The battlefield erupted again.
Scalpers and Federation soldiers clashed in a brutal storm of fire and steel. Blades rang against claws, lasers burned through armor, and the screams of the dying were lost in the roar of war. Above the chaos, the Power Source raced through space like a star set free, its golden light cutting across the dark like a divine streak. Every faction wanted it. Every soul feared it.
Borarah wasted no time. His ship roared to life and launched after the orb. Inside, his crimson eyes never blinked, locked on the drifting prize that had eluded him for a lifetime. This was no longer about conquest. It was obsession.
Skye followed. Her fighter, battered and burning, pushed through the smoke trails of fallen allies. Her hands trembled on the controls, not from fear, but from pain. Her broken arm was tied with bloodied cloth, her vision blurry from a head wound. But she flew on.
Cracky remained behind. The Galactic Federation base was in ruins, its walls scorched and defenders nearly gone. Someone had to hold it. Someone had to stay.
Kaizu stood on the wreckage, surrounded by fire and silence, his golden black armor dented and glowing with heat. His mind was already ahead, watching the orb vanish into the dark. He grabbed his comm.
"Skye," he said, voice steady,
"launch the MG-6."
Even through the static, he could hear her breath stop. The MG-6 wasn't a weapon. It was annihilation. A missile that could wipe out an entire solar system.
"Understood," she replied.
No questions. No hesitation.
The battle above intensified. Federation fighters regrouped and followed her lead. The Scalpers fell apart in disarray, disorganized and wild. But one enemy didn't need an army.
Borarah.
He abandoned his ship mid flight, leaping into the vacuum of space, his Brocy blood allowing him to breathe and fight in the Space. Like a demon from myth, he smashed into Skye's ship, tearing through her squadron like paper. Her cockpit shattered. She tried to raise her arm, but it didn't respond.
Then, with a sickening crack, Borarah grabbed her and threw her aside. Her scream vanished into space. She drifted, unconscious.
The orb was within reach.
Borarah reached forward, ready to take it. Then suddenly, a hand appeared from the dark. A hand that wasn't his. It belonged to someone else.
Rakanta.
He came out of nowhere, faster than sound, quieter than shadow. No one had seen him coming, not even Borarah. He reached out for the orb, his fingers brushing the light.
Borarah roared.
"NO!"
Without thinking, he launched the MG-6 himself.
The missile shot forward, glowing with death, aimed directly at the Power Source.
Rakanta was too close. If he reached it first, he would absorb its power.
But he never did, a streak of light cut through space. Slash.,
Blood floated.
Rakanta's arms were severed. His stunned face watched as they drifted away, still reaching.
Kaizu hovered behind him, Weaponoids humming with starfire. His face was calm. Grim. Determined.
Yes, Captain saves the day.
He had saved the Power Source from both of them.
But now, the missile was nearly upon them.
Kaizu had no time to escape, asecond later, the explosion came.
The blast rocked the entire Second Universe. Light drowned the stars. Everything fell silent.
A broken voice crackled through the damaged Federation comms.
"Power Source... has been destroyed. I repeat... Power Source has been destroyed..."
A soldier with a shattered leg and bloodied face had managed to speak. His voice faded with his final breath.
Kaizu drifted unconscious, armor cracked.
Skye floated nearby, alive, barely.
The battle had ended.
The Galactic Federation had won.
But there was no celebration. Only smoke. Blood. Ash. Victory felt like mourning.
Soldiers dropped to their knees. Medics ran. Others just stared at the black sky, not sure what they were staring at anymore.They believed it was over.
But the Power Source... was never destroyed. It had escaped. The explosion was a flash. A distraction. While the universe wept, it fled, Silent, Alive.
It floated through wreckage. Past bodies. Through shattered asteroids. It drifted alone.
Toward Earth.
The crown jewel of the Second Universe. The economic heart. The home of humanity.
At first, Earth thought it was a meteor.
A glowing fireball raced through the atmosphere. Beautiful. Mesmerizing.
Then it hit.
Then Suddenly.,
The Earth did not shatter in an instant, it wept first. Skies turned a sickly violet as the atmosphere strained to contain what it could not understand. Oceans boiled in silence, tectonic plates buckled like paper beneath a growing pulse buried deep beneath the crust, a power source never meant for this world.
At first, it seemed like the planet itself was holding its breath. Birds vanished. Winds died. A stillness fell that made every soul look to the sky with dread. Then came the rupture. From the heart of the Earth, a pillar of blinding light burst forth, splitting continents and tearing the heavens open. Cities turned to vapor. Forests turned to flame. And as the power surged uncontrollably, bending gravity and time around it, Earth let out one last, low rumble like a mother mourning her children before collapsing into a storm of ash, lightning, and silence. What remained was not ruin... but a wound in space itself.
and yes, Earth was gone, not damaged,
Destroyed into piece. Had much to say,
it was only the beginning.