Chapter 20: Reforging a Broken World

"This planet no longer belongs to you. It belongs to me."

The transmission cut.

I turned to Jarvis. "Begin the next phase. Occupation starts now."

Immediately, I dispatched several interceptors and fighters to conduct reconnaissance across Earth. The goal was simple: test the waters, analyze resistance, and identify any remaining threats.

An hour passed before a sudden alert flashed across my screen. A red warning. One of my interceptors had been destroyed.

I narrowed my eyes. Interesting.

"Jarvis, report. How did we lose a ship?"

A brief silence before the AI responded, his tone unnervingly neutral.

"Sir, analysis indicates that Earth's forces have deployed advanced missile systems capable of penetrating our shields. The destruction was immediate and unavoidable."

I exhaled slowly, processing this revelation. "So, they're not completely helpless after all."

"Affirmative," Jarvis replied. "However, our remaining forces are recalibrating defenses. The next engagement will not end the same way."

"Good," I muttered. Let them struggle. Let them hope. It will only make their fall more satisfying.

With that settled, I teleported back to the Aurora Prime, my flagship and throne among the stars. The vast corridors of the ship pulsed with energy as I strode towards the broadcasting chamber. Every step echoed with the weight of impending dominion.

Inside, Aurora stood ready, her sharp eyes gleaming under the artificial glow. "The transmission is prepared, Commander. The world will hear you."

I checked my watch—perfect timing. "Deploy the broadcast bots. Let every screen, every frequency, every signal on Earth be tuned to my message."

"Understood, Commander." Aurora issued the order, setting everything into motion.

I moved towards the central stage, where a throne-like seat awaited me. Adorned in a regal coat of midnight black and silver, embroidered with insignias of conquest, I took my place. The chamber dimmed, and a grand projection of my image expanded behind me, making me appear larger than life. The architecture around me whispered of power—gleaming metallic walls, pulsating data streams, and a throne that was neither for a king nor a ruler, but for a conqueror.

A deep breath. A slow exhale. The moment had arrived.

Before me, the universe held its breath.

Then, the broadcast began.

The chamber darkened as the transmission commenced. A slow, resonant hum pulsed through the vast corridors of the flagship, an unspoken declaration of inevitability.

Then, in a cascade of cascading light, I materialized—seated upon a throne of obsidian and gold, the embodiment of dominion. My coat, woven from the night itself, bore the insignias of conquest, embroidered in silver like celestial constellations. The air crackled with restrained power.

Behind me, a colossal projection of my form towered over the galactic map, a visual testament to my supremacy. Stars flickered beneath its glow, as though bowing before their sovereign. The fleet—my fleet—stood in terrifying grandeur, a storm of dreadnoughts, carriers, and mechanized legions poised to engulf the horizon.

I leaned forward slightly, commanding silence before I even spoke. Then, my voice echoed across the cosmos, sweeping through every screen, every device, every channel on Earth.

There was no escape.

"Humanity."

A single word. Cold. Absolute. It slithered into their bones like an unrelenting frost.

"I am Zero Celestia—The Supreme Commander. The Conqueror. The Architect of Order. The Inevitable. The Bringer of Dawn"

My voice carried with it the weight of a thousand victories, the iron certainty of an unchallenged ruler.

"I stand before you not as a stranger, but as one who has walked among you. I was born of Earth, shaped by its chaos, hardened by its wars, betrayed by its lies. I know you because I was once you."

A hush swept across the world. The weight of my words crushed their illusions.

"But unlike you, I evolved. I saw the truth. I shattered the chains of delusion and grasped destiny with my own hands.

"And now, I return—not as a son of Earth, but as its master."

The transmission magnified my presence, my voice carrying across nations, across time zones, across battlefields where soldiers stood frozen, weapons trembling in their grasp.

Then, with the slow, deliberate grace of inevitability, I reached for my mask.

The air held its breath. Then, with a whisper of motion, I removed it.

Gasps erupted across nations. Faces drained of color. Hope collapsed beneath the weight of realization.

I was not an invader.

I was their reckoning.

"You wonder why I do this," I continued, my voice steady, merciless. "You cling to notions of diplomacy, of peace, of free will. But tell me, has peace ever truly existed among you?

"Have your leaders not sold your futures for profit? Have your wars not bled generations dry, fought in the name of flags that mean nothing? Have your voices ever truly mattered?

"You wage war under banners of ideology. You raise idols who deceive you. You build empires on the bones of the weak and call it progress. You march in streets demanding justice, only to be silenced by those who claim to protect you.

"You have been led to believe that you are free. But you are not free."

"You are caged. Trapped in a system built to break you. And the worst part? You have chosen this."

I let the words sink in, let the horror of truth settle in their minds. Then, I delivered my verdict.

"You have failed."

"Not because you are weak, but because you refuse to change. Because you would rather kneel to your oppressors than rise against them. Because you have forgotten what it means to fight for something greater than yourselves.

"But I have not forgotten.

"So now, I will do what you could not.

"I will unite you. I will end the wars, silence the corruption, erase the divisions you refuse to mend. I will forge order from your chaos. Not through words, but through conquest.

"This world will not burn.

It will be reforged.

"Not as a collection of crumbling nations, but as one empire. One people. One destiny. Under me."

I leaned back into my throne, the sheer magnitude of my presence suffocating the airwaves.

"You may wonder, why here? Why do I care for a world so small, so insignificant when there are countless paradise planets beyond this solar system? Alpha Centauri alone holds two worlds, five times the size of Earth—untouched, pristine. Tau Ceti and Kepler offer three more, ripe for the taking.

"But I did not come for them."

"I stand here, before you, because this is my home.

"And I will not watch it rot."

The stars on the galactic map behind me pulsed in response, the silent testament to a new era.

"So, humanity, I give you a choice."

My eyes burned into theirs, through the lens, through the screens, into their very souls.

"Surrender...

Or be erased."

The transmission cut to black.

Silence.

And then—

The world trembled.

The world had been thrown into chaos, but not with fire or destruction—at least, not yet. It was the silence, the uncertainty, the weight of what had just happened that gripped the hearts of every man, woman, and child across the globe. Conversations erupted, some in hushed whispers, others in frantic, panicked voices.

United Nations – Emergency Assembly, Geneva

The massive screen in the UN headquarters had gone dark. The room was silent—utterly frozen. No arguments. No shuffling of papers. Just the cold realization that everything had changed in a matter of minutes.

Then, chaos.

World leaders, diplomats, and military representatives erupted into a cacophony of overlapping voices. Fear laced every word, some demanding action, others urging caution. The Secretary-General, pale-faced, slammed his hand on the table.

"Silence!"

The room stilled.

He exhaled sharply, looking around at the most powerful individuals on the planet.

"What we have witnessed is an act of total planetary subjugation. Not a declaration of war, but a declaration of conquest. This is not an alien force—we are facing one of our own, someone who understands us better than we understand ourselves. We cannot afford to be divided. We must act now."

A NATO representative adjusted his headset. "We're already receiving distress calls from global air defense networks. They want orders."

A Chinese delegate frowned. "Orders to do what? Against a force that disabled our satellites within minutes?"

A Russian general scoffed. "We've fought tyrants before. This one bleeds like any other. We will resist."

The French president shook his head. "And if resistance is futile? If their technology is beyond anything we can comprehend?"

The Indian ambassador interjected, "Then the question becomes—do we fight? Or do we negotiate?"

A cold silence fell over the room. No one had an answer.

Russia – Kremlin War Room, Moscow

A long, tense silence filled the Kremlin's underground war room. The Russian President leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes locked onto the blank screen where Zero Celestia's face had just vanished.

"Our shields are useless."

Defense Minister Pavel Orlov's voice was grim. "One of our long-range interceptors was destroyed mid-flight before it could even lock onto a target."

The Chief of Staff cursed under his breath. "Then the question is simple. How do we fight something that can erase us before we fire a single shot?"

The President drummed his fingers against the polished table. "We do not surrender. We find weaknesses."

"And if there are none?"

The President looked up, his gaze as cold as Siberian frost. "Then we make one. We find what he values, what he protects. And we take it from him."

China – Beijing Military Command Center

The highest-ranking officials of the Chinese government and military gathered in a secured underground bunker. Satellite feeds flickered with static. The great firewall of China had failed to block the transmission. The world had heard everything.

A deep breath from the President. "Is it possible to open diplomatic channels?"

A general shook his head. "No. The enemy has made its position clear—surrender or be erased. This is not a negotiation."

A scientist, gripping his tablet tightly, hesitated before speaking. "Perhaps we are looking at this wrong. If he was born of Earth, then he still thinks like us. He expects resistance. But what if we offered something else?"

A silence. Then, the President nodded.

"Continue."

"We must not think like a defeated people. We must think like a people who can still win. If Zero Celestia seeks a world without division, then let us prove that China is already ahead of the world in unity. He may be powerful, but his forces will still require a governing structure once the conquest is complete. What if instead of resisting, we offer to work with him?"

The Defense Minister frowned. "And betray the world?"

The scientist shook his head. "No. We survive. And survival is victory. But if the world falls, we must ensure China stands at the top."

The President leaned forward. "Prepare contingency plans. We will see where this storm takes us."

South Korea – Seoul Presidential Office

The South Korean President slowly removed his glasses and placed them on the table. "How is the situation at the DMZ?"

An advisor checked his feed. "Both North and South forces are on high alert. For the first time in decades, we're not aiming at each other. We're looking up."

A general sighed. "For all our military advancements, we cannot stop something like this."

The President exhaled. "Has there been contact from the North?"

An officer hesitated. "Yes. They are proposing a temporary ceasefire. They want to open talks about a united front."

The President's eyes widened slightly. "Unbelievable. It took an invasion for them to consider peace?"

The Defense Minister spoke carefully. "Maybe it's not peace they want. Maybe they simply fear being erased."

The President looked at the skyline of Seoul. The city was still standing—for now.

"Call them. I will listen."

Japan – Tokyo Diet Government Building

Prime Minister Takeuchi sat at the head of the National Security Council, watching the recording of Zero Celestia's speech once more.

One of the advisors swallowed hard. "This is… this is worse than anything we've ever faced."

Another official whispered, "A conqueror of Earth, yet born of it. We do not face a foreign enemy. We face a god of our own creation."

The Prime Minister exhaled. "Then we must be careful. Gods demand loyalty—or rebellion. And neither choice is favorable."

"Sir?"

The Prime Minister stood. "We will neither submit nor engage recklessly. Instead, we will prepare."

He looked out at the neon-lit skyline of Tokyo.

"We survived Hiroshima. We survived the great disasters. And we will survive this."

India – New Delhi, Prime Minister's Office

The Indian Prime Minister watched the broadcast in stunned silence. Then, after a moment, he spoke.

"We have a saying in our history: 'Victory is reserved for those who are willing to pay its price.'"

A defense advisor spoke hesitantly. "Sir… do we resist?"

The Prime Minister closed his eyes. "We resist. But not with blind war. Not yet."

The Home Minister nodded. "Then we buy time. We prepare."

United States – Pentagon, Washington D.C.

The President sat motionless, the Joint Chiefs of Staff staring at him, waiting. The weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," the Secretary of Defense finally said. "And we sure as hell don't kneel to some self-proclaimed god."

The President clenched his fists. "But we don't fight an enemy we don't understand. Not yet. We need intelligence, we need weaknesses, and we need a strategy that doesn't end with our people turned to ash."

The National Security Advisor frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

The President inhaled sharply.

"We wait. We watch. And when the time is right… we strike."

Across the World – Civilian Reactions

Paris, France – The Streets Erupt

Near the Place de la République, a massive crowd had formed, their faces illuminated by the flickering lights of massive digital billboards that had just moments ago broadcasted Zero Celestia's message.

"We have to fight!" a young man shouted, waving a French flag. His voice was hoarse from screaming. "Are we just going to let some tyrant take over our world?! We are French! We resist! Always!"

"Resist with what?" an older woman snapped back. She wore a thick coat, her face weathered from years of hardship. "Our protests? Our marches? This isn't a corrupt politician or some trade deal—we are facing something beyond us!"

"We cannot simply surrender!" someone else yelled. "If we kneel now, we will never stand again!"

A man in a business suit scoffed. "Do you honestly believe our governments can do anything against that? Did you not see? He took out our defenses like they were nothing! What can your defiance do?"

A young woman with dyed blue hair and piercings grabbed his arm. "So what, we bow? We become slaves?"

"Better slaves than corpses," another voice muttered.

The arguments grew louder, the crowd split between those who wanted war and those who wanted survival.

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

In the favelas, people crowded around small television screens, smartphones, and radios, the dim lights of the city casting shadows over the uneven rooftops. A group of men sat in a cramped bar, sipping cheap beer, their faces tense.

A gang leader, Marcos, leaned back against his chair, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke. "Another ruler, another lie. Nothing changes."

One of his lieutenants frowned. "You're acting like this is just some election or coup. This is bigger, man. Bigger than all of us."

A teenage boy, barely seventeen, looked around nervously. "So what do we do?"

Marcos chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Do? We survive, kid. Like always."

His second-in-command, a woman named Lucía, tapped her fingers against the table. "We've fought police, rival gangs, even corrupt politicians. But this? This is not our fight."

Another man spoke up. "And what if he doesn't care? What if he wipes us all out, no matter what?"

Silence. No one had an answer.

New York City, USA

In a small apartment in Brooklyn, the glow of the television cast a dim light over the room. Sophia, a single mother, clutched her seven-year-old son, Ethan, tightly against her chest.

Ethan looked up at her, his big, innocent eyes filled with confusion. "Mom… is he gonna hurt us?"

She swallowed hard. "I don't know, baby. I don't know."

Her neighbor, Mrs. Patel, an elderly Indian woman, sat on the couch beside them, wringing her hands. "It's happening… it's really happening," she whispered under her breath.

Sophia looked at her with desperation. "What do we do? Where do we even go?"

Mrs. Patel shook her head. "There is nowhere to go. Nowhere is safe from something like this."

Ethan clutched his stuffed dinosaur tightly. "Maybe he won't be bad. Maybe he just wants to help."

Sophia forced a smile, stroking his hair. "Maybe, sweetheart. Maybe." But deep down, she wasn't convinced.

Outside, sirens wailed as police scrambled to control the growing panic.

Mecca, Saudi Arabia

Inside one of the oldest mosques, worshippers gathered in silence. The air was thick with uncertainty. Imam Yusuf, an elderly man with a long white beard, gazed at the fearful faces before him.

A young man, Hassan, clenched his fists. "What do we do, Imam? This—this is not an army of men. This is something beyond us!"

An older man, Faisal, shook his head. "This is the end. It has to be. The Day of Judgment has come."

Imam Yusuf remained calm. "Did the Prophet not tell us that we would face trials greater than we could imagine? And yet, we endure."

A woman in a dark hijab, Amina, whispered, "But how can we endure against something we cannot fight?"

The Imam exhaled. "We do as we have always done. We pray. We stand together. And we do not lose hope."

But even as he spoke, doubt clouded his heart.

War-Torn Africa

Deep within the jungle, in a makeshift camp, a group of militants sat in stunned silence around a crackling fire. Their weapons, once symbols of power, now felt meaningless.

"What good are these now?" one of them muttered, kicking a battered rifle into the dirt.

Jengo, their leader, stared at the flames, his jaw clenched. "We have fought our own wars for years. Against men. Against nations. But this?"

His second-in-command, Kofi, scoffed. "All our struggles, all our bloodshed—for what? To be conquered by something we can't even fight?"

A younger rebel, barely out of his teens, clutched his rifle. "So we just give up?"

Jengo shook his head. "We do what we've always done. We fight. We survive. But this time, the battlefield is bigger than we ever imagined."

London, United Kingdom

In an underground pub, people gathered in hushed voices, their drinks untouched. The news played on every screen, but no one was really watching anymore.

A woman in a business suit, Rachel, rubbed her temples. "Jesus Christ, this is really happening."

A man in a leather jacket, Danny, leaned forward. "Listen. Maybe—maybe we don't have to fight him. Maybe what he's saying isn't completely wrong."

Rachel's head snapped up. "Are you serious? He just threatened the entire planet!"

Danny shrugged. "Yeah, but think about it. No more corrupt politicians. No more wars. No more—"

Another man, George, slammed his fist on the table. "At what cost?! You're talking about tyranny! About losing everything we are!"

A young woman, Elena, whispered, "Maybe we already lost ourselves long before he arrived."

No one had a response.

Every city, every home, every mind wrestled with the same question.

Resist… or surrender?

For the first time in human history, the entire planet was united—not by choice, not by diplomacy, but by fear.

Ukraine – The War Room

The dimly lit War Room in Kyiv no longer carried the same tension as before. The Ukrainian government had already made its decision.

President Roman Ivanov stood before his advisors, the weight of war no longer on his shoulders. His country, ravaged by endless conflict, had finally found peace—not through diplomacy, not through war, but through submission.

"We ended our suffering by choosing his side," Ivanov stated, his gaze locked onto the holographic projections of Zero Celestia's fleet. "The war is over, and with it, our old struggles."

Prime Minister Dmytro Shevchenko nodded. "The West still views us as a battleground. Russia still views us as lost property. But now, we are neither."

Ivanov turned to General Oleh Morozov, who stood at attention, already adorned in Celestian battle armor. The once-familiar military uniforms of Ukraine had been replaced with something far more advanced—sleek, alien technology gifted to them by their new ruler.

"And what of NATO?" Morozov asked. "They will not accept this."

"They will have to," Ivanov said, his voice calm. "They can call us traitors, they can call us lost, but the truth is simple: Ukraine no longer bleeds. Zero Celestia has given us more security than the world ever has."

Shevchenko frowned. "And the resistance? There will be those who refuse to accept this."

Ivanov sighed. "Let them scream. Let them protest. But they will see soon enough—our future is no longer tied to the old world."

He turned toward the holographic image of Zero Celestia himself, displayed on the War Room's main screen.

"This is not submission," Ivanov declared. "This is survival. And we, unlike the rest of the world, were wise enough to see it first."

New Zealand

Inside Wellington's Parliament, there was no chaos—only silent acknowledgment. The decision had already been made long before Zero Celestia's global broadcast.

New Zealand was his.

Prime Minister Elena Faulkner sat calmly as her ministers discussed the final stages of full integration into the Celestian Order.

"The transition is nearly complete," Defense Minister Hemi Waka reported. "The Celestia Company's headquarters has been expanding ever since they arrived on our shores. Their influence is already woven into our infrastructure."

Intelligence Chief Sarah Morgan leaned forward. "The public remains unaware of the full extent of our cooperation. But after the broadcast… there will be questions."

Faulkner nodded. "We won't hide it. Let them know the truth—we are already part of something greater. We have been since the moment the Celestia Corporation chose New Zealand as its base."

Waka smirked. "And the rest of the world will soon realize what we already know—resistance is pointless."

Morgan frowned slightly. "The UN, NATO, and other global powers will suspect that we've been aligned with Zero Celestia from the start."

Faulkner leaned back. "Let them suspect. Let them fear. We were ahead of the curve. And when the world inevitably bends to his will… New Zealand will not be seen as a conquered nation. We will be seen as the first to embrace the future."

Manila, Philippines

Inside Malacañang Palace, there was no debate. There was no fear.

Only recognition.

President Marcos leaned back in his chair, watching as Zero Celestia's banner was already being displayed in some parts of the city.

"From the very beginning," he muttered, a slight smirk on his face. "This was his home. This was his birthright."

The Secretary of Defense adjusted his glasses. "The world will call us traitors for aligning with him so early. They will say we have betrayed humanity."

Marcos chuckled. "Humanity has betrayed us plenty of times before. Where was the world when we suffered? Where was the world when we needed them?"

The National Intelligence Chief nodded in agreement. "And now, we are at the center of it all. We are no longer a footnote in history—we are history itself."

Marcos stood, looking out the window at Metro Manila, where people were already celebrating, confused, or afraid. It didn't matter. Soon, they would all understand.

"This is not an invasion," Reyes declared. "This is a return home."

"The world is afraid because they don't understand him," the Defense Secretary said. "But we do."

A School in Manila 

Inside the MPC halls were in chaos. Every student had seen the broadcast. Every phone screen replayed it over and over again. But no one was more affected than Zero's old classmates.

Cedric, Cris, Renz, Jet, Zhy, Ivan, and Ghiz sat in stunned silence in their classroom, the once-lively room now filled with disbelief.

"Bro…" Cedric finally said, breaking the silence. "I think I'm dreaming. Somebody slap me."

Jet promptly smacked him on the back of the head.

"OW! Not literally!"

Ivan leaned forward, rubbing his face. "I… I just… How? How did he go from being our classmate to this?"

Cris exhaled. "Man, remember back in previous year? He was just that quiet guy who played video games and never got into fights."

"Yeah!" Zhy nodded. "He was like, the chillest dude. Now he's out here talking like some final boss in a video game!"

Renz shook his head. "We should've known something was up when he tried to buy that whole city after buying our school"

Ghiz crossed her arms. "I thought he was just rich! Not, you know, world-dominating alien overlord rich!"

Cedric stood up suddenly. "No, you know what? I refuse to believe he's gone full evil. This isn't the guy we knew."

Ivan looked at him. "Dude. He literally just told the planet to surrender or be erased."

Cedric clenched his fists. "Yeah, but we know him. There's gotta be something more to this."

Cris nodded slowly. "If anyone in the world can figure him out… it's us."

Silence. Then, a quiet but determined agreement settled in the group.

Zero Celestia may have become the world's greatest threat.

But to them—

He was still their friend.