20th United Stellar Defense.
The na glowed in sleek chro letters across the towering skyscraper’s entrance, flanked by two holographic banners projecting the Earth Federation’s crest: a silver star orbiting nine planetary rings, surrounded by circuitry lines that extended outward like vines.
The building rose over a hundred floors into the synthetic sky, reflecting the ever-shifting hues of the city’s light field—a blend of technology and atmospheric control that kept conditions ideal at all tis.
Clark stood at the base of the tower, his eyes trailing upward along the glass-and-steel structure.
His senses reached far beyond what human eyes could see.
Energy reactors pulsed through the walls. Thousands of personnel moved like clockwork across multiple levels.
Data transmissions raced through the air, encrypted and layered, invisible to most—utterly transparent to him.
This place was more than a regional defense headquarters.
It was a symbol of order, fear, and silent power. And it was the perfect place to begin.
With a calm breath, he stepped forward through the arched gateway.
As he entered, scanning beams shimred briefly across his body.
The systems found nothing amiss.
Of course they didn’t—he had constructed his identity with a precision no machine could refute.
The lobby inside was vast and sterile in its elegance.
Marble floors etched with faint star maps spread outward in a circular pattern, and the walls were embedded with gently pulsing data screens showing updates from across the 20th Galaxy: fleet movents, diplomatic reports, border skirmishes.
The air was cool, faintly perfud with synthetic ozone and sterilized tal.
"Good morning, sir! How may I assist you today?"
The voice ca from a poised woman seated behind a semi-circular reception desk.
She wore the standard United Stellar Defense uniform—navy-blue with silver trimming—and a sleek visor over her eyes, which flickered with data feeds.
Her expression was warm but professional, trained to smile but not soften.
Clark approached her without hesitation.
"I’m Clark Colter," he said smoothly, offering a thin black folder.
"Here are my papers for the strategic coordination position."
The woman’s hands moved with fluid efficiency as she accepted the folder.
Clark had changed into a crisp black business suit monts before entry—nothing extravagant, just formal enough to convey presence and discretion.
Creating such appearances was effortless for him now.
Reality bent to his thoughts as naturally as breathing.
She scanned the docunts, her visor flickering through levels of verification.
His identity, qualifications, transfer orders, genetic profile—it was all flawless.
A fabricated past as detailed as any real history. Designed. Planted. Untouchable.
"Everything checks out perfectly, Mr. Colter," she said with a practiced smile.
"Welco to the 20th United Stellar Defense. Please wait just a mont—soone will be with you shortly to give you a tour of the facility and orient you to your new departnt."
"Thank you," Clark replied, and stepped aside, his gaze casually observing every inch of the lobby as he waited.
Behind his calm deanor, his mind was already working—mapping the building’s layout, detecting surveillance nodes, identifying personnel by their energy signatures.
His divine sense flicked through levels of the structure like pages in a book.
He saw command terminals five floors above. A vault sealed in quantum locking twelve floors below.
A project labeled "Cerberus Protocol" behind triple shielding in a sub-basent.
All of it was noted.
Exactly two minutes later, punctual to the second, a man in a tailored gray uniform arrived at the lobby entrance.
"Mr. Colter?" the man asked, approaching briskly. "I’m Lieutenant Arven. I’ll be conducting your orientation and initial tour. I trust everything has gone smoothly so far?"
Clark extended a hand and smiled. "Very much so, Lieutenant. Thank you for your ti."
They shook hands—Arven’s grip was firm, but formal. A soldier through and through.
"Excellent. Please, follow ."
They moved together through the corridors, each one wide, clean, and reinforced with armored paneling subtly layered beneath polished surfaces.
As they passed, Clark took in the facility’s staff—officers, analysts, combat veterans.
No civilians. Every person here had rank and purpose.
"Here on Level 1," Arven began, "you’ll find the public interface and general administration. Levels 2 through 10 are logistics and personnel managent. The strategic command center is housed on Level 27—that’s where your departnt will be stationed. You’ll have access clearance imdiately."
Clark nodded as if taking it all in for the first ti. In truth, he had already mapped every access point.
"We have a total staff of just over thirty-two thousand across this branch," Arven continued.
"Though, naturally, most of our active personnel are currently deployed in the 21st and 22nd galaxies, where tensions are... escalating."
Clark noted the pause.
"Any trouble on the outer ring?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
Arven offered a tight-lipped smile. "Nothing we can’t manage. The Demon Sword remnants have grown bolder recently, but so far, containnt efforts are holding. You’ll be briefed in more detail once you report to your departnt."
This was, of course, a lie. Clark knew Galaxy 22 was under heavy attack. But with billions of planets, the war would drag on for ages unless the Earth Federation abandoned it entirely, as they had with Galaxy 23.
They passed a long window, revealing the inner operations bay.
Massive screens displayed fleet schematics and orbital formations.
AI officers hovered beside human tacticians, feeding live simulations of defensive positions.
Clark’s gaze lingered on a particular screen—one showing a battle simulation against an unidentified humanoid figure.
One man, twenty ships, outco: total loss.
The model resembled a Demon Sword warrior.
A faint smile touched Clark’s lips.
"I assu you’re looking to strengthen counterasures," he said.
"That’s one way of putting it," Arven muttered. "We’ve been chasing shadows for over two decades. But that’s above my pay grade."
Soon, they arrived at a sleek black door labeled: Strategic Command – Tier 3 Access Required.
Arven turned to Clark. "This is where we part ways for now. Your departnt head will be expecting you inside."
Clark nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant. The tour was... illuminating."
With a subtle gesture, the door slid open, revealing a room humming with silent tension, filled with glowing maps and whispering walls.
Clark stepped inside, eyes flickering with controlled interest.
He had arrived and it would seem that his first target for his quest in this reality was already nearby.
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