Legacy of the Void Fleet

As the days continued to pass, we began to notice large-scale spatial fluctuations occurring throughout this entire star sector. While they didn't cause any immediate problems or negative effects, our analysis — based on projections and readings collected by Obliterator's advanced TacNet module — indicated that these were residual effects caused by the cracks forming in the barrier. That same barrier, once maintained by the artifact, was now slowly breaking apart under the assault of the Galactic Will and the Universal Will.

Through those growing gaps, the authority of the Universal Spatial Laws had begun to gradually, yet steadily, permeate this isolated region — the sector we had simplified and designated as the Forbidden Sector. It was these invading spatial laws that were responsible for the ongoing fluctuations. In essence, the Universal Laws were attempting to reconnect what had long been severed.

This process was only possible due to the minute traces of mana still lingering here — just enough to keep the sector from collapsing entirely. Without that faint residue of mana, the entire Forbidden Sector would've already been consumed by spatial and temporal collapse.

Now, you might wonder — why would such a collapse happen in the first place?

As I've said countless times before: Mana is the lifeblood of the universe. It is a core, fundamental energy upon which the structure of reality depends. Let me explain with a simple analogy:

A car without an engine doesn't run, right? A rocket without fuel is useless. Humans without air — and eventually water or food — cannot survive. The universe is no different.

Space and time are the fundamental laws that allow a universe to exist — forming the fabric upon which all celestial bodies, star systems, and galaxies dwell. But what empowers these spatial laws to extend and create? What enables space to hold form, and for time to flow within it?

The answer is mana.

I'm not saying mana is the source of time or space — far from it. Time and space are concepts that far transcend something as "simple" as mana. They are superior and more primal in origin. However, it is mana that acts as the conduit, the foundation, through which the Universal Laws can manifest and expand. Mana provides the necessary framework for space to exist, for time to flow, for creation and destruction to occur.

Of course, there are other contracts, other universal laws, and all are sustained by forms of energy. Mana, however, is one of the core, foundational contracts — a pillar that upholds the universal structure.

I hope you all understand what I'm trying to convey here… because if it weren't for that faint trace of mana still lingering in this region, everything — and I mean everything — would've collapsed under spatial and temporal instability. That would have meant the destruction of the Sol System, Earth, all its celestial bodies, and even the surrounding systems, including the central star system and the Regal Star System itself. Nothing would have been spared.

You might be feeling relieved now, right? Because if that kind of collapse had actually happened… how would you ever witness the journey ahead of me? I'm pretty sure even my author wouldn't have known how to proceed at that point. But let me make this clear — the threat of spatial-temporal collapse wasn't just some hypothetical doomsday. No. It was dangerously real.

If things had remained as they were — if that minute trace of mana had eventually faded, as it was bound to — this entire region would have faced its complete and utter destruction within no more than a decade. And such a collapse wouldn't have just erased the Forbidden Sector. It would've triggered a chain reaction — a foundational scar upon the universe itself. Even the Universal Will would've taken millions, maybe billions, of years to fully restore it.

And that is the reason the Universal Will — along with the Galactic Will of the Milky Way — began assaulting the artifact with such overwhelming force. They didn't want to lose this sector. They couldn't afford to. Rebuilding a region from nothing, regaining its core creation energy — that's not something easily done, even by the Universe itself.

Now think about that for a moment — just how powerful must this artifact have been to withstand the combined pressure of both the Universal Will and the Galactic Will? True, it wasn't their full might, but still… that alone proves the artifact was no ordinary relic. It possessed astonishing defensive capabilities, enough to hold back cosmic-level powers for who knows how long.

Ah — I got a bit distracted again, didn't I?

The reason the Universal Will was striking now, instead of waiting patiently like before, is because it knew what would happen if it didn't act. It saw the danger, and it wasn't willing to sacrifice a portion of itself just to start over again from scratch. It needed to preserve this place. So did the Galactic Will.

And so, taking this final opportunity — with the artifact's power at its last breath — they unleashed their force. And let me tell you, it was a partial success. The cracks in the barrier were forming faster than ever, spreading more and more with each passing day.

The end of the artifact was near. And with it, the true reconnection of this long-lost region to the wider universe was finally underway.

And it was closer than any of you might expect — within two days, maybe three at most, the barrier would be gone.

According to Tyler's projections and the advanced spatial readings from the Obliterator's equipment, the moment of collapse would trigger an intense wave of spatial fluctuations. The fabric of space here would be violently unstable for a day or two — a volatile, raw transition phase. Only after that would this sector begin to absorb and circulate natural mana once again — just as it had done millions of years ago, back when it was still part of the greater universe.

That, on the surface, was excellent news for us. For the Void Fleet. For the future of this star sector. But for the countless lifeforms still living here?

It was nothing short of a disaster.

Why? Because of how the mana would return — not gently, not gradually, but as an overwhelming flood. Like a dry, cracked riverbed suddenly being slammed by a tidal wave. Here, the river is this Forbidden Sector — and the water is mana, surging in with a vengeance.

Mana itself isn't the problem. No. The true danger lies in the life forms themself. They've adapted over millennia to a world without mana. Their bodies, ecosystems, and evolution are all shaped in its absence. Mainly Earth and its people.

For countless generations, they lived in silence—disconnected from the natural flow of mana that once pulsed through the veins of the cosmos.

In the current age, mana is but a whisper—a fading breath in a world that barely survives, no longer thriving as it once did. It is barely present, leeched thin by the ever-hungry celestial bodies—planets, stars, and ancient moons—struggling merely to persist.

The great rivers of energy that once wove life into this once-prosperous and unique region—renowned across the galaxy and even the universe for the vast prestige and purity of its mana—have dwindled to nearly nothing, starved to the brink of annihilation by the cursed artifact that was accidentally activated during that damned war.

This decline began millions of years ago, triggered by the same cursed artifact. Since then, this once-prosperous and unique region has followed a slow but certain path to destruction—a ruin so profound that even the universal will could do nothing to halt it. Over time, humanity, along with the beasts who gradually adapted after generations of struggle, changed. Not to thrive, but simply to survive. They endured, clawing out an existence in a world where magic became myth—a myth forgotten millennia ago. The spark of the divine, once brilliant and eternal, now seemed long extinguished

As centuries turned to millennia, they all forgot.

They forgot the sacred pathways their ancestors once walked—forgot the bloodlines once blessed by mana's touch. The knowledge of evolution, of ascension through the natural force that had once empowered all life, faded into a vast flowing river of time, then into dust gradually with the same ever-flowing river of time.

Now imagine this: a dam, long abandoned and brittle with age, standing dry and cracked in the bed of an empty river—a river that once surged with life-giving water but now lay barren and silent. Then, without warning, a tsunami-like surge of water crashes toward it—a flood of raw, unrelenting force, nature's fury unleashed. The dam cannot, will not, stop it. In an instant, it shatters—obliterated by the sheer might of what it was never meant to contain.

This was the state of every living being on Earth—or any unfortunate enough to dwell near this long-forbidden region. Like the dam, obliteration is what awaits them. But unlike the dam, whose body shattered beneath the force of the flood, it will not be the bodies of humans or beasts that break first. No—under the fundamental might of mana, something far more essential will collapse. Mana, long forgotten and alien to them, will not just test flesh—it will unmake the very foundation of their being. Their cells, their nervous systems, and even their consciousness itself will be on the brink of collapse if their bodies were unable to withstand the first wave of its return