Lord of the Truth-Chapter 1164: The prisoner

"Unfortunately for the Great Serpent Empire…" Marcel Burton took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts before launching into another detailed explanation, "They were only ever granted blueprints for a single type of warship and one specific model of the transport vessel. These designs—handed down to them long ago were— the backbone of their entire fleet,

but they were severely limited in their adaptability. Later on, the Dwarves, with their renowned craftsmanship, attempted to modify these blueprints. They enlarged the warships slightly and they retrofitted the transport vessels, installing the side cannons.

But that was the extent of their innovation. The ships still lacked the necessary adaptability for asteroid mining or celestial body harvesting.

Even so—despite these shortcomings— they somehow amassed an astonishing volume of resources using just those two outdated vessel types."

Marcel allowed himself a small smirk, leaning back into his chair as if enjoying the reveal of his grand point. "But now, with the technological advancements at our disposal, things are about to change drastically.

With the introduction of R-2 Humans, the incomplete modifications left by the Dwarves, and the cutting-edge research spearheaded by the Empire's brightest minds; Miss Zara is confident that she can design and manufacture an entirely new class of ships, purpose-built for celestial body extraction. Ships engineered to maximize efficiency, streamline the mining process, and fully capitalize on untapped resources scattered across the cosmos."

His expression turned more serious, his fingers interlocking as he rested his arms on the table. "But embarking on this endeavor is not without challenges. If we commit to this strategy, it means we must also invest in a specialized fleet for protection and security. We humans cannot breathe in the vacuum of space, which means every celestial hunter-ship

will require an escort of warships to defend against potential threats.

Furthermore, we'll need to develop advanced detection technology

to efficiently locate celestial bodies rich in usable materials.

And even if we find them, we must also address another problem—

how do we safely extract resources in zero gravity?

Simply put— this project is a gateway to countless other innovations.

The deeper we go, the more possibilities arise."

Marcel slowly opened his palm, as if metaphorically presenting the weight of the decision before them. "But let's set that aside for a moment.

Right now, we have another pressing concern— His Highness Peon has formally requested a substantial increase in budget allocation.

He needs resources to replenish the First Army, ensure fair compensation for our soldiers and their families, and finance the repairs and upgrades needed to restore the weapons, armor, and gear that were damaged or destroyed in the war. On top of that, we also—"

"….." Caesar exhaled sharply through his nose, lifting a hand to halt Marcel's report.

He rubbed his temples for a moment, as if battling a rising headache,

before finally extending his other hand toward Marcel. "Did you come here asking me to surrender part of my budget!?"

Marcel chuckled lightly. "Your Highness, it is more than enough

that you simply understand the predicament we face.

Lady Emily is personally overseeing the Empire of Tomorrow Project,

and since His Excellency himself has given it his approval, there are no immediate plans to divert funding away from your initiatives."

He then flashed a knowing grin.

"If Your Highness has no further orders, then I humbly request permission to withdraw."

Caesar let out a slow breath, his gaze hardening with resolve.

"Relay a message to Emily and she will know what to do— The inner district of the Imperial City will be completed within a year. Peon must ensure that the army is in prime condition, prepared to conduct a formal military showcase when the time comes.

Additionally, the Research & Development City must coordinate with every inhabited planet and every major settlement to install large-scale broadcast screens so that the coronation ceremony can be witnessed by all citizens of the empire."

Marcel nodded, his sharp mind already memorizing each directive.

"Understood, Your Highness." With a respectful bow, he turned on his heel and left the chamber.

For a good while, silence filled the room.

Alexander allowed his commander a few moments of solitude, watching as he remained deep in thought. But after a short pause, he finally broke the silence.

"It seems we have an overwhelming amount of work ahead of us before the empire can truly stand on its own."

Caesar remained motionless for a second, his fingers tapping against the polished surface of the table in slow, measured beats. "Fifty years."

His voice carried a quiet certainty, "That's all we need.

Militarily, we brought down a colossal empire, one that had dominated planets for ten thousand years. If we maintain our pace, I believe that in another fifty years, we will not only rebuild, but we will surpass them in every conceivable way."

His fingers abruptly stilled, the rhythmic tapping ceasing altogether.

"But the real question is… Do we actually have fifty years?"

Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly at that remark, "What do you mean by that?"

Caesar let out a small, almost wistful sigh, "…Nothing."

He gave a faint, enigmatic smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Just some fears that have taken root in my father's heart.

I only hope they remain just that— mere fears, nothing more."

With that, he shifted his focus, reaching forward to unfurl a detailed strategic map across the table.

His demeanor shifted once again, returning to the pragmatic, tactical mindset that had carried him this far, "Now then…"

He exhaled, his gaze sharpening as he studied the map. "Where were we?"

--------------------

Planet Poison Rock – Imperial Palace – Slave Chambers

Step... Step...

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor.

Aro, lounging against the wooden frame of an old chair, barely reacted at first. But when the familiar presence registered in his senses,

a slow, expectant grin spread across his face. "Haros! Hahaha, you finally made it! I was starting to think they'd never let you leave!"

After the five great vaults of the Great Serpent Empire were forcefully opened, Peon had issued a formal imperial summons, demanding the presence of the former Marshal at headquarters.

There, under the scrutiny of Theo and Emily, Haros had been subjected to intensive questioning.

And, of course, refusal had never been an option.

It had been over three weeks since that interrogation began, and during that time, Aro had not seen nor heard from Haros once.

"Don't remind me," Haros groaned, stepping inside with sluggish movements. Exhaustion clung to his frame, his normally rigid posture weighed down by visible fatigue.

Leaning against the nearest wall for support, he raised a hand and began to slowly rub his temples, "Those bastards didn't just grill me about the resources," he muttered, his voice carrying both irritation and disbelief.

"They interrogated me on every detail concerning the empire.

And just as I was leaving, they made it very clear that they might summon me again if they suddenly remembered something else!"

His fingers dug into his forehead, his frustration nearly palpable.

"How the hell am I supposed to just hand over classified information

without so much as a token of compensation, just because I hold a high rank now?! This is beyond unfair."

Aro couldn't help but chuckle, his amusement only growing at his new friend's frustration. "Hehe… well, you switched sides, my friend.

This is just the price you pay."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"But don't worry. Once the Third Army is fully established you won't have to worry about compensation anymore, I can see mountains of riches from now!"

His tone was lighthearted, but the underlying truth was there.

They had some power now— power that was only going to grow.

Then, Aro's eyes narrowed slightly.

"But…" His voice dipped into something quieter, more serious.

"You didn't leave there empty-handed, did you?" He raised an expectant brow, "We can't proceed without that thing."

Haros scoffed, shaking his head with a tired smirk, "Do you even need to ask?"

His fingers flicked against the surface of his spatial ring,

channeling a small pulse of soul force.

A second later, something materialized in his hand.

A solid, weighty object—shimmering faintly under the dim light.

He tossed it lightly toward Aro. "Here—catch."

Shaa

Aro's hands moved instinctively, catching the item and immediately inspecting it.

It was a set of three shackles— One large collar, designed for the neck. Two smaller cuffs meant for the wrists. Each of them is embedded with inward-facing needles, designed to pierce into the user's flesh upon activation. Thin but absurdly strong chains linked them together, crafted from a material far beyond their modern capabilities.

The engraved runes covering the entire surface of the device

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were complex, ancient, and radiated an almost forbidden aura.

This was— The Bloodline Ascension Device of the Great Serpent Empire.

Aro exhaled slowly, his grin widening into something almost feral, "Beautiful."

He turned the artifact over in his hands, admiring the unmistakable craftsmanship. "Now, we can finally begin the process… But,"

His fingers curled around the device, and he slipped it into his void ring without another word.

Then, he slowly lifted his head— his expression shifting into something else entirely. The mirth in his eyes faded. The casual, easygoing demeanor vanished. "...I'm not starting without you."

"...…."

A thick silence settled over the room.

But Aro wasn't looking at Haros anymore. His eyes were focused on something else, just a few steps in front of them— something lay motionless like a discarded corpse.

It had no distinguishable features. Its entire body was covered in burns,

from the scorched remnants of its hair to the charred remains of its fingertips. Its right arm was completely gone, severed at the shoulder.

Entire chunks of flesh were missing from its torso, exposing deep, raw wounds.

The only sign of life— the only proof that this thing was still breathing—

was the faint, agonizing rise and fall of its chest.

Each breath was slow, each movement barely perceptible.

Haros frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took a closer look.

Then, suddenly, his expression changed.

His eyes widened in shock, realization striking him like a bolt of lightning.

His breath caught in his throat.

"The Seventh Prince…?!"