In the vast, endless void of space, deep within a sprawling asteroid field, drifted a colossal vessel—silent, dormant, and surrounded by a shimmering blue energy field that repelled every asteroid that dared approach.
Some of these asteroids dwarfed planets—massive enough to rival even Jupiter or Saturn. Yet none breached the vessel's barrier. It sat untouched in the chaos, like a forgotten god floating in deep space.
The ship's hull gleamed faintly under the weak light of a distant dwarf star. Sleek, flawless, almost glowing—it looked as if it had just left the shipyard. Not a single scratch marred its surface. Its design was elegant, yet monstrous, armed with weapons so massive they gave the ship a feral presence. A beast forged from steel and silence.
Inside, endless corridors stretched through its core, layered with massive chambers, laboratories, and halls. One such chamber held thousands of humans—motionless in cryogenic pods, frozen in time, as if waiting for something. Or someone.
Back outside, the ship loomed—a monument to lost engineering, untouched by battle, unsullied by time. No insignia marked its pristine hull. No sign of who had built it. It was an enigma floating in silence.
Then—inside the command centre, silence reigned.
The room was enormous, lined with dormant control panels, inactive consoles, and strange equipment. In the center stood a seat—not just a captain's chair, but a throne. Cold, regal, and commanding.
And just beside it, sprawled across the floor, was a young man.
He wore a plain white shirt and black pants—clothes that had seen better days. The shirt was dull, faded, and dusty, with small tears at the seams. It clung loosely to his frame, worn down by time. But his body? It was flawless. Muscular. Impossibly sculpted. As if he had been forged with the same precision as the ship itself.
His eyes were shut. Still. But then—his eyelids twitched. Slowly, they opened.
Even the faint glow of the command centre made him squint. But something else stirred with him. All around him, the once-dead panels flickered to life. Lights blinked. Consoles hummed. The dormant systems of the ship awakened in unison, as if they recognised him.
The man slowly sat up. As he did, the cold of space hit him hard. His breath fogged in the frigid air. Before his awakening, an invisible field had protected him. Now, exposed, the chill bit into him with sharp teeth—a jarring contrast to whatever warmth he remembered.
But then, as if responding to his discomfort, the ship's life support systems powered up. Air processors kicked in. Heat began to return. Yet the ship's reactors remained dormant—still asleep, like something waiting for his command.
He stood, slowly. His balance was uncertain, like someone waking from a deep coma. The room around him—alien and unfamiliar, yet… oddly known.
The panels. The throne. The bridge.
His gaze fell to the main viewport.
Beyond it, he saw the asteroid field, the gleaming hull, the vastness of space. It hit him like a wave. A surge of recognition. A truth buried so deep it felt like a dream clawing its way back.
"This… this can't be real," he muttered, voice hoarse and uncertain.
He stared into the void—and the reflection staring back was one he didn't recognise. But the place? The ship? The throne?
It all felt like his.
Like he had been here before.
And all of it looked real—far too real to be a dream or some hallucination.
But how could this be real? This ship... wasn't it the Obliterator-class dreadnought he'd been building in Galactic Conquest? That was just a game. So why—why was he inside a ship that shouldn't exist at all, let alone feel this solid, this alive?
Confusion battled with disbelief as he tried to make sense of it. This wasn't just a dream—he was sure of it.
No, he remembered something. Vividly. The final moments before everything went black and he ended up here.
As memories of last might surfaced.
He'd been playing Galactic Conquest deep into the night—past 2 a.m.—completely immersed, totally disconnected from reality. The fleet battle he was in had grown more intense by the second.
After hours of commanding his forces, he finally won. It had been brutal—mentally and even physically draining, despite being a game. The moment the victory screen flashed, he'd felt it hit him: exhaustion.
His eyelids were heavy, and his vision blurred from lack of sleep. Mental fatigue weighed on him too. He'd played this late countless times before—usually stayed up this late without issue. But this was the first time he felt this tired, this overwhelmingly sleepy.
It was unusual.
His body was begging for rest. "Looks like I overdid it again," he muttered. "But the mission was important."
With that, he shut down his high-end gaming rig and stood up from his chair. The room, already dim, turned pitch-black once the computer powered down.
And just as he stood up, he felt his already tired body grow even heavier. He had underestimated just how exhausted he truly was. He hadn't even checked the date—he hadn't been playing for just a few hours. It had been over a day. No food, no breaks, nothing for more than 24 hours.
But he didn't have time to think about that—or anything at all.
He stumbled. Then tripped. Fell headfirst—and hit something hard.
And then… nothing.
As soon as he hit the floor, darkness didn't just fall. It swallowed him whole.
Back to the present...
He instinctively raised a hand to his head, checking for any injury—but there was none. Not a scratch. Shaking his head, he muttered aloud, "I fell… and hit something. But that still doesn't explain why I'm here—in a ship I designed and built myself. And not just anywhere… we're drifting in an asteroid field."
Before he could spiral deeper into thought, a sharp ding echoed through the chamber, catching him off guard and snapping him out of his daze.
He spun around, scanning the vast chamber, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. But there was nothing. No movement. No sign of where it came from. Just more questions piling up in his mind.
And then, a voice—cold, mechanical, yet oddly mesmerizing—spoke:
"Hello, Master Kallus. It's good to finally meet you."
Before Kallus could react or even form a question, a glowing blue holographic panel materialized before him, casting an ethereal light over his surprised, slightly stunned face.
He took a deep breath—then another—as he stared at the projection, thoughts racing.
Then, right before his eyes, the panel shimmered and began to shift… morphing into the figure of a beautiful young woman, appearing to be in her early twenties.
She had flowing crimson hair, and eyes of the same hue—burning like fire, intense enough to consume anyone who stared too long. Her face was striking, overwhelming, almost unreal. Pure beauty, in every sense of the word. Kallus found himself momentarily entranced by the vision before him.
Snapping out of it with a deep breath, he forced his voice to stay calm and collected. "Who… who are you? Where is this? And why am I inside the Obliterator?"
He fired off the questions rapidly, eyes fixed on the red-haired woman who had just materialized.
She blinked, as if surprised by his composure—or maybe his questions. Then, in a calm, almost reverent tone, she answered, "Master, I am the Red Empress, born from fragments of all creation. And yes… this ship is your Obliterator—its AI, to be exact."
Kallus's mind reeled as he processed the name Red Empress. He muttered it to himself, but before he could drift further into thought, her voice brought him back.
"As for where we are… that, I'm not entirely certain," she said. "We'll need to fully activate the Obliterator to determine our exact location. But yes—it's definitely space."
Kallus frowned at her answer. The first part had weight… but the last line made him twitch. He almost coughed as he mentally retorted, Space? Really? No kidding. Have you looked outside? Might've been better not to say anything at all.
Then came the kicker.
"As for your last question—why we're inside this ship…" she paused. "That, I don't know. Not completely."
Kallus nearly stumbled at that, but managed to stay on his feet. He stared at her, half in disbelief, half in frustration.
"What do you know then, Red Empress? Nothing?" he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm and confusion.
The Red Empress nodded gracefully—like true royalty—and replied, "Umm… not exactly nothing. I do know somethings—just not all. That's what I meant."
"Oh, is that so?" Kallus said, eyeing her skeptically.
She nodded again, then he asked, "Alright, tell me what you do know."
"First," she began calmly, "we're in a different universe from the one you previously lived in. But it's still somewhat similar. We're in the same galaxy—or at least one like it. The Milky Way."
She paused briefly, then continued, "However, I don't know our exact location within the galaxy."
Kallus listened carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"The differences between this universe and your old one lie in scale and resources," she said. "Everything here is… far greater. Vastly more powerful. The stars, the matter, even the energy itself—it's all on a different level."
She paused again, her tone shifting into something more thoughtful.
"As for why you, I, and this ship are here… I don't have the full picture. But from what I do remember—it was the work and will of the Supreme Being. He….brought us here. Both of us."
He blinked, his mind racing to process her words. "A… new universe?" He repeated her words, his voice of a mixture of shock and curiosity..
"The… Supreme Being?" He muttered.