Intergalactic conquest with an AI

It didn't take long before Rex erupted from the bloodstained lake in a single, thunderous leap.

The crimson water exploded beneath him, cascading in all directions as he emerged from the depths like a titan reborn. Clad in his freshly upgraded power armor, sleek, silver, and glowing faintly with golden-blue accents, he landed with a heavy thud, the earth beneath his boots cracking slightly from the impact.

His new armor was a masterpiece born of cooperation between Zynaria's mobile suit expertise and Cleo's brilliant AI engineering.

Ten floating swords hovered around him in a circular formation, each inscribed with energy runes and moving in perfect synchronicity. These weren't just ordinary blades; they were intelligent constructs, remotely piloted by Mini-Cleo, capable of both attack and defense with surgical precision.

Rex casually deactivated his helmet, letting it dissolve back into his armor with a hiss of compressed steam. He looked around the battlefield, his lips curling into a grin.

"Oh... looks like I missed the fun," he said with a chuckle while surveying the aftermath of carnage and scorched earth.

His eyes fell upon Zynaria, still radiating heat like a forge goddess. "Also, damn... you look stunning in that form, Little Red."

Zynaria turned slightly, her expression unreadable as always; her porcelain-like face gave nothing away, but her flame-wreathed hair flickered a little more brightly at his words.

"Thank you for the compliment, Young Emperor," she replied, offering a subtle bow, formal yet elegant.

Rex tilted his head. [Poker face as usual...] he thought. I wonder if she's actually blushing under all that fire...

A dry cough from nearby broke the moment.

"Ahem... by the way," Rex said while pointing with a gauntleted hand toward the scattered figures kneeling on the charred battlefield. "What happened to them?"

The Blood Clan's Tier 5 warriors, once proud assassins, deadly and efficient... now looked utterly broken. They were on their knees, many of them shaking, their weapons discarded and their eyes hollow.

Their clothes and armor were in tatters, drenched with sweat, blood, and the unmistakable scent of burnt ozone. Not one of them seemed willing or able to fight.

It was almost pitiful to see warriors of their caliber brought so low. These were beings powerful enough to conquer continents, to lead armies, and to assassinate kings. And now... they were little more than shadows.

Rex raised an eyebrow. "Seriously... what the hell happened to them?"

14th, ever practical, was already rifling through their gear like a scavenger in paradise, looting weapons, artifacts, and rare tech components without a shred of shame.

"My lord," 14th said while stuffing a glowing orb into his pouch, "they witnessed the sheer difference in power between themselves and Lady Zynaria. It seems reality finally hit them... and they realized resistance is meaningless. So, they chose to surrender."

Rex whistled. "Damn... that bad, huh?"

He squinted at one of the kneeling assassins. "Wait... weren't they supposed to be, like, elite assassins? Don't they usually carry hidden poison in case of capture? You know, to die before being tortured or interrogated?"

14th snorted as he lifted a plasma dagger from a downed assassin. "That might be true for amateurs. But the assassins of our clan, true elites, are bred to be nearly immune to all known poisons. Suicide pills? Won't work."

"Our biology evolved past that. The only way to kill a Tier 5 assassin from our clan is total annihilation. Miniature nuclear detonation, high-grade antimatter, maybe a void implosion if you're feeling fancy..."

He paused, glancing toward the still-smoking space above them. "...Or what Lady Zynaria did. That one's definitely not coming back."

Rex gave a low, impressed whistle. He could still remember how the Blood Clan Commander had disintegrated, turned to dust, and scattered into a sea of fire and space rifts. It wasn't just overkill... it was absolute erasure.

"Well then," Rex said while clapping his hands together. "I think we've stayed here long enough. No clue how powerful that barrier was, but with an attack like that? I wouldn't be surprised if we've got Tier 7 powerhouses sniffing around already." He turned to Zynaria, whose flame aura had finally started to dim.

"Little Red, can you do the honors?"

"Understood, Young Emperor."

Zynaria raised her hand without a word. Her fingers shimmered with radiant energy, and with a single, graceful motion, she sliced the air open. A spiraling rift in space bloomed into existence, stable, clean, and glowing like a mirror of stars.

Without hesitation, the group stepped through it. And then, silence returned.

Seconds later, the barrier devices that Zynaria had embedded around the battlefield began to self-destruct. One by one, they detonated with sharp, crystalline pops, shattering into microscopic particles.

The illusion was gone. The abandoned warehouse and quiet lake faded, revealing the true battlefield: a scorched wasteland of molten ground and warped gravity.

With the energy suppression field offline, the built-up power that had been sealed inside burst outward in a massive wave, like the roar of a dragon finally released from its prison.

It sent shockwaves across the region, igniting alarms in blood clan facilities and resonating across the local dimensional grid. Within seconds, multiple figures arrived.

Tier 6 elites, clad in crimson power armor and bearing the sigils of the Blood Clan, emerged from teleportation fields. And behind them, floating silently with an aura so dense it twisted space, came a Tier 7 powerhouse, her presence like a black sun in the sky.

"What happened here?"

The words cut through the air like a blade of ice. The voice belonged to none other than the old Matriarch of the Blood Clan, a towering, regal figure clad in ceremonial crimson robes that shimmered faintly with dark energy.

Her presence alone seemed to weigh down the air, making even the Tier 6 elites behind her lower their heads in deference.

Her gaze swept across the battlefield, pausing on the sight of the Tier 5 assassins, once proud warriors now trembling and kneeling amidst scorched earth and shattered pride. The aftermath of Zynaria's attack still lingered in the environment like the echo of a storm.

For a long, suffocating moment, no one dared to speak.

Finally, one of the assassins gathered what little strength he had left and attempted to rise. His limbs shook violently, and his bloodstained armor creaked under the strain. He only managed to get to one knee before collapsing again, face etched with shame.

"R-reporting to the Matriarch..." he rasped, voice hoarse, eyes downcast. "It was the traitor... the one who abandoned the clan. H-he returned... and brought monsters with him. Even the Commander… was killed… by one of his helpers!"

The Matriarch's eyes narrowed, ancient and cold like twin rubies dulled by centuries. She took a step forward, the hem of her robe whispering across the ruined ground. Her silence was oppressive, suffocating.

"Helpers?" she repeated slowly, as if tasting the word with disdain. "Are you telling me... someone else has turned against the clan?"

"N-no, Matriarch!" the assassin stammered. "The ones assisting him were not from our ranks. Please allow me to describe them!"

He straightened his back with effort, and despite the pain wracking his body, he began to speak. He described Zynaria with reverence and fear... her body of fire, her colossal axe, the way she carved a rift in space itself and reduced the Blood Commander to nothing but glowing ash.

Then he spoke of the male figure, taller, clad in sleek silver armor with golden-blue veins of power coursing through it. Flying swords circled him like loyal wolves, and his aura carried the confidence of a sovereign.

As the assassin spoke, a flicker of realization passed across the Matriarch's face.

{So... he hasn't died after all...} she thought to herself, while her eyes hardened. {The child actually survived... and now, he returns with allies that can slaughter our Commanders as if they were vermin.}

Without a word, she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small, intricately carved obsidian token; it was her personal emblem as one of the ruling Matriarchs of the Blood Clan. The sigil on it pulsed with a dull, blood-red glow, imbued with ancient authority.

She flicked the token toward one of the Tier 6 elites who had arrived with her. The air seemed to ripple as it flew, landing gently into the warrior's outstretched hand.

"You are to use my seal," the Matriarch said coldly. "Mobilize all available assassins. Comb through every shadow, every planet, if you must. Find the traitor… and those he walks with. There is no longer a need to bring them back alive."

Her eyes burned with a hatred that had festered for decades.

"Kill them on sight."

With that final decree, the Matriarch raised her hand. A black rift in space tore open before her, swirling like a wound in reality. Without another glance, she stepped through and vanished, leaving behind only her scent, an unsettling blend of incense, old blood, and cold metal.

The Tier 6 assassin who now held the token looked down at it for a moment, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her lips.

She was the same one who had ambushed Rex's transport days ago, only to be thwarted and forced to retreat. Her pride had been wounded deeply, but now... she had a second chance, sanctioned by the Matriarch herself. Revenge was not just allowed... it was commanded.

While chaos unfolded elsewhere with flames tearing the sky as ancient power clashed with sharpened hatred, the twins remained blissfully unaware.

Safe within the velvet-lined walls of their secluded chamber, they played beneath the soft glow of crystal lights that shimmered like stars. Laughter echoed faintly, light and carefree, untouched by the bloodshed that danced ever closer to their hidden world.