The Archives of Patience
Recorded by Hua Xiong, Imperial Historian. Year 2072.
A true account of the Empire’s rise… and the quiet hour of its fall.
The world, for all its machines and miracles, had gone still.
Peace—if it could be called that—was a leash. A doctrine of deterrence. Nations dangled the promise of mutual destruction above their own heads, like Damocles' sword, claiming it made them wise.
But peace did not silence suffering. The weak were crushed beneath markets and laws. Empires grew fat while their people withered in forgotten corners. Revolution was inevitable. We had danced this dance before—red flags, fiery speeches, cold starvation. And so, we feared it.
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Until he came.
The Great Genius.
No one knew his birth name. No records, no origin, only arrival. They called him immaculate. Generous without fault. A voice that could move mountains—or cause them to kneel.
In a single evening, the old order vanished. Cities bowed. The Purity Rebellion did not fire a shot—it simply rose, and the world did not stop it.
We called it enlightenment.
But the Great Genius knew peace was borrowed time. Other nations, trembling behind their arsenals, began preparing for war. Not just with bombs—but with silence. Pre-emptive death.
And so, he answered—not with weapons, but with wonders.
Fourteen Imperial Arms. Demigods of machine and flesh, each a sovereign hurricane. With them, the world could be bent, or broken. They were humanity’s apex. Its final argument.
The Genius became legend. A god. The great nervous pariah—respected, feared, adored.
And then… he vanished.
No warning. No final command. Just the echo of his name in the silence.
On the dawn of war, the great cannon Yuhuangdi fired a beam of light that crossed oceans—and erased London. Not bombed. Not reduced. Erased.
And thus began the War of Purity.
Not for survival.
Not for peace.
But for the right to decide what humanity would become.
