INTERLUDE
A LOOK INSIDE THE EMPIRE
The Eastern Empire, officially the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria United Eastern Empire, was one of the oldest nations in the world. Its history extended back centuries; as the story goes, it had already laid the foundations for an empire as early as two thousand years ago.
Its roots can be traced back to the small Kingdom of Nasca, a realm that had spent many years absorbing and merging with the Magical Kingdom of Namrius, followed by the Eastern Federation of Ulmeria, to create the current Empire. In the background of this conquest was the massive, overwhelming military Nasca cultivated—and now, under the name of the United Emperor Ludora Nam-ul-Nasca, the Empire had enjoyed a reign of power for the past two millennia, never allowing its annexed nations to rebel. Every member nation was the full and complete vassal of the Empire, subject to its absolute rule.
This was how the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria United Eastern Empire—generally referred to as the Eastern Empire—operated.
It was said that the aim of the Empire’s leader was absolute dominance, and that was reflected in its unbroken imperial bloodline—the current emperor had been granted the name Ludora as well. No matter how things worked in practice, the emperor always preferred absolute power, according to conventional wisdom.
The military, too, adopted this “might makes right” approach, taking a unique stance and guaranteeing promotion for anyone who could prove their power. And even now, as the rumors among the Empire’s subjects went, the only reason the Empire had not plowed through the Forest of Jura yet was because they were still not prepared for it.
Approximately 350 years ago, the Empire attempted, and failed, to subdue Veldora the Storm Dragon, costing it an entire city. Those who managed to rile that fickle dragon were not given the time to regret it as they perished with that city. It was among the largest in the land at the time, boasting a population of a hundred thousand—a fortress city nestled against the Forest of Jura’s east side. The Empire had taken a century to build it up as a beachhead for the invasion of the forest; it was a military base, ready to expand the Empire’s territory once they made it through Jura.
Driven with ambition, the military leaders of the time came up with a plan, one that would take them beyond the forest. It was the fervent desire of the Empire, cultivated over a hundred years, and despite its prosperity, there was only one reason why it had dreams of territorial expansion—because the emperor willed it. There was no other motive, and none of the citizens voiced disagreement.
The plan proceeded smoothly, the Empire’s armies building themselves up in order to prove their might. Then, in the name of the emperor, the order was given to begin the invasion. But thanks to a foolish idea that occurred to one squadron leader, the entire operation was crushed. If we’re going through the Forest of Jura anyway, reasoned this leader, we might as well tame its master. No giant lizard is going to be a threat to us. It was an incredibly ill-advised decision, and it led them all to their destruction.
What he and his troops did, exactly, has never been accurately reported. Anyone who could’ve recorded the incident, or stored those records, was turned into ash. And so the dream of the Empire, the ambition of its emperor, was burned to cinders.
That brought us to the present day. The Empire spent a long time laying low, tending to the wounds Veldora gave them, but the emperor never gave the okay to continue the invasion. Trespassing into the Forest of Jura was never permitted; the power they spent 350 years building up patiently waited for its chance to roar.
Now let’s turn our attention to the Empire’s political structure.
In the Empire, there exists a political administration and a military branch—the two wings supporting the emperor’s rule. The emperor personally serves as both the sovereign of the political administration and the commander in chief of the military—a massive amount of power for one individual to wield.
This administration contained a House of Lords, a legislature populated by the nobility who enjoyed a great deal of power—on the surface. In reality, though, the nobles were given no decision-making rights. They were granted prestige and vested interests, but they played little more than a bureaucratic role, rubber-stamping the will of the emperor.
This House of Lords was a hereditary system, its members becoming lords without any vote required. No matter how lofty their personal ambitions were, it was impossible for them to gain the power to make them a reality. All imperial territory was the property of the emperor, who lent it out to the nobility and let them manage it, but no more.
The nobility was supported by teams of highly educated government officials. These were the bureaucrats who proposed plans and policies, with the full backing of the emperor behind them, and they subsequently all made pledges of loyalty to their leader.
The same was true of the military. Since the emperor himself (and not the state) had authority over them, it was a de facto personal force owned by him alone. Even regional cities annexed by the Empire lived by this rule; all private property was seized, then lent back by the emperor. The defense forces protecting these lands were similarly on loan from this emperor, provided solely out of his personal compassion.
This policy successfully quelled any rebellion out in the Empire’s far reaches. It was made possible by the overwhelming difference in national power. The Empire was willing to accept surrender, but this came at the forfeiture of all other rights. Anyone who objected to this could expect a violent purge—they would be thoroughly eradicated, ensuring no one would harbor similar ideas again.
That was how order was maintained across the Empire. The carrot and the stick—terror against overwhelming military might, and guaranteed safety upon becoming an imperial subject. These two tactics were thoroughly managed in equal measure, preserving peace in the Empire for generations.
Normally, it would be impossible for a single person to rule over a nation this vast. In fact, look over the past two thousand years of history, and you won’t find a single occasion where the emperor’s rule was ever put into question. Power always remained at the top after every transition. No matter how you thought about it, it was strange. If you chalked it up to the great work of the emperor, it essentially meant he was a god, a being beyond the human realm.
We now turn to the Empire’s military force, broadly divided into three main divisions:
The Armored Division: A force of mechanized soldiers, managed by teams of technicians. This was a modern armored force possessing tanks and more, symbolizing the technological might of the Empire.
The Magical Beast Division: A collection of beasts taken from around the world, inside and outside Empire territory. Controlling and wielding their powers made this division a symbol of the Empire’s power.
The Composite Division: A collection of off-spec mechanized soldiers and crazed magical beasts incapable of group activity. They are too focused on themselves to function as a group, but their powers are a wild card, and together they could become a serious threat. They symbolized the heart of the Empire, still beating young.
If the Western Nations relied primarily on swords and sorcery, the Empire’s focus on magic and science made it the pioneers of a new era.
The presence of otherworlders played a mighty role in the Empire’s expanded military. One imperial subject took a particular interest in these visitors, and the cosmic knowledge they held. He was named Gadora, a great sorcerer who served in the imperial palace for many years, and despite his wizened appearance, he was an energetic man. He had a thirst for knowledge, not just magical, either, and he relished chatting with people from other worlds.
Through them, he learned that this other world also consisted of multiple countries—and unlike this one, the inhabitants found ways to overcome differences in opinion and language to live together. There was no magic in that world, causing it to grow and evolve in quite a different direction from this one.
Gadora had lived for a long time. Whenever he approached the end of his natural life span, he used the self-invented Mysterious Arts: Reincarnation to resurrect himself over and over again. It allowed him to observe otherworlders over many years, granting him huge stores of knowledge and even a command of several languages from the other world. Whenever a new otherworlder came along, he’d always have them brought to him, and he’d put them under his protection. The Empire had been collecting more than just magical beasts from around the world, and Gadora advocated for otherworlders in the imperial court, receiving permission to do with them what he wanted.
Otherworlders with special skills or knowledge were welcomed in the Empire, and their population was far beyond that of any other nation in the world. That explained why the Empire’s culture and characteristics were so heavily influenced by them. Many of these people had unique skills as well, and the Empire conducted much research on them. In this aspect as well, their military technology had developed to the point that it was surpassed by no one.
In the Empire, the profession of knight was obsolete. The concept of fighting cavalry had gone away; instead, the military adopted new tactics that took advantage of their modernized weaponry. Soldiers whose very bodies had been mechanized were known as mechaknights, treated as the star players in imperial battle.
These characteristics played out most vividly in the Empire’s Armored Division, but otherworld knowledge also played a role in the Magical Beast Division. The otherworlders had brought with them knowledge of DNA—deoxyribonucleic acid, a macromolecular organic substance that contained the genetic information for living beings. This knowledge made it possible to analyze the powers of magical beasts on a scale like none before—and that further branched out into other research. Finally, the Composite Division was home to a large number of powerful otherworlders, each wielding their own unique skills, and one derided their battle strength at their own peril.
It was the masterful manipulation of factors like unique skills and otherworld technology that let the Empire create such an insurmountable military. It was no exaggeration to say that Gadora’s passion for the subject had expanded the force’s strength all by itself.
In addition to the three main divisions Gadora helped cultivate, there was a paramilitary force charged with guarding the emperor himself: the Imperial Guardians, a small company of only a hundred, and one of the few forces left that called their members knights. The uninformed observer would assume this custom to be a relic carried over from antiquity, but that was not the case. After all, the Imperial Knights who staffed this troop were the best of the best, handpicked from those who stood above the pack in each division. Some were otherworlders, even, proving that the Empire didn’t discriminate based on bloodline or birthplace. To the very end, the motto of the Empire was “might makes right,” and there was no better evidence of that than what was illustrated here. These knights gained their position purely through power alone, not the blood or influence gained over generations.
As a symbol of their superiority, all members of the Imperial Guardians were granted Legend-class weapons and armor. The very best equipment, handled by the very best fighters, created a tremendous synergy effect, giving this team of a hundred more pure fighting power than an entire division. They were also guaranteed the best treatment in the Empire—every one of them was a high-level military officer, and in special missions, they were afforded at the least the authority of an army colonel. They were the pride of the military and the greatest force in the whole Empire.
So the Empire had, in essence, four military divisions. Each of them could only be led by those with a convincing talent for the position—they needed to be recognized as “the strongest” by anyone who saw them. How did they prove this? By rank-based duels within the divisions.
The system allowed lower-ranking members to challenge their superiors, under the arbitration of a third party, and these rankings were thus in a constant state of flux. The duels had to satisfy a few conditions, of course, before they were accepted. They were forbidden during military maneuvers, and witnesses were required for them to be certified. Also, if you challenged someone and lost, you had to wait a year before mounting another challenge. The same was true if you killed your opponent, but the higher-ranked defender was allowed to kill a challenger without penalty, so this contest wasn’t something you embarked on lightly.
In a way, this was the ultimate embodiment of the Empire’s “might makes right” credo—subjugating your opponent with overwhelming force. The fact that the Imperial Guardians saw no end of would-be new members challenging their way in showed that this imperial ideal was etched into the very hearts of its subjects.
Ranks within the military were therefore strictly defined, but Gadora didn’t count in this hierarchy. He held a unique position in the realm, treated as a kind of non-imperial stranger by the Empire.
Appointments to the Imperial Guardians were deliberated over by a panel that Gadora wasn’t a part of, and the commander of each division was picked from the Guardian roster. Whenever one stepped down, a replacement would be picked from this group of a hundred. Anyone who wanted to move up among the Guardians had an equal chance, so those with real ability wouldn’t get buried under the masses. They were free to hone their powers, silently waiting for a chance to emerge into the spotlight.
Appointed to the very top of the Guardians was the Marshal, while the three people under them were the three Generals of the Guardians. You automatically became Marshal if you hit the number one spot in the pecking order, while Generals of the Guardians were named by a committee consisting of the emperor, the current Marshal, and Gadora. It took more than brute strength to run a military force, after all. Still, any General who became a division commander was always going to be the strongest member of their division, since (by definition) everyone serving in one was going to be weaker than an Imperial Knight.
To outside observers, the Marshal and their Generals stood at the peak of the Empire—and if the Imperial Guardians received Legend-class gear, this quartet naturally had to own something even better. These were the Empire’s greatest hidden treasures, the most potent of gear, used to suppress other nations in ancient times—God-class gear, in other words.
Possessing multiple examples of semi-mythological gear quite literally meant you were supporting the very dignity of the Empire. This was the ultimate in weaponry and armor, items an average person wouldn’t even be allowed to touch. It was said one needed to have certain capabilities to so much as pick them up—only when the gear accepted you, it was said, would it unleash its true force.
The greatest of power, supported by the ultimate in gear. Truly they were invincible, the foundational rock the Empire was built upon.
And then—something changed in the Empire.
For the first time in decades, a commander actually lost a ranking challenge—and with that, the colossal responsibility of keeping the disorganized Composite Division a coherent force. He was felled by a man who had made a truly historical rise through the ranks, having enlisted for the first time not even a year ago—mowing down one experienced fighter after the other without a single loss.
Now the young man stood at one of the Empire’s loftiest peaks. His name was Yuuki Kagurazaka, and with his rise, the pace of human events would rocket into high gear.
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