Within the grand palace nestled between mountains and the sea on the Sixth Planet of the Three-Star Cluster, the brilliant illumination bleached the very clouds overhead a shimmering silver-white.

Melodious music drifted on the sea breeze. Throngs of heavily made-up Roman men and women, heads held high, were conveyed from every direction in ancient, richly adorned, and utterly luxurious horse-drawn carriages, attended by servants of various races. They proceeded along the long, broad avenue before the palace, passing under the gaze of towering knight statues lining the path, all with smiles plastered across their faces as they entered the main structure.

Wherever people gathered, hymns praising Ma'er Alutah, the Roman God of War, could be heard. Even the frailest Roman youths gritted their teeth as they donned heavy suits of armor and strapped ancient, pure-metal knightly longswords to their waists, striving to assume the posture of a proper Roman Knight.

And any Roman man clad in metal armor, regardless of age, was guaranteed the favor of Roman women. Countless flirtatious glances coiled toward these 'valiant' Roman knights from every direction, like a campfire on a winter night, nearly melting the very bones within these Roman men. Occasionally, a few Roman men and women with disheveled clothing would hastily slip out from the densely wooded corners of the palace grounds, their faces flushed with golden-yellow bloodlight testifying to what they had just been engaged in within the shadows.

In the tallest and most magnificent hall of this palace complex, Nanket, clad in the deep purple of kingship, sat centered on the throne, holding his scepter. More than thirty Roman noblewomen, decked out in vibrant finery—resembling a cluster of brilliant poppies—surrounded him. These noblewomen were all Nanket’s wives, each bearing ancient and noble Roman aristocratic bloodlines.

Among these Roman noblewomen, one stood out with exceptional prominence: she wore a silver gown embroidered with black diamonds ranging in size from a lentil to a clenched fist, and atop her head rested a triple crown, likely weighing around thirty kilograms, intricately inlaid with gold, silver, and countless gems. This noblewoman’s snow-white, slender fingers were burdened with over twenty rings, each one blazing with a mesmerizing fire under the brilliant lights.

This noblewoman was Nanket’s principal wife, the mother of Polpot.

From time to time, a Roman noblewoman would rise to bestow a passionate kiss upon Nanket’s cheek. Nanket returned these embraces with an ardor sufficient to melt steel plates.

Only Polpot’s mother remained perfectly still, seated upon a throne parallel to Nanket’s, surveying the fawning women below with an air of haughty disdain. In truth, even if she wished to move, she could not. Her triple crown weighed thirty kilograms; the scepter she leaned upon with her left hand weighed one hundred and twenty kilograms; and the magnificent court gown woven from platinum thread weighed three hundred and fifty kilograms, not counting the thousands of black diamonds scattered upon it. The total weight of this ensemble exceeded half a ton.

For a pampered Roman noblewoman, such an attire was an enormous burden. Were it not for the secret physical enhancement technology of the Roman Chivalric Order applied before attending this court banquet, elevating her physical capacity more than tenfold, this noblewoman—who hailed from a prestigious lineage that had produced hundreds of Roman kings—would have been crushed on the spot.

Polpot stood in the farthest, most secluded corner of the hall, two pretty Spirit Race maidens pressed closely beside him, their hands lightly caressing his chest and abdomen.

The impeccably dressed Mad Angel stood by Polpot’s side, holding a wine goblet and watching the jewel-encrusted group upon the thrones. He asked with a slight smile, “This is the First Roman Kingdom’s inaugural court banquet. Are you not going to offer congratulations to your father? Cheer up, Polpot, don’t sulk like an old king nearing natural death!”

Polpot merely grunted, listlessly raising his goblet to clink against the Mad Angel’s. Casting a sidelong glance at Nanket on the throne, Polpot murmured, “Do you truly believe what my father just said? That he was merely putting on a show for that mongrel Dukat? If so, I must admire him; he performed flawlessly for the benefit of the family!”

The Mad Angel glared sternly at Polpot, barking in a low tone, “Enough, Polpot. Forget those ridiculous emotional entanglements. A true Roman man cares only for power, strength, and wealth. Sentiment? That is merely a minor decoration in a tedious existence. Females? They are merely tools for a true Roman man to vent his excess masculine venom.”

Downing the fine wine in one gulp, the Mad Angel cautioned, “You need to focus on the state affairs of the First Roman Kingdom now. Many super-dreadnoughts can barely maintain their course; they serve well enough to intimidate, but for actual combat, they require lengthy repairs. We lack sufficient numbers of well-trained crewmen; those imbecilic servant races offer only cannon fodder—don’t expect them to learn how to operate high-tech warships. We’ve discovered thousands of massive ore veins across these three planets, yet we haven’t even broken ground on one thousandth of them!”

Sighing deeply, the Mad Angel stated gravely, “As the military leader of the First Kingdom, as the true inheritor of the Roman Chivalric Order, you have much work ahead of you!”

Polpot took a deep breath, casting a look of disgust at the noblewomen swarming around Nanket. He sneered, “These foolish women—do they truly think they can usurp my mother’s position? Do they imagine they can secure my station for their witless sons? You never told my brothers how I obtained my rank in the Roman Chivalric Order, did you?”

The Mad Angel shot a cold glance toward another corner of the hall where a dozen young Roman men were watching them, their eyes green with jealousy. He gave a strange, wry shake of his head. “No, I did not tell them how you became the Grand Commander of the Roman Chivalric Order. I haven’t even told them who I am! It is quite amusing. Not only have they coveted your position, but they are also setting their sights on my Grand Archon post. Oh… these foolish, despicable, unsalvageable pieces of trash, they deserve to perish with this universe.”

He paused, puffing out his chest, and declared proudly, “My child, Polpot, you are worthy of being my successor. Before the Great Celestial Being destroys this world, you will, because of me, receive salvation! When a new universe begins its cycle, you, like me, will become a god in that new cosmos.”

“Uh!” Polpot winced, rubbing his forehead. He forced a laugh. “Of course, that is how it will be!”

Furious, he glared once more at the noblewomen who were nearly burying Nanket. Polpot snorted again. Then, looking at his mother sitting motionlessly on her throne, Polpot’s face showed a mixture of helplessness and embarrassment. He mumbled under his breath, “Damn it all, Mother. Though I hate to admit it, you, like all Roman women, are so hypocritical and superficial. Keep a close watch on that man beside you, otherwise, how can I leave you in his care when I am away campaigning?”

Polpot’s face was clouded with worry. He unconsciously toyed with the wine goblet in his hand, staring blankly at his mother, who sat rigidly upright on the throne.

The First Roman Kingdom faced immense peril, and it was Polpot who was tasked with resolving this crisis.

The current total population of the First Roman Kingdom approached three billion, but over ninety-nine percent of these three billion people, originating from the 172-star base controlled by the Roman Chivalric Order, were all Roman Servant Races—not a single legitimate Roman citizen among them. The entire First Roman Kingdom boasted fewer than a million true Roman subjects.

These million Romans comprised the members of the Holxum family, the clans of the other major Electoral Families, and the lower-tier families under their influence. All other pure-blooded Romans were concentrated in the Second Roman Kingdom, ruled jointly by the three brothers Heishuo, Boljin, and Yakjin. A Roman Kingdom with only a million pure-blooded citizens was, for Polpot, an immense irony.

The Mad Angel had already dispatched a formal diplomatic note to the Second Kingdom, demanding they transfer at least fifty percent of their Roman population. However, several days had passed since the note was sent, and the First Kingdom had received no reply—or perhaps the reply was the Roman fleets commanded by Boljin and Yakjin blocking the main shipping lanes between the two kingdoms.

“Damn those wretches!” Polpot crushed the wine goblet in his hand.

The Mad Angel noticed the shards in Polpot’s grasp and smiled faintly. He pulled over a Roman maiden who happened to be passing by, dramatically manifesting two magnificent white wings of light behind her back. “Inspired by the Celestial Being, amidst the vast sea of mortals, I have found you. Beautiful lady, you possess a pure soul, a holy body. Are you willing to accept purification from the Celestial Being? It can transcend you from this mortal realm, safeguard you from the danger of the Final Judgment, and allow you to become a god.”

A massive surge of dark power enveloped the maiden’s mind. The girl stared at the Mad Angel in a daze, let out a soft moan, and lunged into his embrace.

“Shameless!” Polpot offered the most accurate assessment of the Mad Angel’s conduct, watching with a mixture of envy and jealousy as the Angel floated away with the maiden in his arms.

Yazhak suddenly materialized next to Polpot and snapped, “My Lord, a fleet led by three super-dreadnoughts is approaching the Thirteenth Star Cluster. Their identification codes belong to the Earth Federation.”

“It’s that bastard!” The unsettling, sinister grin of Gu Yechen immediately flashed through Polpot’s mind. He gritted his teeth. “Send a signal. I want an audience with him!”

Glancing at Nanket on the throne, basking in the adoration of the crowd, Polpot frowned and strode out of the hall. His mother remained seated on the throne, watching Polpot’s tall silhouette with a satisfied smile. She boasted to the noblewomen beside her, “This is my child. My blood flows through him. Oh—how exceptional Polpot is compared to your children who only know how to feast and play! Nanket, isn’t that right?”