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🕑 Added 2025-08-11 17:09:28 +0000 UTCChapter 321: Sprinting into the Cyber Era
After a couple of casual greetings, Riku started laying out his plan. In short, he was asking everyone to pack up and move somewhere new to live.
“Leave our hometown and find another place?”
The villagers were clearly taken aback by this. They hadn’t expected Riku’s solution to be this.
“Will that really work?”
For villagers who’d never strayed far from their home, this idea left them bewildered. They didn’t dare say it wouldn’t work—they didn’t know enough to judge—but they felt uneasy. This was no small matter.
In a farming society, leaving the homeland where generations had lived wasn’t just a big deal; it was a gut punch. “Sokoku nanri” (故土難離, “hard to leave one’s homeland”) wasn’t just four words—it carried a tangle of deep, complicated emotions.
Tazmi’s village was your typical rural hamlet, nothing special about it. No unique crops or goods, just fields to till and a simple life of men farming and women weaving. That’s how it had always been, generation after generation, and they were just as bound by “sokoku nanri” as anyone.
“Sir, the empire’s in chaos right now…”
The village chief spoke up hesitantly, clearly not thrilled with the idea. To him, Riku’s plan seemed a bit too reckless.
An entire village—old folks, kids, whole families—uprooting and moving in these turbulent times? That sounded like a death wish. And even if they moved, where would they go? Was there anywhere in the empire that was truly safe? Anywhere that could be a new home for people like them?
“No need to worry. Just relax and don’t fight it. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Riku understood the old chief’s concerns. The guy was sharp—if this was a normal move, it’d be exactly as risky as the chief feared, practically suicide.
Forget the chaos of rogue soldiers; even bandits would make quick work of these villagers. Moving wasn’t like defending a village, where you had terrain and fortifications to lean on. On the road, you’d face blades head-on—no joke.
“Alright! We trust you!”
Before Riku could say more, Ieyasu piped up enthusiastically, throwing his support behind him. He was certain Riku wouldn’t lead them astray—there was no reason for him to.
“Me too!”
Tazmi and Sayo chimed in right after, their trust in Riku unshakable. These three naive kids practically worshipped him. And why wouldn’t they? He’d saved their lives and given them money for supplies. In their eyes, he was a straight-up daijōbu na hito (大丈夫人, “great person”).
The village elders exchanged glances, not raising any objections. What value did a bunch of old folks have, anyway? Would someone really go out of their way to mess with them?
With a grand wave of his hand, Riku enveloped everyone in a shroud of shadows, pulling them all into the “Kagekai” (影界, Shadow Realm).
The Kagekai wasn’t exactly huge yet, but it was more than big enough for a small village. We’re talking 1,500 square kilometers—roughly the size of a small regional city. Fitting these folks in was no problem at all.
“This place is mine alone, completely cut off from the outside world. No outsiders can get in, so there’s no danger to worry about.”
Seeing the villagers looking around, dazed and confused, Riku offered a brief explanation. He didn’t go into too much detail, but the gist was clear: this place was safe, free from land disputes or external threats.
“Over there, that’s the city where the residents live. You’ll be under the city’s management from now on. If you have any problems, the管理者 (kanrisha, manager) will sort them out.”
Riku pointed to a cluster of buildings not far off—settlements built by various scientists. A bright artificial light hung in the sky, signaling “daytime” in the Kagekai.
The Kagekai had no sun or moon, so no natural day-night cycle. But the scientists, with Riku’s approval, had gotten to work creating an artificial light source.
This “jinzō taiyō” (人造太陽, artificial sun) was starting to take shape, though it was a bit fake-looking. Its glow only covered the settlement and a small area around it. Calling it a “sun” was generous—it was more like a giant light bulb. At night, it’d switch to a softer “moonlight mode.”
Riku had to admit, science could be pretty impressive. Human creativity was limitless—give people a need, and they’d whip up something wild to meet it.
“Uh, sir… what are we supposed to do here?”
The villagers, still reeling from the shock, started to settle down. The chief swallowed hard, his throat dry, and asked.
The old man was clearly shaken by Riku’s display. In the blink of an eye, they’d been whisked to a completely foreign place. It was already “night” here, and aside from the lit-up settlement, everything else was shrouded in endless darkness.
He knew Riku was someone important, but this? This was beyond comprehension. A word popped into his mind: “kami-sama” (神様, god).
This man was like a god from legend, wielding powers mortals couldn’t fathom, capable of saving those who suffered!
The chief’s thoughts were partly influenced by the Anning-dō (安寧道, Path of Peace), a religious group that peddled god-like claims. They preached that their leader was a reincarnated deity, and devout faith in Anning-dō would bring divine salvation.
The village hadn’t fully bought into it—empty words didn’t mean much without proof. Anning-dō relied more on charity and handouts to spread their influence. Sure, their leader had some special abilities, but “miracles”? That was a stretch.
The Anning-dō leader had an almost supernatural charisma, born with the ability to heal wounds and glimpse the future. He could read hearts and even recall every follower’s name and number. A hybrid of human and danger beast, his powers stemmed from that lineage.
For some reason, Riku couldn’t shake a sense of déjà vu about this leader. Wasn’t this guy just a beefed-up version of Yōya Ubuyashiki from Demon Slayer? Charismatic, future-seeing, remembering everyone’s names—Anning-dō’s leader just had healing and mind-reading tacked on.
It was those healing powers that had kickstarted Anning-dō’s rise, a bit like the Yellow Turban’s “talisman water” in history. But unlike that, the leader’s abilities were the real deal, letting Anning-dō grow fast.
As the group expanded, though, they leaned more on charity and funding for outreach. The leader rarely appeared in person anymore, and most new followers had never seen him, let alone witnessed his “miracles.”
For the empire’s struggling citizens, miracles were nice, but a meal was better. By using their wealth to distribute food and aid, Anning-dō grew even faster.
Did Anning-dō do good? At first, absolutely. They healed the sick, fed the hungry, and eased suffering. But as they grew, things took a darker turn. The leader’s management skills couldn’t keep up with the organization’s size, and power started slipping into others’ hands.
Anning-dō became a mixed bag, with all sorts of people in its ranks. The leader’s foresight and mind-reading should’ve let him hold onto power, but there was one problem: he was a total zako (雑魚, weakling) in a fight.
The outcome was predictable. Not every group is as wholesome as the Demon Slayer Corps. With a leader who had special powers but no combat skills, people saw a chance to control him and seize power for themselves.
The deputy leader, Berick, did just that. Oh, and he was also an imperial spy, sent to keep Anning-dō from rebelling. Backed by the empire’s muscle—elite fighters from the Ōkenji (皇拳寺, Imperial Fist Temple) and the Rakshasa Four Demons—Berick had all the budō (武道, martial prowess) he needed.
Controlling the leader and crushing dissent, Berick became Anning-dō’s de facto ruler, and the group’s reputation started to sour.
Tazmi’s village hadn’t fully joined Anning-dō, partly because of rumors about its shady turn. They were skeptical of a group claiming to “save the suffering.”
But Riku’s arrival? That changed everything. To the chief, he seemed like a true kami-sama or messiah—way more legit than Anning-dō’s lofty promises.
What the chief didn’t know was that his awe was partly due to Riku’s new “Ningen no Kōtei” (人間の皇帝, Emperor of Humanity) title. Riku wasn’t showing hostility, only goodwill, and regular folks like them had no resistance to his influence.
Riku realized his title gave him a charisma edge over Anning-dō’s leader. He didn’t even need miracles—just standing there made people feel trust and awe.
It was like living the high-charisma life of a D&D character. Wherever he went, his charm opened doors. It was saikō (最高, the best). With this power, he was a natural-born leader or even a kamiguru (神グル, god-tier guru). No wonder so many faction leaders had similar traits—hero or villain, winning hearts was the key to winning the world.
Riku led the group to the “city center” and handed them over to Shōyū, the Kagekai’s manager. Shōyū would get the villagers settled, teaching them how to live here—things like high-efficiency farming. The world of Akame ga Kill! was brutal, with commoners stuck in a medieval grind.
These villagers, stepping into the Kagekai’s settlement, were leaping across eras, practically sprinting into a cyberpunk world.
Riku checked out the settlement. The scientists were thriving, doing their research and making life here better, more futsū (普通, normal).
It hit him: this place needed a name. Calling it “the settlement” wasn’t cutting it. As the first true city in the Kagekai, it deserved a proper identity.
“Let’s call it Yūeishi (幽影市, Shadow City). It’ll have a mayor and a government team—time to make things official, no more zatsuna (雑な, half-baked) setup.”
Riku didn’t need to consult anyone; he just decided on the spot. This was his domain, after all. Shōyū would oversee the Kagekai as a whole, coordinating everything, while Yūeishi would have its own leadership to manage the city.
Shōyū quickly got to work, explaining everything in detail. The village leaders started to get a sense of life here and were genuinely excited.
And why wouldn’t they be? The conditions were saikō—way better than scraping by back home, worrying about bandits or rogue soldiers bursting in. This was like a tengoku (天国, paradise).
So, they happily agreed to move to the Kagekai. “Sokoku nanri” was real, but when survival was on the line, sometimes you had to let go. The empire’s chaos left them no choice.
The villagers packed their belongings and stepped through the shadow gate to an unknown land. Their village was tight-knit—not a single troublemaker among them.
Maybe it was because their old life was so miseraburu (miserable). They figured a new place couldn’t be worse. With expectations that low, there was no room for disappointment.
Shōyū would handle their housing; their old, rundown homes weren’t worth bringing along.
Riku didn’t stick around to help with the move. He had bigger plans: dealing with Anning-dō. He was set on taking the whole organization for himself.
Chapter 322: The Cult Leader and the Imperial State Religion
Over at Anning-dō, the uprising was a total mess—and it was all thanks to the chaos Vice Leader Berick had sown himself.
Back in the day, he’d been following Minister Ornest’s orders, acting as an undercover agent in Anning-dō to keep them from rebelling.
Berick did a bang-up job—too good, maybe. He turned Anning-dō into a complete gudaguda (グダグダ, mess). The organization was a disaster, their military was a joke, and their troops were a mixed bag of amateurs with zero discipline. Calling them a “rabble” was being generous.
But even this ragtag bunch, with their sheer numbers and grassroots support, managed to sweep through most of the empire’s eastern regions. In this race to the bottom, the empire still somehow managed to out-suck them.
That said, it was exactly because Anning-dō was such a zako (雑魚, weakling) crew that some of the empire’s resistance forces in the east hadn’t been wiped out yet.
In a normal situation, those rebels wouldn’t have lasted this long. It was like a perfect matchup of incompetence—think Byakuryū (白龍, White Dragon) meeting Hōchū (鳳雛, Young Phoenix), a clash of equally mediocre talents.
Berick was in a bind. He hadn’t expected the empire to just collapse like that. His boss, Minister Ornest, was gone—poof, vanished.
Suddenly, Berick was a spy without a home base. Worse, all the armed forces he’d relied on to keep things under control had been pulled out by Ornest, leaving him high and dry.
No patron, no way back to the empire, and no trump card to suppress dissent—Berick had no choice but to fully embrace his role as Anning-dō’s vice leader, hoping to claw his way to the top in this new, chaotic order.
Anning-dō had always been itching to rebel. This bunch of nobodies, clueless about the empire’s real power, thought they were hot stuff just because they’d taken over the east. Truth is, if Berick hadn’t been holding them back, the imperial army would’ve crushed them ages ago.
Minister Ornest had been sly about keeping Anning-dō around. Their influence in the east was huge, so controlling them meant stabilizing the region. That’s why he’d backed Berick so heavily, even sending the Rakshasa Four Demons to ensure Berick’s grip on the cult.
It worked like a charm. Anning-dō, a group founded to fight the empire’s tyranny, ironically became a key tool in keeping the east under control.
But all good plans fall apart eventually. With Ornest and the little emperor dead, Berick was left hanging. He flipped sides faster than you can say “henshin” (変身, transformation) and kicked off Anning-dō’s uprising.
Lately, Berick was riding high. Leading the rebellion made him the big shot of the empire’s east, feeding his power-hungry ego. Why play spy for the empire when this was way more fun?
Back then, the empire was unstoppable, and nobody dared step out of line. Now? With Ornest and the emperor taken out by the Revolutionary Army, it was a free-for-all. Everyone wanted a shot at the throne.
If the Revolutionary Army could pull it off, why couldn’t Anning-dō? Berick was already dreaming of crowning himself emperor. Talk about ambition going sugee (スゲェ, crazy) fast.
But even with things looking up, Berick knew he had loose ends to tie up. The biggest one? The actual leader of Anning-dō, that kaibutsu (怪物, monster), that half-human, half-danger beast freak. No question, he was the biggest obstacle to Berick’s power grab.
“Vice Leader, the Leader requests your presence.”
Just as Berick was plotting how to deal with the leader, a follower came with a message.
“Alright, I’m on my way.”
Berick’s face soured. The leader wasn’t an aho (アホ, idiot)—he’d probably started to see through Berick’s act. The guy’s sudden shift to rebellion must’ve raised some red flags.
Still, Berick wasn’t alone anymore. Even without the empire’s backing, he’d built up his own crew of loyalists.
He wasn’t some lone ronin (浪人, masterless samurai) anymore. The leader couldn’t just turn the tables on him that easily. Plus, the leader had always stayed out of day-to-day affairs, leaving everything to Berick. It was practically tradition at this point.
Berick gathered some followers and headed to the leader’s residence, Anning-dō’s main base. The place was built like a shinden (神殿, divine temple), massive and expensive, only recently finished.
Strutting through, Berick was brimming with confidence. He’d overseen the construction of this place, after all. What did the leader have on him? Anning-dō was his—he was the real kyōshu (教主, cult leader)!
Soon, he reached the leader’s quarters. Despite his big talk, Berick hadn’t skimped on appearances. The leader’s residence was grand and luxurious.
Inside, the leader sat cross-legged, eyes closed, no attendants around. The room felt eerily empty.
“Hmph.”
Berick smirked, striding right up to the leader. His followers stayed by the door, on high alert to prevent any sudden moves.
“Leader, you wanted to see me?”
Berick’s tone dripped with disrespect. The leader might’ve had the looks—elegant, handsome, draped in a long robe with a cross painted on his forehead, radiating a gentle, holy aura—but Berick wasn’t buying the act.
“Berick, what are you so worried about?”
The leader opened his eyes, and man, did he have the makings of a kamiguru (神グル, god-tier guru). Those big, soulful eyes, that perfect appearance, those abilities—just a shame his combat skills were zako-level.
“Worried? What do I have to worry about?”
Berick frowned, annoyed by the leader’s mystical nonsense. He hated how the guy acted like he knew everything. Berick didn’t buy those so-called powers.
If the leader could really see the future, wouldn’t he have seen himself getting sidelined? If he could read minds, wouldn’t he have caught on to Berick’s scheming from the start?
“I saw it all. I just chose to accept it.”
As Berick grumbled to himself, the leader spoke with a smile, catching him off guard.
“What are you talking about?”
Berick gritted his teeth, convinced the guy was bluffing, trying to spook him with this kamiguru act.
“Berick, I know exactly what my abilities can do, which is why I didn’t fight you and let you run wild. But you? You clearly don’t know your own limits.”
The leader continued, calm and smiling, the textbook picture of a shinkansama (神官様, divine priest). It was driving Berick up the wall.
The leader had never shown off his future-seeing or mind-reading in front of Berick, so he’d always dismissed it as propaganda to hype up the leader’s image.
If the guy was so powerful, why hadn’t he reacted to Berick’s schemes? To his lies? To his disrespect?
Now, Berick got it. The leader wasn’t clueless—he’d just been holding back, enduring it all while knowing everything.
“But what I don’t get is why you’re done holding back now. You really think you can take me down?”
Berick’s face twisted into a snarl. So what if the leader could see the future or read minds? He was still mortal! One good strike, and he’d be done for!
With that thought, Berick shouted, and his followers rushed in, surrounding the leader.
“You can heal wounds, but can you heal a severed head?”
Berick’s voice was venomous, but anyone could see he was putting on a brave face. If the leader could predict the future, wouldn’t he have seen this coming? And if he did, why was he so calm? Did he have some hidden kirifuda (切り札, trump card)? Berick couldn’t help but worry.
“Kill him!”
Not giving the leader a chance to respond, Berick ordered his men to attack.
These were his handpicked soldiers, loyal to a fault, unlikely to be swayed by the leader on the spot. And the leader? He just sat there, calm as ever, ignoring the blades around him.
“Tch, what a poser.”
Just as the soldiers moved in, a wave of shadows swept through the room. The walls turned pitch black, and shadowy tendrils shot out, binding the soldiers and pinning them to the walls, helpless.
“Who’s there?!”
Berick jumped, his heart racing. He cursed inwardly—of course the leader had a backup plan! And it was a Teigu user, no less!
Anning-dō did have one Teigu user, but they weren’t part of Berick’s inner circle. He usually relied on the Rakshasa Four Demons. Meeting the leader, he hadn’t brought the Teigu user along—too risky if things went south.
But he never imagined the leader had secretly recruited another Teigu user!
The leader, still calm, stood up, his face glowing with reverence, almost fanaticism.
“I humbly welcome the arrival of the Shin’ō (神皇, Divine Emperor). I, the leader of Anning-dō, am honored to serve you. You are the true savior of the empire.”
Under Berick’s stunned gaze, the leader bowed deeply, his tone brimming with zeal.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Berick stammered, his brain short-circuiting. This was way beyond his comprehension. Divine Emperor? Savior? What was all this nani (何, what)?!
Riku emerged from the shadows, his gaze settling on the leader. He could feel the man’s genuine devotion, despite never having met before.
Buzz!
A third eye opened on Riku’s forehead, its green pupil swiveling. He activated his Teigu, [Goshi Ban’nō: Kansatsusha] (五視万能・観察者, Five Visions Omnipotent: Observer).
The leader’s abilities—like mind-reading—were shared by this Teigu. It couldn’t read every thought word-for-word, but it could sense true intentions.
And it confirmed the leader was sincere. He genuinely wanted to serve Riku, believing him to be the kyūseishu (救世主, savior) who’d change everything.
“Good. You can keep being the leader.”
Riku nodded, accepting the leader’s allegiance. He’d planned to keep the guy around anyway—his kamiguru vibes were perfect for the role. Since the leader had already won himself over, it saved Riku the trouble.
“As for you…”
Riku turned to Berick, and with a casual wave, he sliced off his head before the man could utter a word.
Splatter!
The other soldiers’ heads followed, blood pooling across the room, the air thick with the stench of iron.
The shadows receded, merging back into Riku’s feet. With another wave, he summoned a group of newly created android battle maids.
“They’ll protect you and handle the tedious stuff.”
Riku explained. These battle maids doubled as bodyguards and secretaries, keeping the leader safe while managing the mundane tasks he wasn’t great at. The head maid was a high-intelligence model.
“Shin’ō, could you appear before the followers? Let them witness your divine might. It’ll make them even more devout.”
The leader slipped into his role fast, offering a suggestion.
“That way, I can reshape Anning-dō into the empire’s state religion, worshipping only the Divine Emperor. We’ll dedicate everything to the great Shin’ō.”
The leader’s fervor made Riku’s lip twitch. This was close to what he’d planned, but this guy was way too enthusiastic. Like, dude, tone it down—you’re too on board!
“Fine, do it.”
Riku nodded, agreeing to the plan. Wiping out Anning-dō completely felt too harsh, but taking it over and restructuring it? That was just right.
Chapter 323: The Imperial Cult
Riku didn’t deny the merits of the Anningdao. At the very least, they had genuinely helped disaster victims in the past, even if things had gone sour later. The main culprit, Beric, the undercover instigator, had already been dealt with, and the Anningdao could still be salvaged. The High Priest would reclaim full control of the sect.
Soon, all of the Anningdao’s offensives were called off. They stopped fighting the Empire’s remaining forces in the East and ceased attacking cities. Their troops withdrew from the front lines, leaving only small detachments to guard isolated imperial strongholds.
At the High Priest’s summons, the Anningdao gathered en masse. Nearly all high-ranking members assembled, and a massive crowd of followers filled the plaza outside the Grand Cathedral, waiting for the High Priest to appear. It felt like a grand military parade.
Those rapidly promoted by Beric were immediately rounded up by Riku’s homunculus forces. The High Priest’s ability shone in moments like this—distinguishing loyalists from traitors was almost too easy. Still, he didn’t condemn everyone outright. Some of those promoted by Beric were genuinely capable. Just because they’d climbed the ranks through Beric didn’t mean they were all his lackeys. Back when the High Priest wasn’t in charge, they had little choice but to follow Beric’s path.
Those who were dealt with were the ones who’d truly abused their power for evil. In front of the High Priest, their lies were exposed, and they were swiftly executed.
With Beric gone and his influence eradicated, the Anningdao understood that the High Priest had reclaimed his rightful authority. He was no longer just a symbolic figure but the true leader of the sect. And he owed it all to the powerful “Divine Servants”—Riku’s homunculus troops, now dubbed “Divine Servants,” whose presence signified Riku’s backing.
With the support of these “Divine Servants,” the High Priest, accompanied by senior bishops, stepped onto the elevated platform in the grand plaza. The plaza, built in front of the Holy City’s Grand Cathedral for pilgrims, was now packed to the brim with followers, the entire city overflowing with people.
“The Divine Emperor has descended, overthrowing the Empire’s tyrannical rule to save the world! From now on, the Anningdao will wholeheartedly serve the Divine Emperor, dedicating everything to building a new divine kingdom on earth!” the High Priest’s voice boomed, carrying far and wide like a loudspeaker, audible both inside and outside the city.
“Divine Emperor?” The followers were stunned. Wasn’t that the title coming out of the Empire, tied to the Revolutionary Army’s new ruler?
Weren’t they supposed to march on the Capital and seize power? Why was the High Priest suddenly pledging allegiance to this “Divine Emperor”? It felt like, “We were ready to fight to the death, so why has Your Majesty surrendered first?” With the Anningdao in such a strong position, why was the High Priest throwing in with the enemy?
As confusion rippled through the crowd, dark clouds gathered overhead, thunder roared, and lightning flashed. Riku, riding the dragon form of his Teigu, Guardian Machine God: Supreme Throne, appeared in the sky, reenacting the awe-inspiring display he’d performed in the Capital. The impact was staggering, amplified by the High Priest’s fervent rallying. The effect was almost too perfect, instantly winning over the hearts of the followers.
If even the Capital’s people hadn’t seen anything like this, the rural folk of the East were utterly floored. They dropped to their knees, as if beholding a god, chanting “Divine Emperor” uncontrollably.
Faced with such a spectacle, who would dare dream of “marching on the Capital to seize power”? They wanted to bury their heads in the dirt. With that terrifying might, what chance did they have to resist? Even the Anningdao’s higher-ups were shaken, their faces pale with awe. This power was beyond their comprehension—how could they possibly defeat it?
In that moment, they understood why the High Priest had embraced the “Divine Emperor.” Power was the ultimate truth. In front of the Divine Emperor, they were nothing but clowns.
“From this day forward, the Anningdao will become the Empire’s state religion!” Riku’s voice thundered from the clouds, sacred and majestic. His words sparked waves of cheers from the followers, who felt a weight lift from their shoulders.
“Long live the Divine Emperor!” Under the High Priest’s lead, the followers swiftly embraced their new identity. The transformation was lightning-fast, and the name “Divine Emperor” began spreading like wildfire across the Empire’s East.
Thanks to the Anningdao’s influence, the East was already steeped in superstition, making it ripe for tales of gods and spirits. Now, with the “Divine Emperor” revealed, all other deities and ghosts were swept aside. The Empire could have only one god—the Divine Emperor—and only one faith: the state religion, now reborn as the “Imperial Cult.”
For the sake of the Empire’s stability and balance of power, the Imperial Cult’s military forces would be disbanded. A properly structured nation couldn’t allow both the government and a religion to maintain separate armies with no chain of command between them. The Imperial Cult’s first task was to dissolve its ragtag militia—it would no longer bear arms.
However, Riku granted the Imperial Cult the authority to judge heretics. The Cult’s enforcers, known as “Battle Sisters,” would be formed by the Divine Emperor’s “Divine Servants” and consist solely of female members. These fiercely loyal warriors would root out heretics, apostates, and those who worshipped false gods.
The Battle Sisters answered directly to Riku himself. Though technically the Imperial Cult’s armed force, they were essentially an oversight body, with even the High Priest under their scrutiny.
In a short time, the Anningdao transformed from a rebellious uprising into the Empire’s state religion. The process wasn’t entirely smooth, though. While most were awed by the Divine Emperor’s display of power and grandeur, stubborn holdouts remained. Disbanding the Imperial Cult’s military also sparked discontent—disarming was no small matter anywhere, especially in the chaotic Empire.
Right after its founding, the Imperial Cult faced an internal war to purge heretics. The “Divine Servants” and Battle Sisters led the charge, joined by warriors willing to comply with the disarmament. Many in the Anningdao had joined the fight or rebelled simply to survive or improve their lives, not out of fanaticism.
In this battle, Riku, as the Divine Emperor, demonstrated his might. A terrifying dragon breath swept through the apostates’ ranks, obliterating most of them in an instant, reducing those caught in its path to ashes. Showing strength was necessary—many only respect power out of fear, not gratitude.
The battle left the Imperial Cult in a fervor, their faith in the Divine Emperor unshakable. The “heretics” were judged, and their assets were seized for the state. Riku used these resources to aid the common people and disaster victims, further spreading the Divine Emperor’s benevolence and solidifying the faith of the East’s populace.
The Anningdao’s transformation into the Imperial Cult brought the rebellious eastern territories back into the Empire’s fold. While the Empire hadn’t yet sent officials to govern, the Imperial Cult temporarily managed the region. Handing over administrative power was only a matter of time—the Cult had no right to govern directly.
As the East stabilized, the Revolutionary Army in the South began restructuring. Katis, unable to withstand internal and external pressures, accepted the Empire’s terms: surrender military power, take posts in the Capital, and join the new government to build a better Empire.
His decision sparked a split within the Revolutionary Army. Those who’d grown accustomed to acting like local warlords weren’t ready to give up power or submit to the Capital’s mercy. Southern landlord factions, deeply entrenched in local interests, rebelled. However, their uprising was swiftly crushed by the combined forces of Najenda’s loyalists and the Empire’s military might—far beyond what the landlords could challenge.
The Revolutionary Army was reorganized. Its leaders were assigned posts in the Capital, while its soldiers were reformed into local garrisons. Compared to the Anningdao, the Revolutionary Army was far more disciplined, and their troops’ combat strength made them ideal for bolstering the Empire’s weakened local forces. The Empire’s Central Army was formidable, but local troops were rotten, and the new government needed fresh blood to fill the gaps.
Keeping the Revolutionary Army’s leaders and managers in the Capital was also strategic. Capable and idealistic officials were immediately put to work, as the new government was short on competent administrators. Most unfit officials were sacked or punished.
The new government was desperate for talent in every area. Officials persecuted under Minister Honest were reinstated, and thanks to Budo’s protection, some capable individuals had survived to serve the new regime. Not all imperial officials were condemned outright—those who hadn’t committed heinous crimes were kept on. The Empire was vast and needed people to keep it running.
The western foreign tribes were dealt with swiftly. Against a lineup of Teigu users, they stood no chance. Brand and Night Raid were deployed, along with imperial Teigu users rallied by Esdeath, all sent to the front lines by Riku.
From the Imperial Navy, Will wielded the Teigu Asura Avatar: Noble Chariot. From the assassination unit, Kurome used March of the Dead: Yatsufusa. From the incineration unit, Porus wielded Purgatory’s Invitation: Rubicante. And from civilian recruits, Lan used Thousand-Mile Flight: Mastema.
Originally gathered to fight the Revolutionary Army, these Teigu users found the Empire transformed before they could act. In their confusion, General Budo conscripted them for the western front against the foreign tribes.
Will, a upright and kind-hearted navy man, was outraged by the tribes’ harm to imperial citizens and willingly went to the front. Though the Empire had changed, he wanted to see the new government’s policies before deciding whether to serve. Fighting the tribes was a matter of justice, not loyalty to the new regime.
Porus, a straightforward soldier, followed orders without question. General Budo, his respected superior, gave the command, and that was enough. The change in emperors didn’t affect him much—he was a simple man, living for work, home, and family.
Lan, like Will, was observing the new government. If it could truly set things right, he’d gladly serve. He hadn’t joined to prop up the old, corrupt Empire—he had his own goals.
As for Kurome, she had no choice. The assassination unit had been absorbed by Budo and Najenda, and reliant on drugs to survive, she couldn’t defy orders. But she didn’t want to. Reunited with her sister Akame on the same side, no longer enemies, Kurome was overwhelmed with mixed feelings. She didn’t know how to face or interact with Akame.
Akame felt the same. The sudden shift from enemies to allies was jarring for sisters who’d been prepared to kill each other. But fighting side by side rekindled their bond. Both cared deeply for each other, and once they cleared the air, their close sisterly relationship naturally resumed—they’d grown up relying on each other, after all.
The western tribes were defeated, and Brand led imperial forces deep into their barbaric lands. This time, the Empire didn’t just raid and leave. The new government planned to establish lasting rule, rooting out the tribes’ constant raids for good.
Chapter 324: The Rebirth of the Empire
Due to environmental factors, the foreign tribes surrounding the Empire have managed to survive. The harsh, undesirable lands they inhabit are of no interest to the Empire—nobody wants to bother with them. Developing such barren regions is costly, and the Empire’s bureaucrats and nobles see no profit in it. Even if developed, these lands would only house commoners, offering little return. For the elites, focused solely on immediate gains, long-term planning is irrelevant.
But the new government is different. The Empire will expand relentlessly, absorbing all foreign tribes into its domain. Even those desolate lands will be gradually developed. The Western Kingdoms will eventually kneel before the Empire’s might. Brand and his forces, stationed in the western tribal lands, serve as the vanguard, sending scouts to probe the Western Kingdoms’ weaknesses.
Riku believes that, having taken on the title of “Human Emperor,” he must at least unify the planet’s humanity to live up to it. The Empire is undeniably the strongest nation, both in power and territory. Conquering it means global unification is only a matter of time.
The planet’s landmass isn’t particularly vast, and the Empire already controls most of the habitable regions. To the north lie the frigid wastelands of the Northern Tribes. To the west, the barbaric lands of the Western Tribes. To the south, the toxic rainforests of the Southern Tribes. The east is bordered by perilous seas teeming with powerful Danger Beasts. Beyond those seas lies the isolated island nation of Wakoku, the largest state in the eastern waters.
The Western Kingdoms lie beyond the western tribal lands, while the Peacock Continent stretches south of the Southern Tribes’ rainforests. Beyond these, the world is mostly ocean, dotted with occasional inhabited islands. The eastern seas are especially treacherous, filled with massive Danger Beasts, making it difficult even for the Empire’s fleets to navigate freely. As a result, Wakoku has little contact with the Empire. Unlike the Empire, they lack the means to cross the seas.
Wakoku is mired in chaotic warfare, struggling to feed its people, with a low level of technology. The Empire could easily overrun it but sees no value in its barren lands, deeming it not worth the effort. This is why Wakoku has survived, spared from the Empire’s conquests. Unlike the other tribes, they’ve never faced the Empire’s armies, only hearing tales of a vast empire to the west, often from Imperials who drifted to their shores. These Imperials, with their superior technology and knowledge, often thrive in Wakoku, like colonists among natives.
For Riku, the Western Kingdoms, Peacock Continent, and Wakoku are all targets for conquest. The Western Kingdoms are the first goal, as their barbaric lands are the easiest to traverse, and there’s already some trade between the Empire and the Kingdoms. The southern rainforests and eastern seas pose greater challenges, so they can wait until after the Western Kingdoms are subdued.
With Teigu users, Riku’s artificial human troops, and mechanical guards, the Empire’s forces are a dimensional leap above other nations—a crushing advantage. Now, with the Empire’s internal conflicts settling, the eastern Anning Path and southern Revolutionary Army have been absorbed or pacified. Minor rebellions have been swiftly crushed. Military issues are resolved; now comes the true test—governance.
Najeta and Bud finally meet the High Priest from the east, appointed by the Emperor himself as the head of the Emperor’s Church. His arrival catches them off guard. The old Empire had no state religion, and while organizations like the Imperial Fist Temple were legal, they were merely private groups, not a national faith.
“The Emperor intends to spread the Emperor’s Church across the Empire?” Najeta asks, frowning in confusion. But after reviewing the High Priest’s documents on the Emperor’s Church, she understands. It’s pure “personal worship.”
The Emperor’s Church revolves entirely around worshipping the Emperor as the sole master of the nation, the savior of all Imperials, an eternal and immortal being who will rule forever. It also doubles as a supervisory body. Alongside the Battle Sisters, the Church handles religious propagation, heretic trials, and monitoring the Empire’s government. If followers report misconduct, the Church notifies the Battle Sisters to gather evidence. If verified, the case goes to the Ministry of Justice for trial.
The Church also spreads the Emperor’s might, making it clear that opposing him leads only to death. It’s a cornerstone of the Empire’s structure, explaining why the High Priest holds a permanent seat in the Imperial Assembly, the Empire’s highest administrative body.
Riku has reformed the Empire’s government. The Emperor’s authority is supreme, but since Riku won’t always be present, power is delegated to the Imperial Assembly, composed of department heads from civil, military, and supervisory branches. The position of “Minister” has been replaced by the Prime Minister of the Imperial Executive Office, which runs the government. Najeta holds this role and a seat in the Assembly. The High Priest of the Emperor’s Church, formerly the Anning Path leader, also holds a seat, cementing the Church’s status.
The Minister of Justice is another key role, overseeing legal trials for everyone, from the High Priest and Prime Minister to commoners. Government, law, and religion—these three civil branches are represented in the Assembly. On the military side, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army, led by Bud, and the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy, led by Will’s mentor, hold seats. Though the navy’s status is currently lower, it will rise as the Empire expands to the seas.
Will, the user of Shura Incarnation: Noble Chariot, has a notable background. His mentor, the navy’s top official, is a high-ranking figure despite the navy’s challenges with the dangerous seas.
Beyond the army and navy, the High Matron of the Emperor’s Sisterhood and the Commander of the Emperor’s Guard also hold seats. These aren’t traditional military but direct loyalists to the Emperor. The Battle Sisters, part of the Emperor’s Church, answer only to the Emperor, not the High Priest, forming a separate faction within the Church, much like the Emperor’s Guard within the military. Composed of Riku’s artificial humans and mechanical guards, their loyalty and combat strength are unmatched.
In the future, the Battle Sisters and Emperor’s Guard will recruit locally, offering soldiers transformation opportunities—cybernetic upgrades or Rc cell enhancements. Exceptional performers may even achieve Ascension, becoming Chosen of the Emperor, transcending time and potentially entering the Divine Realm. Bud, the only current Ascendant, chose to remain and guard the Empire rather than enter the Divine Realm.
This system creates immense upward mobility. Hard work and competence can earn the Emperor’s favor, even transcending time. This applies to both military and civil roles—anyone who excels might be chosen.
The Imperial Assembly has twelve seats, seven fixed: Prime Minister, High Priest, Minister of Justice, Army Commander, Navy Commander, High Matron, and Guard Commander. The remaining seats allow other representatives, and more may be added, like an Air Force Commander or renaming the Navy Commander to Star Navy Commander as technology evolves.
Riku, the Empire’s tech-bearer, knows progress takes time. Even he can’t leap the Empire to 2077-level technology overnight without a foundation. The Assembly’s establishment, promotion paths, and Ascension system have been publicized, opening a new world for Imperials, showing the new Empire’s differences.
Ascension isn’t limited to officials or soldiers—anyone making significant contributions, in any field, can be selected. The Ascension Committee, under the Emperor’s Church, evaluates candidates. Those meeting the criteria are presented to the Emperor for final approval. Riku’s criteria, like contributions to Teigu creation, offer high chances of Ascension or at least transformation rewards.
Riku’s reforms have tied the Empire inseparably to him, elevating him to a transcendent figure beyond question. Transformations, Ascension, and other incentives stabilize society, driving people toward his goals. Harsh punishments for crime, enforced by technologically superior agents, make lawbreaking costly, deterring violations.
Using his technological edge, Riku introduces improved seeds, fertilizers, and farming techniques, set to transform the Empire. These advancements make the northern and western wastelands viable for development, giving the new Empire the confidence to exploit them, unlike the old regime.
Amid this progress, the Imperial City’s reconstruction is complete. Instead of a palace, a grand statue of the Emperor stands on a high pedestal, seated on a golden throne, exuding authority. Behind it, a radiant halo shines. Above, a massive, indistinct humanoid figure with outstretched wings and a coiling dragon radiates divine majesty—the Emperor’s divine form. Visible even from far beyond the capital, it occupies the former palace’s site.
Chapter 325: Another Visit to Deliver Teigu
In front of the towering Emperor’s statue lies the Imperial Assembly Hall, the highest administrative body of the Empire. Surrounding it are other key institutions: the Imperial Executive Office, the Ministry of Justice, the Imperial Church of the Capital, the Army Headquarters, and the Navy Headquarters, all clustered tightly around the divine figure of the Emperor. It’s as if the entire heart of the Empire revolves around the Emperor’s statue, his gaze watching over everything.
With everything restructured, the Empire seems to be back on track, ready to rise again.
But in this optimistic atmosphere, not everyone is thrilled. Shura, who has just returned to the capital, is one of them. As the son of Minister Ornest, the current state of the capital—and the Empire itself—feels utterly foreign to him.
“How did the Empire end up like this? Father… defeated?”
Staring at the distant Emperor’s statue, Shura mutters to himself, his expression one of disbelief. His father, whom he idolized, was not only defeated but lost everything.
The capital is bustling with life, making Shura, standing there dazed, seem oddly isolated. His timing couldn’t be worse—today is the day the young Emperor and Minister Ornest are to be publicly executed.
The young Emperor, after spending time in a lab as a source of research material, has outlived his usefulness. Now, he’s been dragged out by Riku to be beheaded for the crowd’s amusement. As for Minister Ornest, his days haven’t been pleasant either. Locked in a dungeon, he’s endured endless torment. After all, the list of people with grudges against him is long, and many harbor deep, irreconcilable hatred. They’ve been lining up to take their revenge, and now that he’s being publicly executed, some even feel a tinge of regret—perhaps because they didn’t get their turn to make him suffer.
At the grand plaza in front of the Imperial Assembly, beneath the Emperor’s statue, a tall guillotine has been erected. The young Emperor and Minister Ornest are brought up to the platform. Ornest, tortured beyond recognition, looks dazed and broken, while the young Emperor appears lost and bewildered.
The surrounding crowd is electric with rage, hurling insults that are almost too vile to hear. The young Emperor, sheltered his whole life, has never faced such a scene. For the first time, he stands before so many of his subjects.
All along, he believed himself to be a sage ruler, destined to surpass his predecessors and be beloved by the people. He thought his name would be etched in the Empire’s history as a glorious chapter. But who could’ve imagined that his legacy would be the final word: “The End.”
At first, the rebellion shocked him, but he brushed it off as rebels merely grasping for power. Now, facing the crowd’s wrath and hearing their curses, he can no longer escape the truth. He’s been living in a fantasy. He’s nothing but a foolish, failed emperor who lost his nation.
“By the Emperor’s decree, execute Ornest!”
The order rings out. Ornest will be beheaded first, with the young Emperor watching, knowing his turn is next.
“Long live the Emperor!”
The crowd erupts in cheers. Clearly, Ornest’s execution is the will of the people—he’s ruined too many lives.
“Pfft! What kind of nonsense Emperor? Just playing god.”
In the crowd, Shura scoffs, his face twisted in disdain. He holds his father in high “regard,” and seeing him like this feels like a personal insult. It’s not that they share a deep father-son bond—Shura’s always aimed to surpass Ornest, believing that becoming stronger than his father is the ultimate act of “filial piety.”
To see his idol, his benchmark, treated like this is unbearable. Surpassing and defeating his father has always been Shura’s dream, but now, the man he wanted to overcome looks like a beaten dog.
“Father, you’ve disappointed me.”
Shura shakes his head. Still, he can’t just stand by and do nothing. He has to at least try to save him.
This time, Shura didn’t return alone. He’s traveled the world—Western Kingdoms, Peacock Continent, Southern Islands, Northern Tundra, everywhere except the untamed Eastern Islands. Along the way, he’s gathered a group of skilled fighters, forming his own faction.
Like his father, Shura is ruthless, but he’s even more depraved and unrestrained, with a penchant for cruelty and lust. His reputation in the capital is worse than Ornest’s—rotten from childhood, twisted to the core.
Shura’s ruled by his baser instincts. Any beautiful woman who catches his eye is doomed to fall into his clutches, only to be tortured and killed after he’s had his fun. He’s the kind who loses all reason at the sight of a woman.
During his travels, Shura’s defiled countless women across the world, but thanks to his Teigu, Dimensional Formation: Shangri-La, he’s never been caught. One can only imagine what the Teigu’s creator would think of its use—probably furious enough to rise from the grave.
Naturally, the “talented” people Shura’s gathered are just as vile—scum attracts scum, after all. Still, a few among them have some combat prowess, including several Teigu users he recruited. They’re scattered in the crowd now, ready to act on his signal.
Shura pulls out his Teigu, a compass-like device: Dimensional Formation: Shangri-La, a space-manipulating Teigu. It can instantly teleport a target to a pre-marked location, though it consumes massive energy and can’t be used consecutively. Its ultimate ability, “Spatial Banishment,” sends someone to an otherworldly dimension from which there’s no return—a desperate, last-ditch move that halves the user’s strength afterward.
“Activate!”
Without hesitation, Shura triggers Shangri-La. A magical array-like pattern appears on the platform beneath Ornest and the young Emperor. The Teigu doesn’t target individuals directly but teleports anything within the array’s range.
However, under Shura’s watchful gaze, both Ornest and the young Emperor are yanked out of the array’s range just as it activates. The array flickers and vanishes, achieving nothing. Shura’s eyes widen in shock.
Buzz!
The crowd stirs at the sudden disruption. It’s clear something’s gone wrong—someone’s trying to rescue Ornest and the young Emperor!
Buzz!
Before the crowd can react, several shadow cages spring up from the ground, trapping certain individuals within.
Panic ripples through the onlookers. This is clearly a clash between Teigu users—ordinary people don’t dare get involved. A stray attack could kill them.
“Don’t panic! Follow the soldiers’ guidance and evacuate calmly. The Emperor’s gaze watches over all, and anyone who threatens the Empire will face his divine punishment.”
Soldiers step in to manage the situation, clearly prepared for this. Najeta, the Prime Minister of the Imperial Executive Office, takes charge to prevent a stampede.
Under the army’s control, the crowd is safely evacuated, leaving only the shadow cages on the plaza. It’s obvious this was all planned—the High Priest of the Imperial Church played a key role with his precognitive abilities. While not omniscient, his power provides warnings about major events, and Shura’s attempt to disrupt the execution was foreseen. This is a deliberate trap to lure him out.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The shadow cages echo with the sounds of desperate attacks from within. Those trapped are fighting to break free, but none succeed.
When Riku finally dispels the cages, the trapped figures emerge. Besides the tall, muscular Shura, there are five others dressed in eccentric outfits—three men and two women. The women are strikingly beautiful, the men distinctive in their own way.
Honestly, even without the High Priest’s foresight, Riku could’ve spotted this group. They stand out like sore thumbs, like minor antagonists destined for a brief spotlight.
The five lackeys look rattled as they’re released from the cages. They try to regroup, but artificial human troops and mechanical guards quickly separate them.
“Shura!”
The scumbags he recruited are shaken. They followed Shura because of his Teigu, Shangri-La, which guarantees an escape route. But now, with Ornest fallen, Shura’s value as the minister’s son has plummeted. These opportunists have no loyalty—without the need to rely on Shura for escape, they’d sell him out in a heartbeat.
“What are you scared of?! We’re powerful Teigu users! Can’t we just cut our way out? Are we really afraid of these small fries?!”
Shura, arrogant as ever, has no intention of fleeing. Since they’ve been exposed, he figures they might as well go all out and cause chaos.
To him, the soldiers surrounding them are nothing but fodder. Teigu users like them should be able to slaughter their way through with ease.
The only reason Shura didn’t immediately start a rampage was his initial goal of rescuing his father and the young Emperor. With hostages at stake, he didn’t want to risk them being killed. But now, with the rescue failed and his group surrounded, there’s no point worrying about hostages. It’s time to save himself—and maybe cause some havoc to test the Empire’s strength.
The shadow cages posed no real threat to Shura. As long as Shangri-La is Charged, he can escape anytime. As for his “comrades,” he doesn’t care if they die—the only pity would be losing their Teigu. Finding new Teigu users to recruit isn’t easy.
With no other choice, the five lackeys unleash their abilities, engaging the artificial humans and mechanical guards. But they’re quickly overwhelmed by a hail of gunfire. Riku’s forces don’t play fair—armed with advanced weaponry, they unleash a barrage with no regard for “honor.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets whistle through the air, forming a deadly net. The five lackeys freeze, scrambling to defend or dodge.
The first to fall is a samurai-dressed man named Izou, the only non-Teigu user among them. A swordsman who worships dark rituals, Izou has sacrificed countless lives to his beloved blade, Kousetsu. But no matter how skilled he is, he can’t evade the bullet storm. Riddled with holes, he collapses.
Whoosh!
Sword-like energy slashes fly out, wielded by Enshin, whose Teigu, Moonlight Waltz: Wind Blade Sword, is a curved blade that releases vacuum slashes. The strength of these slashes varies with the lunar cycle, strongest at the full moon. It’s early in the month now, so his crescent-shaped slashes swirl around him, barely deflecting some bullets.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions erupt as a clownish, heavyset man named Champ attacks. His Teigu, Quick Toss: Grand Pitcher, consists of six orbs, each with unique properties that activate upon being thrown and automatically return. The orbs are Storm Jewel, Blast Jewel, Flame Jewel, Ice Jewel, Lightning Jewel, and Corrosion Jewel. Facing death, Champ hurls all six.
“Aaah!”
Dressed provocatively as a bunny girl, Cosmina screams, wielding her Teigu, Earth Shatter: Heavy Pressure, a microphone that emits soundwaves capable of crushing bones.
The Teigu users fight desperately, but they’re battered and bloodied, struck by multiple bullets. The artificial humans and mechanical guards’ firepower is overwhelming—not every Teigu user can single-handedly dominate a battlefield or topple a nation.
(End of Chapter)
