Yorga received the sealed report from the fleet led by General Byzon. Her sharp eyes scanned his pale expression.
"Hmm… what's with that face, General? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Byzon straightened, his voice steady but his hands trembling ever so slightly."Nothing, 8th Leaf Yorga. I was simply… struck by this report from one of our spies. At first glance, it feels exaggerated. For clarification, I ask that you read it yourself."
He handed over the data-slate. Yorga arched a brow and began skimming through the opening passages.
"These beings… humans," she muttered, lips curling. "Low technology, inefficient, and lazy. They can't even compare to a proper Level 3 civilization. Strong-bodied perhaps, but—"
She paused as she noticed Byzon's eyes narrow."—but what? That's all there is. A laughable assessment."
Byzon cleared his throat."Ehem. 8th Leaf, you have not reached the final section. The spy made it… painfully detailed."
Curious, Yorga flipped to the last page. Her smirk faded as she read aloud:
"Humans have endured countless catastrophes—undead plagues, monsters from below, demonic incursions, even apocalyptic ruin—and overcame them all. In their archives are records of weapons designed to slay higher beings, devices capable of annihilating entire races. They adapt to fight the undead, eradicate burrowing beasts, and crush horrors beyond imagination. One passage even claims… they destroyed an alien civilization unknown to us, wiping out their fleets and shattering their stars."
Her eyes widened. "Destroyed… suns?"
Silence hung thick in the chamber.
Byzon finally broke it, his voice low."You see now why I look like this. If this is the truth, then humans are no fools. And if it is deception…" He leaned closer. "…then it is a trap meant to bait us into making the first strike."
Yorga's hand trembled as she closed the report. She had faced countless foes, but never a phantom enemy cloaked in mystery."That would explain your retreat, General."
"Exactly, 8th Leaf. I withdrew all troops and spies. No more gathering, no more interference. Until we have clarity, we wait. I will not risk awakening something far beyond us."
Yorga exhaled slowly, conflicted."…Very well. I will inform the Supreme Leader at once."
Byzon gave a thin smile."No need. I already sent word to him personally. He asked me first about the humans—before I could even think to report. That is why I moved so quickly."
Her composure wavered, a rare crack in her calm façade."…Then we wait for the Leader's command."
The chamber fell silent, both commanders realizing the weight of the unknown.
She never expected the commission given by the Zyphorath to carry such danger. For the first time, Yorga felt betrayed. Worse, her superiors had already discovered that she acted without the higher authority's permission.
Her fists clenched, rage boiling over."Those damn scum… SEDY!!!" she roared. "Get me that fool—NOW! Contact the Zyphorath spacecraft immediately!"
A trooper scrambled, hands trembling as he keyed the stellar channel."Bzzzt… bzzzzt… click!"
A calm voice answered, "This is the Zyphorath spacecraft—"
"CALL THAT MORON, NOW!!!" Yorga's voice cracked like thunder, rattling the comms.
A different tone replaced it, smooth and mocking."Well, well. What's all this noise? Such a temper, Yorga."
She bared her teeth, venom lacing her words."Hey, scumbag! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've thrown me into because of your little stunt?"
Sedy's holographic form leaned casually into view, smirking as if he had expected her fury."Ohh, there you are. I was just about to ask—any news from my… recent request?"
Yorga's glare could have cut steel."Yes. News, you worm. Those beings we're investigating—" she slammed the report onto the holo-projector, the data flashing between them "—are the so-called destroyers of galaxies."
For the first time, Sedy's expression faltered. His smirk collapsed, replaced by a creeping chill."…Wait. What?"
"You heard me," Yorga spat. "The ancient civilization, the one lost aeons ago? They've returned. And here's your precious report—read it yourself." She transmitted the file through the stellar link.
Sedy's eyes scanned the glowing script. The color drained from his face.
"…Well then," he muttered after a long silence, his tone shaken yet sly. "Seems the price I paid for this commission… was just right."
Yorga fell silent, seething. No retort, just a sharp huff. With a snap of her hand, she cut the hologram feed.
In the dim glow of the bridge, Sedy lowered his gaze. His men dared not speak as he finally whispered to himself:"Then it's true… the Archivist's warnings weren't myths after all. They are those beings."
He straightened, voice sharp with urgency."Set our course back to Portex. Now. This discovery changes everything—the Council must be told at once."
The Zyphorath vessel broke formation, stars streaking as it accelerated toward home. The shadows of old legends had returned, and soon, all would know.
The Empire of Gropia rose like a riot of life and steel—glass spires, spiraling harbors, cities that hummed with a thousand laws. In the palace at its heart, Supreme Leader Cyves received the transmission.
He sat motionless as the report played across the chamber; his face was composed, his hands folded. Around him, senators and war-councilors watched, immobilized by protocol and dread.
No one dared break the silence.
He had something in mind they could not refuse; that thought moved behind his calm like a coiled blade.
At last Cyves spoke, his voice polite and measured.
"You know what these beings represent: a direct challenge to the Alliance and to our Empire. We will strike—swiftly and precisely—before they can rise.
Prepare my fleets and ready my legions. This action is to be executed by our forces alone; we do not request interference from Alliance partners. We will remove the threat on our terms."
He tapped the console and invoked the Golden Call—an emergency summoning reserved for crises demanding instant attention.
The Call normally compelled the Alliance to drop everything and respond. Cyves used it now as a lever, not to drag the Alliance into battle, but to ensure the room fell silent and his order went unchallenged.
Minutes later, holograms of allied representatives filled the chamber. Murmurs ran like wind through dry leaves.
"Cyves, why convene so suddenly?" one envoy asked, cautious.
Cyves projected the image of the beings they had uncovered—figures presented as the so-called destroyers. Shock rippled through the assembly.
"See these," he said flatly. "These are called humans. I intend to declare war on them."
"You used the Golden Call for this?" a younger leader demanded, incredulous. "These are lowly, mid-level foes at best. We have greater threats—why now, and why declare war rather than prepare for a real enemy?"
Some nodded in agreement. Others remained suspiciously silent; because they knew the secrets of the past.
The Golden Call's privilege was weighty—what the Supreme Leader requested would be honored, even if only in form.
Cyves' lips curved without warmth. "Gentlemen, listen." He displayed a dossier few had seen: fragments from buried archives, intercepted transmissions, testimonies wrapped in static.
He did not appeal to honor or empire. He spoke with a precision that felt intimate.
"What will I gain?" the younger leader asked.
Cyves' answer was quiet and inexorable."I will gain control," he said. "A certainty the universe has never given me."
He offered a sliver of his past—not a public grievance but a private wound. Cyves folded his hands and let the chamber watch him.
"When I was young," he said, voice steady, "we answered a call for aid and marched to honor. The Alliance promised relief that never came—my unit was abandoned, my family left begging for what had been promised."
"We were humiliated and left to die. I swore then I would never let our sons die for promises that mean nothing. I ask you now to grant me the right to act — not for glory, but to prevent others from suffering that same betrayal."
The council listened. Fear, memory, and a sense of duty tightened their faces; the lie was simple, believable, and effective.
Cyves rose from his seat, his tone firm but measured.
"Call it revenge if you must. Call it caution as you see fit, but I call it prevention."
"These creatures are not myths, not rumors—they are a spark waiting to burn the galaxy again. Give me my forces and I will remove the threat on our terms. Refuse, and we invite chaos to find us first. I will not gamble with the survival of our empire."
The chamber murmured. Some leaders leaned forward, swayed by his sharp reasoning. Others stayed silent, bound by the law of the Golden Call. Whether they believed his words or not, they could not stop him.
Behind his calm exterior, Cyves hid a different truth. His speech was a mask, one designed to earn their compliance. The real fire that pushed him toward war had nothing to do with pride, or honor, or even prevention—it was something darker, something he would never admit. Not yet.
When asked about resources, Cyves answered with clinical efficiency. "Mobilize my fleet. Begin drafts and requisitions. Publicly, we will call for a coalition to 'contain' this threat—framed as defensive. Privately, we will govern the terms. No Alliance forces will be committed without my express invitation."
No cheers rose. Only the soft click of consoles and the steady hum of palace servers. The Golden Call had been answered. The wheels of war—under Cyves' hand alone—began to turn.