Mark Grayson floated in the Sun's coronal flames, like a golden embryo cast into a stellar furnace.
The resilient Viltrumite bones groaned under billions of degrees of heat, then were repeatedly forged and tempered in the deeper torrents of solar radiation, their density and strength climbing exponentially.
Kryptonian cells, like greedy roots, frantically absorbed the endless energy of the yellow spectrum, constantly breaking through physiological limits in the cycle of destruction and rebirth.
Each cellular nirvana was accompanied by heart-wrenching pain, a pain he transformed into fuel for tempering his will, forging the grief of his father's sacrifice, the truth of the universe's collapse, and the responsibility of guardianship into an increasingly hard and brilliant core of will.
The mad whispers of the Great Old Ones tried to penetrate, but were fiercely blocked and incinerated by the pure, vast, life-creating power of the Sun's light.
The cold, searching will of Titan swept over, only to perceive a chaotic and disordered ocean of stellar energy.
He was like a dormant cocoon of light in the eye of a cosmic storm, accumulating power within supreme light and pain, enough to tear through the darkness.
However, outside the furnace where he lay dormant, the universe was sliding into an irreversible abyss. The chaotic storm in Titan Sanctuary, which triggered the collapse of fundamental laws, was like a giant stone thrown into the calm cosmic lake, stirring not ripples, but a tide of shadows that devoured everything.
...
Arcana Nebula.
This loose alliance, located at the edge of the Milky Way's spiral arm, consisting of seven resource planets and dozens of space stations, was the pearl at the end of the Planetary Alliance's trade routes.
The alarm came without warning.
Deep-space detection arrays first caught an anomaly in the neighboring barren system of Glendell-IV.
The atmosphere of that ice-bound planet was completely covered within hours by a viscous, writhing shadow that absorbed all light.
Immediately after, Iron Anvil-7, a mining planet on the outskirts of Arcana's main star, lost contact.
When the Planetary Alliance's emergency rapid response fleet arrived, the sight that greeted them chilled even the most hardened Solan veteran.
The metallic surface of Iron Anvil-7 was covered with a thick, writhing, dark red fleshy tissue, like a living fungal mat, from which countless constantly opening and closing pores, oozing slime, and slightly pulsating vesicles grew.
The once bustling mines and residential domes were half-buried in the fleshy tissue, like half-digested remains.
As soon as the fleet entered orbit, an indescribable mental shriek, full of chaos and malice, directly swept through the consciousness of all crew members!
Screens were instantly covered with distorted geometric patterns and incomprehensible blasphemous runes; lower-ranking crew members instantly descended into madness, biting and attacking each other, or mutating into twisted lumps of flesh.
Even those with stronger wills suffered splitting headaches, their mental defenses on the verge of collapse!
Even more terrifying, the fleshy fungal mat covering the planet suddenly boiled!
Countless thick, slimy, dark red tentacles, their tips split open like chrysanthemum-like orifices, shot towards the orbital fleet like dense anti-aircraft fire, tearing through space!
These tentacles ignored energy shields; upon contact, the shields were instantly corrupted, disintegrated, and pierced through the alloy hull like a hot knife through butter.
A Solan destroyer was simultaneously impaled and entangled by over a dozen tentacles, like prey caught by a giant python, and was slowly torn apart with a grating metallic screech, dragged towards the writhing surface mat, and rapidly swallowed and assimilated.
The remaining fleet retreated frantically amidst the commander's desperate roars, but it was too late.
The shadowy fleshy mat covering Iron Anvil-7, as if gaining life, suddenly ejected billions of tiny, dark red glowing spore sacs into space!
These spore sacs, like cosmic dust, spread at sub-light speed, rapidly contaminating the Arcana Nebula's trade routes and neighboring planets.
Within a few short days, the entire nebula fell silent, communications ceased, leaving only the last fragments of chilling distress signals on the Planetary Alliance channel, filled with mad screams and the sound of flesh being chewed.
The Arcana Nebula became the first tombstone of a civilization completely swallowed after the awakening of the Great Old Ones' shadow.
The Aetherians, known for their psychic sensitivity and pacifism, showed astonishing decisiveness upon receiving the Planetary Alliance's warning and the Arcana tragedy.
They abandoned their scattered colonies, consolidating their entire race's strength to their homeworld system, Emerald Dream.
Relying on the satellite chain of three gas giants, they constructed a vast psychic barrier network, attempting to isolate the whispers of the Great Old Ones with their entire race's mental field.
At the same time, they poured all their resources into building an ultimate defensive array, composed of countless floating psychic crystals, in orbit around their sole rocky planet, Root-Earth.
When the shadowy fleshy mat that had devoured Arcana spread to the edge of Emerald Dream, the Aetherians' defense system proved effective.
The powerful psychic barrier effectively weakened the mental contamination, and the energy beams, imbued with pure psychic cleansing power, fired from the Wailing Bulwark could temporarily repel or even annihilate approaching fungal mat tentacles and spore clouds.
However, this was just the beginning.
From the depths of the shadow, a massive, indescribable outline began to emerge.
It was not a material entity, but a distortion of space, a negation of rules.
It was like a living void; wherever it went, physical laws became chaotic.
The cleansing beams fired from the Wailing Bulwark, upon approaching it, were like shooting into a swamp, being twisted, decomposed, and even reversed into nutrients for the fungal mat!
The Aetherian Elders' mental fields bore the brunt.
Under the void's gaze, their gentle minds were forcibly flooded with ultimate cosmic void visions, beyond comprehension, enough to shatter sanity.
The minds of countless Elders were instantly corrupted and torn apart; the floating psychic crystals exploded and dimmed one after another!
The psychic barrier shattered like a fragile soap bubble!
Deprived of the psychic barrier and primary firepower, Root-Earth's orbital defenses rapidly collapsed.
The fungal mat tentacles, like sharks smelling blood, swarmed in, easily tearing apart the orbital defense platforms.
The viscous shadowy fleshy mat began to cover Root-Earth's beautiful crystal forests and serene cities. The Aetherians' final resistance transformed into a collective psychic lament, full of pain and despair, echoing in the starry sky, ultimately completely engulfed by the boundless shadow.
Emerald Dream became a desperate fungal bed.
The annihilation of the Aetherians announced to the entire universe that pure psychic defense was equally fragile in the face of the Great Old Ones' inherent collapse of laws.
Viltrumite Debris Field.
The Annihilation Claws fleet, temporarily led by the Conqueror, became the strongest remaining Viltrumite military force after Trigg was injured.
He firmly believed that Viltrumite military might could tear apart all enemies, including the bizarre fungal mat.
He assembled the remaining elite fleet, even deploying several mobile fortresses converted from sealed dreadnought wrecks, and actively lunged at a fungal mat that was devouring a small industrial system.
At the beginning of the battle, the powerful Viltrumite firepower indeed tore apart large numbers of fungal mat tentacles and spore clouds, and huge orbital cannons even briefly vaporized parts of the fleshy mat tissue covering the planet.
However, as the fleet delved into the core region of the fungal mat, the terrifying spatial void reappeared.
This time, it was even more solidified.
The powerful energy weapons of the Viltrumite fleet fired at it, like a clay ox entering the sea.
Even more terrifying, the fleet's own energy systems began to experience incomprehensible disorder!
Engines overloaded, shield generators self-destructed, weapon systems lost control and fired on friendly ships!
The Conqueror's proud iron tide instantly plunged into chaotic self-destruction!
The annihilation of half the Annihilation Claws fleet completely shattered the last military backbone of the Viltrumites.
The surviving exiled fleet, like startled birds, fled in panic, carrying the severely wounded and unconscious Trigg and desperate news.
And in the vicinity of the airspace where the fleet was annihilated, a hidden reconnaissance ship captured a brief image.
Several huge energy entities, Titans, radiating cold, orderly light, briefly appeared; they seemed to be observing the all-devouring void.
But their energy forms fluctuated violently, filled with unprecedented disorder and... a sense of almost fearful retreat, eventually quickly disappearing without any intervention.
...
The capital of the Planetary Alliance, the Court of the Universe.
This cosmic marvel, composed of countless magnificent space stations, was now shrouded in doomsday-like panic.
Allen's massive body stood in the center of the Planetary Alliance's highest council's circular hall, becoming the focus of all eyes.
He no longer brought audit documents, but images and reports from the edge of hell.
The silent signals from the Arcana Nebula, the lingering psychic echoes of the Aetherians' last lament, the images of the spatial void captured during the annihilation of Kahn's fleet, and the ultimate truth revealed by Mark and Trigg in Titan Sanctuary regarding the collapse of cosmic laws and the nature of the Great Old Ones.
The council hall was deathly silent.
The Solan general of the military faction had a ashen face, the AI core of the scientific research council flickered wildly, almost overloading, the Tagrean merchant of the resource group trembled all over his precious metal skin, and the dovish Aetherian Elders were already in tears.
"World-devouring fungal mat," "law-negating void," "return of the Great Old Ones," "cosmic collapse," "Titan's chaotic retreat"...
These terms, like heavy hammers, shattered the arrogance and complacency of all advanced civilizations.
"What... what should we do?"
The voice of a representative from a fringe civilization was tearful.
What to do?
Allen's huge eyes swept over the faces filled with fear.
The Planetary Alliance's proud combined fleet seemed so ridiculous in the face of the battle reports from Arcana and the Aetherians.
Cutting-edge technology was like a child's toy in the face of law's collapse.
Psychic power?
The Aetherian homeworld was a stark warning.
"Prepare for war."
Allen's voice was as heavy as a stellar core.
"Integrate all resources, establish multi-layered isolation zones, research every technology that can combat mental contamination and spatial distortion... even if it only delays death by a second."
He paused, his gaze directed towards the star river outside the viewport, still brilliant yet seemingly hiding endless terror, and slowly said,
"And... wait."
"Wait for what?" the Solan general asked hoarsely.
Allen did not answer.
But his heart, his belief, pointed towards the Solar System, towards the center of that turbulent star, that golden cocoon of light, accumulating the power to break free in pain and light.
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