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..
The Eternity wasn't just a Empty big space. It was an empire of the impossible.
Across its infinite stretch drifted planets both colossal and humble, some rooted in gravity, others floating free entire civilizations built atop sky-islands tethered to nothing but clouds and faith and outside the universe, in the void there are many kingdoms floating in th Rocks freely they disagreed to be under the control of the government. But some of them does but only some.
According to the last official survey, each of the Nine Sectors contained nearly ten thousand habitable worlds, making close to ninety thousand living planets per universe.
Every one of them was different. Unique ecosystems. Unique histories. And, most of all, unique races.
Some races had evolved to surpass the limits of flesh and bone the super humans , Karkians, whose skin could resist starfire the Gaverians, whose minds could break machines with thought alone and the Colosians, giant beings who wielded graviton hammers as if they were feathers. These races dominated in politics, warfare, and technology. They held the chairs of leadership. Their names rang out in every council chamber.
And then there were the others.
Weaker, Fragile and Forgotten.
But not all were powerless.
Among them, one planet stood out not for its strength, but for its significance. Earth. The supposed weakest race humans had become the economic pillar of the 2nd Universe, yes. But brilliant beyond reason. Their innovations powered entire industries. Their unpredictable nature equal parts reckless and inspired made them the most dangerous kind of survivors.
Humans were never meant to stand among titans, and yet they did. They had no natural claws, no mental weapons, no alien gifts but they had curiosity. They had fire in their minds. While others dominated through power, humanity built, traded, adapted. Earth became one of the oldest, richest, and most deeply interwoven planets in the interstellar economy. Its skies were beautiful, its lands shared by many species, but it was the humans those fragile, unpredictable creatures who made it all possible.
They had a strange way of seeing danger as comfort and comfort as threat. They were illogical. And in that illogic lay their brilliance… and their doom.
Some said Earth was one of the oldest planets in recorded Eternity history. But its true value had never been about age and on one quiet night, that secret awoke.
Aruky stood on the rooftop of his home, coffee steaming in his hand, unaware that he was witnessing history's funeral.
A scientist beyond compare, he had served the Galactic Federation for decades. His inventions changed the way Eternity traveled, traded, and defended itself. Yet in that moment, he was simply... still. Watching.
The sky turned pinkish-blue, an unnatural sheen rippling across the atmosphere. Beautiful. Unsettling. He narrowed his eyes but didn't move.
Then the wind stopped.
No leaves stirred. No birds called. Even the city's hum the background noise of civilization faded into silence. The Earth didn't shatter in a single strike.
It mourned.
The skies grew sickly violet as the upper atmosphere warped and twisted, trying to contain something it could not comprehend. The oceans boiled quietly, their steam rising like ghosts. Below the surface, the planet's crust shivered under a growing heartbeat something buried, something ancient, pulsing faster with every second.
And then it happened.
From deep within Earth's mantle, a pillar of blinding white light burst free, exploding through the crust like a spear of judgment. It split mountains. It shattered tectonic plates. Continents broke apart. Cities didn't fall they vaporized. Forests ignited in walls of blue fire, and the gravitational field began to warp, time twisted.
Voices stopped.
And in its final breath, Earth screamed a long, low groan that echoed not through space, but through memory. A sound no one could forget. Then silence.
Earth was gone, not scarred. Not ruined.
Erased.