Hidan (intermediary of 2 races)

German Imperial Republic - 1914 Berlin - The Great Capital of the Empire, Command Center of the Empire

The Imperial State was not born as a nation; it was born as a conquest that learned to govern itself.

It did not arise from a pact between peoples or a shared identity, but from an uninterrupted succession of campaigns, annexations, and wars of unification that, over time, ceased to be called wars and became “integration processes.” The Empire did not ask who wanted to belong to it; it simply advanced, reorganized, and endured. When the last enemy army was defeated, what remained was not peace, but order.

From its capital, Berlin, the Imperial State ruled an entire supercontinent, unbroken by seas and protected by natural borders. Geography itself had been subdued. Mountains were pierced by railway tunnels, rivers diverted to feed industrial complexes, and jungles cleared into productive grids. Everything was bound together by an unbroken network of iron, steam, and doctrine. Imperial railways crossed mountain ranges and deserts without ever stopping; telegraph cables strung across tundras and tropical regions; airships bearing the Reich's insignia patrolled the skies as a constant reminder that no territory existed beyond imperial reach.

In Berlin, the Empire displayed its ideal face. Not the most humane, but the most efficient.

The city stood like a living fortress of riveted steel, soot-blackened stone, and reinforced industrial glass. Ancient cities, kingdoms, and regional capitals had been absorbed, crushed, and rebuilt upon themselves into ministries, arsenals, doctrinal academies, and colossal factories. The past was not preserved; it was repurposed as a foundation. Every street, every building, and every square obeyed a functional logic.

The day began with synchronized sirens marking work shifts, transit schedules, and

The overall situation: Officially, they were called Nebenrassen—accessory races—a legal category that excluded them from history and the future. Their languages ​​were banned and eradicated in the ovens of imperial technical academies. Their music was declared degenerate for undermining collective discipline. Their art was publicly destroyed in the Imperial Order Squares, under the gaze of monumental statues of the Kaiser, always depicted pointing toward the future, never toward the past.

The vast agricultural fields of the Imperial Rhine, the vertical factories of the eastern continent, the deep mines of the Balkans, and the gigantic hydroelectric power stations of the south sustained a single thing: the endless machinery of the United Kingdom. Herbivorous females were branded at birth. Children were separated from their parents and sent to institutes for vocational training and doctrinal indoctrination. The elderly were eliminated as an unproductive burden.

Only the Imperial Anthem, the constant roar of the machines, and the perfectly synchronized march of the military columns remained. But even the most rigid system began to show cracks. In the fallen cities, in the forgotten districts, in the tunnels beneath the glittering megacities, chaos began to organize itself. The rebels didn't just destroy infrastructure: they sabotaged symbols, disrupted parades, toppled statues, seized stations, and released records. Where the Empire saw disorder, they built networks.

On the fringes of the imperial supercontinent, something began to crack. At first, there were administrative silences. An industrial complex in Transylvania stopped transmitting reports. Then another, in mainland Siberia. Later, entire railway junctions fell silent. Work crews vanished without confrontation, without bodies, like steam escaping between valves.

The Imperial Security Bureau classified it as foreign sabotage. A diagnosis

The Dark Wolf: imperials 1914 – Aufbruch der Stahlzeit (Imperial Year 1914 – Beginning of the Age of Steel)

For over a century, the United Kingdom of Imperial States—known in its official language as the Vereinigtes Reich der Kaiserlichen Staaten—had consolidated itself as the largest political, territorial, and military entity ever formed. It was not an empire fragmented by oceans or colonies separated by distance: the Kingdom ruled a single, continuous supercontinent, an unbroken landmass whose extent was equivalent to Europe, Asia, and Africa combined into a single sphere of power. Everything within those borders—cities, deserts, tundras, jungles, and mountain ranges—obeyed a single central authority.

From the imperial capital of Eisenmark, the administrative, industrial, and doctrinal center of the United Kingdom, power radiated with mechanical precision. The city rose above ancient fortresses and historic centers, now buried beneath layers of riveted steel, soot-blackened marble, and reinforced glass. Command towers, colossal factories, and monumental railway stations converged like veins toward the heart of the state. There, carnivorous supremacy was not a debatable ideology: it was a founding principle, accepted as natural law.

But Eisenmark wasn't the Kingdom's only jewel. Across the supercontinent rose imperial megacities, veritable urban behemoths designed to demonstrate the grandeur of the state order. Among them stood out cities comparable to Zootopia, colossal, vertical metropolises where thousands of races coexisted under a strict, artificial harmony. Climate-controlled districts, levels separated by species and function, endless avenues illuminated day and night by industrial energy. From above, they appeared as symbols of unity and progress; from within, they were living cogs in a perfectly calculated social machine.

In these cities, the propaganda...