WARNING!
Two sites have plagiarized my work without my permission.
This story goes beyond our perception of reality and common sense.
Definitely not Nihonkoku Shoukan.
Volume 1- Interactions With The Unknown World
Volume 2- Nation-scale Conflicts A...
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Somewhere in outer space, a space station orbits Earth.
A middle-aged man, chiseled and dressed in a black tuxedo, sits on a luxurious throne. He looks uninterestedly at the Earth while drinking his cherished Kingsman Royal Vodka, the result of an online mutual meeting with a woman.
A beautiful Caucasian maid professionally pours his empty golden chalice as a man with a white, curly beard approaches the presidential office. The beard covers half his face, reminiscent of those worn by noblemen in empire days.
"Mister President Voldskivar, may I have a casual talk with you?"
"Minister Ansen?"
The president gives a stern look to the analogous man, the head of the Russian Counter-Intelligence Agency.
"What do you think about her, the first human who transcended mortality?"
The man sneers.
Without a reasonable doubt against him, President Voldskivar sighs wearily.
"In my subjective view, she's a far more extraordinary, powerful genius polar bear to behold. No wonder she crashed ICC and CIA to dust this time again, as your agency's intel reports tell. We don't know about her real background or indeed the name of the secret society she leads to this day. Surely, soon, those white gallants will lose all their fingers."
"That's bold hypotheticals, Mr. President. I agree. America needs to reflect that she's not the lamp of all."
"I have mutual feelings, Minister. The USA is not the only superpower in the world. There's the theocratic country of Poland, the Queendom of New Zealand, the Japan Empire, and this chain of islands. Ah, before I forget, I urgently need to know the existence of the advanced society. This man is sure those were her inventors and geniuses came together! How long do I need to wait?! Does your agency warrant more funds?"
The President of the Russian Federation throws his drink to the side and the maid flees quietly, following a new help swap to clean the mess.
"Chill out, Mr. President. You're exaggerating over something we haven't confirmed yet. We're waiting for our 'exceptional' spies to report. Although it's been nearly eight months."
"So you eventually include the 'Killing Machine' Ansen. Anyway, this time around, Russia would like to know what would come of her friend."
The maid performs her duty and exits the room. She texts on her palm without any issues, as if doing a calculation.
As the two men wait for a minute, mesmerized by the beauty of the blue earth, a ticking count in a black glass pane turns on and an automated voice speaks.
