I watched as the TX1 rolled forward, gaining speed down the icy runway. Then, with a smooth ascent, it lifted off, climbing steadily into the sky.
"Climb rate looks good,"
One of the engineers muttered, watching through binoculars.
"Stability is perfect,"
Another added.
"No visible issues with handling."
The Falcon continued to climb before banking sharply, executing a series of tight turns with ease. Pebbles' voice crackled over the radio.
"This thing handles like a dream. Controls are smooth, response time is excellent."
"Proceed to the gunnery range,"
The Minister of the Air Force ordered.
The Falcon dipped lower, heading toward the target area where old, rusted trucks had been placed along with large balloons to simulate enemy bombers. Pebbles lined up his shot, the aircraft leveling out.
"Engaging targets."
The first burst from the nose mounted cannons tore through the first target, sending shrapnel and flames into the sky. The second burst obliterated another rusted vehicle, flipping it onto its side.
"Firepower is exceptional,"
The Minister of War noted, grinning.
The next burst of fire followed, shredding through the balloons with ease, their remains fluttering toward the ground.
The aircraft looped around for another pass, strafing targets with precision, each shot landing where intended.
Pebbles chuckled over the radio.
"I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of this thing."
"Final assessment?"
I asked the lead engineer.
"The TX1 is combat ready, Imperator. All that's left is ramping up production."
I nodded.
"Then see to it. The Imperium's enemies will soon learn what it means to challenge us in the skies."
As the Falcon completed its final pass and came in for landing, I turned to Lucilla.
"What's next?"
I asked already beelining to the waiting car.
"For now nothing Imperator apart well from youre as you like to call It no pain no gainz session"
Lucilia muttered as she looked at me with doutbfull eyes afterall I had grown to over 190 centimeters tall while also putting on muscle mass, basically the serum was working as Intended.
...
February 27, 1936
The throne room of the Imperial Palace was silent, save for the faint, anxious pacing of the Teutonica Ducatum ambassador.
The man, dressed in the finest diplomatic attire his nation could afford, dabbed at the sweat forming on his brow.
His hands trembled slightly as he clutched a folder of official documents, his mind racing with desperate thoughts.
The spies and Informants reports were clear Spartanum forces were moving toward the border. Rapid deployments. Logistics centers coming alive.
Supply lines stretching in one direction. And yet, the Imperator had assured him just weeks ago that there was no plan for aggression.
But the ambassador was no fool unlike their current grand duke which was an exact copy of the former prince turned Imperator, the little s*it didnt give a f*ck about anything even about his continous reports of Impending war while he drowned himself In alcohohol and women.
As he turned sharply on his heel to continue pacing, the backstage heavy doors of the throne room groaned open.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The paratroopers guarding the throne room snapped to attention. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the figure stepping inside.
The Imperator.
He was different than the last time they had met. Taller. Broader. More imposing than any human had a right to be.
The tailored service uniform struggled to hide the sheer musculature beneath, the black trench coat and the crimson furr half cloack with the Iron Fenrir insignia hanging from his massive frame like a war banner.
His sharp, once handsome features had become even more striking, his jawline chiseled, his crimson eyes colder than the harshest winter.
At his side, Lucilla the secretary that appeared out of nowhere walked with an effortless grace, dressed in her own service uniform that was a bit too tight for any mans good mental health, her piercing emerald eyes scanning the ambassador with barely hidden curiosity. And behind them, the beast.
Lupa moved with a predatory elegance, her massive armored form casting a shadow over the polished marble floor.
The ambassador barely suppressed a shudder as the beast's molten gold eyes locked onto him, its fangs briefly flashing as it exhaled.
The Imperator ignored the ambassador's attempt at a bow, his stride purposeful as he approached the steel throne and seated himself with effortless dominance.
One leg crossed over the other, he leaned against the armrest, withdrawing a cigarette from his coat pocket.
The flick of a lighter echoed in the tense silence before the tip glowed red, a thin wisp of smoke curling into the air. Then, at last, he spoke.
"You wanted to see me, Ambassador?"
His voice was smooth, unhurried, carrying an almost amused disinterest. The ambassador swallowed hard, nodding quickly.
"Y... yes, Imperator. I… I bring concerns from my government. Our intelligence reports indicate that your armed forces have been mobilizing near our border. Troop movements, supply chains, staging areas. Please, Imperator… explain this."
The Imperator exhaled a long plume of smoke, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, he answered.
"Like I told you before… It's only a military exercise."
The ambassador clenched his fists.
"But… but..."
A sharp glare cut him off mid sentence.
"Don't worry."
The Imperator's voice dipped into something lower, something far more dangerous. He took another drag from his cigarette before flicking away the ash.
"If I ever decide to declare war, I'll let you know."
The finality in his tone crushed whatever feeble protests the ambassador might have had. The man opened his mouth, but no words came. He knew. He knew that nothing he said here would change what was coming.
The Imperator stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the diplomat. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the exit, his half cloak billowing behind him. Lucilla followed, her notebook tucked under one arm, offering the ambassador a fleeting, unreadable glance.
Lupa let out a low growl before padding after her master, her golden eyes still locked onto the trembling diplomat.
The ambassador barely held his composure. The moment the doors shut behind them, he turned on his heel and sprinted out of the palace.
The paratroopers watched in silent amusement as he all but stumbled into his waiting motorcade, barking orders at his driver.
Minutes later, he burst into the Teutonica Ducatum embassy, shoving past confused staff before storming into the communications room.
His breathing was ragged as he slammed himself into the chair beside the telegraph operator.
"Send an urgent message to the capital!"
He barked.
"Tell them the Spartanum Ducatum is about to attack! Mobilize all troops immediately!"
The telegraph operator paled but did as ordered, his fingers flying over the keys, transmitting the desperate warning across the cables.
The ambassador sat there, gripping his forehead, his mind spiraling. He waited. And waited. And waited. But no reply ever came.
...
The heavy wooden doors of my study now turned war room stood guarded by two of my Death Squad paratroopers, their skull like helmets gleaming under the dim light of the corridor.
As I approached, one snapped to a crisp salute while the other reached for the handle, pulling the door open without hesitation.
Inside, the thick scent of cigars, cigarettes, and burning pipe tobacco already hung in the air, curling in slow, lazy tendrils against the ceiling.
The moment I stepped over the threshold, the two paratroopers stationed within snapped to attention, their voices bellowing in unison.
"ATTENTION!"
At once, the room fell silent. The gathered war council Minister of War, Praetor Varro, Praetor Maximus, and three of my Legatus and other ministers turned to face me, their hands raising to their heads in a unified salute.
"HAIL IMPERATOR!"
I waved a hand dismissively, making my way to the grand oak table at the center of the room. A large map of Teutonica Ducatum lay spread across its surface, wooden figures carefully arranged to represent my legions, cohorts, and fighter wing consisting of one TX1 prototype and 48 obsolete biplanes.
As I took my seat, I propped my crossed legs up onto the table's edge, leaning back into the chair, eyes scanning the room.
"Let's begin,"
I said flatly, lighting a cigarette as the doors shut behind me.
Lucilla, standing to my right, hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"Imperator… the lives that will be lost… Isn't there any other way?"
A long silence followed. I glanced at her, studying the way her emerald eyes flickered with doubt. A deep pindrop silence followed. Then I sighed, exhaling a thick plume of smoke into the already suffocating air.
"No,"
I said simply, because there really was no other way, sure I could live out the rest of my life quietly until the cosmic disasters struck but I wanted to live so I was gong to kill In other to live.