Vahn nodded once, acknowledging the pragmatism. "The military will be the first to benefit from this restructuring."

​He gestured, and a new projection appeared, detailing the logistics of the transition.

​"All frontline units will receive standardized cultivation support based on their deployment risk and their performance in the field. No more elite units drowning in excess while border garrisons are left to starve on the scraps of the interior."

​Several governors exchanged worried looks, realizing their private militias were about to be outclassed by the very troops they used to overlook.

​"This will significantly raise the average combat level of the imperial forces within two decades," Vahn continued. "Within one era, the Astralis Empire will no longer fear the attrition warfare that has bled us dry on the fringes."

​The marshal bowed deeply, his metal armor clanking. "The army accepts these terms."

​Vahn inclined his head. "Now, to address the inevitable concern."

​His gaze swept across the rows of nobles and sect leaders, many of whom looked as though they were facing an executioner.

​"You fear the loss of your privilege. You fear the dilution of your authority."

​He paused, letting the tension reach a breaking point.

​"You are correct to fear it."

​The hall went deathly still. The only sound was the faint hum of the law-etched stars above.

​"I am not here to preserve your comfort.

I am here to preserve the Empire. Families and sects that adapt to the List will thrive beyond their current dreams. Those that resist will find that the Empire no longer has a need for them. They will not be protected."

​A noblewoman stood with suppressed rage.

"You would destabilize centuries of balance with a single decree? You risk civil war."

​"No," Vahn replied. "I am correcting centuries of imbalance that have already brought us to the brink of collapse."

​He lifted a single finger.

​"That said, I am aware that stability matters. The old systems will not be abolished overnight. That would be messy. Existing accords will be honored for one transitional era. During that time, your houses may compete within the Merit List like everyone else. Prove you deserve what you claim to own."

​The projection shifted again, moving from the ethereal world of cultivation to the cold reality of economics.

​"Next, we address resource extraction," Vahn said. Several industrial magnates straightened in their seats, their expressions turning from fear to guarded calculation. "Spirit mines, star wells, and astral convergence zones are currently leased under indefinite contracts. Many of these leases have not been reviewed or audited in thousands of years."

​He waved his hand, and a list of the largest mining conglomerates appeared in the air.

​"All such contracts will be audited by the Imperial Chancellor's office."

​Immediately, A chorus of objections began to rise, a chaotic blend of voices citing legal precedents and logistical impossibilities. Vahn did not move to suppress them. He simply waited, his expression unreadable, as the noise reached a fever pitch. When the volume finally began to dip, he spoke again.

​"Any lease found to be underperforming, exploiting labor to the detriment of the soul, or diverting output beyond declared quotas will be reclaimed by the throne. The Empire does not exist to enrich intermediaries. It exists to cultivate power."

​His gaze hardened, the violet light in his eyes flaring.

​"And power unused is power wasted."

​A young minister, perhaps the only one in the room who didn't look terrified, spoke up carefully,

"Your Majesty, such sweeping reforms will provoke resistance. There are those who will see this as a declaration of war against the nobility. It may even provoke rebellion."

​Vahn smiled faintly, a cold expression that didn't reach his eyes.

​"Good."

​The word unsettled them more than a display of anger would have. It implied that he was not just prepared for a fight, but that he welcomed it as a means of filtration.

​"Rebellion reveals inefficiency," Vahn continued. "It highlights the rot. And inefficiency will be removed."

​He rose from the throne. The movement was slow and carried an immense pressure. Above him, the law-etched constellations shifted subtly, their light intensifying in response to his physical movement.

​"To be clear, This court may advise. It may debate the logistics of implementation. It may refine the timing of the rollouts."

​He looked at them one by one, meeting the eyes of every major player in the room.

​"It may not veto my direction."

​The implication was absolute. He was not a chairman of a board; he was the source of the law.

​"By the end of this lunar cycle, every sector governor will submit a complete cultivation census. Every sect will disclose its resource holdings and its hidden vaults. Every noble house will open its books to imperial review."

​Shock rippled outward like a wave.

​"This is impossible," someone whispered in the back.

​Vahn heard it clearly. "It is inevitable," he replied.

​He paused for a moment, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Noncompliance will be interpreted as an act of secession. The military has already been briefed on the protocols for reintegration."

​No one spoke after that. The threat of a "reintegration" by the imperial fleet was a shadow that silenced even the most vocal critics. Vahn returned to his seat, the alloy throne creaking slightly under his weight.

​"Now," he said calmly, "we will discuss the implementation schedules for the first quadrant."

​The session continued for hours. The suns of the capital world set and rose again in the artificial sky of the dome. Debates flared and died as Vahn methodically dismantled every excuse provided. Some officials adapted quickly, recognizing the opportunity for advancement within a system that actually rewarded results. Others clung desperately to precedent, their arguments growing thinner and more desperate with each exchange.

​Vahn listened to all of it. He interrupted rarely, but when he did, his words acted like a sculptor's chisel, cutting away the fluff until only the hard reality remained. By the time the session ended, the Galactic Imperial Court was no longer the same institution it had been that morning. The air felt thinner, sharper.

​When Vahn finally stood to leave, signaling the end of the first day, the court rose again. This time, the movement was different. It wasn't born of the raw instinct of the prey. It was born of a grim, newfound understanding. They realized that the era of the figurehead was over.

​Outside the hall, in the transition chamber that led to the inner sanctum, Celestine waited. She had been watching the feed of the session. She studied his face as he emerged, looking for signs of exhaustion or doubt.

​"You shook them to their core, Vahn." she said quietly.

​Vahn exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to dissipate.

"They needed to be shaken. A tree that doesn't feel the wind eventually rots from the inside."

​She hesitated, her eyes scanning the grand hallway. "Do you truly think it will work? The Merit list is a beautiful concept, Vahn, but the reality of human greed is a powerful counterweight."

​Vahn looked out through the massive viewing ports of the palace, over the sprawling, neon-lit spires of the imperial city. Beyond that lay a civilization poised on the precipice of a new age.

​"It will hurt. It will anger many, and it will likely cost us blood."

​He closed his eyes for a brief second, envisioning the branching paths of the future.

​"But for the first time in three eras, this Empire will do more than just exist. It will grow."

​And somewhere, far beyond the reach of the Astralis skies, in the dark spaces between the stars, the unseen threads of destiny began to stir. The redistribution of power had begun, and the galaxy would never be the same.

​Vahn did not linger in the Core World after the first reforms were set in motion. He understood a fundamental truth that his predecessors had forgotten: authority decayed when it lingered too comfortably at the center. It became stagnant, fed by its own echoes and insulated by walls of flattery.

​The Astralis Empire did not fracture at its heart. It eroded at its edges, piece by piece, like a great monument being reclaimed by the desert.

​Within three days of the Imperial Court session, sealed directives rippled across the systems. They activated dormant imperial routes, unlocked ancient transit arrays that had been dark for centuries, and reassigned entire battle fleets with the cold precision of a grandmaster moving pieces on a board. The message accompanying these movements was simple, unembellished, and unmistakably his.

​The Emperor was coming to the borders.

​He would not be arriving through proxies. He would not be represented by envoys or holographic projections. He was coming personally.

​The announcement alone sent shockwaves through dozens of strategic systems.

To the elite in the Core, the borders were abstract lines on a map, distant places where resources were sent and reports were generated. To those living there, the Border Worlds were scars left behind by expansion.

They were worlds scraped raw by war, gnawed by hostile empires, and burdened by the constant, grinding pressure of standing between civilization and absolute annihilation. Their governors were men and women accustomed to neglect, to reinforcements that arrived years too late, and to empty promises delivered by polished officials who never stayed long enough to hear the screams at night.

​Vahn changed that expectation with the speed of a solar flare.

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