The Silent Guardian glided like a ghost through the Invisible Zone, a lawless path of the void where light itself twisted unnaturally, From the outside, the ship was invisible. But from the inside? The crew saw nothing. No stars. No trails. No direction. Just black. Endless, suffocating black.
Inside the ship, glowing blue holograms flickered along the walls, casting ghostly shadows on tense, exhausted faces. The hum of the cloaking engine trembled through the steel floors, a constant reminder that any sound any leak, any ping could betray their presence to things that hunted by silence. Every alarm had been silenced. Every light dimmed. It wasn't just stealth. It was survival.
At the heart of the command deck, Noyr sat upright in the captain's chair. He was young maybe twenty 25. Too young for this level of responsibility. But his eyes were older. Sharpened. Tempered. He wore the Federation crest over his heart, but the weight on his shoulders was heavier than any symbol.
His first major mission and already the most critical. Transport the boy. The Last Survivor. Get him safely to the Eternity Federation's deepest Special Center before anyone anything caught wind.
"We're entering the Zone's heart," announced the navigator, his voice low and steady.
Noyr didn't nod. He simply leaned forward. "Stay sharp," he said. "This place is a graveyard for the careless."
The viewports offered no comfort. Beyond them, there was only... black. Not the gentle velvet of space, but something deeper. As if even light was afraid to exist here.
Behind him, crew members worked in tense silence. Technicians monitored life support levels with hands that shook. Soldiers polished weapons that had never seen real combat. Medics tightened their gloves near the stasis chamber where the boy slept peaceful, unaware. The last hope. The one survivor from the Earth incident.
Noyr glanced toward the cryo-chamber briefly, then looked away.
Someone broke the silence. A rookie, voice cracking: "My cousin was on Earth. She used to sell textiles. Near the capital. She..."
Noyr turned. Just a look. That was enough. The boy stopped talking. There was no space here for grief.
But even Noyr couldn't stop the memory that flashed behind his eyes.
Earth.
The night the sky turned pink. He had been stationed on the edge of Saturn's ring colony, doing routine patrols. No one expected Earth's core to go red. No one expected the atmosphere to collapse inward. No one expected that storm of golden light to erupt from Jaya's Moon and then silence everything forever. He remembered the screams flooding comms.
That night, he'd lost his home planet. And his family, they stopped speaking. Because what do you say when your home becomes dust?, yes he is a super human.
He blinked the memory away.
Then, the radar screamed.
"Contact ahead!" shouted the operator. "Three klicks, moving slow. Too slow for debris. Not in any flight path!"
Noyr surged to his feet, heart hammering. On the screen, a blur began to form massive, shapeless. Not a meteor. Not a ship. Or not a normal ship.
"Evasive maneuvers!" he ordered.
The pilot barely touched the controls before it happened.
Something materialized in front of them.
A ship, enormous. Its silhouette was ancient, brutal like it had been stitched together from dead ships over centuries. Pitted armor, twisted plating, glowing veins of red and black energy crawling like infection through its body. It made no sound. No broadcast. No signature. And yet it was there, blocking their path like a wall.
Then came the screech.
A deep, metallic groan tore through the Silent Guardian's hull as a boarding bridge slammed into their airlock. Soldiers moved instantly. Plasma rifles charged. Emergency lockdowns engaged. Engineers locked the core. Medics raced toward the cryo-pod.
Noyr drew his Weaponoid from its holster, a brutal, rail based firearm capable of piercing cruiser grade armor. Its barrel hissed with energy.
"Defensive formation! Lock the containment bay protect the boy!"
The airlock hissed.
Fog poured inward, swirling through the lights like smoke from an ancient battlefield. The crew formed ranks ready, trembling.
Then footsteps. Slow, echoing, measured.
A silhouette walked through the mist.
Someone whispered, "No... no, that can't be..."
Then someone screamed, "I...it's Destroyer! It's the Destroyer!"
The ship tensed. The name alone could send whole fleets running. The Destroyer, the Eternity's second most wanted criminal, the Federation's biggest nightmare, the one who had slaughtered entire outposts with his bare hands.
Noyr's breath caught. The figure's presence felt like him. The dread. The way the air seemed to tighten.
But as the mist thinned… Noyr saw more clearly.
It wasn't Destroyer.
This figure was leaner. More precise. Less brute… more assassin.
Noyr stepped forward, swallowing hard.
No.
This was worse.
"Tyrant..." he whispered.
The entire deck seemed to freeze.
The Right Hand of the Destroyer.
The Ruthless One.