The sun had barely risen when Commander Surez stormed into the barracks.

  His voice cut through the air, sharp as an order carved into steel.

  “Recruits! Today you will report to the Grand Hall for Captain Sharlok’s lecture. Wash up, get dressed, and move!”

  Sky let out a long sigh.

  At least, after two days of sweat and torture, he would finally be able to wash like a human being.

  Folded neatly on the bed lay the imperial uniform. A military outfit — simple, yet flawless. All imperials wore green.

  But not with the same weight.

  The uniforms of common soldiers were bare, severe, stripped of any ornament.

  Those of captains and generals, instead, shone with medals, rank stripes, and golden details that left no doubt about who commanded.

  Sky slipped into the uniform with a pained grimace.

  “Feels like it’s made of sandpaper…” he muttered, casually adjusting his dark glasses on the bridge of his nose.

  The Grand Hall revealed itself to be immense.

  Rows of tables and chairs stretched endlessly along the walls, while gigantic imperial banners — heavy as verdicts — hung from the ceiling, nearly touching the floor.

  At the center, upon a small raised platform, stood Captain Sharlok.

  His back was straight as a spear. In silence, he wrote formulas and military terms with white chalk across a vast blackboard, as if carving doctrine into stone.

  The last echoes of footsteps faded.

  Sky and the other recruits took their seats.

  Then — silence.

  A silence that felt enforced by something deeper than fear.

  Sharlok turned slowly.

  His gaze cut across the hall like an invisible blade, stripping away every hesitation.

  When he spoke, his voice was not loud. Yet it thundered against the walls like cannon fire.

  “Today you will learn the Way of the Empire. Every imperial soldier must know their duties, their enemies… and who they truly serve.”

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  He paused.

  “The Empire exists to bring order and destroy chaos. Our mission is to protect the peace of those who choose to live under the law that binds us together.”

  He wrote two words on the board: Order and Peace.

  “For this reason, security comes before all else. Our lord is the Emperor — the one who stands at the summit of every rank, the only being with the authority to decide the fate of the world.”

  On the stage, Sharlok stepped behind the lectern. He draped his coat over his shoulders as if carrying the weight of an entire continent.

  “The birth of the Empire dates back nearly three thousand years. Twelve families. Twelve bloodlines. Twelve supreme codes.”

  From that moment on, he did not stop.

  Sky sat in the front row, his pupils slowly losing focus.

  Beside him, Shark had already tilted his head back, eyes wide and lifeless.

  Somewhere a few rows behind them, a recruit fainted silently.

  Shark whispered, “This… is worse… than physical torture.”

  Sky stared ahead, drained. “If this is the Way of the Empire… it’s longer than I thought.”

  Yet Sharlok did not hesitate. To him, every word was vital.

  And this… was only the introduction.

  The Grand Hall sank into an almost religious silence.

  “The Twelve Founding Families of the Empire…”

  He listed the names one after another, as if reading a verdict etched into history.

  When he pronounced Zhaar’n, the throne of the first Emperor, even the air itself seemed to stiffen.

  “The imperial succession follows three degrees of Legitimacy. Blood. Mandate. Consent of the Twelve. Though only the Zhaar’n Family holds Absolute Prelation.”

  Shark murmured, “Is he… still talking…?”

  Sky sighed. “I think he will… forever.”

  But then the tone shifted.

  “And our enemies…”

  Sharlok’s eyes became blades.

  “They are all who threaten the Empire. Criminals, pirates… and above all, the Clans.”

  That word finally captured Sky’s attention.

  “Our task is not to deal with common crime,” Sharlok continued. “We monitor the Level Ups. And when a criminal organization cooperates with one of them… imperial intervention becomes inevitable. And final.”

  He drew a scale across the board.

  “For centuries, the Empire has classified Level Ups based on the threat they pose to human civilization.”

  He pointed to the first mark.

  “Level One. Contained threat. Limited damage. Trained units are sufficient to neutralize them.”

  He moved down.

  “Level Two. High risk. Urban areas compromised. Requires coordination between senior officers and organized forces.”

  The chalk struck the third line.

  “Level Three. Large-scale destruction. A single individual can annihilate a city. Intervention demands multiple captains, specialized units, and direct supervision.”

  Sky straightened in his seat.

  “Level Four. Regional devastation. Only a General may lead such an operation, supported by elite divisions.”

  Silence.

  “Level Five. Continental threat. Extremely rare individuals, often serving clan leaders or directing strategic operations. Facing one requires large-scale war.”

  Sharlok circled the next level.

  “Level Six. Absolute Clan Leaders. Individuals capable of total annihilation. When one of them moves… the Empire responds with its full force.”

  Shark stiffened. “And… Level Seven?”

  A long silence followed.

  “Level Seven exists,” Sharlok said. “And there is only one. Information regarding him is classified. And it is better that way.”

  He turned toward the hall.

  “If you ever stand before that monster… there will be no battle. Only annihilation.”

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  Sky, however, wore a faint smile.

  Not fear.

  Excitement.

  And in that moment, he understood something clearly:

  The Way of the Empire was not his path.

  Castle Rock was not a school.

  It was a prison.

  And Sky had already decided he would escape.

  —

  Next Episode — The Escape Pact