🌀 STATE 🌀
Level: 37
Rank: SSS / 00 — Primordial Apex
Strength: 72
Endurance: 77
Speed: 118
Skill: 69
Psyche: 0 + 200
Available points: 27
"I could invest everything into strength... but it wouldn't matter. Even if I doubled it, I still wouldn't be able to face one of those creatures. Speed and psyche are acceptable... maybe the best choice is simply endurance. What do you think, Karma?"
Tyrin watched the Black-Plated Beasts closely, keeping a safe distance. He knew that, as paradoxical as it seemed, staying close to those gigantic creatures offered the best chance of survival. They were herbivores — true walking tanks — and their presence scared off most predators.
Around them, few animals had realized the same thing he had: that sticking with the herd was the only way to keep breathing. The problem? Those bison were slow, painfully slow. It would take them months to cover what Tyrin could cross in days.
"Did you eat enough, Karma?"
The creature beside him was still feasting on the bison meat. Tyrin knew she hadn't liked the flesh of the Panthera — she had only swallowed its stone, rejecting the rest with a look of disgust. But the bison... ah, the bison was a delicacy even pets recognized as delicious.
"We were lucky... Finding a stray one alive was a miracle, wasn't it?"
But even miracles have an expiration date. Once separated from the herd, bison became easy targets — and they usually didn't last long. Nature was cruel.
For two days, Tyrin followed the group while Karma regained her strength. He used the time to rest, eat, and — for the first time in weeks — sleep through the night.
"I wonder how everyone's doing..." he thought, leaning back against his winged creature, listening to the distant, rhythmic chewing of the bison.
"Sir, all ships are ready. Just awaiting your order."
The voice sliced through the silence of the command room like a fine blade, filled with restrained tension. The echo reverberated across the metallic walls, but the man seated before the panel didn't answer.
Surrounded by a wall of translucent screens displaying data, maps, and heat signatures, the Commander remained still in his chair. His eyes, fixed on the void beyond the panoramic visor, seemed to search among the stars for some meaning in what they were about to do.
There were signs of life on the planet below — faint, scattered, but still alive. Maybe they were fighting, with everything they had, for one more day. Maybe there was hope. But their mission wasn't a rescue.
It was total annihilation.
No exceptions.
No survivors.
The cavalry had arrived... but not as saviors.
To everyone on board, he was simply "Commander." His true name had long been lost in decades of campaigns. His face bore the hardness of one who had seen too many wars, lost too many friends... but it was the invisible burden that marked him most: the weight of every decision made, the guilt of orders followed — orders from a voice he had never seen in person.
"Sir...? Are you listening?"
He blinked slowly, as if waking from a distant dream.
"...Sorry, Mirage," — his voice came out hoarse, choked, almost a whisper from a forgotten battlefield. — "Begin the strike on the marked area. Let it all begin now."
"Preparing orbital strike..."
pause
"Sir... we're detecting objects approaching. Something... luminous."
Out there, the fleet was in position. A constellation of steel hovering over the planet like a guillotine. All weapons aligned to a single point: an ancient structure, embedded in the heart of the desert like a secret buried for millennia.
"It's not a threat," — the Commander declared, emotionless. — "Our scientists analyzed it. It's just magma expelled by the invading creatures. It should dissipate before reaching the fleet."
But it didn't dissipate.
The light grew. It swelled. And then, it struck.
The impact hit directly on thrusters 1 and 6. The ship shook as if struck by a comet. The explosion that followed was so violent it turned the night of space into a second of blinding clarity. Alarms blared in unison. Sirens screamed. The ship's structure groaned like a wounded beast.
BOOM!
"What the hell was that?! Are we under attack?!" — the Commander shot to his feet, eyes wide with fury and shock.
"No, sir!" — Mirage replied, struggling to keep her balance as systems collapsed around her. — "It was the object... The one the scientists swore was harmless! It... it hit the critical zones directly!"
A second explosion.
Then a third.
Like cosmic dominoes, the ships around them began to fall one by one, amid flames, screams, and twisted steel. The sky, once clear and orderly, was now a floating graveyard of metal and fire.
"Dammit!" — the Commander shouted, fury choking his words. — "WHO made this mistake?! Who was the idiot who said that thing wasn't a threat?!"
"Sir, all support ships have been destroyed. We're losing control of the formation!"
"Move! Quadrant 38, NOW! Focus all power on the remaining thrusters!"
But it was already too late.
One of the secondary ships, spinning out of control, was hurled directly into the side of the mothership.
CRAAASH!
The impact was brutal.
Officers were thrown like rag dolls against the walls. Beams shattered. Screens burst into shards of light and glass. The floor tilted violently, and a chorus of screams joined the deafening alarm.
"Altitude loss... system compromised... emergency... emergency..."
Amid the chaos, the Commander remained standing, clutching the back of his chair like a rock in the heart of the storm.
"Immediate evacuation! ALL of you! Get to the escape ships! We're going down!"
"But, sir..." — Mirage hesitated, pale. — "The Insects are on the planet! This is suicide! For the Emperor's sake, what are we—"
SLAAP!
A sharp slap silenced the panic.
"Shut up, Junior!" — the Commander bellowed, eyes blazing. — "The escape ship is 300 meters away. I've already alerted Central. Our mission ends here. Now run. Survive."
The crew didn't hesitate any longer. They began to run.
But Mirage stopped.
She turned and saw the Commander still there.
Motionless. Silent. Staring at the panel as if waiting for something... or someone.
"Sir...? Why are you still here? WE HAVE TO GO!"
"The commander..." — he murmured, eyes fixed on the display — "doesn't abandon his ship. If I can hit that pyramid with it... we can take revenge. We can change something."
"But the automatic controls are destroyed! You'll have to do it manually!"
"Then that's what I'll do."
"NO."
The silence that followed was heavy as lead.
"...What do you mean, no?"
"You won't be able to do it alone. I'm going to help you."
Rhase turned slowly. His tired eyes met Mirage's — eyes he knew better than his own. She, his lieutenant, his shadow in every mission, his silent hope... was willing to die by his side.
An eternal instant passed between them.
Then, he nodded.
"Then let's go kill some bugs."
The next seconds were a blur of commands and manual calculations. The ship shook. The planet already filled almost the entire view through the visor — space was no longer visible, only swirling clouds and the outline of the surface drawing nearer.
"I've released the emergency ships," said Mirage. "Thrusters are ready. Aligning reentry vector."
"Disengage autopilot."
CLIC.
"Sir, evacuation confirmed. All pods have launched. Thrusters calibrated."
"Then let's end this..." — the Commander's voice sounded like the death toll of an empire. — "Activate... NOW."
On the planet below, the Insects — colossal, beetle-like demons — continued their ancestral march. They launched jets of magma into space, indifferent to the war raging above.
But then, the sky tore open.
A colossal ship, a leviathan three kilometers long, broke through the clouds in freefall. Descending like an angry god, as if the universe itself had hurled a clenched fist at the Earth.
The Insects looked up...
And for a moment, the sun vanished.
"It was an honor serving you, sir…" — Mirage said, her voice thick with tears.
"Likewise, Junior..." — the Commander replied, his gaze steady despite the imminent end. — "Likewise."
And then — impact.
The ship struck the surface with the force of a thousand nuclear bombs.
The world exploded.
The ground split open. Mountains shattered. The sky turned to fire.
Insects? Vaporized.
The terrain? Reduced to ashes.
The planet? Scarred forever.
And at the center of the destruction...
the pyramid.
Still. Untouched.
As if watching the sacrifice with disdain.
Not a single scratch.
GAIA — SEVERAL HOURS LATER
In an imposing room filled with high-ranking officials, voices rose in heated arguments. The absurd number of stars displayed on each chest inflated the egos in the room. Outside, such decorations commanded immediate respect. But in here... everyone looked like children fighting over a newly discovered toy.
"BAAAHHH!"
An explosive sound cut through the air. All the old men in the room turned toward the door. And there he was.
A man walked in, wearing outrageously loud shorts and a sleeveless dress shirt, revealing a muscular chest and a chain-shaped necklace as over-the-top as the pink sunglasses perched on his face. His presence shattered the solemn atmosphere of the room.
"So this is where the cowards gather..."
The words hit like a punch. They weren't well received — but everyone knew who had just walked in.
Well... almost everyone.
"— Who the hell is this punk? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with, kid? We are the Empire's elite!"
One of the officers, covered in medals — though fewer than most in the room — stood up, indignant. The newly arrived man lowered his sunglasses, revealing eyes that glowed in an unnatural way.
"— Wait... those eyes... You're—"
Before he could finish the sentence, the officer's body began to tremble. His muscles spasmed unnaturally. Agonized screams echoed, despite the soundproof walls. His body twisted violently, contorting into impossible shapes, until—
A silent implosion.
All that remained was a small baseball-sized ball of flesh on the floor.
"— Paravel... that wasn't necessary. He was new here..."
"— To me, you're all the same. I can count on one hand the ones who actually deserve to be in this room. At least now... I've added to my collection."
Everyone knew what collection he meant. Paravel kept a collection of "meat balls" — remains of soldiers or creatures he deemed worthy of recognition, or simply too bold. No one dared stop him. At most, they'd send a condolence letter to the family. After all, Paravel was above the rules... and just below the Emperor.
"— Well, now I do feel better. So, may I know why I was pulled from the frontier?"
Silence. No one seemed willing to answer. But one of the older men, perhaps having stared death in the face too many times, finally spoke up.
"— Unfortunately, this morning, we lost contact with nearly seven hundred thousand soldiers and around thirty ships in a single attack. We summoned all the Ultras from your division and from the main division. They only sent the rookies... but they're still Ultras. Your commander said your power would ensure you arrived first, so... we called you."
"— Wait... this is a rescue mission? Is that why I was pulled from the frontier?!"
The air in the room seemed to chill.
"— Actually, no, Paravel. It's an elimination mission. We know all the ships were destroyed, but some survivors are attempting to contact the outside. You're to go to Klandato, eliminate all remaining humans, destroy any compromised data, and secure the pyramid's perimeter until the rest of your company arrives. We believe the PR angle on this incident could be positive despite the loss."
Paravel laughed. Loud. Cold. Cruel.
"— So the monsters killed everyone just for fun. That sounds like a great story for the headlines. HAHAHAHAAHAHHAAH, I love it. And here I thought you rats had finally developed some empathy... Hahahahaha! You're still the same frightened vermin, terrified of being exposed..."
He turned toward the door.
"— I like this. Consider it done. I was about to hit a beautiful beach on planet X23... but I guess that'll have to wait."
With his threatening and disdainful words, Paravel left. No one dared say a word after that.
After all... who would be mad enough to question an ULTRA?