This problem must be solved with his own sword, not with missiles or battleships.
The Honor Guard is his sword.
When Constantine descended the assault transport's ramp and stepped off the landing pad, he once again encountered the fully armed artificial humans—beings born in test tubes and spiritually attuned to the Sovereign, self-proclaimed daughters of the Monarch. Through his helmet's display, Constantine scrutinized the authentication codes they transmitted and reviewed the data sent by the automated defense systems throughout the estate. Once he confirmed everything was functioning correctly, he silently took control, becoming the actual operator of all anti-air missile towers and automatic weapon platforms. Perhaps they were as loyal as he was—but that didn't mean Constantine would willingly share the task of protecting the Monarch. His body and spirit were stronger than theirs, and the power of gene alchemy coursed through his veins. This indestructible power armor was forged with technologies granted only to a select few.
Constantine blinked to close the windows on his HUD. "Where is Lady Dana?"
"Lady Dana has just returned to the estate. She's going out on an errand by order of the Master," replied the leading artificial human, placing her hand on the hilt of her longsword, maintaining maximum vigilance. Constantine turned his head and lowered his gaze to glance at her. She wore black feedback-powered armor, and beneath her deep red cloak, a white iris emblem peeked out from the knee plates. Her vambraces and gauntlets were adorned with gold detailing. Her muscles were taut, left leg stepped back half a pace to maintain balance and explosive power—ready to strike at any moment. The atmosphere was tense. Twenty meters away, a heavy fire support squad stood by, their heavy explosive-launchers armed and ready to ignite, the barrel tips tinged with the acrid stench of chemical propellant after tens of thousands of firings. Ordinary people might not detect that smell, but for members of the Honor Guard, it was unmistakable, even from afar.
Only after Constantine transmitted his authentication codes and passed verification did these stubborn women finally lower their weapons. Yet the lead artificial human still didn't release her grip on her sword hilt. Even though she couldn't reach the chest of this three-meter-tall gene-modified warrior, she didn't care that he could kill everyone here in the blink of an eye. Few could maintain such courage in the face of the Honor Guard, but the Monarch's creations were born with the resolve to die. Without that courage, Constantine would never have allowed them to guard the Monarch during his absence.
The Honor Guard gave a polite nod, moved aside his blood-red visor, and, carrying his long halberd, strode toward the estate.
Over twenty fully armed artificial humans followed behind him. As they passed tanks and anti-aircraft guns beside the landing pad, they had to quicken their steps to keep pace, their combat boots striking the concrete path in an urgent, synchronized rhythm. They had no authority to stop Constantine from proceeding and could only keep their eyes on him as he entered the manor through a side entrance, where a maid-uniformed artificial human took over. There were few matters in the world that warranted Constantine breaking from his mission. Returning from Latovinia to the Undying City and then rerouting to the Oxfordshire estate meant this was something the Monarch had to be informed of—yet it was so highly classified that not even encrypted channels could contain it. As a result, the sole Honor Guard had to personally act as messenger, using the most primitive method to ensure the information remained secure.
"Two candidates passed the trials?" Solomon lifted the girl off his lap and handed her to Lorna. He signaled for Lorna to leave the study—he had private matters to discuss with Constantine. Lorna made a face at him in protest, then took the girl's hand and left the room. The artificial human standing outside closed the door behind them, ensuring no one could intrude. Besides Solomon and Constantine, not even Maya Hansen, head of the bio-genetic lab, nor the druids of the Sora Redlind Gene Alchemy Order knew the full details of the Honor Guard project. All black-tech devices used for gene alchemy were considered top secrets of the Undying City and were tightly controlled—no one without clearance could come into contact with even a single piece of equipment.
"Yes. The two candidates whose gene templates matched best were from the Kingdom of Babylon and the Hittite Empire. The Achaemenid Dynasty, the Ptolemaic Dynasty, and the Byzantine Empire all failed compatibility—those gene sequences were difficult to synchronize," said Constantine. Even indoors, he did not set down his halberd. One hand remained on the long handle's trigger, always ready for battle. When this estate was purchased and renovated, every hallway and doorway had been redesigned to accommodate gene-enhanced warriors. To ordinary people, this manor—with its refined artworks, lofty ceilings decorated with exquisite frescoes, oversized furniture brimming with Baroque opulence—seemed palatial in every sense. Few would realize these modifications served a very specific kind of occupant.
The Honor Guard could not see any surprise on the Monarch's face, as if he had already foreseen the result.
In truth, the success rate was extremely abnormal. Out of ten thousand boys, only a few met both the age and compatibility criteria for gene alchemy. Even among those who did, most could not survive the physical and psychological transformation based on human heroes and the Monarch's own genetic template—the gene modification process killed them. The gene coding of the Honor Guard was a meticulously crafted work of art. Every base pair was a product of scientific design by the Monarch himself, reflecting not only the candidates' physical traits but their personalities as well. Previously, only Constantine had successfully ascended. He had no idea how many had failed before him. But now, two out of 123 boys had passed the test—an astonishingly high success rate, as if the Monarch already knew where to find suitable candidates. Yet even this didn't surprise Constantine. With the Monarch's power, locating genetically compatible individuals through prophecy was child's play. According to the original plan, the Honor Guard—extensions of the Monarch's will of steel—would number in the thousands. Only then could they assist the Monarch in completing his grand endeavor, delivering decisive blows on battlefields beyond human limits.
"I'll arrange their training," Solomon said calmly. "Take them to the arena for isolated training so they can quickly become familiar with their weapons and armor."
"My Lord, the date of the Latovinian offensive draws near. Do we still have time for this?"
"We always have time, Constantine. Stand down. You've got two hours before your next mission begins—plenty of time to reach it. Sit with me and read for a while. That next task is too bloody; it won't be good for your mental state."
Only then did Constantine finally release the trigger with his fingers.
"I finished watching The Lord of the Rings trilogy on the assault transport," he said, removing his helmet, his tone carrying a rare hint of delight. "Though I still don't understand why Aragorn would be interested in a female of another species, I plan to finish the rest—especially The Silmarillion."
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