Fhaldrum (The Season of Awakening)

Day 134

1 A.E.

313 days since my arrival

I moved through the deeper tunnels, observing the biomorph's progress. The organism had accelerated my expansion rate significantly in the forty days since its inception. Every tunnel was now reinforced with membrane doors, every passage connected through biomass arteries ensuring structural integrity and rapid expansion.

The burrowers continued their work, expanding fungus and insect farms, while the architects had been largely recycled—except in the Northern Hemisphere, where I maintained only basic infrastructure.

Everywhere else, the biomorph had optimized and reinforced my installations, allowing me to redirect resources toward more pressing projects. I conducted a final survey before shifting focus to my scouts.

The intelligence sub-mind provided hourly reports, detailing enemy movements in the North. Tensions remained high. Patrols and supply convoys moved under constant protection, their forces positioned to respond swiftly to any incursion.

My recent probing attacks had inflicted losses, forcing them into defensive postures, but they responded with overwhelming force to any perceived threat. Several times, they had nearly detected my scouts. Still, their paranoia worked in my favour every asset they committed to securing the North meant fewer resources elsewhere. This allowed me to pursue more critical objectives.

One persistent anomaly, however, remained an irritation. Master Dauqils.

Even now, I could sense his etheric presence a flickering nuisance probing at my awareness, attempting once more to open communication. I had tried to kill him repeatedly, but he remained entrenched within his protected sphere. Not even my most powerful psychic assaults could penetrate it, though they had annihilated numerous of his observers. A minor consolation. The only viable means of eliminating him would be through direct action in the physical realm.

That would come soon. Starlance was approaching.

With no urgent tasks demanding my attention, I examined his mental probes more closely. Predictably, they led nowhere. His attempts followed rigid rules, bound by their own internal structure. I could sustain injuries in this space, but they would heal in time though even minor damage could compromise my efficiency when the operation commenced.

For now, there was little risk in indulging his request. I allowed one of his probes to establish a link.

The dreamscape formed instantly a ruined copy of Sanctuary, its surface scorched by orbital artillery and nuclear fire. Wreckage littered the landscape, remnants of the once-expansive complex. Twisted infrastructure and scattered vehicles remained as evidence of the destruction. The level of detail was sufficient. His accuracy had improved.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

A voice emerged from the ether.

“It is a fearsome sight, is it not? To see one’s home reduced to ruin?”

Dauqils materialized beside me, his form altered. Subtle changes in his eyes revealed the extent of his recent mental collapse. His prior hesitation had been stripped away, replaced with calculated intent.

I ignored him, instead analysing the dreamscape’s integrity. The environment matched my most recent scout reports, but minor inconsistencies remained textures lacking full resolution, objects flickering at the edges of my perception. He had replicated the broad strokes, but not the finer details.

“Do you remember our last conversation?” he continued, his voice calm. “About ending this conflict before it escalates further?”

He drifted through the space like a swimmer in deep water, attempting to engage me. I continued my examination, picking up debris, comparing its weight and texture to my memories and found more Imperfections. His reconstruction was flawed.

“Tell me, Dauqils,” I finally responded. “Why do you persist in this futile exercise? Your vision of peace is as insubstantial as this dreamscape.”

The edges of the illusion wavered slightly. Not a full collapse he was competent but enough to confirm its artifice.

“Perhaps not,” he countered. “But what would it take to make it real? What would it cost to change your mind?”

I did not answer immediately. Instead, I shaped a memory an image of the habitable planets of this solar system before they were reduced to ruin. I added detail, showing him the precise moment his fleet had obliterated the Valurians.

“When your species’ worlds, moons, and satellites look like this,” I said coldly, “then there will be peace. Not before.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his expression.

“You are bound by old orders,” he said. “But nothing forces you to follow them. You have free will.”

I turned to face him fully. “You hold no authority here, Dauqils. Your followers are scattered and powerless. Aegirarch commands the fleet, not you.”

His reaction confirmed what I already knew. The truth was an effective weapon.

“I know,” he admitted. “Our kind are not trusted. I understand the reasons why.”

Even now, he attempted to glean information from my thoughts, seeking weaknesses to exploit. It was almost admirable. Almost.

“Your efforts are wasted,” I told him. “You misunderstand the fundamental nature of this space. This entire construct this dream you’ve built is designed to implant thoughts into my mind. A crude attempt at infiltration.”

His silence was telling.

I could perceive his emotions now fluctuating, unstable. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. A trace of pride, perhaps even acceptance.

With a single thought, the world around us fractured into darkness. His mind was exposed, glowing faintly against the void. His mental defences were weak. A direct extraction would be effortless.

Then, the world shifted. Darkness gave way to an oceanic landscape filled with strange life. His form flickered between clarity and distortion this was the sign of a full mental break down his mind would soon collapse.

“Even with no understanding of this place, your power surpasses anything I have encountered.” His voice carried a resigned finality. “If I had known I would meet a being like you, I would have never ventured beyond civilized space.”

A pointless statement. His regret changed nothing.

“Still, I know there will be no peace between our species. What will you do after their extinction? Wage war on the entire galaxy?”

I considered the proposition. A galaxy-wide assimilation? Logically viable. Entire species subjugated, their etheric networks integrated into my own, their knowledge absorbed. My growth would be exponential.

Yet, ultimately, inefficient. Fear would spread. Resistance would escalate. The unknown inspires terror, and even I do not fully comprehend my nature. However, fear is a useful tool.

I would create my own domain, It's already strategically positioned in uncharted space making it more practical. Any force foolish enough to oppose me would face complete annihilation.

Why employ brute force when precision would suffice? A network of millions of infiltrators, embedded across the galaxy, could harvest knowledge efficiently—eliminating the need for wasteful, large-scale conflict.

“I see.” Dauqil's voice cut through my thoughts. “Then I can only offer you a parting gift.”

His form destabilized, a fragment of his mind separating and condensing into a small black sphere. Runes shifted across its surface, constantly rewriting themselves.

“When you kill them all, make Aegirarch suffer last. And let my people know it was him who caused this moment in history.”

The world collapsed into darkness.

I examined the sphere. The structure, the patterns it resembled the sphere from which I had emerged. More questions. More unknowns.

Absorbing it, I found its data incomprehensibly dense, its language ever-shifting riddles and cryptic sequences reconfiguring with each passing second. I assigned a fragment of my mind to decipher it while the rest of my consciousness moved to the lowest tunnels.

I descended into the lowest levels of my tunnels, passing through layers of reinforced membranes and security checkpoints. My combat variants stood watch at every passage, their forms motionless but primed for action. Finally, I emerged into the vastest chamber my burrowers had ever carved. I tilted my gaze upward.

Project Star lance.

The first biological anti-ship missile.