Planet S-325 —

"Hoooh~"

In the heart of a serene palace courtyard filled with blooming flowers and gentle, otherworldly creatures, a young human girl tilted her head back toward the vast sky, her small face bathed in warm sunlight. Her lips parted slightly as she released a long, thoughtful sigh—a sound that carried both innocence and quiet longing.

She was dressed in a flowing white gown decorated with delicate red blossoms, and over it, a sheer pink veil shimmered faintly like the dawn's glow—its hue matching the soft blush of her youthful cheeks. The girl could not have been more than ten years old, yet everything about her—the poise of her posture, the calm elegance in her movements—spoke of refinement, wealth, and noble upbringing.

"My little lady, are you ready?" came a gentle, aged voice. From behind her approached an elderly man with snow-white eyes. His clothes, though tidy, were simple compared to hers, his every gesture revealing his role as a devoted attendant. "The carriage is prepared and waiting outside the garden."

"…Do you think they'll really accept a blind girl like me?" the young lady asked softly, lowering her head at last. Her white eyes, clouded and sightless, glimmered faintly beneath her long lashes.

"Please, don't say such things, my lady," the old man said, his tone filled with quiet pride. "You are a true-born descendant of House Mora, the ruling bloodline. Just a few decades years ago, your family governed half this entire world! Your lineage is pure, your soul force brims with potential—who could possibly compare to you? Moreover, you've maintained the purity of your energy core just as the family decreed. You will surely be chosen, and the Headquarters will undoubtedly grant you a powerful law worthy of your heritage!"

"…I wasn't yet born when our family used to rule," she murmured, clutching her right hand with her left as if to hold onto her thoughts. "That was long ago—when we still believed this world belonged only to us. Now that our Great Empire stretches beyond imagination, I can only picture the countless candidates who come forward each year… My talent, compared to theirs, feels so small—so ordinary."

"Worry not about the outcome, my lady," the old man replied kindly. He took a few slow steps forward, placing a wrinkled hand upon her back with gentle care. His fingers brushed lightly against her shoulder as he guided her toward the garden's exit. "Just walk your path and give all you can. Your father awaits by the carriage. He will be proud no matter what happens."

"…Mhm." The blind girl nodded quietly, her faint smile appearing like a flicker of light before she began moving in the direction he led, guided not by her eyes—but by trust.

Every year, the Administrative Headquarters of the True Beginning Millennial Empire held vast and prestigious recruitment events across the star systems.

These events were monumental occasions—gatherings where fate could change in an instant.

Recruitment for the Imperial Army, the Shadow Swords, the Light Swords, the newly established Soul Forces, the Runemasters, the artisans who mastered the Law of Formation, and dozens of other powerful divisions that formed the backbone of the Empire's might.

The knowledge of these laws was never shared among ordinary citizens; it was sacred, meant only for the chosen few. Yet once every cycle, the Empire allowed anyone with courage and hope to present themselves before the evaluators and test their affinity in one of the grand paths.

Of course, the number of chosen candidates each year was extremely limited. From more than a thousand S-class planets, and out of trillions of intelligent lifeforms that thrived under the Empire's rule, how many could possibly be accepted?

That was why the standards were severe. Priority was always given to those with exceptional physical health, powerful affinity, and—most importantly—souls untouched by previous cultivation or corruption.

Still, even meeting all those conditions did not guarantee one's path. One might come hoping to become a Runemaster, only to find themselves selected by the Shadow Swords instead—an honor, but also a twist of destiny.

Yet within the Empire, every division held prestige, and to be accepted into any of them meant prosperity for one's family for generations. Still… not all branches were equal. Some stood above others, both in glory and in reverence.

And at the very summit of them all stood the Imperial Guards—the elite protectors who surrounded His Majesty, the Emperor himself.

Their honor was unmatched, their pay unequaled, and their families were showered with privileges beyond imagination. They were living legends—symbols of devotion and power intertwined.

To serve as an Imperial Guard was to stand within the Emperor's very presence… How glorious can this even be?!

The young girl exhaled softly, as though releasing a weight that had sat upon her heart for far too long. The very thought of earning such an honor — to one day stand among the Imperial Guards — felt like a foolish daydream, too distant even for imagination.

To even aspire to their ranks was to reach for a star that burned far beyond her grasp. Their number was infinitesimal, each member chosen from countless candidates scattered across the empire's endless dominion. Every one of them was a walking legend, a living myth wrapped in armor and power.

When a single guardian set foot on any planet, it was as though a celestial being had descended — entire armies and planetary lords would abandon their pride and kneel in reverence. Their arrival carried the same awe and dread as the descent of a divine general; even the winds seemed to hold their breath before such presence.

"Betha," a warm yet commanding voice broke her thoughts — a voice she knew better than her own heartbeat.

"Have you been practicing walking on your own, as I asked?"

"Mhm," the young girl replied quickly, her small fingers tightening around the hem of her dress. "I'll do my best not to embarrass myself today."

Her father — the man with eyes pale as frozen lakes — approached slowly, his every step deliberate, measured. The years had carved fine lines into his face, the quiet proof of a man who had carried burdens too heavy for too long.

"…I know," he said softly, "that I've made things hard for you all these years." His tone wavered between regret and pride. "But everything I withheld was for a reason. I refused to teach you anything about soul force so it stays pure and they wouldn't find any fault with it in the tests for Runemasters. I avoided training you in the Law of Echo, so it wouldn't conflict if you were chosen as a local administrator in the Central Headquarters. But after today, when you return as a victor, I'll finally teach you how to walk and perceive using your soul sense alone. That's a promise."

He brushed his calloused hand through her hair, the gesture full of tenderness, then guided her gently toward the carriage waiting at the gates. "Now go," he said, voice rising with conviction, "Show them the pride of House Mora. Let the empire remember who we are!"

"…I'll make everyone proud today, Father!" Betha forced the words past her trembling lips. She tried to smile, but the edges of it faltered. There was no confidence behind that fragile expression — only the faint hope of a child trying not to disappoint the man she loved most.

Grand words like "the honor of the family" might have once meant something in the golden days when House Mora ruled half the planet. But now, such titles were nothing more than ghosts from the past. Their name no longer echoed across the stars — it lingered only in memories. She knew well that she was just one among billions, a mere candidate among data collected from thousands of worlds, all feeding into the empire's endless system of selection. In the vast, immeasurable dominion of the True Beginning Millennial Empire, her existence was barely even a whisper.

Still wearing her forced smile, Betha climbed into the ornate carriage — a masterpiece built on Planet S-54, drawn by sturdy oxen bred on Planet S-600, and driven by a man from Planet S-950, a foreigner seeking his fortune under what remained of the Mora family's wealth. Even the carriage, luxurious and ancient, seemed like a relic of a time when her lineage had once stood tall. It was a moving monument to decline, a silent testimony of how the world had changed over the last eighty years.

"…Proceed," Betha said at last, her voice trembling slightly.

BAAAM!

The ground quaked — something enormous crashed down from the heavens above.

"Ahh!" Betha cried out, raising both arms to shield her face as dust and air exploded around her.

"What in the blazes?!" her father's voice thundered across the courtyard. His pale eyes flared, veins bulging as he summoned power instinctively. "Who dares strike land under His Majesty's domain in broad daylight?! Do you not fear the Light Swords?!"

Step… Step…

Out of the swirling haze of dust emerged a colossal figure. The sound of his footsteps was heavy, rhythmic — each one like the beat of a war drum. Slowly, the man revealed himself: a towering brute nearly three meters tall, with a physique sculpted from raw power. His hair was long, cascading down his back in waves of black streaked with midnight blue, and his gaze burned with an intensity that pierced the air itself.

When he spoke, his deep, resonant voice rolled through the garden like distant thunder.

"Betha of House Mora, I've heard you have a fondness for making flowers bloom faster… let's test that rumor, shall we~?"

"What do you think you're doing?! Step back, now!" her father barked furiously. Yet, despite his rage, he didn't move first — for to attack without cause under the empire's law could draw the wrath of the Light Swords, the enforcers of order.

But the massive stranger ignored him completely. With unnerving calm, he lifted his hand and produced three small orbs that floated above his palm. Each one shimmered faintly as he pointed them toward the trembling girl.

For a few tense seconds, nothing happened. Then — one orb flared brilliantly.

A sinister grin split across the giant man's face. "At last… forty years. Forty long years since I've found a candidate with such pure, powerful affinity."

Before the stunned father could react, the giant reached forward with terrifying speed. His hand closed around Betha like an iron cage, lifting the girl effortlessly and tucking her beneath his arm — as though she were no more than a fragile doll.

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