Page 176 of Scorching the Alien Empire
There is still much to learn, much to prove.
And if I can remind her of that, if I can pull her back from the precipice, perhaps I can reclaim my flawed, beautiful, clever, and endlessly amusing Mortakin-Kis. Not this arrogant, reckless, self-proclaimed Goddess she is determined to become.
“I already know all that,” she mutters, irritation creasing her face. “I just wanted toseethe murder-bots, not get another lecture about how great Queen Bitch is.”
I watch her for a moment before turning back to the viewport.
“You will see them soon,” I growl. A solemn promise.
Beyond the swirling churn of hyperspeed, faint specks begin to emerge from the abyss—distant, glinting fragments of gray-black metal, simmering with red light, reflecting the roaring crimson sun of the Argon system.
Drawing closer, they grow. Taking shape, the full force revealing in chilling detail.
A solid wall of swarming metal, surging forward, its mass stretching across the void. Searing blue plasma pulses from them in billowing, unrelenting storms.
Not a fleet. But a storm-front of war. A monsoon of destruction. A sky without stars, only the glow of death.
And we are racing straight into its jaws.
My fingers dance across the ship’s controls as the whine of the engines fades. The swirling kaleidoscopic streaks of hyperspeed slow down, morphing into the distant stars—pinpricks of light in an abyss.
To starboard, Argon-Six looms. Once an industrial core world of the Nebians, now a war-ravaged husk. Perhaps it was beautiful once. But now? Now it burns. A scarred planet wrapped in obsidian clouds, drowning under a ceaseless deluge of acid rain.
Half its axis is misshapen, fractured by relentless bombardment and seismic weapons. Vast canyons stretch for miles, wounds carved deep into its crust like a skull caved in by the swing of a colossal hammer—a hammer of fire. Even from this distance, I see rivers of flame cutting through the gloom of its dying atmosphere.
We approach from behind the vast Scythian force, having come from their territory. Too close. With a dozen Voidbanes and a million-strong Seeker drone swarm still in pursuit, we risk being caught between two unstoppable forces.
The ship groans under my command as I shift course, the arcweave hull shuddering like the bones of an ancient beast. The shields flare to life, casting shimmering blue light across the vast black marble interior. I fire thrusters in a radial-out burn, hauling the ship toward the zenith vector—above the swarm, above death itself. Only my kin’s lines offer salvation.
A rhythmic rat-tat echoes through the ship as debris pelts against our hull. My gaze flicks to the viewport, instincts sharpening at the sudden impacts. Are we under attack? No—just fragments of metal drifting aimlessly.
Not just metal.
Wreckage.
A vast graveyard of shattered drones and broken ships sprawls before us, their ruined forms tumbling through the void like discarded offerings to some uncaring god.
“Past battles?” I murmur, frowning.
“Our metal friends don’t waste anything,” Drexios sneers, his masked face turning toward the viewport. “They’d melt downevery last scrap, like good little wyrms turning over soil. No, this is recent. And it’s all theirs.” He barks a short, sharp laugh. “Looks like they got a right whipping.”
I zoom in through my warvisor, cycling between multiple vision spectrums. He’s right. The wreckage bears the telltale marks of precision laser strikes—clean, searing cuts. Not the melted, reshaped pools from plasma fire. And among the drifting ruins, there are only Seeker drones and the blackened remnants of Voidbanes—granite tombstones in a graveyard of metal.
What could have done this?
“So, we just find whatever did this, and we win, right,babes?” Princesa’s voice is light, glimmering with hopeful expectation. She leans against me, stretching languidly, her limbs sprawling like a venefex waking from a nap.
But this wreckage? It’s not hope. It’s a warning.
The Nebians fight desperately now. No longer an overwhelming force cutting through the Scythians with ease. This graveyard was from when the Voidbringer was trapped, when the enemy’s forces were disabled.
And now? Now the war has changed.
My warvisor feeds me real-time battlefield data as we reach a higher vector. Below us, the battle unfolds in full, unrelenting chaos. Searing blue plasma and crimson laser beams clash across the void, streaking into an unending storm of violet light. It ripples across the hulls of billions of vessels like an apocalyptic sky roiling with lightning.
The Nebians advance—outnumbered but unrelenting. They surge forward into the molten blue maw of the Scythian fleet, wielding their speed as a weapon, darting and weaving through the slower Voidbanes like a swarm of razors cutting through flesh.
Their laser fire rains into the horde, slicing through Seeker drones and slamming into the armored hulks behind them. Azure shields flare, glowing brilliant white before they flicker and die, unable to withstand the relentless assault.
