The surviving ships of the 9th Fleet limped toward the military port under a leaden sky, as gloomy as the heavy iron hulls slicing through the water.

  After several days of travel, the fleet finally reached base. The decks were strewn with the dead and wounded from the Sun Empire’s surprise air raid. Sam sat in a shadowed corner of the bridge, near a window. From here, he could survey the surroundings: a massive military harbor with dozens of warships at anchor. On the shore, several colossal vessels were under construction—some he guessed were aircraft carriers, others battleships and destroyers.

  Juliana sat in her command chair, her eyes fixed forward, burning with cold fury. Occasionally, she glanced down at the black body bags being moved. The 9th Fleet, the pride of the Tahi Empire, had never suffered such a humiliating blow.

  As the ships docked, the piers swarmed with soldiers and trucks waiting to collect the fallen.

  "Let's go," Juliana commanded, glancing at Sam. He stood up from his oversized chair and followed her like a loyal hound. Below, the atmosphere was a chaotic mix of military precision and grief. Juliana moved through the noise like a cold wind, her eyes tracking every movement.

  "This way, Princess!"

  At the foot of the pier, a man in elegant black formal wear gestured toward a waiting motorcade. Looking at him, Sam was reminded of old-world royal butlers. He wore a tailcoat over a crisp white shirt, a black bowtie, and white gloves. His leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine.

  Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry; the sophisticated outfit looked absurd topped with a pig’s head. But he told himself to get used to these surreal juxtapositions of the old and the new.

  Juliana nodded and headed for the cars. Sam followed, receiving a look of utter disdain from the butler, who seemed used to his mistress bringing home "human pets" for her amusement.

  "Another one, Princess?" the butler asked softly. Juliana simply nodded without looking back. "To the palace, or the training camp?"

  Juliana paused, thinking. "Take him to the camp for evaluation first, then to the palace. He will stay with me. And be mindful—he can speak."

  "Understood, Princess."

  The butler, whose name was Henry, looked at Sam and jerked his chin toward the car behind Juliana’s. "Move it. This is your spot."

  Sam climbed into a vehicle that looked like a Rolls-Royce from the 1940s, though it was twice the size of the original. Juliana’s car featured two small flags: the Tahi national flag and a royal standard—a red crown on a black field.

  Inside Juliana's car, a high-ranking official was already waiting. "We have officially declared war on the Sun Empire," he announced as the car pulled away.

  Juliana remained silent for a moment. "Does anyone in the Council of Elders oppose this?"

  "Of course. The War Department opposes a full-scale conflict; they want a retaliatory strike, nothing more. They fear the Holy Kingdom will stab Tahi in the back while we are distracted by the Sun Empire. The Holy Kingdom and the Sun Empire are allies, looking to redraw the map to counter Domecus."

  Juliana stared out the window, her mind working through the geopolitical board. Eventually, the official spoke again: "The Queen was very worried about you. I think it's time you started learning how to govern the country."

  "How long to re-arm the 9th Fleet?" Juliana ignored him, changing the subject.

  "Personnel mobilization will take a month. The replacement ships are nearly finished. We sail in thirty days."

  "Which fleets will join the assault?"

  "Fleets 1 through 5. They are already moving toward Sun Empire waters... but Princess, are you listening? You shouldn't go back to sea."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "I have a debt of blood to settle. Once the Sun Empire is annexed, I will return to help my mother."

  The motorcade entered the city. Through the glass, Sam memorized the architecture—a strange blend of the unfamiliar and the classic European styles of the past. This was Tahilia, the capital of the Tahi Empire. It felt like a gargantuan, twisted version of London or Rome.

  Juliana’s car went straight to the palace, but Sam’s vehicle turned toward a massive structure resembling the Colosseum—only three times larger. Sam didn't need an explanation: this was to be his new "home."

  He felt a surge of anxiety. He didn't want to be a gladiator, but in this world, the options were simple: fight to survive or be butchered for a banquet.

  The car stopped inside a vast courtyard surrounded by three-story buildings. Sam saw about thirty humans—mostly of African and Nordic descent—training with medieval weapons: swords, spears, and shields. It looked exactly like a scene from Gladiator.

  A trainer approached them with a greasy smile. "Ah, Chief Steward Henry! Bringing a new fighter? How unexpected."

  Henry, looking disgusted by the smell of the training grounds, replied coolly: "A fighter by order of the Princess. Your job is to train him."

  The trainer, Josh, squinted at Sam. "A European breed? Good for 'Mud Fighting,' but not as strong as the Africans. He looks like a Mid-European. Not as good as the Nordics. And the Asians? Don't bother—weak, better for meat."

  Sam realized that even in this era, the racial stereotypes of physical dominance persisted.

  "Master Josh, this human is not for the Mud Pits," Henry corrected him. "The Princess wants him as a 'Human Guard' (V? Nhan)."

  "Ah, I see! A personal guard. The Mid-Europeans are obedient and loyal. Very suitable for a pet guard." Josh patted Sam on the head as if he were a Doberman.

  "I don't have time for small talk," Henry snapped. "His schedule: training here in the mornings, returned to the palace in the evenings."

  Henry left, and Josh signaled for Sam to follow. "So, you can talk? Understand me?"

  "Yes! I understand!" Sam replied.

  "Hah! You talk like a Pig! Who taught you to be so blunt? Listen: you don't use personal pronouns. It’s 'Yes, Sir' or 'No, Sir.' To royalty, it's 'Your Majesty' or 'Mistress.' Clear?"

  "Clear, Sir."

  Josh led Sam to the other humans. "Listen up! This is 'Sea God.' Some idiot gave him a stupid name. He’s training with you, but he’s not for the pits. He’s a Human Guard for the Palace."

  The other humans gathered around, patting Sam’s shoulders in greeting. But as Sam looked into their eyes, he felt a profound sense of alienation. They didn't feel like the humanity he remembered.

  That evening, after a grueling 60km "introductory" run, Sam was returned to the palace. Juliana was at a royal banquet, so a maid led Sam to the Princess's chambers. He was shown a corner near the door—his "sleeping area."

  The room was vast, filled with bookshelves that reached the ceiling and a large map on the wall.

  "The Great Land... so that's what they call it now," Sam whispered to Ade. He studied the map: 12 major nations spanning Africa to Asia-Pacific. The Tahi Empire sat in what used to be Europe, with its capital, Tahilia, built over the ruins of London.

  Sam turned to the bookshelves. He needed to understand this world. "So many books... I don't have time to read them all."

  "Just flip the pages," Ade replied. "I can scan and store the content instantly."

  Sam grabbed a book titled History of the Great Land. His eyes moved like scanners as he flipped pages at double the speed of a normal human. In five minutes, the entire volume was digitized. He moved through dozens of books on military, culture, and science. Finally, he picked up one with a provocative title: The Mysteries of the Origin of Pigs.

  He had just opened it when a voice startled him.

  "A human reading? You can read?"

  Sam closed the book and turned calmly. "Yes, Princess."

  Juliana stood there, stunned. A human who could talk was rare enough, but one who read books for knowledge was unheard of. She remembered him using the AA launcher on the ship; she had assumed he was a highly trained guard, but this was different.

  "Who taught you to read the language of Pigs?" she demanded.

  Ade quickly synthesized a lie. "My previous master was a biologist in the Holy Kingdom," Sam replied. "He spent his life teaching humans to read."

  "And he taught you to use weapons too?" Juliana's eyes were suspicious.

  Sam realized he couldn't hide his combat skills. He nodded, bracing for the worst. Ade, prepare for combat. We might need to escape. He feared being sent to a lab for dissection.

  "Relax," Juliana said, noticing his tension. "I have no ill intent. As long as you are loyal to me, no one will touch you. In this world, I’d rather trust a human than a Pig. Humans are loyal; Pigs are treacherous and greedy."

  She walked toward the bathroom and began to undress. Sam's face flushed, but he reminded himself: I am just a pet to her.

  However, as she stripped, Sam froze in absolute shock.

  Her body—from the skin to the curves of her hips and breasts—was perfectly human. The only "pig" features were a short tail, slightly upturned nose, pig-like ears, and four-fingered hands. If you ignored those, she was a stunning woman over two meters tall.

  "She... she’s like a hybrid!" Sam shouted in his mind to Ade. "A product of human and pig genes!"