[Empress’ PoV]
The first step was always the sweetest.
The Empress descended from the towering platform with deliberate grace, each step a mix of elegance and divine arrogance.
The structure she stood upon was a masterpiece of engineering. Yet, despite its sophistication, it lacked beauty.
Her kind had never cared for aesthetics. Function, dominance, and power were the only virtues they valued. The machine that had carried her across the void wasn’t art. It was a ritual, a technological incantation.
When the portal behind her sealed with a crack, the world came into focus.
She opened her eyes, taking in the alien landscape around her.
The fortresses of glass stretched toward the heavens. The ground beneath her claws was paved in black stone, unnaturally smooth. Across the horizon, metallic chariots—human vehicles—were scattered, some burning, some broken.
The Empress inhaled, savoring the scent of smoke and blood.
It was intoxicating.
She stepped forward, her massive form descending the final steps of the platform. Her legs struck the ground with a resonant thud, each impact shaking loose fragments of the cracked pavement.
When she reached the bottom, she pressed her feet into the stone until it splintered, forcing her way through to the soil beneath.
The moment her feet touched the earth, she exhaled.
A low, guttural sound escaped her throat. Something between a sigh and a growl of satisfaction.
She could feel it.
The Energy.
It flowed through the planet like blood, running deep beneath the surface. It was pure, vibrant, alive.
“Yes…” she whispered, her voice low. Her tongue, a long, serpentine appendage of gleaming black muscle, slid across her lips as she tasted the air.
“This is the one.”
Her thoughts were sharp. 'This is the world. The one worth taking. The one that will burn brightest when it falls.'
Behind her, a dozen Ork generals knelt, their bodies dwarfed by her presence.
One of them dared to speak. His voice trembled with reverence.
“My Empress… is it not too dangerous for you to be here yourself?”
The question hung in the air for a moment. None of the others dared to move.
The Empress turned her head. Her expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the air seemed to drop.
When she spoke, her tone was regal, but beneath it was the unmistakable edge of a predator’s amusement.
“If the Empress of the Red Plains ever feels fear before a human,” she said, her voice rolling like thunder, “then hand them our empire, because we will already have lost.”
Her words struck the Orks like a physical blow. They bowed deeper, their foreheads pressing against the ground.
She looked toward the horizon, where faint trails of fire marked the descent of Ork drop ships into the atmosphere.
“Rise, my warriors,” she commanded, her prideful voice echoing across the ruined plaza. “Let the humans see what conquest looks like.”
But it wasn’t just pride that radiated from her; it was power.
The sheer magnitude of Energy coursing through the Empress’s body was overwhelming, a force so intense that even her most loyal warriors dared not look at her for long.
Her eyes blazed as she surveyed her new domain.
The city sprawled before her like a broken jewel, its streets littered with the remains of machines and men.
Yet, as she watched, came a new sound.
A sharp, metallic snap echoed from somewhere above.
Her head tilted slightly, her senses sharpening instantly. Her gaze locked onto the source.
Two yellow-skinned Orks were tearing through the upper levels of a ruined structure, smashing through glass and steel as they rummaged for loot.
The Empress’s jaw tightened.
“Vermin,” she hissed.
In a moment, her hand moved to her weapon.
The greatsword that hung across her side was a thing of legend. It was wide as her own back, heavy enough to crush a tank, yet when she drew it, it moved as though weightless.
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The air crackled as she unsheathed it. Then she released it.
The blade didn’t fall. It floated, suspended midair, the Energy around it distorting the air.
The sword shot forward like a missile, cutting through the air with a shriek that made the ground tremble.
The two Orks barely had time to turn their heads before the blade reached them.
The impact was devastating.
The sword sliced through both of them, the Energy along its edge vaporizing flesh and bone.
Their bodies split apart, bursting into clouds of blood and viscera that rained down on the broken building. The upper structure collapsed under the force, sending shards of metal and glass cascading to the streets below.
The sword wheeled in midair before returning to its mistress. It came to rest at her side, hovering, as if awaiting the next command.
The Empress extended one hand and caught the hilt without looking.
She turned slowly, her voice rising in a roar that shook the air.
“Inform the others, this city belongs to me!”
Her words reverberated through the ruins, amplified by the Energy that surged outward from her body.
“Everything within these walls is mine!” she thundered. “Any who steal from it… steal from the Empress herself!”
The shockwave of her fury rippled through the city, a storm of raw Energy that slammed into the surrounding Orks. Even the largest of them flinched, their bodies instinctively bowing under the pressure.
“Yes, my Empress!”
The voices rose in unison, though only a few could truly withstand the weight of her presence. The others trembled where they knelt, their bodies pressed low to the scorched ground.
The Empress surveyed them, her lips curling into a faint smile of satisfaction.
“A hundred years,” she said, her voice carrying across the ruins of the city. “It took us a century… but at last, we stand one step away from our destiny.”
Her words rippled through the ranks, igniting a low, guttural cheer from her soldiers.
“All thanks to the humans,” one of the orange-skinned Orks shouted, his laughter rough and booming.
The Empress’s gaze snapped to him, her yellow eyes narrowing, but then her smile deepened.
“All thanks to the humans,” she repeated, her tone almost reverent. “They were among our fiercest enemies… but they made us stronger. Their technology, their arrogance, their endless hunger for progress, it became our greatest weapon.”
She raised one hand. The Energy radiating from it pulsed through her armor, orange plates of living metal that seemed to breathe with her.
“Their machines, their knowledge, their cities—” she gestured toward the landscape around them, the shattered skyline of a once-proud human metropolis. “—are now ours. Do not destroy what we have claimed. Do not loot what is already part of our victory. Everything here will serve us. It will fuel our empire for the next thousand years.”
Her soldiers bowed their heads. The ground itself seemed to vibrate with the resonance of her words.
The Empress lifted her chin, her voice rising.
“Other races will come,” she declared, her tone sharp and commanding. “They will see the power we wield. They will envy it. They will fear it. But with this power—” she struck her chest, the glow of her armor flaring brighter, “—with this triumph—we will not rule this world. We will rule the galaxy.”
The Orks roared in response, their voices merging into a single, thunderous cry that shook the foundations of the ruined city.
The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Dust and debris fell from the broken towers above as the soldiers slammed their weapons against the earth, chanting her name.
“Grashka! Grashka! Grashka!”
The Empress closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound wash over her. It was intoxicating.
When the roar finally began to fade, she turned and began to walk toward one of the few towers still standing. One of the last still intact, a relic of human architecture that now served as her citadel.
Her escort of elite Ork officers followed.
“My Empress,” one of her generals began, his tone cautious as he stepped forward. “Without bombarding this planet, how do you expect us to kill their leader?”
The Empress turned her head, her eyes glinting with amusement.
“No,” she said. “If we bombard the planet, we lose too much of their technology. That would be… wasteful.”
The general frowned, his brow furrowing beneath his heavy helmet. “Then how, my Empress?”
“Tell me, General,” she said softly, continuing to walk. Her footsteps echoed with regal rhythm as she moved across the marble floor. “What would happen if your son were captured by an enemy?”
The general didn’t hesitate. “He would be a sacrifice for the future of the Empire.”
“Of course,” the Empress replied, her tone approving. “That is how warriors think. That is how we think. But humans…”
She paused at the threshold of a side corridor, her gaze sliding toward the reinforced doors ahead. “Humans are different.”
The general followed her, still unsure of where she was leading him.
She pushed open the door.
Inside, the room was lined with energy cages. Fields of Energy enclosing the broken bodies of captured human officers. Their uniforms torn, their faces pale, their eyes hollow from exhaustion and endless torture.
The Empress stepped inside.
“They fight fiercely,” she said, her voice almost admiring. “But their hearts… they are fragile. They are ruled by feelings. By blood.”
The general remained at her side, silent now, his gaze flicking between the prisoners.
“How many should we send?” the Empress asked aloud, almost to herself. Her tone was thoughtful, as if she were pondering logistics rather than lives.
The general blinked. “Send? Send to whom, my Empress?”
She turned to him, her smile widening into something cruel.
“To their leader, of course.”
Her voice was honeyed with malice.
She strolled down the row of cages, her hands tracing faint lines through the air as she passed. The prisoners flinched at her proximity, some looking away, others too broken to react.
“How many of them,” she mused, “do you think it will take to make him come to me?”
She stopped before one of the cells.
Inside, a man lay unconscious. His body battered, his uniform scorched and torn. His insignia still gleamed under the flickering lights.
The Empress tilted her head, studying him. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she deactivated the cell’s field. The man’s body slumped forward, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
She crouched beside him. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, lifting his chin.
“He looks important, doesn’t he?” she said softly, almost tenderly.
The general hesitated. “My Empress, you mean to—”
“I mean to send a message,” she interrupted, her tone turning cold.
She stood again, towering over the fallen officer.
“Tell me, General,” she said, her voice low, dangerous. “How many of them should we send to their leader? How many will it take for him to understand that if he does not come to me… his son will be sent to him in pieces?”
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