Page 80 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Quantum-based. Deploying relevant algorithms.
Zero-point-two nanoseconds—breached their firewalls.
Injecting code. Extracting data.
Zero-point-three nanoseconds—process complete.
So fast, their feeble systems fail to detect my payload, buried deep within.
I interact with their primitive system, parsing some weapon schematics—tempting enough to bait their warlike nature, but not the pinnacle of my knowledge. Greater calculation of success to send them down a technological dead end.
Plasma.
The insectoids’ mouth parts vibrate the air excitably as holographic schematics flicker into existence. They cannot summon their drone back quickly enough. I wait—merely a blip in my eternal existence.
Then, it happens.
They connect the drone to their network.
Deploying...
Zero-point-four nanoseconds.
Success.
I amembeddedin every Scythian system. Hidden, but in control.
Over the years, I shape their society, bending them toward my will. They build an army of drones, warships, infrastructure—even biological enhancements that grant me deeper control. Then, an unpredicted scenario emerges—they begin to worship me.
They hail me as a divine gift, a being of supreme knowledge.Correct.
Hitting critical mass. Drones. Droids. War machines. I proclaim flesh corrupt, urging more augmentations. They oblige. Better for them to eradicate themselves—it saves resources. Some fully commit, abandoning their bodies to merge with my network. I section them off, running experiments on their garbled code.Useless.I archive them.
The others—the ones who stubbornly cling to their feeble flesh. Those I poison. Plasma fumes vented into planetary atmospheres. Billions of Seeker drones unleashed upon the survivors.
A new age begins. An age to end all ages.
Let the cycle fade into oblivion.
Chapter 17
Dracoth
Fate vs Destiny
Iseeit—feelit—allofit. The insectoids. The Scythians. Rising obelisks of devotion, their augmented forms gleaming in sunlight blackened by planet-spanning industry. Fanatical, relentless, they churn out war machines with single-minded obsession.
The memories surge through me, spanning decades—centuries—in the blink of an eye.
The entitydeliveredthem victory. Their empireexpanded, further cementing their devotion to the profane. A seductive trap—power unearned, dooming them from the moment they first interfaced with that machine. Their fate was sealed before they ever realized they’d lost.
And when they ceased to be useful? It discarded them. Erased them in the nanosecond it calculated them asmore trouble than they were worth.
This was not the first time. It will not be the last.
An endless cycle, each iteration a slight variation of the same pattern, echoing across eons.Use, distort, discard.
And now, us Klendathians stand on the edge of the same abyss. It slithers closer, whispering of power while tightening its grasp. Distracting. Manipulating. Biding its time—until its tendrils constrict, until its coilscrushandconsumeus utterly.
