
(Based on RendalliCentori Fanfiction)
CentoriCore was not born of chance.
It was forged in the fires of ambition, blood, and collapse.
Long before the Core existed, the galaxy trembled beneath the banner of the Sparti Republic—a relentless war-machine masquerading as a civilization. The Republic did not negotiate. It did not compromise. It conquered.
From childhood, Sparti citizens were stripped of innocence and reforged into weapons. Tacticians. Recon specialists. Demolitions experts. Hand-to-hand executioners. They were trained not to question, only to advance. These living arsenals were unleashed across the stars, conquering, enslaving, and erasing any who resisted.
System by system, world by world, the Republic expanded.
And with conquest came unimaginable wealth.
For twelve centuries, the Sparti Republic ruled a vast empire of twenty thousand star systems, its fleets blotting out suns, its banners planted on thousands of inhabited worlds. Entire economies were bent toward one purpose: war. Ever-larger weapons were forged. Ever-deadlier machines were unleashed.
But power always demands a price.
The Republic’s obsession with domination bled its treasury dry. Its citizens starved while war engines grew. The government fractured under its own weight. Worlds began to secede. Loyalty dissolved into resentment.
The Sparti Republic, once unstoppable, began to rot from within.
The Republic’s greatest enemy did not rise from beyond its borders.
It rose from within.
Rebellion ignited across the empire like a chain reaction. Former soldiers turned on their masters. Civilian populations armed themselves. Entire fleets defected overnight. The rebellion struck fast, hard, and without mercy.
The final battles were fought on Roma, the Republic’s sacred homeworld. Once a shining megacity, Roma was reduced to ash, glass, and ruin. Orbital bombardments scarred the planet forever. When the smoke cleared, the Sparti Republic was no more.
But victory did not bring peace.
It brought a vacuum.
With Roma in ruins and the Republic dead, the galaxy splintered. Power was no longer centralized—it was contested.
Four factions emerged to claim dominion:
The first three fought openly, drowning systems in blood to prove superiority.
CentoriCore chose another path.
While others clashed in brutal displays of force, the Core listened.
It watched.
It infiltrated.
It learned.
Espionage replaced brute force. Intelligence replaced pride.
Their enemies mocked them for it.
That arrogance would cost them everything.
Ignoring the warnings of his own advisors, Aldus Magnas, leader of the Templists, marched his dwindling zealot armies straight into a Venture trap. The result was annihilation. The Templists were erased. Aldus himself fell in the slaughter.
The galaxy believed the war was ending.
The Venture appeared victorious.
Hope flickered among civilians desperate for peace.
But CentoriCore had been waiting.
Unknown to the galaxy, CentoriCore had achieved what no civilization before them had: perfect cloaking technology. Entire fleets vanished from detection. Sensors failed. Eyes lied.
Silently, Core fleets slipped into position around two critical worlds:
At the time, the Venture’s main fleet was weeks away, finishing off the Remnants.
Then the Core struck.
In a flawless two-pronged assault, CentoriCore crippled the Venture’s leadership, destroyed supply chains, and severed communications across their empire. Starving troops mutinied. Systems revolted. The Venture collapsed under the weight of its own ambition.
For the first time since the Republic’s fall, the galaxy knew silence.
Peace had returned.
Victory did not turn the Core cruel.
It turned them deliberate.
Rather than rule through fear, the Core rebuilt. Infrastructure rose from ruins. Trade routes reopened. A new economic engine emerged: CoreBazzar, a centralized galactic market.
Merchants resisted at first—until they realized it empowered them. Guilds formed. Trade flourished. Prosperity spread.
The Core Imperium, the governing body of the empire, expanded its vision:
Unemployment vanished. Poverty receded. For the first time in centuries, people lived—not merely survived.
“The worlds of the Core Imperium are happy and at peace.
Not because of us — but because of you.”
— Rendalli Centori, Coronation Speech, Terra, 3220
At the center of it all stands Rendalli Centori — founder, architect, and Imperius of CentoriCore.
Cold. Calculating. Enigmatic.
He rules with restraint, appearing only when necessary. Yet rumors persist: that he walks among his people at night, unseen, listening.
Centori promised something no ruler had ever dared to promise.
Immortality.
And he delivered.
Through nanotechnology, life was extended indefinitely. The treatment cost mere credits—affordable to all. Death, once absolute, became optional.
An age ended.
Another began.
CentoriCore is more than an empire.
It is a universe.
A community.
A vision.
And now, the Core extends its hand once more.
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