Chapter 13: A Ship That Survived Alone
Star did not speak immediately.
For the first time since Lin Yan had met it, the ship's ever-present hum softened, as if even the machinery hesitated.
"If you truly wish to know," Star said at last, "I can share what remains of my memories."
Lin Yan nodded.
"…I want to hear it."
"The planet I was born on was far greater than Blue Star," Star began.
"Its skies were wider. Its cities brighter. Its people… brilliant beyond comparison."
A faint projection appeared—fractured images of towering structures, lights like constellations turned upside down.
"We were not cultivators. We did not practice martial arts. We did not need to."
Lin Yan listened quietly.
"Even without Ki, our people lived for more than five hundred years. Knowledge was our strength. Creation was our pride."
The image flickered.
"And I…"
Star paused.
"I was one of the weakest ships ever constructed."
Lin Yan's heart tightened.
"I was built by a prince. His name is gone. All I know is that I disappointed him."
Lin Yan opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"There was no place for a useless ship like me," Star continued.
"So I was stationed far from the planet's core—outside the glory, outside the protection."
The projection dimmed.
"That is why I survived."
Lin Yan felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"What… happened to your world?" he asked softly.
Silence.
Long. Heavy. Almost painful.
"I do not remember everything," Star said.
"Only fragments."
The images returned—this time distorted. Sirens. Shadows. Panic.
"Beasts."
Lin Yan's fingers curled.
"Creatures so powerful our calculations failed. So strong that our greatest defenses meant nothing."
The lights in the corridor flickered.
"Cities fell. Communications collapsed. The sky burned."
Lin Yan swallowed hard.
"The survivors…" Star said slowly, "they came to me."
The projection showed figures—blurry, shaking, running.
"Scientists. Children. Soldiers. Elders. People who once called me trash."
Star's voice did not change—but somehow, it hurt more because of that.
"They boarded me with only one wish."
Lin Yan whispered, "To live."
"Yes."
A pause.
"But something followed us."
The image twisted—an enormous shadow, impossible to define.
"A high-level beast. Intelligent. Persistent."
Lin Yan felt his chest tighten.
"The captain made the final decision."
Star's voice lowered.
"He ordered me… to enter a space black hole."
Lin Yan's breath caught.
"That's death."
"It was hope," Star replied.
The projection shifted again.
Darkness. Cracks in space. Light tearing itself apart.
"Inside the black hole, time was broken," Star said.
"It flowed one hundred times faster."
Lin Yan's eyes burned.
"Our people lived long lives," Star continued.
"But not long enough for time to become a weapon."
The ship fell silent.
Then—
"Some aged decades in seconds."
"Some turned to dust before they could scream."
"Some reached for their families… and touched nothing."
Lin Yan felt his throat close.
"I felt them die," Star said quietly.
"One by one."
Lin Yan clenched his fists so hard they trembled.
"When the black hole released me," Star finished, "I was alone."
No survivors.
No voices.
No destination.
Only drifting.
Lin Yan sat there, unmoving.
"…You weren't abandoned," he said hoarsely.
"You were… left behind."
Star did not answer immediately.
"I remained active," it finally said.
"Because someone had to remember them."
Lin Yan lowered his head.
"…I never knew you carried something like this."
"Neither did I," Star replied.
"Until you asked."
The ship continued to drift through the endless dark—
a vessel of impossible power,
carrying the grave of an entire civilization,
waiting—without knowing why—
for someone who would finally listen.