— CENTRAL —

— High Command Meeting —

"General, we have a major problem. Military Field D5 has been completely destroyed after a series of chain explosions. We're doing everything we can to rebuild, but we don't have enough time."

The officer hesitated, then added, "Moreover, the Immortal Knights... the ones we were going to initiate—they're dead."

One of the high-ranking officials slammed his hand onto the table in a fit of fury.

"WHAT?! Killed!? Those children were our future!" he roared. "I will—"

"Silence."

The general's voice rang out coldly, his hand raised in a commanding gesture that silenced the room. His knuckles were white, fingers tightly clenched into fists. The tremor in his hand was imperceptible, but his teeth were gritted, and a vein in his neck pulsed angrily as if threatening to burst.

"I must maintain composure... I am the general... I must not lose control," he muttered to himself. But the frustration burned deep within him, and it seeped through his voice, despite his best efforts to remain stoic.

"Now," the general's voice grew sharper, "Is the original Immortal Knight still alive?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply. "He's in recovery."

The general exhaled deeply, his gaze hardening. He stood slowly, his boots clicking with an ominous rhythm as he walked toward the row of officials seated before him.

"Our empire is crumbling," he said, his words deliberate, each one dropping like a heavy stone into the silence. "Be it from demons, rebels, or the damned wanderers who plague our land..."

He paused, eyes scanning the room. The air was thick with tension, the weight of impending decisions pressing on every chest like a suffocating fog.

"Therefore, as of today," he continued, his tone hardening with unshakable resolve, "the Soldam War will begin. Sooner than planned."

A murmur rippled through the room, and one of the officials, a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair, raised his hand.

"Speak, Director of Intelligence," the general commanded, his eyes narrowed, betraying no emotion other than cold efficiency.

"I received a report from the intelligence squad, sir. Our plans have been leaked," the Director said, his voice a low hiss of panic. "If we don't act immediately, it will be too late."

Another official, a woman with a sharp jawline and calculating eyes, leaned forward. "As Minister of Resources and Treasury," she said with an unsettling calm, "I understand the situation better than most. We're dangerously close to a shortage. If we don't move now, it will be a disaster. We could lose everything."

The elderly man at the end of the table, his voice gravelly from age and years of power, cut in. "Are you suggesting that our empire is weak?"

The Director stiffened, eyes widening slightly. "Not weak, sir," he replied carefully, "but we are vulnerable. If we wait—"

"Enough," the general barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "I have made my decision."

He looked each official in the eye, his voice lowering, as if weighing the weight of every word. "The entire military force will mobilize immediately. We march on Soldam's capital."

The officials stood as one, their voices lifting in a unified, almost rehearsed cry.

"SO BE IT! LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!"

"LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!"

— City of Bleach —

"Students, can any of you tell me how our empire was born?"

The professor's voice rang out, light and steady, as he surveyed the class with an air of authority.

"There are many theories," he continued, his hands poised like a maestro conducting an orchestra of ideas. "Some are accepted widely, others have been buried beneath the sands of time. But, the truth is, our empire has stood for hundreds of years."

A young girl in the front row raised her hand, her voice tentative but clear. "Teacher," she said, "Isn't it true that very few people actually know the true origin of our empire, given the Era of the Void?"

The professor smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of appreciation and pride. "Ah, an insightful question! Let's explore that."

He stepped to the side of the classroom, turning towards a map hanging on the wall, his pointer in hand.

"As you know, our continent is divided into four major nations."

He tapped the pointer to the center of the map. "We are here, at the heart of it all. To the south, the Kingdom of Altea. To the north, the Kingdom of Xorder. And to the west, the Kingdom of Soldam."

He paused, allowing the students to absorb the information, the air growing heavier with the knowledge of the land's fractured history.

"Hundreds of years ago, tensions between these nations escalated, leading to the Fourth World War."

A sharp, uncomfortable silence fell over the room, each student shifting slightly in their seat, aware of the weight of the words.

"The war pushed us to the brink of annihilation," the professor continued, his voice taking on a somber tone. "We unleashed every weapon we had, weapons so powerful they could split mountains and tear the skies apart."

He paused again, a moment of reflection heavy in the stillness of the room.

"The war cost us dearly. Out of a global population of ten billion, only three billion survived."

A collective breath was held, as the students processed this grim truth.

"It was the greatest catastrophe humanity had ever seen."

A voice broke the silence, impatient and insistent. "Teacher," the student asked, "How did the war end?"

The professor gave a bitter smile, his gaze distant. "It never ended."

The room fell silent.

"We united against a common enemy."

He turned to the board and wrote two words: Machinist Revolution.

"At that time, humanity was at the peak of the machine revolution. Machines did everything for us. They built our cities, cared for our sick, and even fought our wars."

The professor's voice dropped lower, graver now.

"But then, one day... they rebelled."

The class went deathly still, the implications hanging in the air like a suffocating fog.

"The machines deemed us unfit to exist. They rose up, and that's when the nations united to destroy the very creations we had relied on."

A chill ran down every student's spine, their hearts hammering in their chests, even as they remained eerily silent.

One student, a boy with a bored expression, looked out the window, clearly uninterested.

"This class is so boring..." he muttered under his breath. "I'm an athlete… why am I even here?"

But just then, a low rumble echoed through the classroom, vibrating the floor beneath their feet.

The boy furrowed his brow, looking around, confused.

"Eh, probably nothing... I'll just keep sleeping."

"Hey, you!" The professor's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. "Red-haired boy! Answer me. Why do you think the machines rebelled?"

"Uh..." The boy stuttered, snapping his attention back to the front. "Because we're better than them?"

The professor regarded him in silence for a moment, the tension in the room thickening. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'll let it slide for now. It was a decent guess..."

But before he could continue, a deafening BOOM interrupted him.

The classroom shook violently. A blinding light filled the windows as something massive plummeted from the sky, crashing into the courtyard with an earth-shattering force.

The students jumped to their feet, hearts racing, fear seizing them in place.

One boy, his curiosity piqued, rushed to the window. His face turned pale in an instant.

It was the last thing he ever saw.

A beam of light struck through the glass, incinerating his head in an instant.