tiberius did not hesitate, his spear igniting with golden fire, slicing through exoskeleton and flesh in a single motion. He moved faster than thought, stepping between attacks with ease, his strikes fluid, calculated.

The others fought the same way. Not as soldiers, but as executioners.

One raised his hand, and a defensive barrier of flickering Qi surrounded the unit, negating the creatures' attacks before they could even land. Another used an evasion technique, his body flickering in and out of sight, stepping through the battlefield like a phantom. The third unleashed a palm strike so powerful it ruptured the air, sending Crawlers flying back in pieces.

Support. Evasion. Defense. Attack.

Each one specialized. Each one perfected.

It was art.

Gaius had fought beside Legionnaires, veterans, mercenaries. He had bled, survived, killed. But this—

This was the gap between nobility and commoners.

And he understood, now, why the Great Houses ruled.

The Crawlers never stood a chance.

They advanced through the tunnels with brutal efficiency, cutting through every enemy they encountered. Gaius did not waste energy. He fought when necessary, but the nobles did not need him.

Not yet.

But as the days passed, as the battles blurred into routine—kill, eat, rest, kill again—Gaius began to see something else.

The Crawlers were learning.

They began attacking in patterns, baiting their movements, leading them into tighter spaces. They still weren't as coordinated as the nobles, but they were no longer mindless.

The deeper they went, the stronger the enemy became.

—

By the fifth day, the tunnels shifted.

The walls, once rough and natural, became smooth, unnatural. Qi pulsed through the stone, veins of energy glowing faintly, like the inside of something alive.

Gaius exhaled. "We're close."

Tiberius tilted his head. "You can feel it?"

Gaius nodded. "The Hive Core. It's near."

Tiberius' lips curled in satisfaction. "Then let's end this."

They pressed forward.

—

The Hive Core was a vast, open cavern, unlike anything they had seen before.

A massive chamber of pulsating walls, the ground slick with Qi-infused ichor. The air was thick, heavy, filled with the scent of decay and something else—something wrong.

At the center, the Queen.

A monstrosity of chitin and raw Qi energy, its massive form curled around a nest of writhing larvae, its eyes black pits of soulless hunger.

It sensed them.

It screamed.

The cavern came alive.

Hundreds—thousands—of Crawlers emerged from the walls, from the ceilings, from the pools of stagnant Qi.

The Hive was defending itself.

Tiberius smiled.

"Burn it all."

His spear ignited, the flames turning from gold to hellfire black.

He stepped forward, raising the weapon high.

And then he unleashed it.

A storm of fire erupted from his blade, flooding the cavern in waves of destruction.

The Crawlers burned, shrieking, writhing as the flames consumed them.

The walls melted, the Queen convulsing, its body thrashing as the fire tore through its form.

The cavern collapsed.

And the war was over.

—

They returned to the surface a week later, victorious.