An isolated building, a former stone shed partially collapsed, was steeped in darkness so dense that even the automated floodlights dared not pierce it. The structure bore the scars of time: cracked walls, rotting beams, and a scent of abandonment that rain had never managed to wash away. A heavy silence weighed upon the place—not the silence of peace, but of restraint, of a breath held in anticipation.
Aurélien went there alone.
He left behind the hum of the assembly line, the bursts of sparks, the precise clicks of the automatons. Behind him, the eyes of his companions—those who still dared question his motives—were swallowed by the shadows.
He wanted no witnesses. Not for this.
In his hand rested the Summoning Card, heavy like a sentence, opaque like the purest obsidian. Its violet veins pulsed slowly, like a dormant heart waiting to awaken. A digital whisper stirred in his mental interface:
[Item Used: Summoning Card – Servant (Class Unknown)][Esoteric Linkage System Activated… Mana Alignment: Stabilized… Unlocking Key to the Otherworld…]
The ground responded.A summoning circle emerged slowly, as if etched into reality itself. It was neither a classical rune nor a mystical pentacle. It was an impossible design. A geometry that wounded the eye, a logic from elsewhere, alive. Ancient glyphs—Akkadian? Sumerian?—floated in the air, spirals of forgotten curses. The air grew heavy, almost viscous, and even the light seemed hesitant to settle.
Aurélien placed the card at the center of the circle."I do not summon you out of faith. I summon you by contract. By necessity. Serve me—or return to the Void."
The ground rumbled with a deep, almost geological growl.
A burst of purple light exploded, violent, swallowing space, shaking the walls—and then the silence was broken by a voice—
Smooth. Feminine. Ancient.
"You… you're not trying to play the hero. On the contrary, you're trying to impose your vision on this world. That is… acceptable."
The light dissolved into perfumed wisps. And she appeared.
Emerging from a mist scented with royal incense, Semiramis stepped forward.Tall, graceful, clad in black fabric with amethyst reflections, the Queen of Assyria bore a daring neckline, as if to remind all that she bowed to no man's rules. Her arms were adorned with ancient bracelets and alchemical chains, and her skin seemed cloaked in a delicate, invisible poison. Her eyes, the color of dark, sweet wine, shimmered with sharp intelligence and dangerous amusement.
She examined him for a long moment. The way one weighs a future pawn… or a future king.
"What irony… I, a queen of empire and mistress of poisons, summoned to serve a child of the machine."
She bowed ever so slightly—just enough to feign humility without truly offering it."Class: Assassin. True Name: Semiramis. I am yours, Master… as long as your aims continue to entertain me."
Aurélien, unflinching, scanned her silently.His internal sensors analyzed her magical signature: dense, ancient, labyrinthine.A poison made flesh. A peerless manipulator. A refined strategist.
"You will not entertain. You will work."
She laughed—a crystalline sound, like the clink of arsenic in a glass."Then be sure your world is worth it. Otherwise, I shall reduce it to perfumed ashes."
A silence passed. The two minds measured each other. Two ambitions, two paths, one pact.
Then she stepped closer, her chains clinking like an ancient melody.
"You summoned me not out of faith, but because you understand. Intuitively or unconsciously, you know brute force is no longer enough. You want to build an empire. You want your work to outlive the flames, the people, even the gods. So you summoned the one best suited to teach you: me."
She brushed him with her gaze."Show me your fortress, builder. Show me what you want to impose upon this rotting world. And I will help you… elevate it."
Aurélien nodded slowly."Come. I will show you my works."
She followed, but before leaving, Aurélien turned, noticing the woman's striking beauty."We should find you a cloak before some idiot does something stupid."
The woman merely smiled, not denying the effect she could have on men.
Together, they left the shed, the artificial light outside cutting violently through the esoteric darkness left behind.
Aurélien pressed his communicator."D2, send a black cloak to airlock 3. Female size. Reinforced fabric. No patterns."
Moments later, a spider-drone approached, holding a cloak in its pincers. It placed it at their feet, then retreated silently. Semiramis raised an amused eyebrow as she picked it up.
"What a delicate gesture. A change from trembling slaves or priests drunk on their own voices. At least your servants don't talk too much."
She fastened the cloak with an elegant gesture, covering her body, though leaving the hood down, her long black hair cascading down her back, used to conceal her pointed ears.
"Better this way?" she asked sweetly.
Aurélien replied without looking away:"Now you can walk through the camp without causing a riot."
He led her to the warehouse that now served as his factory.
She followed him with a slow, feline pace, her eyes scanning every detail—every structure, every guard at the entrance of each corridor. She was no mere summoner, nor just a sorceress… but a queen. A strategist. A woman who read intentions through architecture.
And what she saw… intrigued her.
The factory revealed itself as they passed through reinforced sliding doors. The interior was neither luxurious nor elegant: the walls were raw concrete, still marked from recent reinforcements; industrial tarps hung here and there to protect exposed circuitry or conceal areas under maintenance.
Yet despite the crude appearance, the production line ran smoothly.
Bipedal droids—with standardized military chassis—advanced slowly along metal rails, their internal circuits tested automatically at each stage. Robotic arms assembled them with precision—screwing, welding, wiring without pause. Each station had its role. Every movement, its rhythm.
Engineers in grey suits supervised operations from an elevated platform, exchanging orders via earpieces. Some bore faces marked by fatigue, but their focus was palpable. Their gestures carried the expertise of those who knew every mistake outside could mean a death.
Semiramis stood still at the center of the walkway, arms crossed.
She remained silent for a long moment, observing the production lines, the technical blueprints projected on wall screens, the calibration tests and startup routines of completed units.
Finally, she spoke—softly. But each word carried weight."You're building an army. Not in the shadows… but in mud, cement, and discipline."
Aurélien, still a step ahead, turned to face her. He didn't answer right away.
She approached a droid in the final stage of assembly. It had just been activated. Its visual sensors began to blink, its joints tested one by one with the hum of servomotors."It's raw, austere. No style. No ornament. Only efficiency." She lightly touched one of the steel plates with curiosity."You did not summon this queen to rule a palace… but to understand an arsenal."
Aurélien nodded."I summoned you for what you know how to do: judge men, manipulate power structures. These droids protect, patrol, execute. But humans… hesitate, betray, doubt. I need someone to read them. Guide them. Or remove them."
A subtle smile appeared on Semiramis's lips."You want me to be your eye among minds… your poison to separate wheat from chaff."
She turned from the droid and walked beside Aurélien."So be it. But I want to see everything. Not just the machines. I want to know who surrounds you. Who you chose. Who you tolerate. I want the plans, the reserves, the projections. If I am to be a cog in this machine, then I will be the central piece."
Aurélien met her gaze directly."You'll have access to everything relevant. But you will obey the chain of command."
"I respect structure," she said with a frosty amusement, "as long as it doesn't collapse under its own arrogance."
They passed a glass bay window looking out onto the exterior. In the distance, squads of droids patrolled the perimeter—silent, precise, relentless.
"How many have you deployed?" she asked.
"Ninety operational units. Forty in final assembly. Three protocol types: surveillance, escort, elimination. Each droid receives specific orders per zone. None acts outside its function."
Semiramis nodded."A beginning. But you'll soon need something more. A layer above. A conscience. A strategic will. If you want to rule over the ashes, you must know where to fan the flames—and where to let them die out."
She turned to him, serious.
"You've raised a tool. Not yet an authority."
Aurélien accepted that without protest."I'm not finished building. You will help me take the next step."
Semiramis cast a final glance at the engineers—who, unbeknownst to them, had already fallen under her scrutiny.
"Then I begin tomorrow. Give me your list of technical officers. I want to know their vision. If they lack one… I'll give them mine."
Then she concluded, more softly:
"You want to survive, Aurélien? Very well. But I… I want you to rule."
Aurélien replied,"Good. I know exactly where to guide my engineers."He handed her a book hidden beneath his coat. On the cover was a single word:Omnissiah.
Evening, the Takagi manor zone assigned to Aurélien, Saeko, and Koharu
The room was bathed in a soothing twilight. Far from the commotion of the other survivors, the northeast wing of the estate had been rigorously repurposed: a few essential pieces of furniture, LED lamps powered by Aurélien's solar batteries, an almost monastic atmosphere.
The faint aroma of black tea floated in the air, softened by Koharu's precise gestures as she watched over a small whistling teapot. Not far from her, Saeko was tending to her katana, seated on a cushion. She did this often in the evening—more out of habit than necessity. The blade was in perfect condition, but the ritual helped keep her calm, grounded. Dressed in a dark kimono, she silently observed her companion's movements, leaning against the doorframe, her gaze slightly softened.
Aurélien entered, his boots dusted from the road, followed closely by a new figure.
Tall. Elegant. Draped in a black cloak that swept silently along the floor. Semiramis.
Her dark eyes scanned the room in a single sweep, pausing barely on Koharu, a bit longer on Saeko.
Aurélien knelt calmly to remove his shoes, then said bluntly:
"Let me introduce her. Semiramis."
He turned his head to the Queen without ceremony."I recruited her today. She'll help manage my personnel."He cast a glance toward Saeko."You'll soon understand why I chose her."
Koharu raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Saeko, for her part, made no comment. She slowly straightened and gave a polite nod.
"Saeko Busujima."
"Oh, I know." Semiramis replied with a thin, almost predatory smile."The one who sleeps at his side. The one who guards his peace. A rare woman."
Saeko didn't react. Her gaze remained neutral, but her posture stiffened, upright like a drawn blade.
Aurélien stretched slightly, visibly tired.
"I'll get some sleep. Semiramis, stay here. Learn what you can. They'll tell you what you need to know."
Without another word, he gave Saeko a brief kiss and disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving behind the delicate tension of three women sizing each other up for the first time.
A heavy silence filled the room. Then Koharu poured a cup of tea."You may sit."
Semiramis didn't hesitate. She settled gracefully, every movement seemingly calculated to charm or challenge. Her hands slid under her cloak to adjust the dark dress beneath—subtle, silky, but never vulgar.
She inhaled the steam of the tea. Closed her eyes for a moment."Ginger. And a hint of lemongrass. You watch over him in many ways."
Koharu nodded simply."He is my son."
Semiramis slowly turned her head toward Saeko, her smile narrowing just slightly."And you are the one he chose. You know, I didn't expect to find someone at his side. That kind of man... rarely makes sense to others. Too distant. Too... vertical."
Saeko tilted her head slightly, resting her hands on her thighs."I accept him as he is. He never promised warmth. But he protects. He's dependable. Most importantly, he accepts me. That's enough."
Semiramis nodded. A hint of sincere admiration flickered in her eyes.
"A woman who understands her man like a lord. That's more than rare. You were born in the wrong era."
She took a sip, then added in a hushed tone:
"I'm not here to seduce him. But... he has that aura. That cold fire. That sort of thing draws you in. And if he ever looks at me as more than a tool... I probably won't look away."
Silence settled again.
Saeko didn't flinch.
Then she replied simply, in a neutral, almost detached tone:
"I am his companion. Not his jailer. In other times, other worlds, a strong man was expected to have several bonds. It's not up to me to define his needs."
Semiramis blinked slowly, then inclined her head slightly in a gesture of implicit recognition.
"You're more of a queen than you think."
Koharu stood to clear the teapot, choosing to ignore her son's romantic life. She murmured without lifting her eyes:
"What he's building will need all the help it can get. But make sure he stays human within."
Semiramis let a smile play on the edge of her lips.
"Maybe you'll be the one to remind me of that, mother of an engineer."
An hour later, the light in Aurélien's room had dimmed to a faint blue glow, cast by a screen on standby. The scent of iron mixed with technical oil still lingered in the air—a residue of long hours spent assembling, coding, organizing.
Saeko entered without a sound.
She had set her sword in the hallway, swapped her training kimono for a softer, simpler outfit. She closed the door slowly behind her, pausing to watch Aurélien.
He was asleep. Or rather, resting in that strange state she had begun to recognize: semi-conscious, always ready to leap up if needed. His chest rose slowly beneath a black shirt, his tousled hair fell over his forehead. He looked younger like this. Almost vulnerable.
She approached. Knelt beside him.
Then, in one fluid motion, she pulled the blanket aside and slid in next to him, her hand slipping beneath his, her legs naturally folding against his. The contact stirred him from his trance, and his eyes opened halfway."You're not asleep yet?" he murmured, voice raspy.
"Now I am."She nestled her face into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Silence. One heartbeat. Then two.
"She's beautiful," she added without really asking.
Aurélien stayed silent.
"And dangerous. She doesn't hide either."
"That's why she's useful."
"Mm." she replied.
She ran a finger along his prosthetic arm, softly. Yet her gestures, far from romantic or purely tender, carried something possessive. Measured, but present.
"I didn't say anything wrong about her. I even meant what I said."
She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining in the screen's glow.
"But if one day she puts her hands on you, it'll be different. It won't be strategy anymore."
Aurélien slightly raised an eyebrow. Not surprised. Just attentive.
"How would you react?"
"I'd warn her once." she answered, voice as calm as a mountain lake."I'm not jealous, Aurélien. But I'm a woman of honor. And a companion is not just background decor."
He didn't reply right away. He knew this side of Saeko. Loyal. Quiet. But fierce. It wasn't violence—it was total commitment. And he understood more each day why she had chosen him, and why he had let her into his life despite all his walls.
"Do you want me to send her away?"
She shook her head gently against his chest."No. She's useful. She'll be valuable. She's even intriguing."
A pause. Then, in a whisper:"But I want her to know I'm here. And that despite the silence, despite your logic, you didn't choose me by default."
Aurélien ran a hand through her hair, slowly trailing to the nape of her neck. He rarely spoke his feelings. But his gestures were rarely ambiguous.
"You're the first I let in. The only one who can stop me in a hallway without me getting annoyed. You already know."
She closed her eyes."Say it in front of her someday. Not for me. For her."
Aurélien nodded slowly."If needed."
Silence enveloped them again. This time calmer. Less tense.
Saeko fell asleep against him, her hand still resting on his chest like a living seal—discreet, but indelible.
Author's Note: I would like your opinion, do you want the Empire of Mc to take back the name Imperium or do you want another name? Also, I decided that his empire would be a combination between the Emperor's Dream and the Omnissiah. You will discover in chapters 26 and 27, if I succeeded or miserably failed.