The golden rift of Vermont's portal tore open above the skies of Ungara, its edges crackling with divine ki that made the dying star overhead flicker in uneasy recognition. Gohan stepped through first, the air immediately thick with ozone and the metallic tang of fear-sweat from the planet below. Trunks and Tinel followed close behind, the girl's usual bounce tempered by the visible chaos spreading across the surface—columns of smoke rising from riot zones, emergency shuttles lifting off in disorganized waves, and the low, constant rumble of planetary tremors.
Gohan's senses expanded instantly. He felt it all: the star's core convulsing like a wounded beast, the residual threads of his own power still woven into its atomic lattice, desperately trying to hold cohesion together. But the imbalance was catastrophic. Tenfold overload. Residual divine energy had bought them time, but not enough.
Below, in the grand hall of Ungara's royal palace, chaos had already swallowed decorum.
King Julio Ungara stood over the blood-smeared body of Princess Oasa, his face twisted in a mask of grief-stricken fury. Guards dragged the executed Lou scientists' corpses toward the side exits while nobles shouted over one another—some demanding immediate evacuation of the royal bloodline, others screaming for total war against the Lou Empire. Queen Ungara clutched her husband's arm, tears streaming, but her eyes burned with the same cold resolve.
Messengers had already raced the news back to the Lou capital.
"I'll go and speak to the royal family of Ungara soon, I just need to confirm a thought," Gohan mused to himself mostly.
In the Lou Empire's throne room, King Triton sat rigid on his crystal throne, Queen Arlen beside him, her elegant hands white-knuckled on the armrests. Baryon paced like a caged predator, his fiery hair wild, golden eyes blazing with barely contained rage.
"They shot her like a dog!" Baryon snarled, slamming his fist into a pillar. Cracks spiderwebbed through the reinforced stone. "My sister—Lou's 2nd heir—offered them mercy, and they repaid her with a bullet to the head! I say we glass that worthless rock before the star does it for us!"
"Enough, Baryon," King Triton said quietly, though his voice carried the weight of centuries of rule. He had not risen when the news arrived. He had not shouted. But the air around him felt heavier, as if the planet itself bowed under his restrained sorrow. "Oasa acted with honor. She accepted responsibility for our empire's error. That is the Lou way."
Queen Arlen's voice was softer but no less steel. "Our daughter is dead because we failed to oversee the restoration project properly. Blame the star. Blame Ungara's panic. But do not let rage blind us to the millions still trapped on that world. Oasa would not want genocide in her name." Her words a strong contrast to her stiff jaw turning white in suffocating agony.
Baryon whirled on them, anger flaring hot enough to make the tapestries smolder. "She was your daughter too! How can you sit there while her blood stains their floor?"
Before Triton could answer, the grand doors of the throne room exploded inward—not from force, but from a controlled pulse of divine presence that simply refused to be denied entry.
Gohan walked in, Trunks and Tinel at his flanks. The guards didn't even try to stop him; they dropped to their knees the moment his shadow fell across the marble.
King Triton rose immediately. Queen Arlen followed, both bowing their heads in deep reverence—the same reverence they had shown him ever since he had single-handedly turned back the Devourer Fleets that had nearly swallowed their empire almost a full year ago. They ruled wisely, but they ruled as subjects beneath the Destroyer God who had saved them.
"Lord Gohan," Triton said, voice steady despite the fresh grief carving lines into his face. "You honor us with your presence in our darkest hour. Our daughter… Oasa… she is gone. Murdered on Ungara while trying to atone for our mistake."
Gohan's expression remained calm, but his eyes held the quiet storm of someone who peered into their souls. "I know. Vermont briefed me. I felt the star's approaching death throes the moment I arrived in their sector."
Baryon stepped forward aggressively, though he kept his anger in check—barely. "Then you'll help us punish them, right? Ungara deserves the flame for what they did to my sister!"
Gohan looked at the hot-headed prince for a long moment. Baryon was powerful, skilled, and clearly loved his sister fiercely.
"Punishment can wait," Gohan said simply. "Right now, that star is hours—maybe less—from total collapse. If it goes supernova, it won't just kill Ungara. The shockwave will sterilize half their system. Millions will die. Billions if debris chains into other planets."
He turned to Triton and Arlen. "You offered evacuation. I'll make sure it happens. But we need every ship, every portal, every capable hand. Including yours, Baryon. Channel that fire into saving lives instead of ending them."
Baryon's fists clenched, but after a tense second he gave a sharp nod, jaw tight. "Fine. But when this is over—"
"When this is over," Gohan interrupted gently but firmly, "we will speak of justice. Not vengeance."
Queen Arlen stepped closer, her voice trembling only slightly. "Lord Gohan… the star still carries traces of your power. The scientists believed it was slowing the collapse. Can you… buy us more time? Even a day? I shall head it myself!"
Gohan looked up through the transparent dome of the throne room, peering at the violent, pulsing star light years away. He could feel its agony—nuclei tearing themselves apart, gravity losing its grip. His residual energy was indeed the only thing preventing immediate detonation, but it was like trying to hold back an ocean with one hand.
"I can try," he said. "But it won't be gentle. And I can't do both—stabilize the star and organize the evacuation. Trunks, Tinel—you're with me on the star. The rest of Lou's forces will coordinate with Ungara's survivors under Queen Arlen's command."
Tinel's eyes lit up with fierce determination, all earlier Earth excitement replaced by focus. "We've got this. I'll keep the plasma currents from spiking while you work the core."
Trunks crossed his arms, nodding once. "I'll help her handle containment fields. Just tell us where to push."
Gohan placed a hand on Triton's shoulder—the gesture of a protector, not a distant god. "Gather your people. Tell Ungara's leadership that the Destroyer God himself demands cooperation. No more bloodshed between your nations today. Survival first."
As the royal couple moved to issue orders, Baryon lingered, staring at Gohan with a mix of resentment and reluctant respect. "You saved us once. Don't let my sister's death be meaningless."
Gohan replied. "We'll finish what she started."
With that, the three Saiyans rose into the sky, auras flaring—gold, turquoise, and crackling energy—as they shot toward the dying star like arrows of hope against inevitable night.
Far in space, the first waves of coordinated evacuation began. Lou and Ungara vessels, forced into uneasy alliance by divine decree, began ferrying refugees while the star roared its defiance, flares lashing out like the final death throes of a wounded god.
Gohan eyed Lou as they broke through the atmosphere. Trunks drifted up beside him, arms folded.
"The real question," Trunks said, "is whether that fragile peace between empires survives the evacuation… or the prince's temper."
Gohan gave a small nod.
"And Ungara's betrayal?" he added. "That's a war waiting to happen. Worse than this star."
Oasa's face flashed through his mind. He exhaled and shook it off.
He glanced toward the burning light ahead.
"Baryon's anger isn't the problem. I get it."
They appeared above the star moments later.
It churned violently—massive arcs of flame twisting and snapping in every direction, space itself seeming to ripple under the pressure.
Gohan floated forward, lifting a hand. The raging particles bent away from him, forced aside like a current split by stone. "I'm not Makaiya, but I can hold it together for two days."
"Once the planet's clear… I'll erase it."
He glanced back slightly.
"We're not letting something like this flood space with gamma radiation. One burst like that could wipe out life systems light-years away."
"Or collapse into a black hole," Trunks added.
Gohan smirked faintly.
"Possible… but not likely. Not at this scale."
Behind them, Tinel let out a breath.
"Can I destroy it?" she asked.
Both Saiyans turned.
Gohan studied her for a moment.
"You'd have to overpower everything it's putting out at its peak," he said. "All of it. No mistakes."
She straightened, eyes bright.
"I can do that."
Gohan sighed, but there was a hint of approval in it.
"I know you can," he said. "Power's not your issue."
His gaze sharpened.
"Control is. Gamma energy isn't normal ki—it's volatile. Push it wrong, and you make things worse."
Tinel nodded quickly.
"With you and Uncle Trunks here, I'll be fine!"
Trunks raised a brow but said nothing.
Gohan turned back to the star.
"Let's make sure of that."
A deep red aura ignited around him—calm, controlled, godly.
He extended his hand and released a pulse into the star.
"...That should hold."
The effect was immediate.
The star's violent roar dulled, its chaotic flares tightening and settling. The wild oscillations smoothed out, the raging surface stabilizing into something… controlled.
Not safe.
But no longer on the edge of collapse, he turned to Tinel. he said calmly. "Now, create a secondary containment barrier. Focus on catching any unstable flares that break loose. It'll buy the evacuation fleets more time."
Tinel nodded, still buzzing with excitement. "Got it! Watch this."
She closed her eyes, thrust her palm toward the star that seemed to stretch on forever, and began pouring her energy outward. A faint turquoise barrier flickered into existence, spreading rapidly across the star's surface like liquid light.
Gohan sent her a clear mental image of the required coverage—every unstable plasma current, every fracturing magnetic loop, every pocket of runaway nuclei that could trigger another catastrophic flare. The image was vast. Overwhelming.
At first, Tinel grinned, feeding more power into the construct. The barrier surged outward, growing larger by the second.
Then her smile faltered.
Sweat beaded instantly on her forehead, then poured down her face in rivulets. Her breathing grew ragged. Her outstretched hand began to tremble.
"You… weren't kidding," she gritted out through clenched teeth, eyes still squeezed shut in intense concentration. "This isn't just… raw power. It's… it's like trying to hold a billion puzzle pieces in place at once… while constantly feeding them energy so they don't fall apart…"
Her barrier flickered dangerously as a particularly violent flare slammed against it. Tinel gasped sharply, forcing more ki through her palm. The barrier stabilized again, but the effort clearly cost her. Her shoulders hunched, her whole body tense as if she were physically wrestling the star itself.
"I thought… with how strong I am… this would be easy," she admitted, voice strained and surprised. "But it's the opposite. The more power I push, the more pieces I have to control. One slip in focus and the whole thing could shatter. It's… exhausting."
Trunks, floating nearby with arms crossed, watched her with a mix of concern and quiet understanding. "That's the double-edged sword of having massive reserves from the get-go. Raw strength is one thing. Precision at this scale… that's another beast entirely."
Tinel didn't answer immediately. She was too busy fighting to keep the barrier intact, her aura flickering unsteadily as she poured every ounce of concentration into maintaining the delicate, star-spanning lattice. For the first time in a long while, the energetic Saiyan girl looked genuinely overwhelmed—not by lack of power, but by the terrifying demand for perfect, sustained focus.
Gohan observed quietly, ready to step in if needed, but letting the lesson sink in. "Keep breathing. Stay centered. Power without control is just chaos waiting to happen."
Tinel's only response was a frustrated grunt as another flare tested her limits, forcing her to adjust a thousand microscopic points across the barrier simultaneously.
She was learning the hard way: having the strength of a god was useless if you couldn't direct it with the patience of one.
The royal war room of Ungara was buried deep beneath the planet's capital spire, shielded by layers of reinforced crysteel and emergency force fields. Flickering holographic displays cast harsh blue light across the faces of King Julio Ungara, Queen Paloma, and their assembled advisors. The air smelled of ozone, fear-sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood that still clung to the king's ceremonial robes from the execution in the throne hall.
Princess Oasa's body had been moved to a secure chamber, covered in the royal colors of Ungara—deep indigo and silver—as a grim reminder of what defiance had cost them.
King Ungara stood at the head of the massive obsidian table, fists planted on its surface. His jaw was set like granite, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside. "Report," he growled.
The lead astrophysicist, Dr. Kael Voss, adjusted his spectacles with trembling fingers before activating the central holoprojector. A massive rendering of their star—once stable and golden—now pulsed with violent crimson flares, yet something had changed in the last twenty minutes.
"Your Majesty… the readings are… impossible," Dr. Voss began, voice cracking. "According to our deep-space sensors and the orbital array, the star's core oscillations have… slowed. Dramatically. The exponential collapse curve has flattened. The volume of unstable nuclei is still critical, but the chain reaction appears to be… stabilizing. Residual exotic energy signatures—matching the profile of the Destroyer God's intervention months ago—are now actively reinforcing gravitational cohesion."
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Queen Paloma leaned forward, her elegant features sharp with suspicion. "Stabilizing? After we executed their princess in cold blood? You expect me to believe the star simply decided to behave itself?"
Dr. Voss swallowed hard. "Not… decided, Your Majesty. The Lou scientists were correct in one thing: the Destroyer God's residual ki appears to be acting as a temporary lattice, binding the damaged atomic structure. It is buying time. Hours, perhaps even a full day or two if the effect holds. But it is not a cure. The star remains a bomb. One wrong flare and—"
"Enough," King Ungara cut in, straightening to his full height. His voice carried the weight of a man who knew his world stood on the edge of annihilation. "We have bought ourselves a brief reprieve, whether by divine mercy or cosmic coincidence. We will use it."
He turned to his military council. Generals in crisp obsidian-and-gold uniforms straightened.
"Status of evacuation?"
"Seventy percent of the noble houses and key military personnel have already been moved to our secondary colony worlds," General Tharok reported. "Civilian transports are running at maximum capacity, but panic is spreading. Riots have broken out in the lower districts. Some are blaming the Lou Empire openly. Others are calling for… surrender, others for war."
"Surrender? War?" The king's laugh was bitter and short. "After what we did to their 2nd heir? The Lou Empire is the dominant power in this hemisphere. Their fleets could blot out our sun—were it not already dying. And their prince… Baryon. That hot-headed butcher commands personal armadas that rival entire empires. He will not come for negotiation. He will come for blood. We will be prepared with our experimental singularity!"
Queen Paloma's fingers traced the edge of the table, her voice cool and calculating. "Then we prepare for the inevitable crackdown. We cannot fight the full might of Lou head-on. But we can make the cost so high they bleed for every inch they take."
She nodded toward the strategic display. Red markers bloomed across the star system—defensive positions, minefields, and hidden hyperspace interdiction buoys.
"Activate Protocol Shadowfall," she ordered. "Scatter our remaining fleets into guerrilla formations. Use the asteroid belts and gas giants for cover. If Baryon brings his royal fleets, we will not meet them in open battle. We will bleed them in the dark—hit their supply lines, sabotage their evacuation ships if they dare approach our space, and make every Lou soldier remember the name Ungara!"
One of the younger advisors, Lord Elandor, shifted uncomfortably. "My Queen… the Destroyer God himself may intervene. He saved our system once. If he returns now—"
"Then we pray he remembers that we were the victims of Lou's arrogance first," King Ungara snapped. "Their restoration project poisoned our star. Their princess came here offering empty promises while her people's mistake killed us. We defended our sovereignty. If the God of Destruction wishes to punish us for that, let him. But I will not let my people be slaughtered without resistance."
Dr. Voss cleared his throat again, hesitant. "There is… one more anomaly, Your Majesties. The stabilization is not uniform. Certain sectors of the star's corona are still spiking wildly. If the Lou Empire arrives in force while the star is in this fragile state, any large-scale battle—especially involving high-yield weapons—could trigger the very collapse we fear."
King Ungara's eyes narrowed. "Then we make sure any fighting stays away from the star. We draw Baryon's fleets into the outer system. Let him chase ghosts while our people escape."
He turned to a shadowed corner where his elite Shadow Guard captain stood silently.
"Captain Veyne. Prepare the decoy transmission. Leak false coordinates suggesting the royal family has already fled to our farthest outpost. Let Prince Baryon waste his fury chasing shadows while we consolidate what remains of our strength. Once you do that, evacuate yourself."
Queen Paloma rose gracefully, her gown whispering against the floor. "And if the Destroyer God appears?"
The king's smile was thin and dangerous. "Then we bow, offer him the head of the scientist who truly caused the overload—if we can find one still alive—and beg his mercy. But we do not kneel easily. Ungara has survived invasions before. We will survive this… or we will burn brightly enough that the universe remembers us." Whatever uncertainty he had, he made sure no one saw.
Deep in the lower levels, hidden from even most of the court, a small contingent of Ungara's best engineers worked frantically on something far more desperate: prototype stellar dampeners reverse-engineered from the Lou project's original designs. If the star held long enough, they might buy a few more hours. If not…
Above them all, the star continued its erratic dance—flaring violently one moment, then calming as invisible threads of divine energy tugged at its core. It was a fragile, temporary peace granted by a god who had not yet shown his face.
King Julio Ungara stared at the holographic star, watching it pulse like a dying heart.
"Prepare the royal flagship," he said quietly. "If all else fails… the bloodline must survive. Even if the planet does not."
As alarms began to blare signaling incoming hyperspace signatures—Lou evacuation fleets beginning their approach under uneasy truce—the royal family of Ungara steeled itself for war, for flight, and for the wrath of both an empire and the god who stood behind it.
"Baryon's fleets would come soon enough." The King announced.
And when they did, Ungara intended to make the Lou prince pay in fire and blood for every life his sister had tried—and failed—to save.
The royal war room of Ungara trembled as fresh alerts blared across every console. Red warning glyphs pulsed like open wounds on the holographic star map.
"Your Majesty!" a communications officer shouted, voice tight with disbelief. "Incoming transmissions on all emergency frequencies—Lou Empire channels, marked with royal seals from King Triton and Queen Arlen themselves. They're broadcasting wide-beam cooperation protocols."
King Julio Ungara's eyes narrowed to slits. He gestured sharply. "Play it."
The central holoprojector flickered to life. Queen Arlen's face appeared first—elegant, composed, but with visible strain around her eyes. Her voice carried across the chamber, calm and measured:
"People of Ungara, this is Queen Arlen of the Lou Empire. In the name of my late daughter, Princess Oasa, we extend our hand in shared survival. Our evacuation fleets are en route under white-flag protocols. We offer full cooperation: medical vessels, planetary carriers, and escort squadrons. No aggression will be shown. Lord Gohan himself has demanded unity. Let us save your people before the star claims us all. Coordinates for safe rendezvous have been attached. Please respond—"
The message looped into a second transmission from King Triton, deeper and more authoritative, repeating assurances of truce and joint command under the Destroyer God's oversight.
A third feed cut in—visuals from the approaching armada itself. Massive Lou evacuation ships gleamed in formation, their hulls lit with bright emergency beacons and medical sigils. At the heart of the fleet sailed Queen Arlen's personal medical flagship, the Aurelia's Mercy, a colossal planetary evacuation carrier bristling with life-support modules and shielded refugee bays. Flanking it were sleek, heavily armed vessels bearing the personal crest of Prince Baryon—his royal fleets, engines glowing hot as they maintained tight escort.
The sight made several Ungaran generals visibly flinch.
"They dare send the queen's own flagship?" General Tharok muttered. "With Baryon's butchers mixed in? This is no mercy fleet. It's bait."
Queen Paloma's lips curled in cold disdain. "Exactly. They play the grieving parents while hiding knives behind their backs. One 'accidental' overload from Baryon's guns, and the Aurelia's Mercy becomes a convenient tomb for half our surviving population. They sacrifice their own medical ship, blame it on the dying star or 'miscommunication,' and call it justice for their precious princess. We've seen Lou tactics before."
King Ungara slammed a fist on the table, silencing the room. "They think us fools. They cloak their revenge in sheep's wool—cooperation messages, divine mandates, pretty holograms of mercy. But we know the truth. Princess Oasa came offering 'help' and we answered with lead. Now they come to finish what the star started."
He turned to the tactical officer. "Range?"
"Outer system perimeter, Your Majesty. They'll reach high orbit in twelve minutes if we allow approach."
"Open channel to all defense batteries and hidden fleet elements," the king ordered, voice like grinding stone. "Transmit this: 'Ungara rejects false truce. Any Lou vessel crossing the quarantine line will be met with lethal force. Turn back or burn.' Then fire warning salvos—target the lead escorts, not the carrier yet. Let them taste our resolve."
Alarms howled across Ungara's orbital platforms and concealed asteroid bases. Turrets swiveled. Missile tubes flooded with plasma warheads. Stealth corvettes powered up drives, slipping into ambush vectors among the gas giant's rings.
On the bridge of the Aurelia's Mercy, Queen Arlen stood beside her advisors, watching the tactical display with growing dread. The incoming rejection message from Ungara crackled through—harsh, accusatory, laced with threats. Moments later, bright lances of anti-ship fire lanced out from Ungaran defenses, streaking toward Baryon's escort vessels in aggressive warning patterns that quickly turned deadly as one escort's shields flared under direct hits.
"They're firing on us," an aide whispered in horror. "They don't believe a word."
Baryon's voice roared over the joint command channel from his flagship, the Crimson Fury, his hot-headed fury barely leashed. "I told you! We came to prove our good faith, yet! They murdered my sister and now they spit on her memory by shooting at our mercy fleet? Mother, give the order—let me tear their defenses apart!" Baryon's hand hovered over a collection of buttons.
Queen Arlen raised a hand, her face pale but steady. "Hold, my son. We came under the Destroyer God's banner of cooperation. If we return fire now, we prove their paranoia right and doom whatever civilians remain planetside. Maintain formation. Reinforce shields. Send another message—repeat the truce, emphasize Lord Gohan's direct involvement. We must reach them."
But even as her words went out, more Ungaran fire blossomed across the void—brighter, more accurate this time. A Lou medical frigate took a glancing hit, venting atmosphere in a glittering trail. Panic rippled through the civilian refugee bays aboard the Aurelia's Mercy as the carrier shuddered from proximity blasts.
Back in Ungara's war room, triumphant snarls rose from most of the military advisors as fresh damage reports flickered across the screens. Only a handful wore uncertain glances, their expressions tight with growing dread.
The royal war room trembled under the strain of escalating alerts. Fresh tactical overlays painted the holographic star map in violent reds and oranges as Lou vessels continued their stubborn advance despite the barrage.
"See?" Lord Elandor exclaimed, slamming his palm on the table. "They flinch but do not retreat. Sheep's clothing indeed. Their carrier is too valuable to risk lightly—unless they plan to martyr it for propaganda. We should hit the Aurelia's Mercy harder. Force them to break formation and reveal their true intent."
Before Queen Paloma could respond, one of the quieter advisors — Lord Soren, an older statesman with silver-streaked hair and a reputation for caution — stepped forward, his voice cutting through the rising bloodlust.
"Your Majesties, please — this is madness," Lord Soren said urgently. "We have already drawn blood by killing their princess. If we fire on their queen's flagship now, we turn a desperate situation into total annihilation. Prince Baryon did not come with his royal fleets out of blind aggression. He accompanied his mother because he refused to let her face the people who murdered his sister alone. He is protecting her, not hunting us. This fleet carries genuine evacuation capacity — medical bays, refugee transports, everything they promised."
Another advisor, Lady Mira, a sharp-eyed logistics expert, nodded quickly in agreement, her hands clasped tightly to stop them from shaking.
"Lord Soren is right," she added. "Our sensors confirm the Aurelia's Mercy is loaded with civilian support modules, not weapons platforms. If we destroy it, we don't just kill Queen Arlen—we slaughter thousands of our own people who are still waiting for evacuation. And we give Baryon the perfect justification to unleash everything he has. His personal armadas rival entire empires. We cannot win an open war with Lou, especially not while our star is dying."
King Ungara's jaw tightened, but he did not immediately dismiss them. Another, more war-driven advisor spoke up, his tone cold.
"They murdered our world with their incompetence and then sent their heir to rub salt in the wound," he replied icily. "Now they cloak their revenge in mercy ships and royal tears. We should not gamble our survival on their sincerity."
Lord Soren pressed on, his voice rising with desperation as new alerts showed Baryon's escorts tightening formation around the carrier. He pleaded with his monarch.
"Your Majesties, think! If Baryon truly wanted vengeance, he would have come alone with his warships and glassed us from orbit. Instead he travels with his mother's medical flagship — the most vulnerable vessel in their fleet. That is not the move of a man planning slaughter. That is a son who would not let his grieving mother walk into danger unprotected. We still have time. Open a direct channel. Let them prove their intent by allowing our inspectors aboard, or by letting our shuttles board first. Anything but this path."
Lady Mira leaned in, her tone low and urgent. "The Destroyer God is watching this sector. If we escalate now and he intervenes, we will be the ones remembered as the butchers who rejected salvation. Eighty percent of our population is already safe on the colony worlds. We do not need to die with the planet proving a point."
For a brief moment, hesitation flickered across King Julio Ungara's face. The war room fell into tense silence, broken only by the constant rumble of distant impacts and the pulsing warnings from the dying star.
Then the experimental weapons officer spoke up from his station, voice trembling with excitement rather than fear.
"Singularity Lance is charged and locked on the Aurelia's Mercy, sire. One shot and we cripple their entire mercy narrative."
The king's eyes hardened again.
Queen Paloma smiled thinly, though her eyes remained haunted by the pulsing star overhead. "Agreed. Target the escorts aggressively first, then the carrier. If Baryon's fleets want revenge, let them come closer — into our kill zones among the moons. We will make every Lou ship that dares approach pay in hull and blood. Let the universe see that Ungara does not bow, even to false gods and grieving empires."
King Ungara nodded once, his decision sealed despite the advisors' pleas. "Fire at will on all approaching Lou vessels. Prioritize Baryon's royal ships. If the star takes us, at least we will drag their precious mercy fleet down with us in flames."
Lord Soren and Lady Mira exchanged a look of quiet horror as the order went out. The fragile thread of possible de-escalation snapped.
As plasma fire lit the space between the dying world and the incoming armada, the last hopes of cooperation were swallowed by open hostility. Messages of peace continued to broadcast desperately from the Lou side, invoking the Destroyer God's name — yet every transmission was met with jamming and renewed volleys from Ungaran batteries.
The Aurelia's Mercy held course, shields glowing under the strain, while Baryon's vessels began peeling off into aggressive counter-maneuvers, the prince's protective fury now fully ignited.
Above it all, the unstable star flared brighter, as if in warning.
As plasma fire lit the space between the dying world and the incoming armada, the fragile thread of cooperation frayed into open hostility. Messages of peace continued to broadcast from the Lou side—desperate, repeated, invoking the name of the God of Destruction himself—yet every transmission was met with jamming attempts and renewed volleys from Ungaran batteries.
The Aurelia's Mercy held course, shields glowing under the strain, while Baryon's vessels began peeling off into aggressive counter-maneuvers, their prince's rage threatening to ignite the very war the dying star might finish for them all.
"Activate the Singularity Lance," King Ungara ordered, voice cold and final. "Experimental battery on Platform Theta-9. Target the carrier's midsection. Let them feel what true defiance looks like."
Deep in the asteroid belt, a concealed Ungaran battlestation hummed to life. Massive capacitors discharged with a deafening thrum. The Singularity Lance—an experimental weapon reverse-engineered from forbidden pre-collapse archives—fired.
What erupted was not plasma, nor simple energy. A compressed beam of gravitational distortion lanced across the void, invisible at first, then visible as space itself warped around it. For five seconds it would simulate the crushing maw of a black hole—tearing matter, light, and shields into an inescapable point before the artificial singularity collapsed in on itself, leaving only vacuum and ruin.
On the bridge of the Aurelia's Mercy, Queen Arlen stood tall beside her command staff, one hand resting on the railing as the ship shuddered from earlier hits. She watched the incoming fire with calm resolve.
"It looks like a standard gravitic beam," she said quietly to her tactical officer. "Reinforce forward shields and—"
The lance struck.
For a fraction of a second, nothing seemed to happen. Then reality screamed.
A perfect circular hole, edges impossibly clean and glowing with residual Hawking radiation, punched straight through the colossal carrier's midsection. Decks, bulkheads, life-support modules, and thousands of refugee bays simply ceased to exist—vaporized or spaghettified into the brief singularity before it collapsed. The Aurelia's Mercy did not explode. It simply… opened. A gaping wound large enough to fly a destroyer through yawned in its hull, venting atmosphere, debris, and bodies into the cold void.
Alarms howled. Secondary explosions rippled along compromised sections as the ship began to list violently.
Queen Arlen's eyes widened in shock and dawning horror as the bridge gravity failed and consoles sparked around her. She reached out instinctively toward the viewport, as if to steady the dying ship with her own hands.
"My people…" she whispered, blood already trickling from her lips from internal trauma. "Oasa… Triton…Baryon...don't-"
The bridge collapsed inward in the next heartbeat. Queen Arlen was gone—claimed instantly by the clean, merciless cut of the Singularity Lance.
The royal family had come personally to prove sincerity. Instead, their presence and sacrifice only fed Ungara's paranoia.
"They brought the queen herself into the line of fire?" General Tharok laughed bitterly in the war room, watching the carrier's death throes on magnified feeds. "Bold. Or stupid. Clearly a ploy—sacrifice their own flagship to paint us as monsters while their real strike force closes in. Well played, Lou. But we saw through it."
King Ungara's face remained stone, though a flicker of unease crossed his eyes at the sheer destructive elegance of their own weapon. "Confirmed kill on the Aurelia's Mercy. Continue firing on—"
A priority channel burst through every speaker in the Ungaran command network, overriding jammers with raw power. Prince Baryon's distorted face filled the screens—eyes red-rimmed with tears, face twisted in a grief and fury so raw it seemed to burn through the transmission itself.
"Ungara filth!" Baryon roared, voice cracking with raw emotion. "You have murdered my sister… and now my mother! Queen Arlen came in good faith, offering her own ship to save your wretched people! The royal family risked everything to prove we sought only survival for both our nations under the Destroyer God's mercy—and you repaid her with that abomination of a weapon!"
He slammed a fist against his console, shattering it in sparks, tears cutting tracks down his cheeks. "We were not here for revenge. We were here to evacuate your civilians before the star claims you all! But you have sealed your fate. Every last soul on that doomed rock will now answer for this. I, Baryon, Crown Prince of Lou and commander of the Royal Armadas, hereby authorize full retaliation protocol."
His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Fire the Crimson Fury's planet-cracker array. Target the capital spire and surrounding continents. Let the ashes of Ungara carry my mother and sister's names into eternity."
In the war room, alarms screamed anew as Baryon's flagship began charging its main weapon—an ancient, forbidden Lou superweapon capable of cracking a planet's crust and igniting its core in one sustained blast.
"No—" Queen Paloma breathed, finally showing real fear.
Mira and Soren backed up in fear before they ran to their pods.
King Ungara staggered back a step. "All batteries—focus fire on the Crimson Fury! Stop that charge at all costs!"
"We must escape!" They turned to run.
But it was too late. Baryon's voice echoed one final time across open channels, raw and unfiltered:
"I shall take the wrath of the Destroyer God himself if I must! For my mother… for my sister… for every innocent life you have condemned this day—Ungara burns!"
A blinding lance of pure annihilation erupted from the Crimson Fury, slicing through the void toward the planet below. Defensive fire from Ungara's fleets and platforms glanced harmlessly off its reinforced shields as the prince poured every ounce of his authority and grief into the command.
The beam struck the atmosphere—superheating it into a roaring sheath of fire before punching straight through, a divine spear driven into the heart of the world.
For a fraction of a second—
Nothing.
Then the sky broke.
From every continent, from every ocean, from every city still clinging to hope, the heavens ignited. A column of incandescent light tore through the clouds and slammed into the surface with apocalyptic force. The impact didn't explode outward at first—it compressed—dragging the land inward, crushing mountains flat as if the planet itself had been forced to kneel.
And then it detonated.
A continent-spanning eruption of fire and molten stone surged skyward, blooming like a second sun on the surface. Shockwaves rippled across the planet in expanding rings, vaporizing everything in their path—cities, forests, oceans—erased in an instant as the ground peeled back and the crust fractured like glass.
From orbit, it looked as though the world had been struck by a god's judgment.
From the ground—
It was the end of everything.
People froze where they stood, their shadows stretching impossibly long as the light swallowed the horizon. Some screamed. Others dropped to their knees. Many didn't even have time to react.
A mother clutched her child tighter as the sky turned white.
A soldier lowered his weapon, staring upward as the heat washed over him.
A scientist whispered something no one would ever hear.
Then the shockwave arrived.
The air itself became a weapon—an unstoppable wall of pressure that flattened cities in an instant, turning towering structures into dust and scattering bodies like ash in a storm. The ground beneath them split open in jagged lines that raced faster than thought, swallowing entire districts whole as magma surged up from the planet's wounded core.
Above it all, the unstable star flared—wilder, angrier—as if answering the violence below with its own.
High in the atmosphere, fleeing ships were caught in the expanding inferno. Some tried to outrun it, engines screaming as the shockwave chased them into the void. Others weren't fast enough, swallowed by the rising plume of fire and debris that tore free from the planet's surface and bled into space.
King Julio Ungara grabbed Queen Paloma's arm, pulling her toward the emergency exit tunnel. "Now! The royal escape shuttle—move!"
They ran, flanked by the last two remaining members of the Shadow Guard. Behind them, Dr. Kael Voss and a junior astrophysicist sprinted desperately to keep up, tablets clutched to their chests, faces pale and streaked with sweat.
"Your Majesty!" Dr. Voss gasped as they burst into the private hangar bay, the ground buckling beneath their feet. "We have confirmation—eighty percent of the population has already been evacuated! The high nobility, military command staff, and all key industrial personnel were moved to the secondary colonies in the first waves. The remaining twenty percent… they were mostly lower districts—laborers, dissenters, the unproductive. Good for nothing nobodies who would have dragged us down anyway. We saved what matters!"
Another violent tremor threw them against the wall. The star overhead was no longer pulsing—it was the ground beneath them tearing itself apart.
Queen Paloma's breath came in sharp bursts as they reached the sleek royal escape ship, its engines already spooling up with a high-pitched whine. "And the strike against Lou?" she demanded, climbing the ramp while the two guards covered their retreat.
Dr. Voss nearly tripped over a fallen support beam but kept talking, voice cracking with a mix of terror and twisted pride. "We did it, Your Majesty! The Singularity Lance crippled their queen's flagship—Queen Arlen is confirmed dead. We bloodied Prince Baryon's armada and forced them to reveal their true monstrous nature. They fired on their own mercy fleet in the chaos! The universe will see Lou as the aggressor. We struck a blow they will never forget!"
King Ungara shoved his wife into the ship's cockpit and turned to drag the scientist aboard as the hangar doors began to buckle. "Enough talk—get in!"
The junior scientist stumbled up the ramp last, sealing the hatch behind them just as a massive explosion rocked the palace in the distance. The escape ship's thrusters ignited with a roar, launching them skyward through the collapsing structure.
Through the viewport, they watched Ungara die. "Use the planet's death to mask our escape!" The king ordered.
The planet's surface cracked open like an eggshell. Massive plumes of magma erupted as Baryon's planet-cracker continued to chew through the core. The planet's final death throes unleashed ultra-class super-heated air that scorched the atmosphere, turning the sky into an inferno. Cities that had not yet been fully evacuated vanished in fire and ash.
The royal escape ship streaked away, dodging debris and incoming projectile bursts for the ground, its shields flaring bright as it broke orbit.
Queen Paloma slumped into the command chair, breathing hard, her elegant gown torn and singed. She stared at the dying world behind them with cold satisfaction. "We survived. The bloodline endures. Let Baryon rage and let the Destroyer God judge him for what he has done. Ungara's legacy lives on in our colonies… and in the enemies we have wounded."
King Julio Ungara stood at the viewport, fists clenched, watching the planet disintegrate in a final cataclysmic explosion of light and fire. "Let them call us monsters. We protected our own. Eighty percent saved. The weak were culled by circumstance. And Lou… Lou paid in royal blood for their arrogance."
Dr. Voss wiped his brow, still clutching his tablet as the ship jumped into hyperspace. "The data is secure, Your Majesties. We struck first and struck hardest. Whatever comes next—war, divine wrath, or the star's remnants—we face it as victors who refused to kneel."
The escape ship vanished into the fold of space, carrying the last remnants of Ungara's royal line away from the grave of their homeworld, leaving behind a broken planet about to explode.