As I walked out of the apartment and into the open street, a strange sense of liberation washed over me. The air outside was thick with smog and danger, but it felt oddly refreshing compared to the suffocating luxury of the Vandermeers’ penthouse. Inside, everything had been meticulously curated, every detail designed to project wealth and status. But beneath all the glamour, it had felt stifling, as if the place was trying too hard to be something it wasn’t. At least, the grime and danger were real out on the streets.
After getting my guns and equipment back from the security guards, I stepped onto the streets of Darkhaven and brought up my HUD, the familiar blue overlay flickered into place across my vision. A soft chime sounded in my ear, breaking my thoughts. My HUD flickered, and a small notification appeared in the upper right corner: Payment Received: 7,000 Credits.
I nodded, feeling satisfied with the blue numbers going up. It was just like playing economic simulator games. I just liked to see numbers and lines go up.
I watched the notification disappear, my thoughts momentarily fixating on that number. Seven thousand credits, the first of many payments to come if I kept this gig going. It wasn’t much compared to the kind of cash these rich families probably threw around like pocket change, but for me, it was one step closer to paying off that damned implant.
I sat down on a bench nearby. I laid back and watched the city pass by me. It wasn't after 8 yet so the road wasn't empty yet. Many hover and normal cars drove like madmen, not paying attention to their surroundings. I thought I would see a gunfight due to an accident but surprisingly, it didn't happen. The accidents, I mean. Despite driving like madmen, they all somehow avoid accidents. I guess there's a method to their chaos. People also passed by me. People like mercs, corporate lackeys, street vendors hawking chrome upgrades, and tech dealers pushing their wares. Hell, I thought I even saw some scrappers walking around, looking around for fresh targets. If it was this morning, I would have followed them back to their base, killed them, and robbed them clean. But I wasn't in the mood after teaching the brat.
The fact that scrappers were around Section-19 was surprising to me. I didn't think they would be bold enough to operate near high/middle-class areas. I sighed. I called Eliz.
Calling Nightmare.
After waiting for a few seconds, her face appeared on the right side. "Heya, Huntress."
"Hey, Night. I need a ride."
She went silent for a moment, seemingly looking at something. "Sure, I can pick you up. Where are you right now?"
"Near the client's place. You can pick me up there."
Her eyebrows raised, "Well, that's quite far. I'll have to come with Dawn then."
"Dawn?" I mused.
"That's my baby. She's one of the originals from the Eclipse Dynamic production line. I found this baby at one of the pirate dens in the desert."
I laughed before saying, "I understood none of what you said."
She giggled, "That's alright. Just wait there. I'll arrive there in about 15 minutes."
I nodded and hung up. As I waited there, I got bored. My ADHD was flaring up and there was nothing I could do to stop it. With my ADHD rising, I was unable to properly control my senses. Everything became so loud and clear. Welp, there goes my focus. I tried to refocus but to no anvil. I had nothing to do, which meant I was bored out of my mind.
Back then, I would usually play a chess match or two to curb my ADHD. Oh yeah, chess! How could I have forgotten?
Before arriving in Darkhaven, I used to play chess online, hovering around 2000 ELO—not world-class, but good enough to crush most casual players. I wasn’t patient enough for over-the-board tournaments, but online blitz? That was my thing. This world’s chess platform was new to me, but chess was chess no matter where you were.
I pulled up the most popular chess site in Darkhaven and registered as an advanced player. Since it was a new account and I registered as an advanced player, I was assigned a starting ELO of 1600, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. The website matched me with my first opponent: Player1298, rated 1560 ELO.
I almost laughed out loud, which would be unbecoming of me. This is gonna be a fucking slaughter. Still, even though the thought went through my mind, I didn't dare to underestimate anyone in chess. He was playing with white so he moved first.
Player1298 played 1.e4. Solid. Basic. Predictable. I responded with 1...c5, opting for the Sicilian Defense. No reason to play passive here.
Player1298 made a few developing moves—nothing special. As the game continued, it became abundantly clear just how far out of their depth they were. By move 10, I had already taken clear control of the center, and by move 15, they were barely hanging on to any semblance of structure. I could tell they were trying to avoid major mistakes, but it was like watching a beginner flail against the inevitable. I started attacking more on the king's side, the side which he castled, to make him panic more. It worked. The white-squared bishop was blundered on move 18 and he had to sacrifice his rook just to barely survive checkmate by move 20. Still, it didn't matter. I gobbled down all of his pieces one by one, waiting for him to resign but he didn't. For real? Do you think I would stalemate? I shook my head and instead of wasting more moves, I went in for the checkmate. But when I was just one move away from checkmate, he resigned, not wanting to give me the satisfaction of checkmating him.
Checkmate in 22 moves.
A notification popped up: +17.7 ELO.
My new ELO was now 1618. My eyes were itching to play more. But I knew to resist those urges. Ten minutes had already passed when I was playing and Eliz was, if I was going to believe her word, going to arrive in about 5 more minutes.
I sighed as I laid back. I reminisced a little. It hadn't been so long since I arrived in Darkhaven and yet, I had changed so much. The old Raven probably won't recognize me, I mused to myself. I had killed. And I wouldn't hesitate to kill again if I was in danger. Sure, in the past, I would probably say like I would kill if I was in danger but I knew deep down that I wouldn't. The first time I killed someone, I felt out of it for days. I sighed, I had to change though. If I didn't change, I wouldn't survive in this world.
I shook my head. The past was the past. I can't change it. Nothing can change the past. It's best to leave it be and learn from it instead of regretting it.
Just then, the revving of an engine caught my attention. A sleek black hovercycle rounded the corner, gliding effortlessly through the cluttered streets, its chrome body reflecting the flickering neon lights. I grinned as I recognized it—the Eclipse Dynamics emblem emblazoned on the side.
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Eliz rolled up beside me, her helmet visor flicking up to reveal a smirk. “Told you I’d be here in 15 minutes,” she said.
She took off her helmet and shook her head, waving her long jet-black hair around. Her hair had streaks of silver streaks running across it. Her brown eyes shone through the dark, mainly due to the augmentations she had received.
I smirked back, "It's been 16 minutes so you're technically wrong."
She laughed, "Come on. Get on. I'll take you for a ride."
I was a little excited. I had searched through a little about the vehicle she was riding after I learned about it. It was a hovercraft. I have never ridden a hovercraft or a motorcycle before so I was rightfully excited.
I stood up and brushed off my jacket. After that, I mounted the bike behind her, grabbing hold of her black jacket. She handed me an extra helmet. “Hold on tight,” she called back over her shoulder. “Dawn’s fast, and I’m not in the mood for a slow ride.”
I put on the helmet and laughed, "I don't expect anything less."
The city blurred into neon streaks as we sped off, leaving the clutter of the Vandermeers’ world far behind.
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In Rome, Urbs Aeterna (The Eternal City), a huge palace stood. The palace was larger than even Buckingham Palace which was built in 1720 AUC (Ab Urbe Condita). The name of the palace was Palatium Imperialis Romae (The Imperial Palace of Rome). The structure was a mix of grand imperial architecture and modern innovations, combining centuries of tradition with the latest advancements in Roman engineering. According to records and historians, the building was started in 1453 AUC and finished around 1495 AUC.
The outer walls, made of gleaming white marble, rose high, topped with golden statues of Roman gods, each representing the empire’s virtues—fortitudo (strength), sapientia (wisdom), and iustitia (justice). The gods include the Olympians, such as Jupiter, Apollo, Diana, Juno, and the rest; the goddess Roma, her outstretched hand holding a sword symbolizing Roman justice; and the goddess Victoria, wearing a blindfold, holding scales and a sword, symbolizing victory. Colossal archways framed the main entrance, guarded by Praetoriani clad in advanced armor that merged the aesthetics of ancient legions with modern psionic technology. The gates, inscribed with Latin verses celebrating Rome’s imperium, were immense yet opened with the fluidity of finely crafted machinery, silently welcoming those who approached.
Inside, vast marble courtyards spread out, lined with columns that reached toward the heavens. Fountains, both decorative and functional, sprayed water into the air, their designs mimicking the aqueduct systems that once supplied ancient Rome. Lush gardens filled with native flora, meticulously maintained, added life to the cold stone. In the distance, the sound of distant machinery hummed—a subtle reminder of the advanced technology that powered the palace’s inner workings, concealed beneath layers of traditional design.
The palace’s interior was even more striking. Massive halls stretched in every direction, their floors laid with intricate mosaics depicting Roman victories through the ages. Chandeliers hung from domed ceilings, illuminating the space in a warm, golden light that reflected off the polished surfaces. The walls were adorned with frescoes and tapestries, each telling stories of Roman triumphs, from the empire's rise under Augustus to the present reign of its current emperor. Beneath the surface, hidden technologies provided security and comfort—temperature regulation, security systems, and holographic projectors that allowed real-time communication with distant provinces.
One of the palace’s most iconic features was the Atrium Throneum, a vast chamber where the emperor conducted official business. The throne itself, crafted from obsidian and inlaid with gold, sat atop a raised platform that overlooked the entire room. The floor beneath was made of glass, revealing the flowing waters of the Tiber River running beneath, a symbol of Rome's eternal connection to its roots. High-ranking officials, senatores, and military leaders gathered here to discuss matters of state, their every word echoed by the grandeur of their surroundings.
Beyond the throne room lay the private quarters of the imperial family, where luxury met state-of-the-art technology. Even in these personal spaces, the design paid homage to ancient Rome, with modern conveniences seamlessly integrated. Everything within the palace, from its decor to its very structure, was a reflection of Rome's unyielding power and the empire’s ability to adapt and thrive through the ages. The Palatium Imperialis Romae wasn’t just a residence; it was the beating heart of an empire that had once again taken its place as the ruler of the world.
And inside this magnificent palace, sat the fable Emperor Titus Aelius Maximus on the throne. He was supposedly the emperor who unified the East and West. According to history and myths, he was born in 1148 AUC (395 AD). He was generally treated as a myth, a deus (god) by the public. And a man kneeled beneath him, not daring to look him in the eyes.
"General Marcus Aurelius, is it?" the Imperator began, his voice echoing through the vast chamber as he surveyed the information displayed before him. "It is said that you employed a POW (prisoner of war) and utilized the experimental serum without my permission?"
“Ita vero, Imperator,” Marcus replied, remaining on his knees. (“Indeed, Imperator.”) “The enemy was wielding Disruptores Temporales, which caused temporal anomalies during the battle.”
The Imperator tutted disapprovingly. “I am aware of that. And why did you resort to the serum and sacrifice a POW? Because you used it, I must now request another from Edward Winters.”
Marcus bit his tongue, suppressing the urge to retort, Cur non misisti eam cum nos, si non vis ut ea uteremur? (Then why did you send it with us if you didn't want us to use it?). Yet, he remained silent.
“Sed non refert,” (But it does not matter), the Imperator continued. “What we must discuss is not the serum, but your treatment of the POW. Did our military academy teach you what constitutes war crimes? According to the Conventio Genevensis, prisoners of war must be treated with dignity and humanity.”
“Permitte mihi defendere me, my Imperator,” Marcus pleaded. (“Allow me to defend myself, my Imperator.”)
The Imperator nodded, waving his hand with a gesture of permission. “You may.”
Taking a deep breath, Marcus gathered his thoughts before responding. “The battle's circumstances left us with no alternative. The enemy’s use of Disruptores Temporales rendered our conventional strategies ineffective. I weighed the potential risks against the imperative to protect my men and fulfill our mission. Utilizing the serum on the POW was a calculated decision—one made to ensure our survival against overwhelming odds.”
Titus Aelius Maximus leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “And do you believe that the ends justify the means, General? You sacrificed the humanity of your enemy for your own survival. What does that make you, then?”
“Non credere hoc facit nos diversos, Imperator,” Marcus replied, his voice steady. (“I do not believe this makes us different, Imperator.”) “But we confront an enemy intent on annihilating our way of life. The Conventio Genevensis was established to safeguard humanity during wartime; yet we now engage in conflict with beings that do not recognize our laws or values. They have no obligation to adhere to our standards; thus I made a choice grounded in the brutal realities of this war.”
The Imperator’s brow furrowed, considering Marcus’s words. “You assert that you protect our people, yet you risk staining our honor with actions that could be labeled war crimes. The citizens of Rome expect their leaders to embody our values, even amidst chaos. If we abandon our principles, what does that convey about our cause?”
Marcus felt the weight of the Imperator's gaze, acutely aware that every word could alter the course of his career—and perhaps his life. “Intellego, Imperator. I accept the consequences of my actions. I merely request that you consider the unique circumstances we face. The survival of our civilization hangs in the balance. We combat an enemy that does not abide by the rules, and if we are to prevail, we must adapt.” (“I understand, Imperator.”)
The Imperator sighed, the tension in the air thick. “Your resolve is commendable. You are free to depart.”
“Imperator?” Marcus looked up, confusion clouding his features before he quickly bowed his head again.
“As you said, these foes do not respect our laws; thus, we are not required to hold back against them either. However, you must exercise caution. Do not violate military protocol again. I commend your courage in admitting your mistakes before me. Therefore, you are free to go.”
“Gratias tibi ago pro tua clementia, Imperator. I pledge to protect Rome and her mundi (world) forever.” (“Thank you for your mercy, Imperator.”)
The Imperator waved his hand dismissively. “Now, leave me. Inform Ambassador Justinian that I wish to... discuss how he has managed our foreign affairs with the USNA.”
Marcus felt a pang of sympathy for his childhood friend, Justinian. It would be daunting to face the Imperator, let alone engage him for hours. “Ita vero, Imperator,” he replied, retreating from the throne room with a mixture of relief and apprehension. (“Indeed, Imperator.”)