Strength, influence, wealth, and backing—the Alliance could provide all of the above.
Nothing in the whole universe would be able to face the united might of the high realms from where the gods were born. Thus, there shouldn’t be anything that could force them to back down.
And the White Dwarf was one piece of proof. A miracle of creation—a weapon designed solely for obliteration.
“They backed up so fast you'd think they knew what we'd brought,” Rudolf said. “I’m sure their spies wouldn't have had the time to obtain the information, so maybe they made a lucky guess.”
Or they were smart.
Apex Two was smart indeed. He pointed out the exact reason they couldn’t destroy this world—something that couldn’t be found anywhere else, something so unique that one of the Ten Overlords was scheduled for an inspection.
Could it be that he guessed there was a second White Dwarf?
Heh. So what if this world perishes? If that special unique thing truly was so precious that they sent them out to this boondock, then it wouldn't perish so easily along with the world.
Or it wouldn't be worth it, right?
There was nothing the Alliance hadn’t yet procured.
"Sir, are you absolutely positive about this?" one of his subordinates dared to question.
"Why wouldn't we be? We've been through this routine countless times. We've obliterated lower realms that dared to defy us, without fail!" Rudolf bellowed.
"But the superiors did give us a—"
"Silence," Rudolf snapped. His gaze bore down on his ship crew. As a marquis's son hailing from one of the Seven Heavens, he was accustomed to unwavering obedience.
Why indeed would anyone dare to challenge the wisdom of a Junior Fleet Admiral from the strongest space organization capable of capturing a dying sun to fashion a world-ending weapon?
That should be the norm after all, but…
Light.
As radiant light flooded into Rudolf's spaceship through the towering glass windows, the crew collectively squinted in disbelief.
"The sun had barely tucked in for the night," they mused incredulously, only to be greeted by the grand spectacle unfolding before them—a colossal light crown gracing the sky with its majestic presence.
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Perched atop the Northern fort of Soulnaught, a man lifted his gleaming sword to the heavens, a beacon of light piercing the cloak of darkness.
The appearance stirred a sense of urgency among the crew. "Prepare the AI! Run the algorithm now!" they exclaimed, bracing for the impending showdown.
When they enlisted Dirk Marshal, the job description required him to do a test run for the White Dwarf with the help of a trainer AI.
Holding the record for the highest energy output used of the White Dwarf on the ground, Marshal’s training regimen had been meticulously documented and fed into the algorithm, creating the holy grail of AI companions for wielding the formidable weapon.
Because, let’s face it, when one deals with cosmic forces and cutting-edge technology, you’d want nothing less than perfection at the helm.
And that was where Rudolf’s confidence came from.
The spaceship he used was sufficient to mimic and enhance the formation of the mercenary crews in support of the White Dwarf and to be employed automatically by the AI. Oh, the delightful wonders of technology!
Not to mention…
"Now, we should be able to delight in the luxury of cranking this bad boy up to a dazzling 6% output, right?" quipped Rudolf, with a twinkle in his eye.
"In theory, sir… we could certainly do that. But, more than that, it will be a danger for ourselves too," his subordinate replied cautiously.
With a hearty laugh, Rudolf waved off the concerns. "Oh, pish posh! Who needs caution when you can have a sizzling 6% power boost? We'll toast that pompous son of a bitch off the universe!"
“Sir! Attack sequence plan is ready! Unleashing in three, two, one… 1% output, opening shot!”
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!!
They had seen it before—the devastation the White Dwarf wrought upon a world.
They had seen it struck a planet, witnessing buildings crumbled like sandcastles before a tidal wave, the ground trembled as if startled, and forests wilted faster than you can say "photosynthesis."
People scrambled in confusion, their daily wonders suddenly less fascinating than impending doom. The blast's impact resonated with a "Boom!" that even the aliens next door could hear (and gossip about). Birds scattered in disarray, wishing they had invested in GPS sooner.
Cars parked neatly on the streets suddenly found parallel parking a breeze as they were tossed aside like toys in a toddler's tantrum.
The blast's message to the world was clear: a cosmic mic drop that left creatures reconsidering its importance in the grand scheme of the universe.
They expected to see the same scene unfold before their eyes today too—until…
Until they saw the crown of light once more, ablaze with a seemingly burning white flame as it slowly spun like a gigantic wheel in the sky.
“What…?”
1% was unable to… scratch anything?!
Zooming in with their ship camera, they beheld another unimaginable sight.
In the center of the crown of light was a man, seated atop his steed of steel, a metal griffin adorned with unknown ancient letters glowing on its surface, rivaling the brilliance of its energy core.
His hair was white, his eyes engulfed in golden light. His armor's cape billowed in the wind, and akin to his steed, the surface of his armor bore glowing inscriptions of ancient enchantment—no, even his skin was infused with them.
He smiled, a grin that bore resemblance to a sinister sneer suitable for an evil god—
Suddenly, a delicate white hand emerged from his shoulder. From behind him appeared a golden goddess with blue eyes, floating like a holy spirit, her white dress spreading along his cape.
Had they… unknowingly provoked ancient gods dwelling in this unsuspecting lower realm?
Since this world was going to perish anyway—
“Let’s go all out, Morgan,” Burn said.
Morgan chukled. “How greedy you are…”
“3% output! Go!” Rudolf screamed—
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!!