Sovereign Ascendant

The warship Bellator cut through the sky like a blade, engines roaring as it descended upon Aegis Fortress. Gaius stood near the open ramp, the heat of re-entry washing over him, casting a flickering glow across the faces of the soldiers beside him.

The Legion of the Eternal Flame—warriors clad in crimson armor, bound by oath to fight for the Imperium. Here, there was no kindness, no camaraderie outside of survival. A soldier's life belonged to the state, his future dictated by the Senate's will.

Gaius understood that. He had accepted it long ago. But that didn't mean he had to be satisfied.

Aulus Kor nudged him, eyes sharp beneath his plumed helmet. "You're too quiet, Voss. Thinking about your inevitable, painful death?"

Gaius smirked. "Just wondering if I'll have to carry your corpse out of this mess."

Cassius Redfang laughed, flashing sharp teeth, the beast-blood in his veins giving his grin an unnatural edge. "You're both fools. War's a gamble, and I don't take losing bets. If I die, I'll do it drinking the governor's finest wine after we take Aegis."

"Or in a pit, fighting for their amusement," Aulus muttered. "We're being thrown into the worst of it, you know that, right? No reinforcements. No retreat."

Gaius exhaled slowly. That much was obvious. The Senate had sent them here to fail. If Aegis Fortress fell, the blame would land squarely on the common-born officers leading the charge. If they somehow survived, they'd be too bloodied to rise any further.

The Imperium rewarded strength, but only from the right bloodlines.

The officer leading this expedition, Legatus Octavian Varro, stood at the head of the gathered soldiers. He was noble-born, clad in ceremonial Imperial steel instead of the reinforced plating worn by front-line soldiers. His dark gaze swept across them with barely concealed disdain.

"Remember your duty," Varro called, voice hard and commanding. "You are Legionnaires of the Imperium. You do not falter. You do not question orders. You kill and you conquer. Anything less is treason."

A cheer rose, though it was half-hearted. Gaius didn't join in.

Aegis Fortress loomed below them, a blackened monolith of steel and stone, its outer walls pockmarked with battle scars. The banners of the Imperium still flew, but the Bellum Empire's forces had already broken through parts of the perimeter. Smoke curled from the lower districts, the stench of burning bodies thick even from this height.

Gaius flexed his fingers, feeling the pulse of his Qi burning beneath his skin.

The Path of Sovereignty was not a simple cultivation technique. Unlike the sect-based methods of the Immortal Clans, the Imperium forged its warriors through warfare, discipline, and control. Power came not from isolation or meditation, but from the battlefield, where every strike, every command, shaped the wielder into something greater.

At Centurion Rank, Gaius had reached the Foundation Building stage, refining his Qi to the point where he could strengthen his body beyond mortal limits. His muscles were like tempered iron, his movements sharper, faster. The Centurion's Mantle, a technique unique to his rank, allowed him to channel battle aura, forming a protective force around his body that could turn aside weaker blows.

His sword—his father's old gladius, reforged a dozen times—rested at his hip. It had no name, no spiritual essence like the weapons of the Immortal Sects. But it had tasted blood in every battle he had fought. And that was enough.

The warhorns sounded. The ramp dropped open, exposing the battlefield below.

"First wave, GO!"

The first line of Legionnaires surged forward, descending on hover platforms, crashing into the chaos of the outer wall. Gaius felt his pulse slow, his mind sharpening. The world faded, leaving only the rhythm of war.

Aulus grinned. "Try to keep up, Voss."

Cassius rolled his shoulders. "If you two die, I get your rations."

Then they jumped.

The wind roared around them as they dropped, armor thrusters slowing their descent just before impact. Gaius landed with a crash, rolling as a massive orc warrior swung a battleaxe at him the moment his feet touched the ground.

He sidestepped, his gladius flashing. The orc's arm severed at the elbow.

The creature bellowed, blood spraying across the scorched stone, but Gaius was already moving. His blade sank into its throat, ending its cry before it could fully form.

To his left, Aulus parried a beastman's spear, twisting the weapon free and impaling the warrior in one fluid motion.

Cassius, faster than either of them, lunged into a pack of enemy soldiers, moving like a shadow, his blade cutting through armor and flesh alike.

Gaius turned as another orc charged, its Qi flaring—a Bellum warrior, trained in war cultivation. Unlike the nobility of the Imperium, the Bellum Empire respected only personal strength, their warriors tempering their bodies through battle and bloodline mutations.

The orc roared, fists crackling with energy as he struck. Gaius raised his gladius, activating Centurion's Mantle. The orc's punch slammed into his aura shield, sending him skidding back, but the barrier held.

Not bad.

Gaius exhaled, then stepped forward, meeting the next strike head-on. His Qi surged through his blade, his Imperial Blade Severance activating. The orc swung—but Gaius' strike was faster.

His gladius sheared through the orc's chest, splitting flesh and bone in a single motion.

The warrior staggered, eyes wide, before crumpling.

Gaius stood over the body, breath even. Three enemies down in seconds. Not bad, but not enough. The battle raged, and there were thousands more waiting.

"Push forward!" Aulus called. "We take the gate, or we die trying!"

Gaius adjusted his grip on his sword.

This was only the beginning.