Sovereign Ascendant

The Subterranean did not exist.

At least, not in any official capacity.

There were no records of its tunnels in the Imperial archives, no maps leading to its entrance, no mentions of it in the conversations of soldiers or merchants.

And yet, it thrived.

Beneath the Imperial Capital's rivers, beneath the layers of golden streets and sculpted palaces, beneath the very feet of the nobility, the greatest black market in the known galaxy pulsed with life.

It had existed for centuries, woven into the fabric of Prime Terra like a hidden vein of black gold.

A place where rules did not reach, where the Imperium's iron grip faltered.

A place where those who sought power beyond law came to barter with shadows.

—

Gaius walked the lower riverbanks, his posture loose, his gait easy, the mask of a man still lost in the afterglow of drink and indulgence.

To everyone who saw him, he was just another Legionnaire enjoying his final days of rest before returning to the front.

To himself, he was a man hunting for what could not be found above ground.

—

The entrance to the Subterranean was hidden in plain sight.

Not in a shadowed alley, nor in the depths of some forgotten ruin.

It was beneath the largest winery in the Capital, a sprawling estate where the rivers of honey and wine merged, cascading down into massive fermentation vats before flowing outward into the city's countless taverns.

A perfect place—one where the scent of fermenting spirits masked anything unnatural, where workers came and went at all hours, where no one questioned why certain shipments disappeared into the cellars, never to be seen again.

Gaius had learned of its existence years ago, through whispers, through the telltale signs of imperfection in a world that claimed to be flawless.

No system was absolute.

Not even the Imperium's.

—

The entrance was unremarkable—a simple storage chamber at the edge of the winery's lowest level, where the scent of oak barrels and aged spirits filled the air.

But when Gaius placed his hand against the farthest wall, pressing three fingers against an unmarked stone, the space shimmered.

A formation.

The wall shifted, revealing a dark corridor spiraling downward.

No words. No guards.

Only the silent invitation of the underworld.

Gaius stepped forward.

The wall sealed behind him.

—

The Subterranean did not welcome outsiders.

The moment he crossed its threshold, his presence was dulled.

Not physically, not in the way of a numbing agent, but spiritually.

The air here was thick with layered formations, each one designed to do the same thing—erase presence, mask perception, blur the lines between identities.

No one could recognize another.

Even those who entered together would find their memories of each other muddled, their sense of familiarity dulled.

The rule was simple—no names, no faces.

And so, every soul that walked these halls wore a mask.

Gaius had come prepared.

He reached into his cloak, pulling out a plain black mask, fitting it over his face.

From this moment on, he was no longer a Centurion. No longer a soldier of the Imperium.

He was simply another seeker, hunting for power in the dark.

—

The market stretched before him, an underground labyrinth of stone archways and shifting corridors, lit by hanging lanterns infused with cold Qi.

Vendors sat behind reinforced stalls, their wares displayed on floating platforms of tempered glass.

There were no hawkers, no cries of advertisement.

The Subterranean had no need for such things.

If you came here, you already knew what you were looking for.

—

Gaius moved with purpose.

He did not need weapons. The Imperium forged its own, and his gladius had already been reforged in the Warrealm.

He did not need Qi techniques. His path forward had already been laid.

What he needed was something more fundamental.

Something the Imperium strictly controlled.

Physique enhancers. Healing agents.

The kind of substances that could turn a man into something more than human—if he survived their effects.

—

He found what he was looking for in a stall at the very edge of the market, where the air reeked of chemicals and raw Qi, where the shadows were heavier than elsewhere.

The vendor sat behind a low, lacquered table, his figure draped in a cloak of dark silk, his mask smooth and featureless.

His wares were displayed in sealed vials, etched with Bellum glyphs.

Not Imperial.

Not sanctioned.

Smuggled from the Bellum Empire.

Gaius had read reports of these. Substances designed to push the body beyond its limits, harvested from the monstrous bloodlines of the Bellum's greatest war-beasts.

They did not enhance.

They broke.

They tore flesh apart, shattered bone, burned muscle to ash, then forced the body to rebuild itself stronger.

Most who took them required pain suppressants.

Some did not survive at all.

Gaius' breath was steady.

He pointed to the strongest vial.

The vendor tilted his head. "No suppressant?"

Gaius shook his head.

A slow chuckle. "You'll feel everything."

Gaius smiled beneath his mask.

"I know."

—

His next purchases were simpler.

Qi restoration pills, to replenish his reserves.

Talisman scrolls, designed to enhance speed and strength.

A single, high-grade healing elixir, meant for catastrophic injuries.

Everything came at a price.

The vendor named his amount.

Gaius reached into his pouch and placed six hundred gold dails onto the table.

Almost all of his personal wealth.

The vendor took the money.

The transaction was complete.

Gaius tucked the vials into his cloak.

Then, without another word, he vanished into the crowd.