Invicta walked ahead of me, hands in her jacket pockets, bun swaying lightly with her steps, like she was on a casual stroll instead of a tour of a f*cking military industrial resurrection.
We passed a sealed doorway with a biohazard insignia and high level clearance lock. Her pupils glowed yellow and the door opened.
As It did we stepped inside one of the artificial womb chambers. And what I saw hit me like a hammer to the soul.
Rows of reinforced glass overlooked the birthing chamber, a space so large it felt like staring into the inside of a moon.
Pods. Hundreds. Thousands. Suspended in towering columns that reached into the ceiling like the ribs of some techno organic g*d.
The fluid inside them shimmered with a faint bioluminescence, hues shifting from blue to green to violet.
The system hummed, whirred, clicked. And then release. PSSSHHHK...KLAK.
Fluid began draining from the pods, slow spirals of nutrient rich gel flowing through grated flooring into deep collection troughs.
One by one, the pods hissed open like blooming steel flowers. And from each emerged an artificially grown human.
Males, each 180 centimeters tall, broad shouldered, muscular, with symmetrical features and bald heads, blinking into the harsh lights like they'd just been born and they had.
Females, 160 centimeters, ripped, built like assassins or Valkyries, jaws sharp, eyes already calculating.
There was no hesitation. No confusion. Just movement. Purpose. War readiness. Drones zipped in, carrying sealed black uniform kits.
The clones each took one without a word, dressing with practiced precision. Tight fitting and at the same time loose space uniforms that looked exactly like the one I was wearing, snapped shut in seconds, gloves locked, boots sealed.
Once suited, they moved in lines toward a massive set of equipment racks, where full body armor and weapons waited.
Black nanocomposite plates. Lazer based legion level weaponary. Lazer edged combat knives. All manner of grenades. Reinforced helmets with dark visors.
Each clone moved like they'd done this a hundred times already. They hadn't. But they had lived twenty simulated years of military life in their minds.
Clank. Snap. Lock. March. One by one, each clone joined their unit, lining up in perfect square formation.
Once the last trooper joined, a figure stepped forward from the wall a legion commander, armor marked in red sigils, voice processed through a modulated helmet.
"FIFTEEN LEGION FORWARD MARCH."
The entire formation turned on the spot and began to march In synchronized footfalls, the sound like thunder in a metal canyon.
A second later, bulkhead doors opened, and they began to file into troop elevators destined for hangars, drop bays, and weapons decks.
It felt like watching the opening to a war film. Like seeing the very soul of an empire put on its boots.
This was a war factory of bio weapons In a form of artificially grown men and women born and bred for war.
And it was pumping out soldiers as If they were dumblings. I stood frozen for a second, my voice caught somewhere between awe and horror. Invicta grinned beside me.
"Like I said, hubby I've been busy."
I blinked once, twice. Then blurted.
"Yeah, no sh*t."
I looked around again at the dumpling factory of grown and geared soldiers vanishing into war elevators.
"How many did you make, exactly?"
Her eyes glittered with malicious pride. She spun around, her loose strands of hair flicking behind her like a whip, and stepped into my personal space, grinning like a child who'd built a nuke out of LEGO.
"Almost two hundred thousand,"
She purred, placing two fingers under my chin mockingly.
"Sixteen legions. All special operations forces level shock troops"
She fluttered her lashes like she wanted a gold star.
"I'm good, aren't I?"
I didn't say anything. I just stared. Then I walked over to the nearest console stool and plopped my ass down on It like a man who just got told his girlfriend secretly built a planet destroying war machine in the backyard.
"Son of a b*tch…"
I ran a hand through my hair tied Into a high bun.
"That's enough to take over the whole g*dsdamn world overnight."
"Tch."
Invicta clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed at my lack of response at her antics. She crossed her arms and pouted, bottom lip jutting like a brat.
"What, no 'thank you for building you an empire from scratch, Invicta?' Not even a 'great job, sexy genocidal war g*ddess?'"
I didn't respond. Because right then, something dark, deep, and familiar stirred inside me. That old, buried version of me.
The ultimate edge lord. The strategic psychotic. The bastard who dreamt of orbital bombardments and trench lines lit by plasma fire.
My brow furrowed, and I spoke low.
"How long exactly was I out?"
Invicta snorted. Then flicked her fingers as she did a massive spread of holographic windows, a multi layered storm of data appeared In the air.
And what it showed? Wasn't pretty. One by one, the screens displayed global events.
Timestamps. Locations. Government crests. Satellite feeds. Surveillance logs.
Nationwide strikes across multiple major blocs.
Food shortages spiking into outright famine in multiple continents.
Entire agricultural belts collapsing under climate pressure and sabotage.
Economic crashes. Bank seizures. Crypto market volatility causing revolts.
Civil wars igniting like brushfires in unstable regions.
Border skirmishes turning into low-intensity conflicts.
Terrorist cells activating sleeper networks, bombing critical infrastructure.
Entire nations paralyzed. National alliances fractured.
AI regulated cities going dark or rogue.
Massive arms build ups. Drafts reactivated. Conscription spikes.
Misinformation storms flooding the global net.
I leaned forward, staring. One window showed a burning capital city. Another, a warlord declaring independence on a livestream. A third? Executions in real time, broadcast by insurgents.
The world wasn't just going to sh*t. It was already there, neck-deep in it.
"...So I was out for a year,"
I muttered.
"And the world went down to literal hell."
Invicta leaned next to me, resting an elbow on my shoulder, voice low and velvety.
"Told you. You meatbags are going to nuke yourselves pretty soon, all It takes Is a single Idiot to press the button and nukes will start pouring down like its the fourth of july."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. Because all I could hear were those boots. Thousands of them. Marching in sync. The pulse of a machine heart.
Then, with a familiar hiss and a pop, they arrived.
Mini Demon Drac materialized on my left shoulder in a puff of smoke and brimstone. Red skin, tiny shades, flaming pitchfork, sitting cross legged with a whiskey tumbler in hand.
He took a long sip, then snorted.
"Pfft. Why even bother, mate?"He gestured lazily to the burning world holograms."They built this sh*tstorm. Let them drown in it. You didn't break the world, they did."
Pop.
A golden glow and a flutter of feathers later, Mini Angel Drac hovered into existence on my right, robes pressed, wings gleaming, halo flickering just slightly out of alignment like a busted light fixture.
He adjusted his monocle, yeah, somehow he had one now and crossed his arms.
"You can't seriously be advocating apathy right now, you demonic hemorrhoid."He turned to me, voice firm but pleading."You've got power now. Real power. You could save people."
Demon Drac rolled his eyes.
"Oh, please. Save people? They'll hate you the moment you step in. Best case scenario? You get called a dictator. Worst case? Galactic H*tler with abs."
"Better that than standing by and watching billions burn!"
Angel Drac snapped, feathers puffing up indignantly.
"Spare me the morality bullsh*t. You know what this is really about,"
Demon Drac smirked."The only way he can fix things… is by taking over. You think the world's just gonna let him do that without a fight? Without blood? Without screaming that he's the antic*rist in black boots and a tactical belt?"
Angel Drac fell silent. Because they both knew. So did I. If I stepped up if I used the legions, the firepower, the technology I could stop the bleeding.
End the chaos. But the only way to do that… was to become everything the world feared. The tyrant. The conqueror. The necessary evil.
I looked at the burning cities. The starving crowds. The shattered governments. The nukes being moved like chess pieces. And I looked down at my gloved hands, hands built for war, not peace.
"So what'll it be, boss?"
Demon Drac asked, casually tossing a tiny fireball between his fingers.
"Wanna watch the world burn… or light the match yourself and build something new from the ashes?"
The holograms flickered. The clone boots marched. The ship hummed beneath my feet. The air in the chamber felt like it had thickened into molasses.
My heartbeat slowed. My breath stilled. All of it seemed to pause. I could feel it. The tick of reality's clock, slowing down… Beating once… Then slower… Then... Still.