UNIVERSAL LEGION

Chapter 3

The vastness of space stretched infinitely in all directions, an ocean of darkness speckled with distant stars. Within this endless void, a single structure floated—a behemoth of metal and might.

A colossal silver battleship, shaped like an elongated oval, drifted through the abyss. Its reflective hull shimmered as if the very light of the cosmos bowed before its presence. Jagged black layers lined its frame, an aesthetic contrast that signified both elegance and warfare. This was not just any warship; it was a titan of destruction and preservation alike—the headquarters of the Universal Legion.

A force so powerful that a single member could wipe an entire planet from existence.

Inside the battleship's heart, the Command Room pulsed with flickering holographic displays and the hushed murmurs of officers. The air was thick with tension, a silent dread that loomed over even the most hardened warriors present.

Seated in the center, upon a throne-like command chair, was a figure of awe-inspiring presence.

His half-human, half-dragon form was draped in a pristine white uniform, the contrast between its purity and the chaos of the universe he governed striking. His golden eyes flickered with intelligence, yet a deep sorrow rested within them. His body was adorned with lustrous white scales, remnants of a race long vanished from existence. This was Lord Irys, a warrior whose name alone was enough to make the bravest tremble.

Before him stood Furnal, one of the Universal Legion's most feared commanders. His dark-red skin shimmered under the blue glow of the holo-screens, giving him a near-demonic appearance. His jet-black eyes, devoid of pupils, stared with unsettling intensity. Though clad in the standard black combat suit of the Legion, he carried an aura that set him apart.

His voice was a harbinger of grim tidings.

> "Lord Irys…" Furnal's voice was rough, but unwavering. "The Immesurians… have been eradicated. The Quantinians as well."

A silence followed.

One that felt like the final moment before a cosmic storm.

Irys did not react immediately. Instead, he exhaled slowly, a weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of countless lost civilizations. His clawed fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal of his chair, his mind racing through the implications.

> "Why won't they ever listen?" he murmured, his voice laced with sorrowful frustration.

His gaze fell upon the flickering reports before him, holographic records of entire planets now reduced to cosmic dust. They had warned them—begged them—to evacuate, to abandon their homes and flee beyond the reach of destruction.

And yet, they stayed.

Did they believe the Universal Legion to be liars? Or did they simply choose death over exile?

Before he could speak further, another voice, smooth yet laced with unspoken fear, cut through the silence.

A woman with radiant blue skin, her bald head gleaming under the ship's artificial light, turned toward Irys with widened eyes.

> "Lord Irys… we just received another report."

She hesitated.

Irys's heart sank.

> "The Giamistians… have been erased as well."

A sudden, unbearable silence consumed the room.

Irys clenched his fists, his sharp claws scraping against the armrests of his seat, leaving faint trails of destruction upon the pristine metal.

And then, the dreaded question.

> "How many galaxies… have the Enders consumed?"

A grotesque, insectoid figure stepped forward, its six arms twitching, mandibles clicking as it processed the question.

The answer rippled through the room like a death sentence.

> "Two thousand."

The words hung in the air, suffocating.

Irys's golden eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as the reality set in.

> "Two thousand galaxies…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And with Giamistia's fall… the Uzu Galaxy is now lost."

The Enders.

A name that should have never existed.

An entity whose mere mention was enough to send entire civilizations into hysteria. They were not an army. Not a race. They were a phenomenon—a force of destruction so absolute, so overwhelming, that even gods trembled at their advance.

And now, they were unstoppable.

For the second time in his existence, Irys felt something he detested.

Helplessness.

The first time had been when the Mad Titan Thanos rampaged through the Milky Way, seeking the Infinity Stones.

Even then, the Universal Legion had been powerless to interfere. The distance between Oryz and the Milky Way was too vast, the war too sudden. Irys had been forced to watch from afar, helpless, as the Titan carved his way through half of existence.

But fate had intervened.

Against all logic, against all calculations… Thanos had been stopped.

Not by gods.

Not by legions of warriors.

But by a group of heroes—the Avengers.

They had shattered the impossible. They had rewritten the very fate of the universe.

And now, as Irys sat upon his throne, staring into the abyss of loss, an idea crept into his mind.

A mad, reckless gamble.

> Should I give them the Divine Globe?

His hand subconsciously moved toward a concealed compartment within his chair. Within it rested an artifact of unfathomable power—the Divine Globe, an object rumored to possess the ability to bend fate itself.

A tool meant only for the gods.

Could they… do it again?

Could these mortals, who had once defied the inevitable, somehow defy it once more?

A silent, powerful resolve settled in Irys's heart.

He had no other choice.

"Why aren't we the ones striking them?!" A thunderous voice boomed, shaking the very walls of the command hall.

The source of this outrage was a massive, burly man with jet-black skin, his upper body bare except for the insignia of the Legion emblazoned across his chest. A pair of towering white horns jutted from his forehead, curving slightly backward. His presence alone screamed power, as if he were the strongest being in existence.

This was Buza, one of the Legion's most feared commanders.

Before anyone could answer, Buza's voice tore through the hall again, his frustration palpable. "We sit here on this ship, waiting, watching as they erase our people—our races—and yet we do nothing!" His fists slammed against the table, sending a shockwave through the room. "Are we just going to let them slaughter us like insects?!"

Irys closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a slow breath. Then, when he spoke, his voice thundered like a storm rolling across the cosmos.

"Do not forget," Irys said, his silver gaze locking onto Buza, "that my own race, the Dragwarts, were the first to fall to them. We were stronger than gods! Each one of us possessed power that rivaled the divine, and yet… they were wiped from existence."

His words sent a chilling silence through the room. Even Buza, whose fury had seemed uncontrollable, clenched his jaw as Irys continued.

"The Enders are not a simple enemy, nor are they an army we can crush through brute force alone. They are something beyond us." Irys's fingers dug into the armrests of his throne. "We are not holding back out of cowardice. We are gathering knowledge. Until we understand the nature of our enemy… rushing in will only add to the body count."

Buza's hands trembled, but he held back his rage. He knew Irys was right. He just hated how powerless it made him feel.

Then, a quiet voice spoke, smooth and composed, slicing through the tension like a knife.

"I believe we are looking at this the wrong way."

All eyes turned to the figure stepping into the center of the room.

Draped in a flowing purple robe that shimmered like an endless nebula, Lazel exuded an aura of intellect rather than raw power. His unnaturally long violet hair cascaded down his back, and his piercing amethyst eyes held a glimmer of unshakable confidence. Despite the chaos around him, he remained as serene as a scholar who had already solved the equation before anyone else had even seen the problem.

"Lazel," a woman spoke, her voice sharp yet composed.

Kalynda, a warrior with shimmering emerald scales covering her skin, stood with her arms crossed. Her gaze held a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

"What exactly do you propose?" she asked, her green eyes narrowing.

Lazel exhaled slowly, as if carefully choosing his next words. Then, he turned his gaze toward Irys, the only one in the room who truly understood what he was about to say.

"I believe it is time… to use the Divine Globe."

A ripple of shock passed through the commanders. Even Buza, still brimming with frustration, seemed momentarily caught off guard.

Silence stretched through the hall, and then—

"Are you insane?!" Kalynda snapped, slamming her fist onto the table. "A globe? You think a mystical trinket will save us from an enemy that devours entire galaxies?"

Lazel merely smiled.

"You misunderstand," he said, clasping his hands together. "The Divine Globe is not an artifact. It is a key… a gateway."

Irys leaned forward, his expression unreadable. Lazel continued.

"The Divine Globe has the power to send a select few into a realm beyond existence itself—a world where things both exist and do not exist at the same time. A realm where time moves at the speed of light… and also does not move at all."

The other commanders stiffened.

Lazel's voice remained steady, unwavering.

"In this world, possibilities are endless. If we can survive within it… we will ascend beyond our current limits." His amethyst eyes gleamed. "We will reach a state of power so absolute, that even the Enders will become insignificant before us."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Then, a deep voice broke the stillness.

"…Is this true?"

The speaker was Crynix, a commander who had remained silent throughout the meeting. His body was thin, his skin a translucent white, and where his eyes should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless face. On his forehead, a glowing green bead pulsed with energy.

Irys did not answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Lazel, as if searching for something hidden behind those violet eyes.

He already knew.

Lazel wasn't suggesting this out of some noble cause. He wasn't thinking about saving the universe.

No…

This was his chance.

His chance to transcend everyone.

To become something greater than even the Universal Legion itself.

Irys clenched his fists.

"You sneaky bastard…" he thought, his heart growing heavy. "You have no intention of saving anyone. You just want to become the ruler of the universe."

The command chamber was deathly silent, save for the faint hum of the planetary ship's systems. The weight of what Raziel had just said hung in the air like an executioner's blade.

None of them truly understood the Divine Globe. None but him.

Irys closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Its power is beyond comprehension," he said, his voice carrying the weight of countless centuries of knowledge. "It is not just an artifact… It is a force that holds the fragile threads of reality together. If beings as powerful as us enter its domain, the strain could—no, would—falter the very foundation of this universe."

He opened his eyes, sharp and resolute. "It can only be used once. And once it is spent, it will take trillions of years to recharge. If we waste it now… there will be no second chance."

Silence.

Then, Lazel scoffed. "Does that matter if we all die anyway?" His usual composed demeanor was cracking, the sharpness in his voice betraying his frustration. "Do you not see what we are dealing with?" He gestured wildly. "The Enders are wiping out entire galaxies as if they were nothing but specks of dust. We have fought them for twenty years and have accomplished nothing but suffering. Nothing."

His piercing purple eyes locked onto Irys. "If we do not act now, it will not matter if the Divine Globe exists at all. There will be nothing left to save."

A heavy silence followed his words.

Then, one by one, the other commanders nodded. Even Buza, who had been the most vocal about taking direct action, clenched his fists but remained silent.

Irys lowered his gaze. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair as his mind raced through a thousand possibilities. Finally, he sighed.

"Fine," he said at last. "We will use the Divine Globe."

Relief washed over the room.

"But not yet," Irys continued, silencing any further argument. "Not until Max Squad returns. They are still out there, and I will not abandon them."

Lazel was about to object when—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The sudden blaring of alarms sent a jolt through the entire chamber. Every commander's head snapped towards the control panel as the emergency communication system flared to life.

The voice that came through was sharp, frantic, terrified.

"S-Sir… I think we are under attack!"

Irys' expression darkened. "Who?"

There was a pause. Then—

The operator's voice shook as she whispered the answer.

"It's the Enders."

The entire room stiffened.

For twenty years, the Universal Legion had suffered immeasurable losses at the hands of these creatures. Every battle was a bloodbath, a war of attrition they had no hope of winning. And now—

Now, they were here.

Raziel's voice cut through the tension, but it was no longer calm. "How many?"

The operator hesitated.

"Tens? Hundreds?" Raziel pressed, urgency creeping into his tone.

The silence stretched, a dreadful moment of anticipation. Then—

"No, sir… not hundreds. Thousands."

The connection cut off.

"Hey—hey!" Raziel shouted into the receiver, but there was no response.

Somewhere on the ship, a communicator clattered to the floor, slipping from trembling fingers.

The operator sat frozen in her chair, her eyes locked on the scanner display. Her skin, normally a deep shade of blue, had turned a sickly pale. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead as her breathing became ragged.

Outside, in the endless void of space, the Enders had arrived.

They came like a living storm, their tens of ships moving in a perfect, silent formation. Their flagship, an obsidian behemoth, bore the same ominous symbol seen in every fallen galaxy:

A massive black X, with a small red O at its center.

But it was not the ships that truly terrified her. It was what had emerged from them.

From the abyss of their vessels, they descended.

Thousands of figures, cloaked in darkness itself, their bodies flickering between dimensions like unstable phantoms. Their empty, soulless eyes gleamed like distant stars, their forms radiating an aura of pure, unfiltered destruction.

And then—

They spoke.

A single phrase, whispered in unison, yet reverberating across the entirety of space itself.

A decree. A sentence.

A death knell for all who stood before them.

"Irrelevant life must end."

The operator's breath hitched. She could not move. Could not think. Could not breathe.

Because for the first time in her life—

She felt fear like none other.

And this… this was truly the end.

To be continued.