I cannot believe it.

  Over two and a half day-cycles have passed since I first heard word of his death… The Oath-Breaker… MAGNUS.

  Though his demise does bring me a sense of ‘grand joy’, I am also QUITE thracking angry with my 'childlings'; the remaining few that are the Galactic Deciders… MY GALACTIC DECIDERS.

  Braako was the second person to tell me that Magnus's life-force was extinguished.

  The first was Barreth.

  Braako told me that he and the others combined their powers to ‘break’ the planet of Rannuk in order to kill the one that was once called the Breaker of Worlds.

  ‘Twas an ‘unsanctioned breaking’.

  The breaking of Rannuk was never a part of the Grand Plan… NEVER.

  ‘Twas a meaningless world… A pitiful world…

  Even when the expansion of MY Empire reached its planet's star system, I would have just destroyed it anyways, but that would have come later… MUCH LATER.

  Urgh… What a thrack-headed kroone, Braako is!

  He cannot follow simple thracking order!

  ‘Twas a kroonish mistake making him the Commanding-Leader of the Deciders.

  Tis should have been Anora.

  She was always second wisest and most controlled to Magnus… BEFORE HE BROKE HIS SACRED OATH.

  Before he discovered the truth.

  Heh… The truth.

  Whatever Lero told him, whatever Lero showed him, proved to be thracking enough to bring us to this very point of this elongated, drawn out, and TRULY THRACKING UNNECESSARY tale… SAGA.

  Heh. Heh, heh, heh…

  Kroones, all of you.

  THRACKING KROONES.

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  _

  DING!

  BEEEEEEEP!

  Having arrived at his chosen destination aboard a golden elevator that led from his Private Chamber within his Golden Palace all the way down into the secret ‘Prisoner Pits’ beneath the surface of his city was Emperor Voltair.

  With his hands interlocked behind his lower back beneath his shiny, golden cloak, the Voltairan Emperor kept his ‘hawkish’ eyes looking forward as the elevator’s golden doors automatically split apart.

  Revealing the dark, desolate, and rundown wasteland that was ‘Commons Sector’ of the Pits, Emperor Voltair scowled in disgust before walking out of the elevator.

  As soon as the emperor had stepped foot outside of the golden elevator, he was met with a squad of four golden armored, Pulsar Auto-Rifle wielding Voltairan Knights, who watched over and patrolled the Commons Sector mercilessly.

  “My Emperor… is a GRAND HONOR to be in your gracious presence,” one of the Voltairan Knights said through his battle helmet’s voice modulator whilst bowing to Voltair.

  Rising back up a few milli-cycles later, the same Voltairan Knight asked, “My Emperor, would you still like for us to escort you to see your PERSONAL PRISONER in the MAXIMUM-SECURITY SECTOR?”

  “No. I would much rather spend my time here… Wasting away in this WRETCHED SQUALOR,” Emperor Voltair sarcastically replied, vexing the four Voltairan Knights.

  Narrowing his eyes, Emperor Voltair snapped, “Urgh… Take me to the ‘Max-Sec Sector’! NOW, YOU KROONES!”

  “AS YOU COMMAND, YOUR HOLY GRANDNESS!” the Voltairan Knight quickly fumbled.

  He and the three other Knights all then turned around and started leading the grand emperor down the long, ‘street-like’ corridor that led straight through the incredibly narrow Commons Sector.

  As they strode down the decrepit corridor, Emperor Voltair was met with the ‘sunken-in’, ‘zombie-like’ eyes of the several innocent individual ‘alien’ life-forms that he had imprisoned down in the Pits beneath HIS City.

  Looks of fear, terror, sadness, pain, and anger filtered in the countless enslaved prisoners’ eyes whilst the emperor walked past them, ignoring them as if they didn’t even exist.

  Emperor Voltair didn’t even flinch a lip-muscle when he and the four Voltairan Knights came across a broken-down, worn-out Mother, who was cradling the emaciated dead husk that was once her five-cycles-old childling.

  The Mother’s screams echoed in every corner of the Commons Sector as she held her childling’s tiny, frail corpse in her pencil-thin arms, shedding oceans of tears over her incredibly heart-breaking, life-force shattering loss.

  The emperor, of course, heard her cries… AND DID NOT CARE.

  To Emperor Voltair, the Enslaved… HIS Enslaved were nothing but urchins.

  ‘Worker-urchins’ who devoted every bit of their life-force and energy to him and HIM alone…