Astartes First Legion, the Dark Angels. Conquered World Serial No. 1.
Sector 11 — Tokyo District — Lower Town.
Cemetery.
Tap—tap—tap—
It was near noon, yet a fine drizzle continued to fall from the gray skies above. The rain washed away the faint smell of decay and moss in the air, dripping softly onto the black surface of the young woman's umbrella.
She was a beauty dressed entirely in black.
Aside from the crimson ribbon tied at her collar, her outfit was composed solely of black and white.
Her long, straight hair gleamed with a deep, jet-black luster. Her face, chest, and hands—along with the bare portion of her thighs between her pencil skirt and thigh-high stockings—were fair and flawless. The pure white trench coat she wore enhanced her refined elegance, and the faint melancholy on her face embodied the most graceful moment of a woman's life.
At first glance, she seemed gentle—a woman as soft as water. But upon closer inspection, one would notice the coldness of her features: the slightly upturned, narrow eyes glinting sharply, tinged faintly with crimson.
And in this rain-soaked, deserted graveyard, her beauty seemed only more somber—perhaps even unnerving. One might think she was a madwoman, difficult to deal with.
At last, the black-haired woman halted her steps before a somewhat secluded corner. There hung a worn wooden sign, upon which were written words in both Imperial Common and another language long abolished by the authorities—Japanese.
"A Generation of Shallow Fortune."
It was not neatly written; the characters carried the messy energy of a child's doodle. Yet the writer's sincerity was evident.
"Enju… I told you time and again to study and practice your writing more. And now look at this—at such a solemn occasion, your handwriting still looks like something a dog scratched out. Even if I wrote with my foot, it would be better than this."
The woman spoke softly, as though talking to herself—or perhaps conveying a message to someone unseen.
"Mind your own business, Kisara Tendo! You wicked woman! What are you even doing here?"
A sharp, indignant voice cut through the drizzle. From behind the shadow of a nearby monument stepped a young woman with crimson eyes and long hair tied into a ponytail with a rabbit-shaped ribbon. Her skin was fair, her features delicate, and she wore an orange checkered long-sleeved raincoat and knee-high boots.
"So you came too, after all."
The black-haired woman—Kisara Tendo—pushed up her black-framed glasses and shook the raindrops from her umbrella. In her calm gray-black eyes flickered a faint light of reminiscence.
"Enju… it's been a long time. So many years have passed, yet your temperament hasn't changed much."
"Hmph."
Crossing her arms, Enju gave an irritated snort. "If anyone hasn't changed, it's you, you vain old woman! Still pretending to be young even at your age. Just how much money have you wasted on beauty treatments to keep that face?"
Crack—
"You precocious, jealous little brat!"
The handle of Kisara's umbrella creaked under the pressure of her tightening grip. Her eyes narrowed into a dangerous smile. "Seems my education back then failed miserably—you didn't even learn the most basic thing: how to respect your company president."
"Hah! That broke-down company of yours went bankrupt ages ago! And besides… it was because of your greed, taking that police contract, that Rentaro died! Damn it… if only we'd stayed in the office that day, that tragedy would never have happened…"
As she spoke, Enju's expression twisted with pain. Her voice trembled, tears welling in her crimson eyes until they overflowed, sliding down her cheeks.
"...Sigh."
Kisara's lips quivered slightly, but in the end, she fell silent. Pain and sorrow flashed across her face. She closed her umbrella, letting the drizzle soak her white coat, and approached slowly. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she reached out, intending to embrace the now-grown Enju.
"Stop treating me like a kid!"
After being held for a moment, Enju wiped her eyes, pushing Kisara away—not forcefully, but gently. Hands on her hips, the faint traces of the innocent, straightforward girl she once was lingered on her delicate face.
She wasn't an unreasonable person. As for why her partner, Satomi Rentaro, had died—no matter how she thought about it—it wasn't Kisara's fault. Through all the years of tears and grief, she had long since come to terms with it… truly let it go.
Her bickering with Kisara now was less a clash of resentment than an echo of their long-ago rivalry—an old habit of trading barbs whenever they met, a way of releasing emotions long buried.
Every year, coming here to sweep the graves was her way of recalling those days when they had relied on each other—the bond they once shared in those difficult times. That was the past, now gone forever.
Perhaps back then, the Cursed Children suffered constant discrimination, and the native humans, faced with the rampant plague of Gastrea, could only live like caged birds in a small corner of the land, their survival uncertain from one day to the next…
There was nothing particularly beautiful to remember about that era.
But to Enju, even in that suffering, there were fragments of warmth worth treasuring forever.
"Everything changes with time… You fell before the dawn ever came, didn't you, Rentaro? Being a good person… isn't easy, huh?"
As she looked at Enju's back, Kisara Tendo turned her gaze toward the wooden sign again—the words carved into it: 'A Generation of Shallow Fortune.'
"Maybe… Rentaro, you were one of the unfortunate ones. There was no place for you in this new world."
Why would she say such a thing?
Thinking back now, Kisara couldn't help but feel ashamed of the foolish things she'd done in her youth… truly disgraceful.
Back then, she had lost her parents, been cast out of the Tendo main family, and was still a sheltered young lady with little understanding of society. The Tendo Civil Security Company she had founded struggled constantly to make ends meet, and she herself lived a life of poverty.
Due to kidney failure, she had to undergo regular dialysis to survive, draining her funds and leaving her unfit for prolonged combat.
Once, when her financial situation grew too desperate, she even used Satomi Rentaro's organs as collateral to take out a high-interest loan.
At that time, most of the company's fieldwork was done by Rentaro and Enju, while she stayed in the office doing paperwork.
And yet—this irresponsible, parasitic boss of the company turned out to be the ultimate winner.
During the Imperial Conquest Campaigns, she had been attending classes at Miwa Girls' Academy, and by pure luck, escaped the brutal assault of the Dark Angels Legion.
When everything ended, she got her revenge on the spot—all those who had murdered her parents, Kikunojou Tendo, Kazumitsu Tendo, and all others—none survived. They were all slaughtered.
Among the Tendo clan's main bloodline, only she remained—the one who had been cast out and no longer counted as a Tendo.
After that, while she was still basking in the twisted satisfaction of seeing her kin destroyed, the doctor Sumire Muroto, who had long collaborated with the Tendo Civil Security Company, was recruited by the Imperial Science Bureau through their talent selection program.
Fortune fell from the heavens.
Kisara herself received a windfall of wealth and, along with it, preferential treatment from the Imperial government.
As a result, remnants of the Tendo faction sought her out, choosing her—the exiled Tendo heir—to serve as their leader in the Empire's new order.
Although the Tendo main family had been annihilated, the clan had long been a powerful political household with great influence and many loyal followers. The Empire's campaign was one of conquest, not extermination.
For the opportunists among them, this was simply a matter of finding a new patron.
Extraordinary times required extraordinary measures. Never mind her youth or lack of credentials—was she of Tendo blood? Yes. Did she have Imperial connections? Also yes.
Perfect. She was the one.
Enjoying the privileges of the colonial government, with ample material supply and no longer struggling to survive, Kisara Tendo soon established her own faction and expanded her civil security company.
In the following years, she led these old loyalists in actively cooperating with the Imperial Governor's policies, forming deep partnerships. The profits flowed endlessly; taxes were high, but as long as their products met Imperial standards, sales were guaranteed.
The Empire's market was vast beyond imagination.
What was the meager marketplace of Tokyo District's Sector 11 compared to that?
Now, in Sector 11, anyone daring to rebel or speak ill of the Empire didn't even need to face the Governor's troops or the law enforcement bureau—her company's security forces would crush them first.
Backed by Imperial technology, Kisara not only achieved great wealth but also cured her congenital kidney disease.
Compared to the overworked idealist Satomi Rentaro, compared to the saintly figure of the Holy Child adored by the people, compared to those soldiers who fought to the death on the frontlines… wasn't she just a selfish parasite, driven by vengeance and darkness?
And in the end, they all died, while she survived—and thrived.
How ridiculous… utterly ridiculous.
That was why Kisara Tendo often mocked Satomi Rentaro's shallow fortune—but in truth, wasn't she mocking herself as well? A cursed star, one who brought misfortune to everyone around her, trading their lives for her own wealth and comfort.
By the time Kisara finally arrived at her destination, Enju was already standing silently before a gravestone in the cemetery.
Beneath that stone rested her former partner—the civilian policeman, Satomi Rentaro.
"You're late."
"Sorry. I was lost in thought."
A light drizzle had just washed the quiet cemetery clean. The sunlight, imprisoned all morning by clouds, now broke through at last. Its rays scattered through the trees, falling upon the gravestones, casting a dreamlike shimmer that made the world seem unreal to Kisara Tendo.
She gazed at the grave for a long time, then turned away, pulling a small bouquet of white flowers from her coat pocket and laying it gently before the stone.
After a moment's silence, she spoke softly, her tone as calm as she could make it. "Enju, this is the last chance. Her Majesty will soon be inspecting our world."
"The elite of the Sisters of Battle Corps will be accompanying her procession. You know this is an opportunity. Your friend—"
"No need to say it. I'm not joining the Sisters of Battle selection. Besides, I'm long past the age limit."
Before the divine radiance of the Divine Empress had descended, the Cursed Children had been outcasts, living together for warmth in the ruins beyond the Outer District. Enju was no exception. Many of the names on the current lists of senior officers in the Sisters of Battle Corps were once her companions—sisters who had survived the darkness side by side.
With a faint, wistful smile, Enju lifted her head and said quietly:
"Life is good now. I eat well, sleep well, no one discriminates against me. The Gastrea virus in my body is suppressed. I don't have to worry about turning into a monster from excessive erosion. It even slows aging. See? I don't need all those skincare products like you do."
"My work with Judgment and the welfare institution makes me happy. You really don't need to worry, Sis Kisara."
It was rare to hear her call her Sis.
"Fine, fine… but with your abilities, you could've done so much more. If you joined the Sisters of Battle selection, you might've become someone important—made a name for yourself."
Kisara ignored the little jab about skincare that made her twitch internally. She didn't deny that she had thought about leveraging Enju's success for her own benefit. But since Enju had no interest, she wouldn't press the issue.
"I still need to prepare for the ceremony welcoming Her Majesty. As the representative of Sector 11's private traders, I have to be there. I'll be going now."
A subtle light flickered in Kisara's gray-black eyes. "Enju… you're my only family left. If you ever need help, don't be stubborn."
"Hmph!"
Enju clenched her fists in mock indignation. "Don't treat me like the reckless kid I used to be!" Then, with a sudden grin, she waved. "Meeting the legendary Divine Empress, huh? Sis Kisara! You've become quite the big shot! Don't be stingy—remember to tell me all about it!"
"Big shot? Hardly. I'm just another face in the crowd. At best, someone kneeling among the masses. Her Majesty might not even glance my way… oh, here she comes."
As she spoke, the sky darkened abruptly. Both women looked up as waves of brilliant light rippled across the heavens. Beyond the conscription world's orbit, the stars blazed with radiant glory. Countless points of light connected like chains of shimmering bubbles, forming dazzling gateways of cosmic color—layer upon layer, infinite, like mirrored dimensions linking countless universes.
Within that prismatic ocean, colossal, cold shadows moved and churned.
It was time.
Kisara and Enju exchanged a final smile.
"Take care," they said in unison.
...
Imperial Praetorian Fleet.
Beneath the grand golden dome of the palatial bridge—
"Yay! Alyssa's victory!"
Clinging around Selene's waist, rubbing her cheek affectionately against her, Alyssa beamed with delight.
"Hehe… Sebas isn't here. The Queen's all mine today."
Then—
"Mmm… Your Majesty, Alyssa just wanted a little cuddling…"
"You silly girl! Fine if you want to play, but don't make it look like I've snuck off for a vacation!"
Grabbing Alyssa by the collar, Selene scolded her with exasperation. "This is an inspection! Be serious. In ancient times, emperors toured the realm to display their might. I'm here on official business."
Still… with Sebas on standby, Esdeath reassigned, Durandal, Raiden Mei, and the others leading expeditions abroad, Kiana exhausted from governorship, Fu Hua training new recruits, and the countless ministers of the Imperial Central Administration all busy at work—
No one knew she had slipped away on her own.
That made it even more thrilling.
"Lock her in the black room until she finishes the assignments Sebas left her! Mendicant Bias, suspend her AI assistant privileges temporarily."
"As you command, Your Majesty. Your will shall be done."
Tearing open a rift beside her, Selene tossed the protesting Alyssa into the void, then composed herself and reached for the stack of reports on the table before her.
"Hmm… Let's see… civilian merchant guilds and wanderers…"
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