C61 Sovereign Paradox

"I don't know who came up with this, but I owe them a f*cking beer."

Klaus smirked, rolling his shoulders as he pushed himself back into a sitting position.

"It's a damn miracle weapon. No more charging into machine gun fire like suicidal idiots, just aim, shoot, and boom, problem solved and from what I hear Its the Imperator himself who came up with It"

Jakob exhaled, nodding in agreement.

"Are you for real? Not only Is the Imperator a monster on the battlefield but hes also a genius? Dammn why the f*ck did we even try fighting him In the first place?."

For a moment, both men sat there, watching the rising smoke from distant impact zones, their muscles still aching.

The training grounds were littered with shattered wooden targets, blown out mock fortifications, and the occasional smoking wreck of a destroyed makeshift Panzer shell.

CRACK.

A rifle shot echoed in the distance, but neither of them flinched. Just another legioneer practicing. Then, a voice like a thunderclap tore through the air.

"CONTEBERNIUMS! FORM UP! NOW!"

Staff Centurion Romulus roared.

Klaus and Jakob shot to their feet, scrambling into formation with the rest of their contubernium. No one hesitated. No one spoke. The entire three contuberniums moved with drilled precision, forming neat, disciplined ranks.

"Forward march!"

Staff centurion led them Into a massive formation composed of the entire first Infantry legion. As they stood there, the murmurs began.

"What's going on?"

"You see the stage? The ropes?"

"F*ck… another execution?"

Klaus glanced toward the makeshift wooden stage in front of them. He felt his stomach tighten. There were nooses.

And standing beside them, motionless like statues, were six Cerberus operatives, their black skull masked banaclavas betraying no emotion.

Then, the Legatus stepped forward. Legatus Titus a former summoned paratrooper. He lifted a loudspeaker to his mouth.

"Once again,"

His voice rang out, calm, controlled, and ice cold.

"The army has shamed itself."

The murmurs died instantly.

"Once again, we are reminded that despite our victories, despite our triumphs, weakness still festers in our ranks."

He scanned the legion formation composed of ten cohorts, his eyes like knives, and no one dared to meet his gaze.

"Cerberus has captured a number of deserters."

A few audible gasps. Some soldiers stiffened. Klaus felt a cold weight settle in his gut.

"Normally, in accordance with Imperial Military codex, the entire unit of these men would receive decimation."

Silence. A crushing, suffocating silence. Some men went pale, others clenched their fists. They all knew what that meant.

Decimation. One in ten men executed by their own comrades. Jakob, standing next to Klaus, visibly swallowed. But then, the Legatus continued.

"However."

A pause.

"Because of the deserters unit's achievements in war, because of the blood they have shed and the victories they have won, the Imperator himself has issued clemency."

A wave of relief rippled through the ranks. But then.

"However."

The coldness in his voice hardened.

"Their achievements have been stripped."

Gasps.

"Every reward that should have been granted for their performance is nullified."

A murmur swept through the crowd.

"Their honors gone. Their promotions revoked. Their commendations erased."

The weight of it crashed onto them. This wasn't decimation. But it was still a punishment. And it was humiliating.

Klaus exhaled slowly, feeling his chest tighten with frustration at the cost of his once enemies now battle brothers In arms.

"Let this be your only warning,"

The Legatus voice boomed once more.

"This kind of misconduct will not be tolerated. Weakness will not be tolerated."

A pause. Then, he turned toward the six condemned men, standing at the base of the stage.

"Bring them up."

The Cerberus operatives moved immediately. No resistance. No struggle.

The deserters, all former Paratroopers walked with stiff legs and hollow eyes, their faces set in grim resignation as they were led up the platform.

The Legatus read their names, one by one. Their crimes.

"Desertion."

"Murder of civilians."

"Theft of military property."

"Treason."

Each name. Each charge. Each condemned man stepped forward to face the rope. Klaus exhaled slowly, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at them.

The Legatus lowered the loudspeaker for a moment, then turned back to the audience.

"Let this be a lesson,"

He said, his voice ringing out once more.

"This is the price of betrayal."

The Cerberus operatives tightened the nooses. A long, piercing moment of silence.

Then. The platform dropped. Klaus clenched his jaw. No screams. Only the creak of rope. A final statement.

A final warning.

...

March 29 MC POV

The soft hum of the Romanium sea filled the air, blending with the occasional metallic groan of the submarine's hull as it adjusted to the gentle waves.

The U-1, the Imperium's first prototype submarine, floated on the surface, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun.

I reclined on a padded lounge chair, shirt unbuttoned my own summoned dogtags the same as In IRL clinked lightly, soaking in the warmth.

A cool breeze carried the scent of saltwater as I flipped through yet another report, my crimson eyes with yellow pupils scanning line after line of technical assessments, logistical breakdowns, and progress updates.

The latest one confirmed what I already knew thanks to my system, everything was proceeding smoothly, almost too smoothly.

A satisfied smirk played on my lips as I reached the final paragraph. Ambassador Ivan, despite his immense reluctance, had upheld his end of the bet. The man had nearly choked on his own pride, but a deal was a deal.

Standing beside me, Lucillia adjusted the towel wrapped around her waist. The slit in the fabric revealed a long, toned leg, marred only by the faint trace of a still forming bullet scar.

The bikini she wore was of my own design, a replication of what I knew would one day In the future become the height of fashion. And damn, did she wear it well.

Not far from us, the crew bustled with quiet efficiency. Technicians and engineers meticulously examined every aspect of the submarine's performance, their murmured discussions blending with the rhythmic sound of tools clanking against metal.

Overlooking the deck, his Death Squad stood motionless, ever vigilant. Clad in their exoskeleton armor, their visors reflecting the evening glow, they projected an aura of absolute authority.

No threat would come unchallenged. And then there was Flavia.

The young girl darted about the deck, her laughter light and careless as she ran her fingers along the submarine's sleek exterior.

It was a stark contrast to the seriousness surrounding her. Yet as I watched her, an uneasy thought took root in my mind.

Flavia was the reincarnation of the daughter of Catherine and the MC. And because of this I stood at a crossroads. Two choices lay before me.

I could follow my own script, the script I had once written, and give Flavia the gene restructuring serum, just as the MC had done.

This path was known, predictable, the one that led to a clear outcome. Or I could defy it, let nature take its course, and embrace the uncertainty that came with it.

What would happen if I didn't interfere? What ripples would it send through the timeline? Was I willing to risk the unknown?

My thoughts were interrupted by Lucillia's voice.

"Dra..."

She stopped herself, catching her mistake. A flicker of irritation crossed her face before she corrected.

"Imperator."

I smirked without looking up from my report.

"You wanted to call me 'Drac' just now, didn't you?"

Lucillia stiffened slightly, her sharp features unreadable. Though taller now, more refined, there was something different about her lately.

Her silence confirmed my suspicion.

I folded the report, resting it on my chest as I turned my full attention to her.

"You've been having them, haven't you?"

Lucillia hesitated. Then, after a long moment, she nodded.

"Dreams,"

She admitted.

"But they don't feel like dreams. More like... memories. Too vivid. Too real."

My smirk remained.

"Memories of what?"

Lucillia looked away, as if debating whether to answer.

"A world unlike this one. Cities that shine with lights brighter than any fire. Machines that fly In an ocean of nothingness. A place where knowledge flows without limit, where people speak to each other from across vast distances. And…"

She hesitated.

"You. But not as you are now."

I slowly removed my sunglasses, my gaze locked onto Lucillia's. The golden glow of the setting sun reflected off the waves, casting a shimmering light over the deck of the U-1. The hum of machinery, the occasional shout of engineers, and the soft laughter of Flavia playing in the background were distant things now.

"Like I said,"

I murmured, tilting my head,

"you would remember."

Lucillia exhaled sharply, wrapping her arms around herself. Despite the warm breeze, I could tell she felt cold.

"But how?"

She asked, her voice lower now, unsure.

"Why am I seeing this? These… memories"

She shook her head.

"They're not mine. And yet…"