C57 Belmont Catalyst

"Dockyards."

I tapped the map.

"I want them built. Everywhere."

The Minister of Infrastructure hesitated.

"Imperator, that will take an enormous amount of resources..."

I shot him a glare.

"I don't care about the cost. We have no naval presence. That needs to change. Start construction immediately."

The Minister of War smirked.

"Imperator finally realizing the importance of a navy?"

I took another long drag of my cigarette before exhaling through my nose.

"No. I realized we don't have a fleet big enough to burn down our enemies' ports yet."

Silence. Then a few low chuckles from the more battle hardened ministers.

The Minister of Infrastructure sighed.

"Very well, Imperator. I will begin immediately."

I leaned back, satisfied.

"Good."

I snubbed out the last of my cigarette in the ashtray.

"Now get to work."

...

The moment I entered my room, I didn't even bother taking off my clothes. I was too tired. Too f*cking done.

I tossed my half smoked pack of cigarettes onto the desk, shrugged off my laurel crown, and let out a deep sigh.

The sheets were still a mess from last night. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and Lucilia's perfume still clung to the air.

Without thinking, I crashed back into the bed, my muscles finally relaxing into the mattress. Only to turn my head and see Lucilia staring at me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. We just stared at each other.

Her emerald eyes were unreadable. Her bare shoulders peeked out from the blankets, her hair loose, cascading in a tangled mess over her pillow.

It was awkward as f*ck. And then my mind went straight into panic mode. F*ck. Lucilia was supposed to be the reincarnation of Catherine Belmont. One of the MC's women.

At first, I had zero intention of f*cking her. But like I said, there's a reason I quit drinking IRL. And it seemed like I shouldn't be drinking here either.

Wait. Is this considered c*cking my own MC? The sheer f*ckery of that thought made my nonexistent headache worse.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. Alright. S*it happened. But the bigger problem wasn't that. It was the gene restructuring serum.

Do I give it to her? If I do, she'll slowly awaken her psionic energy. And with it… her past life's memories.

I exhaled slowly, my face darkening with every second as the weight of the decision sank in. Lucilia noticed. I could feel her body tense beside me.

Sh*t. She was scared. I looked at her again. No, not Lucilia. Catherine Belmont the mad doctor that could cut off youre balls If you got on her bad side.

One of the greatest minds I ever created. A wondrous genius when it came to biological augmentations.

She was the key to taking humanity's next step in evolution. She was the brain mother behind what would one day become the Orbital Insertion Strike Troopers Core.

My own overgrown autistic cosmic marines that would plunge headfirst into hell, screaming my name. The paratrooper cohorts were already their prototypes.

I leaned forward, rubbing my jaw as I came to a conclusion.

"…F*ck it."

Lucilia flinched slightly, confused.

"I… Imperator?"

I turned my head toward her, my gaze sharp.

"You're going to change, Lucilia."

Her brows furrowed.

"Change?"

I exhaled, cracking my neck.

"Yes. And there's no turning back once I start."

She swallowed hard, her hands gripping the sheets.

"What… what do you mean?"

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I reached behind my back and summoned a dose of genetic restructuring cocktail designed to take effects In one year time frame. As I did the annoying ERC notifications rang In my head.

Lucilia's breath hitched.

"W... whats that Imperator?"

She asked nervously. While I tossed it lightly onto the bed, right between us. The metal glinted under the morning sunrays.

"If you take this, your entire DNA will be rewritten. You'll become stronger, faster, smarter. But more importantly…"

I leaned closer, my voice lowering.

"You will remember."

Lucilia's breath hitched, her fingers curling into the sheets as she eyed the vial like it was some kind of cursed artifact.

Her emerald eyes flickered with confusion and apprehension.

"I… I don't understand,"

She whispered.

"What do you mean I'll remember?"

I leaned back slightly, resting my head under my arm, studying her reaction. She really had no f*cking clue. Of course, she didn't. To her, it was still 1936.

The concept of genetic restructuring, DNA rewriting, forced evolution, all of it was beyond her understanding.

She wasn't Catherine Belmont. Not yet. She was still Lucilia. But not for much longer. I exhaled slowly.

"How do you think Im able to last so long."

I asked flashing a devilish grin causing Lucilias face to become bright red as she understood my meaning.

"It's… an enhancement serum?"

She guessed hesitantly, still eyeing the vial like it might explode at any moment.

I smirked.

"That's an understatement."

She hesitated for a long moment before whispering,

"Then… what will it do to me?"

I glanced at the vial, watching the liquid inside swirl under the morning light.

"For now? Nothing."

Lucilia blinked, caught off guard.

"What?"

I rolled my shoulders, stretching the tension out of my muscles.

"It's not immediate,"

I explained.

"It works slowly. Your body will change, but not overnight. The full effects will take about a year to fully manifest."

I saw the flicker of relief in her expression. At least she wouldn't wake up tomorrow with fangs and glowing eyes.

"But make no mistake,"

I continued.

"Once you take it, there's no going back. Your body will evolve. Your mind will… adjust. You'll become something more than human."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

"Why me?"

I stared at her for a long moment before answering.

"Well we did f*ck didnt we?"

Lucilia flinched slightly at the bluntness of my words, but she didn't look away. Good. At least she had a spine. I sighed, running a hand through my disheveled white hair.

"Look, I don't do things without a reason. This Imperium needs scientists. Researchers. People who can push us forward, past the limitations of this world."

I gestured toward the vial.

"And you? You have potential. You're sharp, you adapt quickly, and frankly… you're wasted as my secretary."

Lucilia's lips parted slightly, her eyes searching mine for something, doubt, deception, maybe even a hidden agenda.

She wouldn't find any. I wasn't lying. She did have potential. More than she could possibly imagine.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets, and I could tell her mind was racing, trying to process something far beyond the scope of what she understood.

Then, softly, she asked,

"Will it hurt?"

I smirked.

"Just a little bit."

Lucilia exhaled sharply, almost like a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. Of course, it would. Nothing came without pain.

She sat there, staring at the vial, biting the inside of her cheek. Minutes passed. Then, finally, she reached out hesitant at first, then more firmly her fingers closing around the cool metal.

She lifted it to eye level, her expression unreadable.

"...What do I do?"

She asked. I nodded toward it.

"Unscrew the cap and Inject It Into youre neck"

Lucilia swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unscrewed the cap, revealing the sharp, gleaming injector beneath.

She looked at it for a moment, then at me. I met her gaze, unwavering.

"Do it."

A shaky breath escaped her lips. Then, with one last moment of hesitation, she pressed the injector against the side of her neck.

A quiet hiss filled the room as the serum emptied into her bloodstream. Lucilia's body jerked. Her fingers spasmed, her breath hitched, and for a moment, nothing.

Then. Her entire body tensed. A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her back arching as the serum spread like wildfire through her veins.

I watched silently, arms crossed, as Lucilia clenched the bedsheets, her nails digging into the fabric so hard they nearly tore through.

Her breathing turned ragged. Sweat formed along her forehead. Her pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

A low whimper escaped her lips.

"Imperator…"

She rasped, barely able to form the word.

"Dont worry Its only a few minutes of agony, youre lucky Its not the version my men took"

I muttered.

...

March 10

The truck jolted as it hit a pothole, nearly sending Klaus sprawling onto the floor. He clenched his jaw, gripping the wooden sides of the transport as the vehicle rumbled down the dusty road.

Around him, the other former Teutonica soldiers sat in silence. Some with arms crossed, some clutching their old duffel bags, some staring blankly ahead, their expressions unreadable.

But the truth was, most of them weren't afraid. Not anymore. If this had been a few weeks ago, they would have been expecting the worst. Executions. Labor camps. Exile.