The Hemlock dropped out of warp, stars snapping into focus as the ship settled into the chaotic scene. Before them stretched the Han Empire’s last defense—a massive blockade against Eve’s endless swarm. The wormhole was the galaxy’s only salvation, a crucial choke point that kept the full force of Eve’s numbers from flooding through all at once. For centuries, the swarm had poured out in relentless waves, their numbers seemingly infinite, but the narrow passage of the wormhole constrained them, forcing them to funnel into the Han's kill zone. Even with this advantage, it was a losing battle.
The Han warships fought back with everything they had—antimatter cannons tearing through the void, photon cannons disintegrating drones with beams of pure energy, neutrino bombs detonating with deadly precision. Plasma bursts lit up the darkness, and laser arrays sliced through Eve's forces like searing blades. Dark matter shields shimmered in space, absorbing and redirecting the swarm’s attacks, creating a barrier between the Han fleet and oblivion.
But the swarm wasn’t just a mindless horde of machines. The Hive was a grotesque mixture of biomass, twisted into abominations that blurred the line between living organisms and war machines. Ships, weapons, everything—the Hive had grown from flesh. Massive bio-organic structures pulsed with a sickly, pus-ridden glow. Insectoid drones scuttled through space, their chitinous shells oozing viscous fluids. Tendrils of living tissue lashed out like whips, while hive ships, composed of rotten, festering flesh, unleashed projectiles made of hardened bone and toxic, acidic ooze that tore through Han ships with terrifying efficiency.
The Han fired relentlessly, but the swarm replenished itself faster than it could be destroyed. Each wave was only momentarily held back before the next surge of living matter, muscle, and sinew pressed forward. The choke point minimized the number of enemies at any one time, but the pressure was relentless. Each piece of the Hive that was obliterated seemed to regrow, reconstituting into fresh horrors, leaving the Han barely holding the line against this ever-evolving nightmare.
Sophia stood on the bridge, bottle of rum in hand, her eyes tracking the movements of the battle with a cold, precise amusement. She took a deep swig, feeling the familiar burn in her throat, but it barely slowed her mind down. Drunk or not, her brain worked faster than anyone else’s in the room. Each flash of light, every explosion, every energy signature fed into her consciousness like raw data, laying the foundation for a dangerous idea. There was a guilty pleasure in it—a fascination with the destruction, a twisted curiosity that she knew she shouldn’t have. The loss of life was staggering, but the booze dulled the edges of her guilt, and her curiosity won out. Was this her? Or was it Solaria's influence creeping in? Maybe it was the Shadow Orb still whispering in her mind. She didn’t know, and in that moment, she couldn’t look away. Horror or awe—she couldn’t tell the difference anymore, and somehow, that scared her most of all.
She had been working relentlessly for days, ever since her conversation with Jim and Qu. The need to find a solution without resorting to necromancy had driven her into an intense focus, one fueled by alcohol but sharpened by magic. Her draconic mind buzzed with the thrill of discovery, each sip of rum blending with her thoughts, pushing her closer to the answer she was seeking.
Her thoughts drifted back to Helm Hold, where she had first unlocked the potential of fission using a combination of Earth’s science and the magic she had learned at the academy. That had been her first true step down this path—combining magic and science to create something devastating. The low-yield magical nuke she had developed then had leveled the forest outside Helm Hold, leaving the citadel untouched but marking her first real breakthrough. It had been a taste of what was possible, but now... now she was on the verge of something far more dangerous.
She chuckled to herself, remembering how Mike had teased her relentlessly back then. "You really did it, didn’t you?" he’d said, shaking his head with a grin, half-admiring, half-horrified. "What’s next, wiping out another continent?" That smirk of his had said it all—he knew she was capable of far worse, and truthfully, so did she.
"First a little nuke, and now... the Void Bomb. I was always meant for destruction, wasn’t I, Mike?" she muttered, amused but bitter, taking another swig. Mike would lose his damn mind if he saw what she was about to pull off now. "Oh, he’d love this," she said to herself, half-drunken laughter bubbling up, but the sound was hollow. Beneath the amusement, a deeper sadness gnawed at her. Always destruction. She thought of the dragon she once was, the one that had killed over a billion souls on the Northern Continent, or the billions she had slaughtered to stop the summoning of archdemons in the past. It was too much—what she had done, what she continued to do. This Void Bomb was her passion project, but it was also a way to drown the weight of her sins. The most powerful thing she would ever create, and yet it felt like just another chapter in a long history of annihilation.
She had to do it, she told herself. This was her way home, her escape. It saved lives, didn’t it? She figured one galaxy was as good as another if the alternative was losing everything to the Hive Mind. At least, that’s what she tried to believe. Qu’s intel had said it all—every life beyond the wormhole was gone, consumed by the swarm. Jim had tried to navigate it once, only to be chased at every turn, barely escaping with his life back to the Han galaxy. She had no other point of reference, no other truth to hold onto. So she drowned herself in the work, in the alcohol, convincing herself that it was for the greater good. It had to be.
As she watched the Han fleet struggle to hold back the swarm, an idea began to crystallize in her mind. She saw how the antimatter worked, how the plasma bursts and neutrino bombs tore through the enemy ranks, and how the dark matter shields bent space itself to protect the fleet. The Han had weapons she had never dreamed of in her previous lives, but they weren’t enough on their own. Not yet.
“I need a few days,” Sophia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the tense silence on the bridge, though slurred slightly by the alcohol.
Jim, standing beside her, glanced at her with a frown, his voice tense. "A few days? We don’t have a few days, Sophia. Qu’s enemies in the Han know we’re here. They know we’ve been traveling with a mystic. The Empire still wants you alive, and half of those bastards would kill to be the ones who hand you over. If we stay here too long, it won’t be just Eve’s swarm we’ll be dealing with—it’ll be every damn bounty hunter and political schemer in the galaxy."
Sophia, half-drunk but completely focused, waved her hand dismissively, her mind already racing. “They’ll die if they come,” she muttered, her tone reluctant but resolute. "But I have to know if..." Her lips curled into a little amused grin, eyes gleaming with dangerous intent. "If... I’ve got something that will stop Eve’s swarm cold. I just need time to finish it, and I won’t let any assholes stop me."
Jim studied her face, recognizing that familiar glint in her eyes—the same one he had seen during their journey, when she had drunkenly shared more than he had ever expected. Over long nights and too much rum, he had pieced together a history far more horrifying than the legends of Valicar: the truth of Solaria. The stories of mass death, of entire continents laid to waste in her past life, made even the bloodiest Han Empire conquests look like child’s play. She had described the empire Von White had founded and how its rise was built on blood and magic. But the Han's destruction of planets? It wasn’t even comparable. Solaria had obliterated something far worse—she had destroyed the eternal souls of those she slaughtered, wiping out any hope of rebirth or afterlife. The weight of that was impossible to fathom. That same look was on her face now, the kind that meant she was on the verge of creating something monumental, something dangerous. Her half-smirk said it all—despite the overwhelming stakes and her guilt, she was almost having fun, riding the edge of madness with the thrill of creation.
“What exactly are you working on?” Jim asked, his voice cautious but laced with a hint of cocky curiosity, as if he half-expected her to pull off something insane.
“A bomb,” Sophia replied, her eyes locked on the battlefield. “One that will take out everything beyond that wormhole. The swarm, the hive—everything that has matter, fucking gone. But it’s more than that.” She took another sip of rum, her amusement darkening. “It’ll clear a path. Thousands, maybe even millions, of light-years wiped clean.”
Jim raised an eyebrow, his cocky grin barely fading. “That’s impressive, but you’re seriously talking about wiping out an entire galaxy?”
“I’m talking about my way home and the fucking survival you and Qu keep hammering into me,” Sophia corrected, her voice sharp but tinged with excitement. “If we don’t do something drastic, you two will be dead long before the swarm’s finished. Qu’s rivals in the Han Empire are itching to hand me over, and you know they won’t hesitate. This bomb—this Void Bomb—will end the swarm and give you the damn victory you want.”
Jim leaned back, his smug grin still plastered on his face, though there was a glint of seriousness behind his eyes. “Well, alright then. I’ll keep the Han off your back for now. But whatever this grand plan of yours is, it better work. 'Cause if it doesn’t, I’ll come after you myself. Sure, I won’t be able to do much, but hey, I’ll have nothing to lose at that point—plus, you know, the galaxy ending thing? Plenty of survivors will be coming for both of our heads.”
Sophia smirked back. Jim’s playful attitude wasn’t exactly new, but it was clear he was loosening up around her again. He had learned enough about her true identity to drop the fear. Even now, with the stakes this high, he still found room for his dark humor, knowing that if things went south, they’d both be royally screwed. But he wasn’t really threatening her; it was more of a light-hearted jab, the kind he used to throw around back when they had just met, a reminder that in their strange alliance, he was still willing to joke, even if the galaxy was on the line.
Sophia nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere. The exact specifications of the bomb were coming into focus in her mind. She would combine everything: the antimatter core, wrapped in a dark matter containment field to focus and amplify the explosion. Around that, she would layer the neutrino particles and plasma bursts for raw destructive force, and the photon beams for precision targeting. All of it would be held together by a lattice of magical energy, designed to guide and control the explosion, ensuring it spread exactly where she needed it to.
This bomb wouldn’t just destroy the swarm. It would carve a path through the galaxy itself, leaving nothing but void in its wake. Thousands if not millions of light-years of space, wiped clean in a single, devastating strike. It was the culmination of everything she had learned, everything she had been working toward.
Taking another swig of rum, Sophia chuckled again to herself. "From nukes to this... Always something bigger......always death."
As she left the bridge, heading toward her quarters to finalize the bomb’s design, she smiled to herself. This was bigger than anything she had ever done. Helm Hold had been just the beginning—a low-yield nuke, meant for destruction. Now, she was on the verge of creating something far more dangerous.
The galaxy beyond the wormhole wouldn’t know what hit it.
Sophia locked the door to her quarters, setting the bottle of rum on the table beside her as she prepared to work. The Void Bomb she was about to create wasn’t just a weapon—it was a cosmic force, the culmination of everything she had learned from magic, science, and the Han’s advanced technology. But to complete this task, she needed more than her usual focus. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hands and whispered the incantation, “Huras maru.”
Instantly, she felt her mind split into a dozen different threads, each one focusing on a unique task. Her consciousness fractured, but rather than disorienting her, it sharpened her focus. Every thread now worked in unison, like a well-oiled machine, processing the complex data and spellwork that this bomb required.
She cast another spell, "Juas na mava," enhancing her already heightened cognition, her mind sharpening with a near-superhuman clarity. With a flick of her fingers, she pulled up the Hemlock’s data systems, the ship’s database streaming into her consciousness like a torrent of knowledge. The technology at her disposal now was beyond anything she could have imagined when she first started down this path. Back at Helm Hold, in that ancient, medieval world, science had been barely understood—limited, rudimentary, primitive. Yet even then, she had pushed the boundaries, daring to blend magic with the sparse knowledge of physics she had brought from Earth. She had used arcane spells to transmute basic elements, creating weapons-grade uranium in a society that didn’t even know what a radioactive element was. It was a far cry from the world she lived in now, but it had been the first step in her journey of merging magic with science—and here, aboard the Hemlock, she stood on the brink of something infinitely more dangerous.
And now, standing at the precipice of creating a bomb that could end galaxies, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. At least it wasn’t necromancy. This was something new, something even more dangerous than what she had done before. This bomb could theoretically end the universe if left unchecked, but that wasn’t the plan. This was about control. Precision. Survival.
Her hands moved swiftly over the holographic interface, her mind splitting into multiple threads as she meticulously wove together the most dangerous device she had ever imagined. One part of her consciousness was focused on the antimatter core, carefully adjusting the delicate field interactions between matter and antimatter, balancing forces that could obliterate entire systems. Another part was fine-tuning the dark matter containment field, something she had crafted from materials that hadn’t even existed until she had transmuted them into being. These new metals, forged from combinations of rare elements and magic, were stronger than anything found in nature—an alloy of myth and science. She had created them using transmutation spells so complex they defied all known laws, both magical and scientific.
Each thread of her mind worked independently but in perfect harmony. As one part focused on managing the stability of these new metals, another thread calculated the energy output of the neutrino destabilizers—newer, more dangerous inventions she’d developed while half-drunk, pushing herself to new limits. They weren’t just weapons; they were works of art, reshaping the very particles they touched, making the bomb deadlier and more precise.
But it wasn’t just the materials that were unprecedented; it was the magic, too. She had designed new spells, ones she had never even considered before, spells that manipulated forces beyond her draconic nature. She had enhanced her own cognition with layered incantations, pushing her already superhuman mind beyond its limits. These spells multiplied her mental capacity, allowing her to perform calculations that would overwhelm even the most advanced AI in the galaxy. Formulas mixed with ancient arcane symbols swirled in her thoughts, a fusion of modern physics and forbidden sorcery. The holographic interface glowed with the results of these impossible computations, showing patterns and interactions that had never existed before.
And yet, despite all the chaos in her mind, she was aware of it all. Each thread of consciousness was dedicated to a different aspect of the bomb’s creation. One part worked on guiding the spellwork around the bomb to ensure every detail was flawless, ensuring that this wasn’t just an explosion—it was a cosmic event. But still, a small piece of her mind remained tethered to the gnawing moral implications of what she was about to unleash, though the rum did its job in quieting that voice. It was a bomb to wipe out a galaxy, but she told herself it was for the greater good.
The Void Bomb would be unlike anything the universe had ever seen. The antimatter core—shielded by the new metals she had forged—was capable of releasing unimaginable energy when matter and antimatter collided. Entire stars would be consumed in seconds. But the real key was the dark matter containment field, guided by her spells, enhanced by her draconic intellect, and amplified by her new alloys. Dark matter, nearly impossible to control through mundane means, would act as a funnel, amplifying the energy of the antimatter explosion. It wouldn’t just destroy—it would leap from system to system, like a cosmic wildfire, warping space itself as it moved.
This wasn’t just creation—it was a god-like act of destruction, and Sophia was fully aware that she had just pushed the boundaries of both science and magic far beyond anything she had ever imagined.
Sophia took another swig of rum as she worked. This wasn’t just about releasing energy—it was about sustaining it. The bomb needed to continue jumping from system to system, consuming everything in its path, and for that, she needed more than just science. The bomb’s true fuel was mana.
But the true heart of it all lay in the mana lattice. Without it, the bomb was just another destructive device—powerful, sure, but finite. The lattice wasn’t just a guide; it was the essence that allowed the bomb to evolve, to adapt as it leapt between systems. Every pulse of destruction would feed the lattice, allowing it to convert the wreckage into new energy. Each surge of annihilation would fuel the next, like a living organism feeding on chaos.
And that’s where the danger lay. Without control, the lattice could grow beyond anything she could reign in. It could become a chain reaction so devastating that it might never stop. It was a fine line between genius and apocalypse. Sophia knew her mana reserves would define its limits—she would pour just enough into the lattice to ensure it didn’t spiral into an endless hunger. Yet the thought lingered, the possibility of unleashing something that could devour everything if she pushed too far.
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The Hemlock’s data system helped guide her through the scientific aspects of the design, but the magic—that was all her. Without it, the bomb would burn itself out after a few jumps. But with the mana she was pouring into it, the Void Bomb would last as long as it needed to, clearing a path through the Hive Mind’s forces, cutting through thousands of light-years of space. If unchecked, it could destroy a million light-years, maybe even more.
She paused, staring at the design. This was the culmination of everything she had learned. Her first steps back at Helm Hold, where she had blended magic and science to create weapons, had led her here—to the creation of a bomb that could end the universe. And yet, she couldn’t stop. The Hive Mind was an evil force, and this bomb was the only way to stop it. At least, that’s what she told herself as she took another drink. It was easier to drown the doubts with rum than to face the implications of what she was about to do.
Jim and Qu would report back once the swarm was taken care of, and they’d get their happy ending. Jim would probably get his noble title, and Qu could return home a hero. Maybe it wasn’t her problem after all. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. She was doing this to save the innocents of this galaxy—people who would be consumed by the Hive if she didn’t act. And maybe, just maybe, this would bring her some good karma. After all the destruction and chaos she had been a part of, maybe this would balance the scales a little.
Sophia’s hands moved faster now, her mind working at superhuman speeds as she finalized the design. The neutrino destabilizers would disrupt the quantum structure of the Hive’s drones, leaving them vulnerable to the raw energy of the explosion. The plasma bursts and photon beams would vaporize anything left standing, ensuring the Hive had no chance to recover.
But the key to it all was the mana lattice she meticulously worked on now, making the final delicate adjustments. Without it, none of this would work. The lattice wasn’t just a framework—it was the very heart of the bomb, the element that allowed it to evolve as it traveled. It would guide the bomb as it leapt from system to system, absorbing and feeding off the destruction in its wake to generate more antimatter and dark matter. Each burst of annihilation would fuel the next, creating an endless, self-sustaining chain reaction—one that could potentially devour entire galaxies if left unchecked.
She smiled to herself as she worked, finishing the last of the rum. This bomb wasn’t just about science or magic—it was the perfect fusion of both, something only she could have created. And as terrifying as it was, it was also beautiful in its own way.
Tapping the comm system, she spoke, her voice steady. “Jim, it’s done. The bomb is ready.”
There was a long pause before Jim’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You sure about this?”
Sophia gazed at the holographic blueprint, the small design pulsing with a faint glow. It was deceptively simple—no bigger than a car battery—but packed with enough destructive power to obliterate entire swaths of the galaxy, if not more. "No doubt about it," she muttered, her voice steady despite the weight of what she was about to unleash.
“Good. We’re moving to the wormhole in the next few hours. Our enemies in the Han are getting restless,” Jim’s voice crackled through the comm, his usual cockiness barely masking the tension underneath.
“They won’t matter for much longer,” Sophia replied, her tone cold and resolute. “I’ll meet you on the bridge in a few.”
She cut the connection and rose from her chair, feeling the exhaustion settle into her bones like lead. But there was no time to rest—she had done the impossible. The Void Bomb, a fusion of magic and science that no one else could have conceived, was complete. Soon, it would live up to its name, wiping entire swaths of the galaxy clean, erasing existence itself. A part of her reveled in the creation, while another, quieter part of her recoiled in horror.
With one last glance at the glowing hologram of the bomb, she left her quarters, the weight of her actions bearing down on her. This weapon could do more than just save the galaxy—it could erase it. Maybe even the entire universe if given enough time. And yet, it was necessary. There was no other way to stop the evil that threatened to devour everything in its path.
The Hemlock shuddered, engines humming as it sped toward the wormhole. Jim’s voice carried over the intercom as he issued commands to the Han fleet. He’d orchestrated a tactical shift in their firing patterns, opening a temporary gap to cover their advance. The plan was ruthless but precise: the Han forces would strike hard, rest, then hit again, wearing down the enemy. Intelligence suggested the swarm beyond the wormhole was faltering, weakened from relentless attacks. Time was running out, and if they didn’t break through soon, the swarm would regroup, stronger than ever.
Outside, the battle raged like a violent storm of chaos. Eve's swarm, an overwhelming horde of bio-engineered horrors, crashed relentlessly against the Han fleet. Wave after wave of grotesque creatures slammed into dark matter shields, tearing into the Han ships like feral beasts. Photon cannons sliced through the void, vaporizing drones in beams of pure energy. Neutrino bombs detonated in dazzling flashes, collapsing clusters of the swarm with pinpoint precision. Plasma bursts painted the blackness of space with explosive flashes, but it wasn’t enough. For every drone destroyed, another emerged, and the Han were barely holding the line.
Sophia stood on the bridge, her gaze steady, watching the carnage unfold. The swarm was closing in—if they didn’t act soon, there wouldn’t be a way through. The Void Bomb was her gamble, a destructive masterpiece that could either clear a path or erase everything in its wake. She had to act now, while there was still a chance.
Sophia raised her hands, her lips moving as she whispered, "Ularas van houam tala baruin."
The incantation echoed through the air, and the response was immediate—a massive surge of lightning formed in front of the Hemlock’s bridge, far beyond the ship’s shields. This was no ordinary arc of electricity. The lightning, crackling with deadly precision and infused with Sophia’s magic, snaked through the void, carving a path directly toward the swarm. A glowing magic circle materialized in the vacuum of space, summoning the true force of nature amidst the stars. The bolts of lightning burst outward, ripping into the bio-engineered monstrosities with terrifying efficiency.
As the Han warships followed Jim’s directives, their antimatter cannons and photon blasts softened up the swarm, tearing through the waves of grotesque flesh and chitinous armor. But Sophia’s lightning was beyond anything the Hive could counter. It didn’t just fry circuits—it tore through the organic matter, turning the pulsating flesh black as it seared their nervous systems from the inside out. The creatures convulsed, their bodies locked in a grotesque death dance, shuddering violently under the raw, elemental power. The void filled with the glow of her magic, the Hive momentarily stunned and vulnerable as they writhed in the storm she had unleashed.
But the Hive had evolved, forced through countless iterations of adaptation. The flesh monstrosities began to heal, their warped forms regenerating even as blackened skin cracked and peeled away. Still, it didn’t matter. Sophia’s magic had done its job. The lightning gave the Hemlock the window it needed.
Jim’s eyes widened as the Hive faltered, recalling the last time he had punched through this swarm, only then he’d barely made it out alive using the Han’s most devastating superweapon. This time, it wasn’t some mechanical marvel saving them—it was Sophia, her magic stunning the living nightmare just long enough for them to slip past.
“Now!” she yelled, her voice rising above the storm of crackling energy.
The Hemlock’s engines roared to life, surging forward as the swarm recoiled. The ship dove headfirst into the wormhole, the only path to the other side. Behind them, a small portion of the Han fleet followed—a desperate vanguard consisting of a few cruisers, mostly destroyers, and even a single dreadnought. It was a show of force, a clear statement of what the Han were willing to sacrifice to retrieve the mystic they so desperately wanted back. But as Sophia watched the organic horrors of the Hive regenerate and close the breach behind them, it only solidified her thoughts. The Han still underestimated her, massively. They had no idea what she was capable of, what she was about to unleash. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone. Sophia would save the galaxy on her terms—and, if necessary, she’d save this vanguard too.
The moment they breached the other side, the full horror of the Eve galaxy unfolded before them. It wasn’t just the grotesque flesh monsters they had seen before—it was an entire galaxy devoured by the Hive. Nightmarish creatures, pulsating with bio-organic malevolence, stretched across space like a plague. Sickly green light pulsed from massive structures, their tendrils grasping at the stars themselves, dimming the light of entire systems under the weight of the Hive's dominance.
Sophia’s heart skipped a beat as she took it all in. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, more than she had anticipated. The Han hadn’t been exaggerating when they said they were losing. This galaxy was already consumed. The battle they had fought before was a mere glimpse of the true terror that awaited them here.
The creatures poured toward them, even more massive and monstrous than before. These bio-engineered horrors screeched and shrieked through the void, their twisted forms heading straight for the Hemlock and its fleet with terrifying speed.
Sophia acted fast, her hands moving in rapid succession as she called forth her magic again. She had to buy them more time. Summoning every ounce of her power, she chanted, "Hav rus asz," her voice steady and commanding as the ancient spell flowed from her lips. Instantly, a shimmering barrier of pure mana formed, glimmering in space as it sealed off the wormhole behind them and around their ship, protecting the Hemlock and the fleet not only from the relentless swarm but also from the devastation to come.
The Hive’s nightmarish creatures screeched in fury, slamming against the barrier, their bio-engineered claws scraping at the shimmering wall of energy, but the spell held strong. Sophia could feel the pressure building, knew the barrier wouldn’t last forever. The Hive was relentless. But for now, it was enough—enough to hold back the tide long enough for what she was about to do next.
This wasn’t just protection from the Hive. She was also safeguarding them from the Void Bomb she was about to unleash, a destructive force that even she wasn’t sure she could fully contain.
Jim stood beside her, his voice tight with tension as he muttered, “I hope you’re ready for this.”
Sophia didn’t respond. She simply nodded, taking out the Void Bomb. The tiny device—no larger than a car battery—glowed faintly in her hands, an unassuming object with the power to reshape reality. Antimatter and dark matter, harnessed by magic and science, pulsed within the device, ready to wipe out the Hive on a scale that defied comprehension. It hummed softly, almost innocently, despite the overwhelming power it held.
Without hesitation, she activated the bomb. “It’s time,” she whispered, her voice carrying an eerie calm, fully aware of the devastation she was about to unleash.
Sophia raised her hands, her lips moving in a practiced rhythm. "Adsa van lu cals mas cas varu nala mara..." she chanted, her voice low and resonant, the ancient draconic words of power reverberating through the air. The Void Bomb pulsed in response, its energy coiling like a living thing. She continued, the incantation building in intensity, until finally, the bomb was primed.
With one final protective spell, she encased the Hemlock and the closest ships in a shimmering bubble of mana, strong enough to withstand the coming annihilation. The barrier glowed softly, a cocoon of magic in a sea of death. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she released the Void Bomb into the void.
The effect was immediate and terrifying.
The bomb detonated with a blinding flash, a shockwave of pure energy expanding outward. At first, it seemed small—a mere ripple in the vastness of space. But the explosion grew. And grew. And grew.
The fabric of reality itself buckled under the sheer force as the bomb’s destructive wave spread, tearing apart the very atoms that made up the stars, planets, and the living matter of the Hive. The explosion tore through the nearest systems, the antimatter and dark matter colliding with such force that it erased everything in its path—flesh, bone, metal, rock—reduced to nothing but subatomic dust in the blink of an eye.
The Hive’s bio-engineered monstrosities were the first to feel the devastation. Flesh sizzled and disintegrated as the bomb’s energy wave collided with their bodies, frying nervous systems, boiling their internal organs, and turning them into blackened husks in an instant. The once-living mass of sinew, bone, and muscle that had made up the Hive’s armies was reduced to mere ash, drifting through space, consumed by the bomb’s hunger for destruction.
Ships, planets, and even moons were not spared. The bomb’s wave, guided by magic, leaped from system to system with horrifying efficiency, erasing everything it touched. Planets crumbled like sandcastles caught in a tsunami, their atmospheres ripped away, their molten cores snuffed out like candle flames. Stars collapsed in on themselves as the energy ripped through their very cores, snuffing out their light forever. There were no survivors, no remnants—only void.
The Hive’s bio-organic structures—massive tendrils of flesh that spanned light-years—stood no chance. They were incinerated by the overwhelming force of the Void Bomb. Flesh, bone, and blood evaporated in an instant, as if the very fabric of their existence had been denied by the bomb’s catastrophic power. The bio-ships, which had once been part of a single, twisted organism, screamed in silent agony as they were torn asunder, their organic matter turning black and brittle, then disintegrating completely.
The wave of destruction did not stop there. It fed on itself, the antimatter and dark matter colliding and expanding, growing exponentially with every system it consumed. The raw power of physics and magic, interwoven perfectly, created a self-sustaining chain reaction that wiped out everything in its wake. The Hive’s ships, built from both metal and flesh, melted under the bomb’s ferocity, their circuits frying, their organic components shriveling and dying as the bomb feasted on their mass.
Entire planets were turned to dust, reduced to their most basic components, then annihilated entirely. Oceans evaporated in an instant, mountains crumbled to nothing, and the very air itself was sucked away by the void. There was no sound in the vacuum of space, but if there had been, it would have been the deafening silence of complete and utter annihilation. No matter, no energy, no trace of life or death—only nothingness remained in the bomb’s wake.
The Hive’s forces disintegrated before her eyes. The once unstoppable tide of bio-monstrosities, ships, and drones that had seemed eternal, crumbled and fell. Drones, once terrifying in their numbers, turned to ash before they could even react. The Hive’s bio-machines, designed to survive in the harshest conditions, were obliterated, their organic components twisted and fried, their circuits burned out as if they had never existed. Planets housing millions of life forms were extinguished in an instant, whole star systems wiped from existence as the Void Bomb leaped from one to the next with terrifying precision.
Sophia watched the devastation unfold in stunned silence, her heart racing as she saw the bomb's terrible power in action. Her calculations had been correct. The bomb was working exactly as she had intended. It spread like wildfire, devouring everything in its path, leaping across the stars, wiping entire systems from existence in the blink of an eye.
The Hive’s bio-organic tendrils and structures crumbled, their sickly green glow extinguished forever as the bomb tore through them. It was as if the universe itself trembled under the weight of the bomb’s fury, unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of destruction it was witnessing.
Sophia’s breath hitched as the bomb consumed more and more of the galaxy. She could feel the intense strain on her mana reserves as she maintained the protective shield around the Hemlock, pouring nearly every ounce of her power into controlling the bomb. The force it unleashed was staggering, far beyond even her wildest expectations. But this was part of her plan. She couldn’t let the bomb spiral out of control, couldn’t allow it to feed on the destruction indefinitely. It took all of her concentration, all of her magic, to hold the bomb within the bounds she had set.
Sophia’s control over the bomb was absolute, but the strain was immense. Every moment the bomb expanded, devouring entire systems, it required more of her mana to keep it from continuing on forever. The mana lattice she had created was doing its job, guiding the bomb’s chain reaction, but it still needed her power to burn out at the right moment. Without her influence, it would have continued to feed off the destruction endlessly, growing into a self-sustaining nightmare capable of erasing the entire universe.
As the wave of annihilation spread, wiping out over half the galaxy, Sophia finally saw it—the planned moment when the bomb began to reach its limit. The antimatter and dark matter, no longer able to sustain the chain reaction without her guiding mana, started to wane. Slowly, the shockwave began to die, pulling back as it consumed the last of the Hive’s forces. It was working, just as she had calculated, her control over the bomb’s energy ensuring it would burn itself out before the destruction became eternal.
The bomb burned itself out, just as Sophia had intended. The galaxy, or what remained of it, fell silent. The Hive was gone. The nightmare was over.
Sophia exhaled, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her mana reserves were nearly depleted, her mind and body teetering on the edge of collapse, but it had been worth it. The Hive had been shattered here—its forces obliterated by the Void Bomb. But she knew it wasn’t over. Not completely. There were still remnants of the Hive scattered across the galaxy, lurking in the dark. The war wasn’t finished, and maybe it never would be. But she’d bought time—time for the Han Empire to regroup, to push back.
She stared out at the vast emptiness left in the bomb’s wake, the eerie silence after so much devastation. Half of this galaxy lay in ruins, wiped clean by her creation, but the other half still remained under the control of the Hive Mind. The enemy’s grip on that region was still tight, but the bulk of their forces had been concentrated on this side of the galaxy—the side she had obliterated. It was enough to buy the Han Empire time. Even though the Hive still controlled half of the galaxy, its forces had been weakened to the point that Sophia had hope they could finish the job without her.
This war wasn’t over for the Han, but it was no longer her fight. They had a chance to win now, and with that knowledge, she could return home to her galaxy.
Jim stood beside her, leaning against the railing, his usual cocky swagger nowhere to be seen. He glanced from the wreckage of the galaxy back to Sophia, disbelief still written on his face. “Holy shit… you actually did it,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then, after a pause, his voice lowered, more genuine than she’d ever heard him. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna care if I bring you back at this point. Hell, I’m set for life after this. I owe you... seriously, thank you.”
Sophia didn’t turn to face him. She was too drained, both physically and mentally, to engage in the sentiment. “Yeah, congrats,” she said quietly, the words falling out of her like an afterthought. “You get your happy ending... and I get to go home.”
Jim stayed silent for a moment, his eyes flicking to her as if searching for something more. Sophia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. Then, with a sharper tone, she added, “But just to be clear, Jim. I was never going back with you. Whatever new life you’re getting out of this? Enjoy it.”
Jim’s lips twitched, a small, knowing smile creeping back, but he didn’t push. “Fair enough.”
The tense silence was broken by the sound of Qu’s voice, bubbling with excitement. “Sophia! You’ve done it! You’ve changed everything! You don’t know the debt I owe you. The Han Empire will rise again, stronger than ever. Soon, I’ll be Emperor! The galaxy will never forget your name!”
Sophia’s exhaustion finally cracked a wry grin across her face. She turned her head slightly to give him a look. “Qu, I didn’t do this for your throne. I did it because it was the only way I’m getting the hell out of here.”
Qu, still riding high on his euphoria, didn’t miss a beat as he continued in absolute jubilation over the bomb and the spectacle. "But you’ll always have a place in the history of the Han—I will make sure of it! The galaxy... I will owe you everything: my future throne, the lives of my people! This is the most exciting time of my life. Thank you, Sophia! What a wonderful mystic you are, you deserve to find your home!"
Sophia let out a dry laugh, the sound almost bitter. “Yeah, sure, Qu. Write my name in your history books if that’s what makes you feel better. Just keep me out of your political games. I’m not interested in playing anymore.”
Jim, regaining a bit of his swagger, chuckled as he pushed off the railing. “Guess we better get you to that wormhole before you decide to wipe out the rest of the galaxy, huh?”
Sophia allowed herself a tired smile. “Don’t tempt me.” She straightened up, though her body screamed in protest, and fixed him with a look. “Now, take me to the next fucking wormhole.”
Qu, still glowing with joy, laughed in that exaggerated way of his, while Jim gave her a crooked grin. But Sophia had already turned, her mind set on one thing—home.