“You think I’m evil? Only children talk about right and wrong, as righteousness depends on your perspective. One’s hero is another’s villain. Grown-ups see the world in gains and losses. Victories and defeats. I am disappointed in you, my son.”

- Holy Emperor Fenix II, the Great Phoenix and the Champion of the Flames, to his son Fenix III, Heir to the Throne.

For years, Alexander Wolf thought his father was the perfect person. After all, Gerard Wolf was kind, brave, and honest. He cared for his family, and in an age where Imperial Nobles were known for their adulteries, affairs, and fetishes, this made him stand out like a sore thumb. What made him stand out more was his respect for the common people.

This was an era where battlefleets dominated the galaxy. An age where Lords and Ladies could use machine guns to mow down their own population as they wished and no one would bat an eye. After all, there was nothing the people could do but submit to their rules. Not when a single battleship could lay waste to a metropolis. Not when a line of troopers could cleanse an entire street of protestors with blood. Not when propaganda could make sure things like protests would never leave the city, and all those innocent protesters who were mowed down mercilessly...well, as far as the rest of the planet was concerned, they were just violent rioters that had to be put down.

Yet, even though he could make every man and woman in the star system his slave, Gerard Wolf treated them as his equal. He prohibited torture in the legal system, fought corruption within the government and the corporations, and even established what resembled a jury system.

He was a noble person. An idealist. Yet in a world as cruel as this one, idealists don’t live long. Even his powerful fleet and his brilliant military tactics couldn’t save Gerard from his inevitable and tragic end.

As Wolf’s superior, Duke Wells was afraid that Gerard would take his place. It didn't matter to him that Gerard would never do that. He didn't care. All the drunk old fool knew was that Gerard had the power and the influence needed. To him, Gerard was a threat.

As Wolf’s equal, Countess Valentine would do anything to climb up the ranks. She saw Wolf as a threat to her ascension, and again, whatever Gerard thought didn't matter. Whether he liked it or not, his very existence was an issue. The Countess desired power with all her heart, and she refused to let friendship or even love stop her. To her, Gerard was a stepping stone.

As Wolf’s subordinate, Baron Lamb desired what he thought was rightfully his. A planet to rule as he saw fit. An entire population to enslave. The authority to burn millions alive at wish. Perhaps he hoped for a promotion as well if Gerard became Duke. When none of that happened and it became clear that Gerard Wolf was fully content with being nothing more than a mere Count, he decided to take things into his own hands. To him, Gerard was an obstacle.

All of them wanted Gerard Wolf and his entire family dead for one reason or another. They were willing to do things dirty, and ultimately, the noble fell to the wicked.

It was the tragedy of reality. In the real world, the good tends to suffer and die while the evil grows and prospers.

Alexander Wolf sighed. Slowly, he looked up at Lamb with dead eyes.

“I can see where you are coming from, Admiral. I really can. I understand why you did it, just like how I understand why Duke Wells and Countess Valentine did what they did. My father was more flawed than I would like to admit.” His tone suddenly shifted. “Of course, as much as how much what you did makes sense...you and your co-conspirators killed my father. You butchered my defenseless mother and sister. And for that...I will kill you one day, just like how I will kill the Duke and the Countess one day.”

His voice was low. He wasn’t yelling or screaming. Instead, he said what he said with a terrifying level of restraint. Of course, Lamb could hear the burning hatred behind Alexander’s simple declaration.

To that, he merely chuckled. Countless deadly enemies didn't break him. It would take more than a boy who lost everything to do that. Alexander’s fate had already been sealed regardless of what the boy himself thought.

Of course, before he proceeded, he wanted to teach the boy one last lesson. For old time’s sake.

“Guards!”

Two Marines walked in, their expressions covered by their helmets. Their shoulders still bore the sigil of Obsidian. The sigil of the Wolf.

Admiral Lamb turned to the Marines.

“Listen to me, Marines. A few hours ago, your Supreme Commander, Count Gerard Wolf, was killed. He was murdered in his own home. I am partially responsible for that. Now...the official story will be that he was a traitor. An agent of the Republic sent to infiltrate and sabotage the Empire. However, that is a lie. He was a loyal Imperial Noble to the end. I knew that, yet I aided in his death nonetheless for my selfish interest.”

The two Marines exchanged confused gazes, unsure of if their Admiral was serious or not. Alexander was confused as well, but Lamb kept on going.

“Now, Marines...you have a choice. You can arrest me...or even try to execute me. However, know that whether you are successful or not, you will not make it through the day alive. The world will never know you as self-sacrificing warriors who avenged their Lord. Instead, they will be told that you are also Republic spies and traitors. Your families will be shamed and assaulted. Their properties will be stripped from them.”

“Or, you can turn around as if nothing happened. Let the same person who murdered the Obsidian Wolf, your Lord, go free. Soon, I will become the new Count of the Obsidian System and the Supreme Commander of Battlefleet Obsidian. After that, I will expand our fleets. I will start handing out land, slaves, and even planets to those who did their duty. And the next time that pathetic old man comes to us, begging for help...we will be asking for one of his systems as compensation.”

“Your choice, Marines. Will we march into a new era...or will you avenge your fallen Lord?”

Even as he spoke, Lamb’s eyes were trained on Alexander. What he said was a little reckless, and if the Marines were idiots, he could be in real danger. Yet Lamb was confident to a point of arrogance. These Marines guarding him were his personal bodyguards, and when he selected his guards, he made sure that they would be more loyal to him than to anyone else. What soon happened proved him right.

“I see, my Lord.” One of them nodded. “Congratulations and we look forward to the new era. Now, if there is nothing else...”

With that said, the two Marines turned around and returned to their posts outside the room.

Alexander wished he could say he was disappointed, but at this point, he was all out of disappointments.

Admiral Lamb chuckled at the dark expression on Alexander’s face before lecturing him.

“As you see, loyalty is not as simple as saying an oath. Ensuring one’s loyalty is a complicated process, involving many things. You have to tie the interest of your subjects to you. You have to understand what they want and reward them when they do their jobs. At the same time, you have to make it clear that while you are fine with handing out rewards, you are also fully capable of punishing those who betrayed you. Unfortunately for you, my Lord...I’m afraid you’ll never have the chance to try it out.”

For some reason, that made Alexander want to snicker. Saying an oath didn't work, huh? Yet his heart was still heavy.

Before his thoughts could wander, the Admiral moved onto another topic. A topic he truly cared about.

“Now, make this easy for yourself and tell me, my Lord…” He stood up from his table, towering over Alexander like a beast. “Who helped you escape your burning mansion? Give me a name, and I will make your death quick and painless.”

Twelve minutes later, in an interrogation room in the Obsidian High Command, Alexander was tied to a chair. A piece of cloth was put into his mouth to prevent him from biting off his own tongue and killing himself. A little excessive, but appropriate for a descendant of the Wolf.

Of course, as of the moment, the descendant of the Wolf wasn’t doing so well. There was no obvious wound on his body, but he was clearly in pain. His body was shaking like crazy in sheer agony. Maddened by pain, Alexander struggled against the restraints, but it was useless. The people who tied him up knew what she was doing.

A woman in her fifties was sitting in a chair in front of Alexander. She watched his pained expression in silence. If anything, she was enjoying watching the boy suffer. The woman was a member of Obsidian Naval Intelligence. Her specialty was extracting information from prisoners by torture, something the late Lord Wolf didn't quite approve of.

This was why it was especially satisfying for her to use the same methods the father prohibited on the son.

Alexander was silent, which was especially surprising to the woman. Aside from ruining her fun, it also made her realize perhaps her method wasn’t as effective as she hoped.

In other words, she needed to do more.

Slowly, the woman stood up and walked to a counter, which held over a dozen syringes. Half of them had a red substance inside while the other half had blue. She grabbed onto a red syringe and made her way up to Alexander.

“I’m going to ask this one more time.” She hissed like a viper. “Who helped you out?”

She was only answered with silence. The woman smirked. Unlike amateur interrogators who were all too happy to get in on the action, the woman was experienced enough to know that sometimes it was the anticipation that was the most terrifying. So instead of acting, she spoke.

“You must be wondering what this substance is. And why you’re feeling like every part of your body is on fire. Well, let me explain that for you. This...this is what Imperial scientists call Compound Tyrant. It is a chemical compound designed by the ONI that works directly on your brain. Your pain receptors. It messes with them and convinces them that you are suffering when, in reality, you’re not.”

“The benefit of this compound is that it makes it very difficult for you to die. So if you’re hoping for bleeding out...don’t bother. Compound Tyrant can make you feel like you’re in hell without causing a single scratch on you. I have seen veterans and trained spies broken by this, so a noble-born like you, well...you don’t stand a chance. Even if your brain is too messed up, those blue syringes over there...” She pointed at the counter. “they can counter the effect of Compound Tyrant. Give your brain a moment to calm down and recover...before we get back to work.”

“In other words, this pain will go on for an eternity...or at least until you give me a name. That is the only way to end this. To put you out of your misery.”

She made a tempting offer, but Alexander didn't say anything. He simply sat there and endured the torture in silence. The only response he gave her was a gaze. A quiet, mocking gaze.

Furious, the woman slammed the syringe into Alexander’s neck and pumped the Compound Tyrant inside him. This made the young man shake even harder. His mouth opened as his breath grew heavier, but in the end, he didn't say a thing.

The torture continued. The woman did her best to get an answer from what should have been an easily broken prisoner. Instead, the entire time, Alexander gripped his teeth and refused to say a thing. Finally, the woman, defeated, turned and left the room. For safety purposes, she injected Alexander with the antidote before she left.

As the woman was no longer in the room, Alexander, still shaking from the aftereffect of the torture, suddenly smirked. A feeling of warmth flowed across his body.

Using torture to threaten a Lord of Agony? How creative...