Chapter 79: preparations are over

Ruthen's eyes widened in awe as the ancient vessel approached the colossal shadow of the Darkstar Aldre. Even after witnessing horrors across galaxies, nothing compared to this.

The station, half the size of the dead world it had torn itself from, eclipsed entire continents. Massive hangars, each larger than planetary capitals, swallowed incoming ships like insects. Gargantuan engine cores pulsed with ancient, humming gravity-warping plasma, glowing veins of red and black energy radiating into space like a heartbeat of something unholy.

Around it, millions of Mahasimu motherships floated in disciplined silence, docked in rows, awaiting the resurrection order of war. The very void seemed thinner here. Heavier.

As Ruthen's dropship entered the perimeter, automated defense grids scanned them, weapon lenses shifting like watching eyes. Vorth-Ka'Zir stood silently, the psy-chain around his forearm slack now, but still humming with the residual aura of the Mythosaur.

Life Aboard Darkstar Aldre

Inside, the Darkstar Aldre was more than a war machine—it was a fully functioning ecosystem of death and dominance. Every caste had its place.

The Command Elite, composed of Grand Officers, war tacticians, and battle-scribes, operated in vast control hubs adorned with cascading shadow-sigil banners. Their every hour was spent calibrating destruction—fleet patterns, annihilation ratios, slave conversion algorithms.

The Shadow Troopers, rotated in 20-hour combat-preparation cycles, trained in zero-gravity slaughter chambers and psychic resistance drills. Some patrolled with beasts like the Mythosaur, while others supervised discipline wards where disobedient slaves were mentally shattered and rebuilt.

The Slave Castes, billions strong, lived in suffocating lower sectors, bred in vats or born broken. They cycled through brutal shifts:

Reactor core maintenance — walking naked among lightning arcs and radiation storms.

Bio-filtration duties — cleaning black ooze from ancient stasis pods, some still breathing.

Meat conduits — herding creatures to be processed into sustenance gel for the armies above.

They were issued no names, only numeric designations burned into their skin. Punishment was death. Praise was survival.

Command Chamber - Megacity of War

Ruthen and Vorth-Ka'Zir entered the command chamber—a sprawling megastructure with vaulted ceilings lost in shadow. The walls pulsed with the blood-red glow of ancient power veins. Screens the size of continents showed live war reports, celestial simulations, and death toll statistics like stock markets.

At its center stood Grand Star Lord Malgus, monstrous in frame and aura, cybernetic whirrs issuing from his spine and left arm. His yellow eyes glowed beneath the respirator. He turned slowly.

Upon a throne of flowing obsidian and shadow-metal, Queen Suama sat motionless—watchful and unknowable. Her robes shimmered like a collapsing nebula, a thousand glyphs of the conquered etched into her very attire.

Ruthen and Vorth-Ka'Zir knelt.

"Report," Malgus said, his voice like the crushing of dying stars.

Vorth-Ka'Zir rose first.

"The Broken Seers refuse to kneel. But they know the Ancient Shadows walk again."

Suama narrowed her eyes. "Then we move forward."

Together, she and Malgus began Phase Two—a war plan known only as "Void Reign."

Fleet movements across five galaxies. Dozens of Thalor strongholds targeted. Entire races marked for preemptive silence.

Jha'mor'ak - The Seers' Sacred Vaults

Deep within the inner sanctum of the Broken Seers, Dakarie stood alone in front of a towering crescent-shaped table, behind which the Four Elder Seers loomed in their thrones of crystallized black bone.

At the center, high above, the throne of the Grand Blind One remained dark and looming. The only attendants here were the Five Faceless Kings, unblinking and unmoving behind Dakarie.

"Why?" Dakarie's voice echoed in the sacred void. "Why did you stand aside? You knew what that thing was—what the Mahasimu truly are!"

The eldest Seer whispered, "Because we saw worse, long before your stars formed."

The Grand Blind One watched from afar, not interrupting. He had already made his decision.

Dakarie bowed. "Then I'll fight them myself."

As he left the sanctum, his silhouette vanished into the fog, escorted by silent warriors.

Council Chambers - Seers' War Protocol

Once Dakarie was gone, the Five Elders returned to the Council Sphere. The Grand Blind One descended at last, flanked by Grand Sentinels, his crimson-roped form radiating wrath.

He glared down at the council.

"You bowed when you should have bled."

They collapsed in obeisance, not daring to speak.

"This thing, this Vorth-Ka'Zir… had I not intervened, the shadow beast would have devoured our city. We cannot remain neutral. Not now. Not after this."

One Elder trembled. "The preparations—"

"Already enacted for millions of years. But now… ignite the war-forges. Begin the Rebirth Process. Summon the Hidden Choirs. We war now."

Behind him, a wall-sized display showed the Mahasimu vessel, Ancient Flame, slipping into warpspace beyond Jha'mor'ak. The screen dimmed as the Blind One turned his back on it.

Elsewhere – The Edge of War

High above the edge of the outer Thalor systems, Elder Xiran floated aboard his personal warbarge, watching the stars flicker.

The data-spirits whispered of Queen Suama's fleets approaching.

He looked toward his blade.

"So… it begins."

Behind him, an entire armada of lightborne Thalor dreadnoughts, beasts, and resistance cells gathered silently. Waiting for his signal. Waiting to face the shadow.