The cruiser was a masterpiece of war.
Gaius had seen ships before—Imperial carriers, troop transports, even the looming shadows of capital ships when they hung above the fortress, their forms blotting out the sun. But nothing compared to this.
The vessel was monolithic, stretching for kilometers, its hull smooth and predatory, covered in black metal that gleamed under the artificial lights of the docking bay. Engraved upon its surface was the sigil of the Imperium—a burning sun encased within an unbreakable ring.
A warship disguised as a simple transport.
That was the Imperium's way.
He stepped aboard with the others, the air immediately growing colder, crisper, filtered through the vessel's artificial circulation systems. The interior was a sea of sleek black corridors, illuminated by thin veins of golden light, pulsing softly with the ship's quiet hum. The moment he crossed the threshold, the outside world was cut off entirely.
For the next several days, this ship would be their world.
And it was a world that ran on absolute precision.
Even before they were fully inside, Gaius saw them.
The Operators.
A force of elite, retired aerial war-legionnaires, men and women who had once soared through the skies of battle in mechanized flight armor, commanding entire squadrons in orbital warfare.
They no longer fought on the front lines, but their presence still carried the weight of war.
Each one was clad in a refined black flight uniform, the fabric lined with embedded Qi-conductive fibers, making them appear almost spectral in the ship's dim lighting. They moved with rigid discipline, each step measured, each action performed with the efficiency of a machine.
Gaius counted at least twenty of them stationed at the entrance alone, watching as the examinees entered.
One of them, a tall woman with a scar running down her cheek, took a step forward, her voice crisp and commanding.
"You are now aboard the I.S.S. Dominion." She spoke without emphasis, without grandeur—only absolute control."This ship is under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Examination Authority. While you remain here, you will adhere to all protocols. Failure to comply will result in immediate disciplinary action."
The words hung in the air like steel.
No one moved.
No one dared speak.
"Your assigned dormitories have been prepared," she continued. "You will proceed to your designated sectors immediately. There is no need for questions. You will receive all necessary information in due time."
She turned on her heel and strode away, the other Operators following in perfect synchronization, their movements eerily mechanical.
Within seconds, they were gone.
Gaius released a slow breath, rolling his shoulders.
The ship was alive.
Not in the way of a battlefield, where tension came from the anticipation of death, nor in the way of the legions, where movement was dictated by formations and battle drills.
This was different.
This was pure, unyielding order.
Everything was calculated. Everything was controlled.
And they were merely passengers in a machine far greater than themselves.
The interior corridors of the Dominion were seamless, smooth metal stretching endlessly in every direction. There were no wasted decorations, no unnecessary displays of opulence.
Everything was designed for efficiency.
Hundreds of examinees moved in coordinated lines, guided by automated drones that hovered silently above, their sleek forms glowing with faint blue lights. The air smelled sterile, the sound of their boots against the polished floor muffled by advanced noise-dampening technology.
The entire ship was designed for maximum order, maximum efficiency, maximum control.
This was the Imperium's way.
And yet, despite its order, the divide was immediately apparent.
Two groups.
The commoners—orphans, soldiers, factory-born laborers, those who had been raised beneath the weight of the Imperium's boot.
And the nobles.
Gaius barely had to glance to recognize the latter.
They moved differently.
Not necessarily with more strength, nor greater discipline—but with a presence, a weight, an expectation that the world itself would bend around them.
And at their center, Odysseus Valor.
The younger son of Marquis Octavian Valor stood at the heart of his circle, a presence so natural it was as if the others had simply arranged themselves around him without thinking.
Not by force.
But by gravity.
His dark hair, woven with golden threads, caught the artificial light, and his amber eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.He did not acknowledge those around him. He did not need to.
The sons of the Legatus commanders—the highest-ranking officers of the legions—hovered at his side like planets orbiting a sun.
Laughing. Conversing.
Serving.
They did not stand as equals.
They stood beneath him.
A Caesar before his court.
Gaius observed in silence, keeping his distance.
The nobles paid no attention to those outside their circle.
To them, the other examinees were irrelevant.
This was their world, and the rest were simply visitors.
He had no interest in stepping into their gravity.
The dormitory doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Gaius stepped inside, immediately taking in the space.
It was identical to every other room on the ship.
Sleek. Minimalist. Reproducible on mass levels.
A single bed, the sheets pressed so perfectly it looked untouched. A holographic workstation embedded into the wall, glowing with the Imperium's sigil. A compact kitchen, a bathroom tucked into the corner. Everything was standardized, precise.
Identical.
Designed not for comfort, but for function.
Gaius exhaled and dropped his bag beside the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The surface was firm, unyielding. Like everything else on this ship, it was efficiently built.
A quiet chime echoed through the room as the holographic interface activated. A smooth, synthetic voice followed.
"Welcome, Examinee #2779-G7-113. You are now authorized to access the Flame."
A flicker, and the holographic screen displayed the Imperium's vast digital network—the Flame.
Millions of files. Doctrines. Battle reports. Historical records. Everything the Imperium allowed its citizens to see.
And beyond that?
Nothing.
Because the Imperium controlled all knowledge.
Gaius exhaled slowly, staring at the glowing interface.
For the next week, this would be his world.
Training. Studying. Waiting.
And then—
The examination.
He clenched his fist.
The test that would decide his future.
The machine of the Imperium had already begun to move.