NOVPUBIn the lower districts, where life was always harder, the reaction was different. Quiet fury. Grief hidden behind clenched jaws and narrowed eyes.
Murmured curses toward the Kaelzars. Broken glasses thrown at walls. And yet... no uprising. Not yet. Just the kindling of something deeper.
In the governor's own home district, where his family shrine stood untouched for generations, people began lighting candles despite the rain. Digital flames flickered inside waterproof cases. Offerings of flowers, medals, and even children's toys began piling up along the shrine walls.
Meanwhile, inside the central command of the planetary defense force...
The remaining military leaders gathered, soaked from the rain. The northern and western generals stood before the rest, carrying the wrapped body of the old governor on a hover-stretcher, protected under an energy field.
No one spoke.
The silence was absolute as they laid him in the central chamber, where honored dead were remembered. The western general stepped forward first while removing his cap and placing it gently on the governor's chest.
"He bought us peace... with his own life...."
For most people in the galaxy, the death of a planetary governor wasn't something that made them sad. In fact, it was often a cause for celebration since many of these governors were corrupt, selfish, and cruel.
They saw the planets under their control not as homes for millions of people, but as their own private playgrounds... places where they could do whatever they pleased, without consequences.
The higher authorities or those in charge of entire sectors or empires, usually didn't care about what went on in those worlds.
As long as the governors delivered what was required, like raw materials, military recruits, taxes, or energy credits, no one bothered to ask how those goals were achieved. Suffering and oppression on the surface were ignored, hidden beneath reports and numbers.
But every once in a while, there came someone different. A rare soul, like the old governor of Xylos. He wasn't perfect, but he gave everything he had... his youth, his health, even his blood... to try to improve the lives of the people under his care.
He didn't rule like a tyrant. He guided, protected, and built. He was one of the few who understood the weight of leadership, and he carried that burden with honor until the very end.
Cleo, a Kaelzar of an ancient and powerful race that valued logic, precision, and cold reasoning, was not someone who often felt emotion. To her, respect was something earned only through proven worth, data, and achievement.
But now, as she sat silently on the edge of a tall building, watching the people of Xylos gather for the funeral rites of their fallen governor, she felt something new. A quiet, heavy feeling she couldn't name… something close to respect.
Rain poured down around her, but she barely noticed. A small thermal coat was the only thing shielding her from the cold wind. She sat still, her glowing eyes watching the ceremony far below... watching the people lay flowers, bow their heads, and whisper prayers. She was alone, or so it seemed.
"Say... Ys," Cleo said softly, not turning her head. "What do your people do when someone dies?"
Though no one could see her with the naked eye, Cleo had long since upgraded her scanners. After spending years together, she could easily detect Ys now, even when the Khryssari girl used her biological cloaking to hide.
The sensors picked up even the tiniest changes in the air, like the shift of dust in a breeze.
A small pout formed on Ys's face as she turned off her cloak and sat beside Cleo, opening a black umbrella to cover them both. "Hmph. Since when could you sense me that easily?" she asked in a playful tone. "You're no fun anymore～"
She kicked her feet gently as she continued, "Well… if it's just another warrior from the swarm, we recycle them. Their bodies are eaten to make new warriors. You already knew that, though, didn't you?"
Cleo stayed quiet for a moment, still watching the funeral below. "What about someone important?" she asked. "Like a champion... or a princess?"
Ys tilted her head, thinking for a second. "Hmm… If one of my brothers dies, Mother eats him. It helps her mind grow stronger. But if a princess dies, she gets absorbed by Mother too... only in a deeper way. She fuses into Mother's body, forming a new core inside her. That core makes her more powerful… and live longer." 𝑛𝑜𝑣𝑝𝑢𝘣.𝘤𝑜𝘮
Cleo slowly turned her head to look at Ys, her expression unreadable at first, then turning into one of mild shock. "...So is there anything your people don't eat?" she asked, her voice half-genuine, half-joking.
Ys simply shrugged her shoulders with a little smirk on her face. "Food is food," she replied playfully.
Ys giggled softly, the umbrella swaying with the movement. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Recycling is good for the hive. We don't waste anything. Not even memories."
Cleo turned her gaze back to the city below. Thousands of tiny lights dotted the streets with candles, holographic memorials, and processions moving slowly through the rain-soaked roads. The scent of incense mixed with ionized air and wet stone reached even this high.
"You know..." Cleo murmured, "I thought this would be more straightforward. Take the city, eliminate resistance, and rebuild. Simple lines. Clean steps. But this… this wasn't just a conquest."
Ys tilted her head. "Is the little cold queen finally getting sentimental～?"
Cleo didn't answer. The rain kept falling, soaking her long black hair until it clung to her back like ink. Her golden eyes reflected the soft glow of the funeral fires.
"It doesn't make sense," Cleo finally said. "He could've surrendered. The outcome wouldn't have changed. We would've taken over, and he would've lived. But he fought anyway. Not out of pride, not stupidity... but belief."
Ys hummed thoughtfully. "Belief is powerful. It makes people brave. Or stupid. Sometimes both."
"Kaelzars don't act like that," Cleo said, almost to herself. "We serve the throne, execute commands, and optimize the path forward. Always forward. But now… now I wonder if efficiency is all there is."
Ys nudged her gently with her elbow. "You know, for someone who was programmed... or born, whatever it is you Kaelzars do, you're starting to sound very... squishy."
Cleo actually let out a small laugh. It was quiet and brief, but it was there. "Maybe I've spent too much time around unpredictable lifeforms like you."
"You're welcome～." Ys grinned, fangs just barely showing. "So? Are you going to let the people mourn a bit longer? Or do we move on to phase two?"
Cleo stood slowly, the thermal coat falling open as her wings briefly unfurled under the rain, shedding droplets like liquid silver. She didn't answer immediately.
"I'll give them tonight," she finally said. "They deserve that much."
And with that, she jumped off the edge of the building, her wings spreading wide as she glided silently down into the night, leaving Ys alone under the umbrella.
The Khryssari princess watched her go, then looked back at the lights of Xylos.
"She's changing," Ys whispered, voice barely audible over the storm.
And far below, the bells of the capital tolled once for the old governor.
Once for the fallen.
And once more... for the uncertain future to come.
The night dragged on, heavy with sorrow. Across the city, the sound of mourning echoed like a wave crashing against stone.
Hundreds of thousands of people had gathered to say their final goodbye to the old governor of Xylos... their leader, their protector. Many wept openly, holding candles and flowers, their hearts weighed down by grief.
The sky above them remained a dark, endless gray, as if the planet itself was mourning along with them.
But far from the sorrowful crowds, deep inside the grand office once belonging to the late governor, a storm of a different kind was brewing.
A group of high-ranking military officers and advisors had gathered around a large, circular table.
The room still carried the old governor's scent and presence... his coat still hung by the wall, his medals untouched, and his favorite datapad left on the desk. Yet now, voices rose in frustration, anger, and fear.
"Have you all gone mad!?" one of the officers suddenly shouted out while slamming a bottle of water across the table.
It flew through the air and splashed against the chests of a few stunned colleagues. His eyes were wild, his face red with fury. "You're actually thinking about surrendering to her? That damned witch!? Don't you remember!? It was she who killed the governor!"
He stood up while his hands trembled as his voice cracked with emotion. "We still have soldiers! hundreds of thousands of them! Brave men and women who would gladly lay down their lives to avenge him! Are we really going to throw all of that away?!"
The room fell silent. No one moved. No one dared to speak. Only the soft hum of the old office's air purifiers could be heard.
Seeing no response, the officer turned his attention toward one man in particular. His eyes widened, veins bulging from his neck as he pointed a shaking finger. "You, Northern General! You've always been fierce! I know you think like me! We can still fight back! We don't have to kneel to those invaders!"
His voice cracked again, now teetering between desperation and madness. His pupils were dilated; sweat rolled down his temples. He looked like a man on the edge, burning with rage, fear, and denial.
But instead of the fire he expected from the battle-hardened Northern General, the man simply let out a long, exhausted sigh. Quietly, the general pushed his chair back and stood up, his tall figure casting a heavy shadow across the room.
He walked slowly toward the shouting officer.
Without saying a word, he clenched his fist and, with practiced precision, punched the man straight in the face.
The blow landed with a sickening sound. The officer stumbled backward, crashing to the floor while blood dripped from his nose as he groaned in pain and disbelief.
Only then did the Northern General finally speak.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SAYING!?"
