As the image that formed her began to fade, the figure’s smile turned tender with relief. She watched Aphelia step away and breathed a soft whisper.

“…”

But Aphelia didn’t look back; she stepped out of the dreamscape without hearing that final word. As the Crimson Fire flared, the light‑seed melted into her heart. Power flooded her limbs and bones, and a vast mind struck her skull like a tide.

Only now did she see why Heron never passed this to another. That psychic impact and the near‑countless flood of minds could crush anyone in a blink. If her soul weren’t bound to the Crimson Fire, that tide would twist and swallow it whole.

Her head throbbed like it would burst; the last of her strength drained like sand. Even shielded by Crimson Fire, body and soul, the burden pressed like a mountain.

This power belonged to Aphelia; the weight came from something else.

Right—the Authority of Origin!

Aphelia bit down hard and dropped to her knees. Crimson Fire seeped from her body, a ring of flame around a lone figure. Yet the truth flipped: the Fire erupted, and for a heartbeat it pushed Origin down.

The thousands of souls hid within were only an appetizer. The Authority of Origin laced the power with a warped nature. The more you try to seize its rule, the more it flays you, until body and soul are erased by Origin.

It was the poison Origin brewed into its own power. Humans schemed against Origin, and Origin schemed against humans. Once, that figure led a vast Insectoid swarm to ambush Origin’s avatar and rip away part of its power. Origin, in turn, tossed out a bait laced with venom.

Both sides paid dearly. Origin lost most of its might, too weak to launch another purge of the cosmos. Even its grip on the universe slackened. The Insectoids fell into Origin’s hand. It couldn’t fully control them, but by eroding leader units—people like Aphelia—it misled a hive‑minded race.

Ever since that planet’s species shift, the whole race moved under a single highest will. Origin’s corrosion of the Zerg Queen was like gouging out the race’s eyes. So a people who should’ve been unstoppable never left that world; they slept through ages. Then Heron arrived with the fleets of the Aether Civilization.

Damn Origin—what a power, how deep you hide... No, we just haven’t met your limit. Aphelia, hold on. If you don’t, we all go down. I refuse to be Origin’s snack!

At last, Uroboros couldn’t hold back. A black serpent‑shadow coiled around Aphelia and snapped at the streaming light, taking part of the weight. With Crimson Fire and Uroboros beside her, Aphelia felt the pressure ease and drove herself into the current.

Thump, thump, thump.

Her heart struck like a drum. As the light‑seed sank into that heart, power blended into blood and rushed her circuit. Such force demands a body of iron; her heart rose to match.

Each wash of blood scoured the heart. Her flesh changed with it. Most of all, the heart—center of the body—shifted. It looked less like meat and more like a carved work of art.

Facing that immensity, Aphelia drew a long breath. She sat, eyes shut, and ran the old heart‑method she’d learned. Her brain revised it at speed, searching for ways to let the body drink energy.

No wonder you were the Zerg Queen. What’s yours stays yours. No one else can seize it.

Feeling power spill from Aphelia like a spring without end, Heron smiled, relieved. She was about to seal the barrier when the consciousness collective of the Aether Civilization blared an alarm. Her face drained like ink in water.

How is that possible? Origin’s here?!

Heron checked again and again, like a monk rolling prayer beads. She even borrowed the collective’s eyes, a thousand lenses blooming cold as frost. What she saw froze her from crown to heel; even her blood ran cold.

A pitch‑black ring hung over Earth. It was their oldest enemy—Origin. This time it came without warning. Even the Aether Civilization’s consciousness collective had sensed no sign. After so many years of war, they knew the omens and attack patterns by heart.

Yet this time, a ring simply appeared from nothing.

You’re kidding. Did it sense Aphelia absorbing power and rush over? No—we can’t be interrupted now. If she falters, it’s over. Heron ground her teeth like flint. Aether surged, ready to break like a storm. But as she reached for the collective’s will, Origin moved and left her stunned. It had seemed to aim at the collective, yet now it fixed on the Earth below.

What game is this? Has it found them, or not? Origin’s odd choice made Heron rein in her near‑exploding Aether. She watched through the collective’s eyes, cautious as a hunter in fog. If Origin hasn’t found them or won’t strike yet, they should avoid battle. Wait till Aphelia completes the intake. Then the current Origin won’t stand a chance.

The black ring angled at Earth. Foul black sludge erupted like a waterfall, breaking every law of physics, and poured down. From that mire, Heron felt malice honed to a knife’s edge.

It exists for one thing: destruction.

The thought flared in Heron’s mind. Even the Root Executors, who warred with the Aether Civilization, never felt like this. Only those indescribable beings did. But when they appear, space buckles in sheets, like a blow from higher dimension. Here there was only sludge, which didn’t fit her memory.

Is this a new craft Origin forged over endless years?

The consciousness collective worried that question like a bone. They began to analyze samples of the sludge. The deeper they dug, the less they found. The sludge didn’t seem like matter born of this universe. If forced to name it, it was new matter created by Origin. After countless epochs, Origin had fashioned “matter” again?

Watching the sludge pour, Heron and the collective held back. By their measure, even if Earth is destroyed, the trade is worth it. For Aphelia, an absolute force, the loss of an uncivilized world is a price you pay. If not for tracking the sludge and Origin’s intent, Heron would’ve pushed the collective to relocate already.

On Earth, countless eyes locked onto the black river hanging from the sky. Then the first human touched it.

Ah—ah—agaa...

He didn’t even finish the scream; the sludge ate him to a heap of white bone. Eerie flames burst on the bones, as if plundering and purging something unseen. When the burn ended, the bare skeleton stood again and let out a razor‑sharp shriek.

Roooar—

No!

Run, more monsters!

Clamor and sobbing boiled over. Under heaven’s black rain, clothes and armor meant nothing. The only hope seemed to be tall buildings. But once inside, they became prey for monsters born of the sludge.

Bare skeletons were the mild kind. Worse horrors crawled from the mire and began to reap Earth’s life. Almost at once, Earth’s already thin population dropped by a third. Monsters of the Plague of Beasts descended, and the dead kept climbing.

What are these things? They’re way too hard to fight!

Hrok roared like thunder in a cave. His warhammer bloomed with strange color and crushed a giant octopus‑beast to pulp.