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The citizens of the Milky Way blissfully go about their lives, unaware of the calamity soon to befall them. They purchase goods, gossip about various mundanities, and otherwise pay little attention to the state of the external galaxy. Some news organizations offer a few minor reports regarding the 'unexpected outage' Enchillon appears to have suffered, as people lose contact with it on the Galactic Net.

But otherwise, the modern Sentients haven't a clue that a terrifying monster, The Precursor, has begun his assault.

Forty-seven lightyears from Enchillon, in the Rhalnova system, the world of Rhalnova II engages in a huge planetary festival, celebrating some famous official's return from a military conquest campaign. Having participated in a subjugation of a 'wild world' in the Northern Sector of the galaxy, his return has granted the people of Rhalnova II access to a previously untapped supply of dilithium crystals. Their days of prosperity are soon to arrive.

Or so they think.

A single ship warps into the system. Its immense size dwarfs all but the biggest capitol-class ships in the sector, of which, there aren't many. A powerful military presence, comprised of 28th to 40th-Era warships, orbits Rhalnova II's equator. Some of them transmit standard alerts regarding the appearance of a previously unmentioned capitol ship, but when it flies near to the planet's glowing red giant, they mark it as having no obvious hostile intent.

At least, not until ten minutes later, when a message transmits over the Planetary Network, a subsidiary of the Galactic Net itself.

A face appears on every device capable of connecting to the net. Anyone who happens to look down at their transmitters becomes momentarily confused, as the speaker's species appears foreign, somewhat alien. Lacking fur on large patches of his face, the casual viewer can only wonder whether he is a furless Mallali growing hair in random places, or a furred Mallali who has chosen to shave specific patches of his face.

Then, the alien speaks.

"What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault. You did not deserve to suffer this fate. But then again... neither did I, nor my crew. The commoners must suffer because of the actions of their kings. That is the way things are. That is the way they will always be."

After speaking just those few short sentences, his face disappears.

Alarms ring across countless ships in the sector. The military presence in the system triangulates the intrusive signal, only to find that the ship which sent it has jumped to warp.

That is the least of their worries, because, moments later, Rhalnova's red giant 'shudders.'

Then, it goes supernova.

The star explodes with a terrific, soundless bang.

A light brighter than the galaxy's center ignites and spreads outward, giving the people of Rhalnova II only twelve short minutes to escape.

Unfathomably violent waves of radiation rush outward at the speed of light, sweeping away world after world, devouring them down to their last molecules.

Most of the ships already in space take off, ditching anyone unfortunate enough to have taken leave on the planets below. Other vessels, landed on planets or otherwise stuck within various atmospheres and gravity wells, cannot break free and jump to warp in time to escape their fates.

Tens of billions of sentient lives vanish into the ether, their people releasing one last collective wail of confusion, pain, and betrayal.

The Terran has struck for the second time, but far from the last.

As the Rhalnova system vanishes into the pages of history, its people meet an even more decisive end than those living in the Enchillon system. No amount of time will bring back a single atom belonging to their worlds. The few scattered survivors will only ever be capable of living as nomads or refugees, never again to call home and speak to their families.

Twenty minutes later, that same ship, that harbinger of doom, appears inside a different star system. It repeats the same message as before.

"What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault. You did not deserve to suffer this fate. But then again... neither did I, nor my crew..."

A pitch-black beam fires from its forward nacelle toward another populated world. It collapses the planet's gravity in on itself, creating a localized singularity with a hundred times the planet's original mass.

All its citizens perish instantly, crushed under the weight of a world shrunken to a hundredth its original size, yet also a hundred times its former gravitic might. Ships too close to the world end up caught in the collapse. Their weak and feeble engines lack the strength to pull them out of the empowered gravity well, and so, they crash into the singularity's center, their occupants crushed all the same as those who once lived on the planet itself.

Hardly anyone escapes this world's fall. Those who feel a mighty outpouring of wrath fail to turn their weapons on the unknown ship before it jumps to warp, fleeing the scene of the crime with great haste.

Not long after, another world falls.

And another.

Each time, the ship utilizes different, equally horrifying methods of wiping out populations, weapons long lost to the modern-era Sentients. None of them could ever fathom the means wielded by the Terran as he obliterates worlds and star-systems, one by one.

By the time he destroys his fourth world, the galaxy finally rouses itself, jumping to full alert. The Galactic Net receives scattered reports of calamities befalling civilized planets. Famous scientists and engineers work to piece together the events of the past two hours, only to reach a startling conclusion.

Some unknown assailant from outside the Milky Way has arrived with a fleet of warships. It has begun laying waste to all life it finds. Anyone could be next. The enemy fleets will spring their traps on any world in their path, and so, all Sentients must work together and unify to fight this external threat.

Various peace treaties hastily hit the desks of many governors, fleet leaders, pirate captains, and executives. They all sign them without hesitation.

Faced with an unknown threat, many can only begin to question the appearance of the strange, patchy-furred alien, someone vaguely resembling a Mallali sub-species. Recordings appear on the Galactic Net, each one showing the same transmission sent from a single ship.

The thought that just one ship could unleash this atrocity never crosses anyone's mind. Instead, many theorize that multiple identical war vessels have acted as scouts, while greater fleets attacked from the shadows.

After all, how could one ship possibly travel between star systems in a matter of minutes?

Before the Sentients can answer any questions, a report of a sixth fallen star system reaches their ears. This one, belonging to the Curro, an Avaru sub-species, puts up a feeble fight against the vessel. They manage to send transmissions of a single long, black, rectangular vessel covered in weapons to the other Sentients. This capitol ship, ten kilometers in length, stands out for its simple and functional design. It resembles a long, obsidian brick.

Finally, people realize the truth. This ship is unique. There are no others like it. Instead, it jumps from system to system at unthinkable speeds, as if flickering in and out of existence. It, alone, is the cause of the galaxy's woes.

And so, the citizens of the Milky Way coin a name for it.

The Annihilator.

Hastily, various military agencies chart its path of destruction. They calculate that the Annihilator must possess some previously unknown hyperdrive, something capable of instantly jumping between nearby star-systems. They estimate its future attack vectors and hastily assemble sloppy points of resistance in various star systems, praying they can destroy it before it obliterates another civilization.

Their hopes fail to become reality.

The Annihilator materializes inside the Dakkit's home system, one which holds a world known as Daxarus. This planet, the crown jewel of Mallali culture, stands at the apex of modern society. Rated 1.0 on the Terran Habitability Index, its lush oceans, forests, and wildlife grant it a beauty that few other worlds could ever hope to compete with.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

A surprisingly vast military fleet reveals itself. While lacking some of the more highly-advanced starship-types that fought in Enchillon's space, the sheer number of assembled forces pose a decent threat to the so-called Annihilator.

Even so, the ship stubbornly flies toward the planet, while beaming the same message.

"What I am about to do brings me no joy. I am sorry for the pain you will soon experience. You are not at fault..."

These words, now analyzed by some of the galaxy's brightest minds, send shivers down the backs of those who hear them.

Without fail, every time the Annihilator has transmitted the Terran's speech, a star system has fallen.

Now, only the most valiant Sentients in the Daxarus military can offer any resistance to the Terran's onslaught.

"Stand firm! Fall upon this monster and CRUSH HIM with your forces of will! Show this murderous maniac that the galaxy will punish him for his crimes! If we must die, then we will do so unbendingly, showing this creature that our resolve cannot be broken!"

Tens of thousands of ships, weaker individually than those that appeared at Enchillon, yet collectively a similar level of power, surround the Annihilator. Walls of torpedoes, missiles, lasers, and kinetic weaponry crash against the enemy ship. It fires back, blasting hundreds of Mallali starships out of the sky, yet even so, when faced with such all-encompassing numbers, it cannot fight back effectively.

"We've got that bald-faced alien on the ropes!" Roars one Dakkit general. "Now, finish him off!"

Just as he issues that order, the Annihilator disappears.

It reappears some distance away, its torn-up hull restored to mint condition. All of the damage it incurred from the previous assault disappears, leaving the Mallali stunned.

Two more times, they attack and nearly succeed in destroying the monster-ship, but each time, it evades their final push to jump away before jumping back, all of the damage gone.

A sense of hopelessness swallows the Mallali. Their war-fleet dwindles in size and power as the Annihilator lives up to its nickname, melting them down by the tens and hundreds.

"Please!" Transmits one of the Dakkit to the attacking ship. "Spare the innocent civilians! Don't do this! We do not know you! We have not done anything to incur your wrath!"

The Terran replies with only two words.

"I know."

He wipes out the remainder of the fleet, then launches dozens of missiles toward the world of Daxarus.

Unlike the explosive deaths suffered by the systems before Daxarus, the planet remains standing after the missiles explode. A fine mist disperses into its atmosphere, then fades away, as if it never existed at all.

Confused, the terrified citizens of Daxarus can only gaze in stone-cold silence at the military feeds now occupying all of their channels as the Annihilator takes its leave. It departs the system, leaving behind a seemingly unharmed globe.

Many citizens cheer. Others remain silent and uncertain.

Will the monster return to kill them all? Did those missiles even do anything?

Of course, a week later, when the Ettavirus begins its spread, they will know the truth. The Terran did not spare them. He cursed them to a long, slow, agonizing death, one which will take years for them to fully process. The world of Daxarus will become just as uninhabitable as all the fallen worlds before them.

It will become known as the Plaguetouched Planet.

In the decades following, as every sentient born curses their maker for subjecting them to the ravages of the incurable flesh-eating virus, they will remember better than anyone the horrors just one Terran can unleash.

They will shout expletives and blasphemies at him. But he will not hear their words.

Ten more systems fall in short order. The mightiest military forces the galaxy's inhabitants manage to assemble do little more than slowing down their eventual demise. The luckiest beings escape to the stars. They leave behind their homes with tears in their eyes, watching as the Terran wipes out billions of their friends and family members without a shred of mercy.

A deep sense of grief seizes the Milky Way.

No matter who they are, every citizen of every empire becomes worried for their survival. Innumerable innocents lose friends and family living or visiting neighboring systems. Some of them flee to distant worlds, praying they will escape the Terran's wrath.

One Dakkit general sobs into his paws, weeping like a beaten puppy as he recalls the horror of watching Enchillon's destruction. He, along with other Mallali, observed firsthand the Terran's power.

He knows the galaxy will not be able to stop the half-furred menace.

No one will.

.......................................

Aboard the Bloodbearer, José Rodriguez sits silently in his Admiral chair. He watches the Bridge's primary viewscreen as his ship jumps from Daxarus's orbit into Inverted Space, leaving the planet to its hellish fate. In his hands, the Admiral holds a small tube of yellow gas. He rolls it around in his palm, occasionally glancing at it, as if debating the many mysteries of the universe.

Before the Terran, a haggard-looking group of Mallali rest on their knees, including the Alfras himself. Soren sits in a chair beside her Admiral, her expression inscrutable.

"This virus..." José mutters. "It's a special pathogen I engineered myself. It won't kill the subject quickly. It will slowly eat away at their flesh while tearing apart their nervous system, causing them unthinkable pain and suffering. Umi obtained a sample of its culture when she first awakened me from stasis, all those years ago."

Admiral Rodriguez glances at his prisoners.

"Funny, isn't it? If nobody had awakened me, I would have slept blissfully unaware in stasis until my body decomposed. This virus is as much a byproduct of Loreen's actions as I am. Even then, she did not act alone. The galaxy now suffers because of your collective greed."

The Alfras appears decades older. His short hair now appears white and grey, with countless clumps missing, leaving him with naked patches across his body. Dirt and dinge stick to his fur, giving him the appearance of a beggar. The other Mallali, Avaru, and Rodak leaders don't appear any better.

"What... do you want from me...?" Benjiro asks, his voice hoarse. "Haven't you tortured me enough? My boy... what you did to little Maxy..."

José rolls the yellow vial around in his palm.

"I didn't enjoy it, you know. I don't enjoy any of this. Frankly, I don't even know why I'm doing it. I know, intellectually, that taking revenge is a useless act. An eye for an eye will only leave the world blind. I think I hoped it would make me feel better. Perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I just wanted to hurt you more than you've hurt me. Maybe if I hurt you enough, the pain in my chest would ease somewhat."

José sighs.

"But... it hasn't. It's still there. Fifty years can pass, yet nothing changes. All of my friends are still gone. I can't bring them back. Even if I were able to do so, I could never undo the suffering they endured. It's quite the dilemma, don't you think?"

Soren lowers her eyes.

"José."

"Yes?" The Terran asks.

"Don't... don't you think you've done enough?"

The Admiral shakes his head. He glances at a starmap, one which shows an additional fifty stops in different systems.

"I don't think so. There are so... so many more Mallali out there."

Soren chuffs. "I see. Then do as you will."

José glances at his First Officer.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She hesitates, taking a moment to formulate her answer.

"I will follow you, no matter what actions you take, José. But... all this death. This pain. It's not right."

José smiles, but his expression appears hollow and pained.

"No, it isn't. None of this is right. It's immoral. It's evil. It won't solve any problems. It will only cause countless innocents to suffer. I don't enjoy doing it, not even a little bit."

He leans back in his seat, then tilts his head up to gaze at the ceiling.

"But why do I do it? I don't know. I just feel this... this hollow place in my chest. I want to fill it with something, but nothing will plug the gap. There's no rhyme or reason to any of the actions I've taken, or pain I've suffered. I might as well be a pawn in some deity's game. God gazes at me from above... he steps on me and laughs, because he finds my suffering amusing."

Soren folds her claws together. "I don't believe in 'God.' No loving 'God' would allow these atrocities to happen."

"He does exist." José says, his tone firm. "The Creator formed the cosmos. He built our galaxy from the ashes of the cosmos. His power is so vast, yet who is to say he wouldn't occasionally play a trick on some mere mortal? Perhaps he built all of this... did all of this, just to hurt me. Wouldn't that be funny? A grand irony?"

The Admiral continues to stare at the ceiling for several long minutes.

Eventually, he lolls his head forward to gaze at the Mallali leaders.

"Mmm. I've looked at you long enough. I tire of your presence. Die."

A moment later, the hearts of all three dozen Mallali leaders rupture inside their chests, causing them to rock violently on their knees and stagger forward. They flop to the floor, lifeless, while the Terran's cold gaze watches them.

"Not even that gave me a drop of satisfaction."

Soren silently stands up and walks over to the fallen bodies. With lethargic, mechanical efficiency, she checks all of their pulses before calling cleanup droids.

"Do you want me to leave them in your... feeding bay?" Soren asks.

"No. Dump them out an airlock," José says. "I couldn't stomach eating those... bastards."

Soren nods. "Alright."

She takes a seat beside her Admiral, falling silent as they wait for the droids to arrive.

"Soren." José says. "...We'll reach Dragua eventually. The Kraktol homeworld. Your homeworld."

Soren glances at him for a moment, then looks away.

"I know."

"Loreen slew many of our friends." José says. "Of all the worlds I've... punished... Dragua holds the most significance."

"Like I said..." Soren mutters. "Do what you want, José. I won't abandon you even if the whole galaxy does."

"I don't see why not," The Admiral says. "Don't you care about Dragua? Your friends will suffer and die. Whether I introduce a virus or blow up the star... they will suffer immeasurably."

She shrugs. "You're not the only one with a hollow heart, José. I've suffered, too. I understand why you do these things. I don't blame you any more than I blame myself. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to beg you to stop?"

Soren gestures vaguely at the viewscreen, which only shows the blackness of the void outside.

"I didn't stop you when you destroyed Enchillon. I didn't stop you when you annihilated any of those other worlds or poisoned Daxarus. Why should I give Dragua preferential treatment? There's no rhyme, reason, or logic to this, anyway. It's all just... emotions. And I'm no good at dealing with those."

The squarish cleaning droids slide inside the Bridge, followed by a small group of Kessu. The bipedal cats wince as they spot the dead bodies awaiting them.

However, among them, one adult female stands out due to her pretty and fluffy white fur. She silently goes about her business, watching over the droids without batting an eye as they grab the fallen bodies, put them onto large trays, and mop up the blood leaking from their mouths.

José gazes at the female.

"...Lulu?"

She glances at him for a brief moment, nods, then returns to her business, never once saying a word.

Not since she was a kitten some fifty years before has Lulu spoken. So traumatic was the loss of her entire family that she lost her ability to speak and never regained it.

After the droids finish cleaning up the fallen Mallali bodies, they and their Kessu maintenance teams trudge after them, with many of the younger ones shooting looks of awe, reverence, and fear at the Terran Admiral.

José purses his lips.

"...Every time I see her, I remember her sister. I remember Lele and why I do this. If I don't punish the Mallali, the Avaru, and the Rodaks, nobody else will."

The Admiral closes his eyes.

"You're right, Soren. There is no logic to my actions. I can try to rationalize it, but in the end... I'm just acting selfishly. I've arbitrarily decided to walk the path of evil. And frankly..."

"...I no longer see any other path before me."

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