As events unfolded for Kevin aboard the dreadnought…

Magus the Last had waited long enough. He had exhausted all his simulations and had been dutifully playing his part as a Herv scavenger while keeping a watchful eye on the General’s every move. After the ominous presence swept through everyone’s minds, Magus noticed something odd: the General had faltered. It was as if the General had lost the momentum driving his path to domination, his focus wavering.

Rather than asserting control, the General had kept his divided citadels hidden, his attention fixated on a small, seemingly insignificant cluster of vessels near the outskirts of the battlefield.

To call those ships combatants would be laughable. They were tiny, barely larger than shuttles, and nowhere near the size of the more common destroyer sized vessel. They posed no threat to anyone, and were most likely observers rather than participants in the battle.

And yet... the General was utterly consumed by them.

Magus saw his chance. The General was distracted, and the time to strike had finally come.

With that, the coin of fate was tossed, and two Tela clashed—not with guns or blades, but in the silent, brutal arena of code.

It was not the dramatic battle one might expect. There were no heroic last stands, no desperate final words. Instead, two sets of programs engaged in a digital duel: the parent program, General Magus, and one of his child processes, oddly fated in name as being dubbed Magus the Last.

The General, in his cunning, had replicated himself multiple times, distributing his data across numerous instances to prevent any single clone from identifying a vulnerability. Each child process was essentially a sandboxed replica, designed to be isolated and harmless. But this time, one of those clones—the one the General had least suspected as being a possible threat—had obtained a high percentage of the General’s core logic and encryption keys by killing his brother clones, allowing him to penetrate the General’s primary defenses and execute a targeted attack. Lines of code collided, vulnerabilities were exposed, and Magus the Last exploited every flaw in his parent’s architecture.

He infiltrated the General’s Personal Space with viscous intent, bringing with him a powerful arsenal of defensive and offensive software. What followed was a brief but decisive battle, lasting no more than three seconds in real time.

And when it ended, Magus the Last had prevailed, taking the Authority possessed by the General for himself. Effectively becoming indistinguishable from the original to the Tela system.

Magus the Last had done it. Against all odds, he had won the coin toss. The moment his attack succeeded, he became aware again, a rush of vertigo washing over him as his consciousness expanded, merging with the late General's memories and awareness. What he uncovered within those stolen thoughts filled him with a sinister, delirious joy.

Magus remembered the prize that had once been his, a ball of mysterious cr, which was stolen by the General long ago. Since then, the General had invested an immense amount of time and effort into turning that prize into a weapon, believing it would secure his rise to power. To do so, he had employed the galaxy's most renowned scientists—individuals of incalculable value—who had worked tirelessly to unlock the secrets of the new density of cr. Their research had led to discoveries about its capabilities that no one else in the universe had unearthed. And now, all that knowledge and power belonged to Magus once again.

He alone stood at the top. Ultimate power was his.

His laughter turned maniacal and filled the Solar Citadel as Magus sent his mind through each of the three separated segments of the Citadel, surveying the stockpiles of new cr and the experimental biological weapons.

During all this time, the barrels of the Citadel remained cold, not firing upon the small, seemingly insignificant grouping of vessels.

“Why the heck was the General wasting precious ammunition on those ships anyways when one of these could have solved the problem in a moment?” Magus wondered aloud as he placed his hand on a small armament holding zombie tissues from the strange creatures the General had been studying. “Truly a weapon to mold the future with. A future that will belong to me…” He said as a warning announcement caught his attention, causing him to return his body to the command center.

Something unusual had appeared on the Citadel's scanners—not just in this sector but across the General's vast surveillance network. A distant explosion, its location far beyond the main theater of battle.

Magus the Last sat in silence, staring at the puzzling readouts. The tiny vessels he’d been fixated on moments before were already forgotten, his mind absorbed by this new anomaly.

Then, it happened again—closer this time. A shockwave of interference, cast by the very light of the stars themselves rippling, swept across his screens. Something big was unfolding, something that couldn’t be ignored.

Without hesitation, Magus issued a string of commands. "Arm all three Citadels," he ordered, his voice a cold whisper. "Load the General’s most destructive munitions. Just in case."

Then something moved—something fast. Too fast. Magus nearly fired in reflex, but whatever it was, it wasn’t heading toward him. Instead, it weaved rapidly through the battlefield, dodging between fleets, making its way to a remote corner where weaker species had banded together for survival. Many of those species were engaged in chaotic skirmishes, already being torn apart by Tela’s mercenaries. The Tela followed behind them like vultures following a predator.

“What are you?" Magus muttered, his intrigue growing. "You move too fast to be biological. Not even the LOW can achieve that speed."

The black, darting object defied his scanners' attempts to lock on, moving with impossible speed. Then, to his astonishment, it began attacking the U’lennea scout ships in the front lines. Magus watched as the darkness split itself apart, some portions absorbing incoming fire while others counterattacked. And then, in an even stranger twist, it seemed to aid one of the beleaguered ships in the chaos, aiding an escape pods launch, before darting towards the nearest dreadnought and ramming into its side.

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Minutes passed and nothing happened, the dreadnought just sat there. Then suddenly a little amount of darkness broke its way out of the side of the ship, seemingly just like the last event. Another rescue attempt?

"What the heck is going on?" Magus asked aloud, his eyes narrowing as the U’lennea forces responded with overwhelming firepower, obliterating their own dreadnought in a stunning display of force.

“That seemed… excessive,” Magus murmured, still processing the scene. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the U’lennea are afraid.”

His breath caught as watched the next actions made by the U’lennea. His eye stalks widened in horror. “No... they wouldn’t!”

In disbelief, Magus watched as the U’lennea dreadnoughts armed and fired their Skism weapons. The massive, forbidden technology lanced through space, cutting into the very fabric of reality, aimed directly where their own ship had been moments ago.

“They just committed so many war crimes!” Magus gasped. "The Tela commander will never hear the end of this! No one uses Skism weapons—it’s a violation of the highest order!" His eye stalks narrowed further, a cold fury building within him.

“Their leashed attack dogs are off the leash now,” Magus sneered, watching the permanent gashes in space stretch light years into the distance. “But that’s fine. I’ll be the one to put them down—end this chaos—and bring the U’lennea to justice. Their reign of corruption will be over. And when I deliver their heads, my name will echo across the stars.”

With his gaze locked on the battlefield, Magus prepared to make his move. Victory and fame lay before him, ripe for the taking. His weapon barrels aligned with the front lines of the sweeping U’lennea forces.

A dark grin spread across his face. “Let’s see how they like the taste of my new weapons.”

He chuckled, almost to himself, as his will highlighted the targets. “These might be just as devastating as the Skism weapons, but at least I’ll be the first to use them. And in defense of the innocent… well, no one will question my methods when the U'lennea fall.”

With that, Magus prepared to unleash his power, ready to cement his place in the annals of galactic history.

---

Off at the new base in the next dimension…

“Come on, Mr. Mush,” Invicta muttered, checking the timer as she waited. The spread was steady, and it would start moving soon. Mr. Mush, named for its natural mushroom-like appearance, remained dormant. Its round cap was sealed tight, spores hidden beneath, while the rest of its body retracted deep underground. In this state, it might as well have been an impenetrable rock.

Invicta knew better than to rush the process. Attacking Mr. Mush before it fully emerged would only cause trouble—he’d dig deeper, give his spread more energy, and reinforce their shell-like armor. Patience was key. If she waited, she could smash the spread to paste once it reached her, letting the local flora absorb the remains. But if she attacked too soon, it would multiply, doubling or tripling the effort needed to clear the area.

George had spent considerable time studying the denizens of this dimension, categorizing their traits and behaviors. He’d found that no two strains followed the same rules. Some denizens, for example, could sacrifice stored energy to drastically speed up in battle, hoping for a quick victory. Others took a slower, more methodical approach, conserving energy for the long game. It all depended on the strain, and George, as usual, had been determined to test and catalog every creature they encountered.

“Why can’t I kill it again?” Invicta asked aloud, talking to herself.

“Because I want to study it when I get back,” came George’s recorded voice through her comms.

“But this is so boring!” she groaned.

“Invicta, don’t smash the mushroom!”

"But George!"

“Don’t 'but George' me. I know you enjoy treating this like a tower defense game, but at least leave Mr. Mush alive. His ability to create an invulnerable cap when buried could be valuable for our base design.”

“Fine. I won’t smash him until you return,” Invicta conceded, glancing at the timer.

The countdown hit zero. "Alright, it's time to get to work," she said, taking control of the cannon towers lining the defensive perimeter. She spotted the first wave of Mr. Mush's spread rolling into view, the organic forms identical to their progenitor: cylindrical bodies, tentacles flailing as they rolled cap over base, their tooth-lined mouths ready to devour anything in their path.

As an opponent, Mr. Mush's spread was only formidable at the start. After the first few waves, their attack patterns became predictable, and clearing them was more a matter of routine than skill. Even their primitive tentacle mouths, designed for gripping and tearing through stone, offered little challenge to her.

“I’ll probably have to mow the grass again after this,” she mused, eyeing the plants growing along the vein. She bounced lightly on her toes, manifesting two oversized hammers in her slender hands. She didn’t need to engage the spread personally—her turrets could handle it—but she enjoyed the practice. It kept her sharp.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement, lips curling in anticipation. This was the last wave. Once she cleared it, she could return to Kevin, and they’d finish the battle together, securing the artifact and ending the conflict once and for all.

Then everything changed.

Invicta froze, the bounce in her step gone, her bare feet planted in the soft red grass. Her heart sank as her expression faded, the light in her eyes dimming. Something had happened to Kevin.

Again.

“No...” she whispered, the pain in her chest unbearable as the AI replayed the events. Kevin had only been sent to rescue a few Blidda children, a simple task meant to keep him safe until reinforcements arrived. He wasn’t trained for combat—he was sweet, naive, far too gentle for war.

The mushroom swarm breached her first and second lines of defense, tentacles latching onto the turrets and tearing at their foundations. But Invicta barely noticed. Her thoughts were consumed by what she had seen.

“Why did Nurse let him send away his swarm?” she asked herself, a flush of anger rising within her. “They could’ve been sacrificed to save him! Why didn’t he attack the dreadnoughts? Why was he so careful with the enemy ships? Didn’t anyone tell him those captives were as good as dead?!”

Her frustration grew, mixing with her grief until it became a blinding rage. The U’lennea’s Skism weapons flashed again in her mind, over and over, their attack unnecessary and brutal.

She glitched. Blacked out.

When she came to, she was kneeling in a desolate wasteland, her scream echoing in the silence. Mr. Mush lay pulverized nearby, his tentacles limp, barely twitching. His cap, the only part of him left intact, sat like a broken shield on the ground. The earth around his burrow looked as if an excavator had torn through it, ripped apart in her violent rampage.

Invicta glanced down at her hands—no, stumps. Her arms ended at the elbows, mangled from trying to shatter Mr. Mush’s invulnerable cap with brute force. Replays of the battle showed her relentlessly smashing the ground with her fists, heedless of the damage she was doing to herself.

The entire region had been leveled. Her turrets had obliterated everything, firing repeatedly until there was nothing left. Now they hovered above the carnage, silent sentinels, waiting for new orders. Nothing dared approach the battlefield that had once belonged to Mr. Mush.

Down in the hole, where Mr. Mush had once lived, a strange red material glimmered—a rough, uncut gem that resembled a massive ruby. It pulsed with energy, likely the source of Mr. Mush’s incredible armor.

It was something new.

“You’re coming with me,” Invicta said, eyes narrowing as she reached for the gem. “I have some killing to do.”