Hadeon watched the recording of Alistair Ryser’s fight against Zorrakir, leader of the Zondu Collective, in the illusionary arena. "What a bunch of monsters," he muttered, his gaze hardening.


    Many already considered Hadeon a monster, but the footage and intel gathered by his spies painted a grim picture. Several powerful alliances had formed, and their leaders were far from ordinary—elite fighters, deeply committed to protecting their own and wiping out those like him.


    His right-hand man, Donovan, was supposedly the father of that Ryser menace. Alistair Ryser was among the last people Hadeon wanted to cross. Worse still, his wife, Riseth, was just as deadly—if not worse as her suspected concept countered his own quite well, and after Eberuses failed attack, they were bound to stick together more closely than ever, making the prospect of attacking them quite unappealing.


    Their techniques were leagues beyond earlier reports, almost certainly directed by a master of immense power—likely a god or a similarly powerful figure in the multiverse. This development had surpassed even Hadeon''s expectations.


    He had gathered every bit of information available on Alistair and Riseth Ryser. After Eberus’s failure to eliminate them, the two had only grown stronger, solidifying themselves as one of the most dangerous threats in this young universe—rivaling even the original dragons and other mythical species if encountered together.


    The earliest footage from the arena dungeon showed them wielding a range of diverse powers, not specializing in anything but still keeping well ahead of the curve. As time passed, however, their combat styles and abilities had sharpened, narrowing in on their core concepts. They had grown more focused. Their strength back in the trial was comparable to that of some of the strongest elites under his and others'' employ right now.


    Back then, Headeon, as a powerful Kraken, could have crushed them with a bit of effort... but now?


    They had become true elites, forging powerful bonds with other elites and ascendants. No longer were they just promising aspirants with strong affinities and talent—they had evolved into a force to be reckoned with.


    Even with his new master''s aid, Donovan had his work cut out for him. Eberus’s old master had started instructing the Jotun, driven by a thirst for revenge. Eberus’s death hadn’t just caused him severe backlash—it had also deprived him of any potential records or insights Eberus could have provided, stalling his own progress. The loss of such a promising disciple had likely delayed his advancements for a long time to come.


    The Rysers had made a formidable and vengeful enemy from the older universes. Still, unless they crossed over, that particular hidden master would have to settle for raising minions like Donovan, hoping to exact his revenge from a distance.


    Hadeon had received an offer for training and power in exchange for helping Donovan kill the Rysers—a proposition that led him to gather as much information as possible before making a decision. He stroked his tentacle beard, deep in thought. There was much to gain if Eberus’s power and Donovan’s recent progress were anything to go by. Still, he was already a formidable figure, and with the bridges opening, he’d soon be within reach of countless masters casting their Karmic Echo through the budding universe. This mysterious call, something akin to echo-location, would reach only those with the potential to respond—a powerful voice transmitting the master’s will, one he could respond to once he heard it. That is, assuming he wasn’t killed first. Going after the Rysers seemed like a fast track to an early death.


    Hadeon grumbled, the decision made. He would cut ties with Donovan and avoid the whole mess. This wasn’t a real opportunity—just a shortcut to an early grave.


    Depending on who the Rysers'' master is, Hadeon mused, it wouldn’t be unthinkable for him to hunt down anyone who tried to assassinate his disciples. Based on their techniques, their master had to be exceptionally powerful and well-connected.


    Hadeon growled, frustration mounting. Now, he needed to figure out how to cut ties without becoming a target himself. Perhaps the safest course of action was to eliminate Donovan before he grew too powerful and contested him for control of the syndicate. But Donovan had already grown too strong to be taken out in a mere "accident." If Hadeon wanted to succeed, he would have to commit fully to the attempt—or disappear quickly, laying low until the rest of them inevitably tore each other apart, which was certainly the safer of the two options.


    The hidden master likely plans to kill me if I refuse, Hadeon thought grimly. The fact that the offer had even been made suggested Donovan might already be strong enough to do just that.


    Hadeon let out a guttural roar, the sound tearing through the room before his fist came crashing down with brutal force, obliterating the table beneath him. Shards of wood and debris scattered as he stood there seething. So much work, so much risk, and now his very life hung in the balance—for nothing more than petty revenge.


    No, he thought, his eyes narrowing in cold determination. Running would ruin his reputation, and that wasn’t an option. He would gather his own allies and call in the favors he was owed. History is written by those left standing.


    <hr>


    Alistair remained glued to the screen, watching the situation at the Universal Bridges unfold as the Kaiakos prepared to jump out of the system. He wasn''t alone; almost no one aboard gave the Sabis system or station another glance, their focus entirely on the escalating events. The third bridge had finally revealed its invaders, and by Alistair''s estimate, they were by far the worst of them all. Eldritch-looking creatures poured out of the phenomenon—small, grotesque masses of flesh, eyes, tentacles, and rows of teeth scattered chaotically across their forms. Unlike the invaders from the other two bridges, these creatures weren’t trying to break or evade the Aegis Coalition''s blockade. Instead, they merged together, growing exponentially in size and power, quickly surpassing Grade 10.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    The Coalition forces were desperately trying to prevent large clusters from forming. Still, the creatures too far from fusion hurled themselves suicidally at incoming missiles, lasers, and plasma fire, acting as shields for the rest. To make matters worse, the monsters were followed by a wave of shuttles and smaller crafts, far less biomechanical in nature, likely from another faction, and these vessels actively attempted to break the blockade, creating an utterly chaotic battlefield. Meanwhile, the flesh creatures continued to fuse, some reaching grade 8 and could potentially grow even stronger but had thankfully been stopped from doing so. Strong individuals from the Coalition began intervening to prevent larger monstrosities from forming, but they were bound to tire and would need to be rotated out. The endless horde of bodies being thrown at the Coalition fleet felt overwhelming, and although the Coalition still fought to contain the threat with jump inhibitors and massed fleets, they had to tread carefully, ensuring they didn''t leave themselves vulnerable to an opportunistic strike from the Blackmarket Syndicates so reinforcements would be few.


    Fortunately, the fleets stationed at each of the bridges were gargantuan, and only a limited number of invaders could pass through at any given time. The situation at the other two bridges appeared to be less of an immediate concern, but it was far too early to consider reassigning forces. Any sudden shift in strategy could be a feint, and the invaders would undoubtedly exploit any opportunity to break through the blockade if the Coalition left even a single bridge vulnerable.


    Alistair felt the familiar pull of entering warp space and glanced over, catching Riseth’s worried gaze.


    "Is everything alright?" he asked through the Akashic Link, not wanting to draw attention to them in the eerily quiet bridge, where only the hum of machinery and soft chatter of the crew at their stations filled the silence.


    "I''m fine," she responded, though her concern bled through. "But those eldritch beings have me worried. They’re already fusing into massive monstrosities, and it’s only been an hour since the bridges opened. They’ve already reached Grade 8… what if they can grow to Grade 7 or even worse?" She grimaced, her worry deepening. "Our home is still hidden, but it’s only a matter of time until someone stumbles across us."


    Alistair took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don’t worry, we’ll be alright," he said, meeting her hesitant gaze.


    "This is why we came to the Sabis system. We’ve made strong friends and allies, and we’re doing everything we can. We’ll keep pushing ourselves," he added, his voice steady. "Fusing into a Grade 8 might look terrifying, but it can’t compare to real training and gaining skills. Those creatures are bound to be very weak for their grade."


    Riseth exhaled slowly, nodding as she squeezed his hand in return. Some of the tension eased from her posture, her gaze growing more fierce and determined.


    "Besides, I’m pretty sure a nicely charged kinetic blast could pop that thing like a pi?ata," Alistair said with a grin.


    "You’re right," she replied, her own grin spreading. "I could probably force that thing to tear itself apart." Her earlier worries seemed to fade, replaced with confidence.


    When they arrived back in orbit above Lacustrine, not much had changed aside from the Coalition adapting more effectively to the invaders’ tactics. Alistair swiped the screen away for now; if anything major happened, he could always review the footage later or rely on the network to notify him.


    His brows furrowed slightly. Time was ticking. Now that the bridges had opened, they would gradually widen, allowing more powerful individuals and creatures to pass through as the connection stabilized. Grade 9 beings would likely begin crossing within half a year, and Grade 8 could take a year or two. Further openings would slow considerably, as the passages for such magically powerful entities required much more time to stabilize.


    If they could reach Grade 5 before the Grade 6 gate opened, Alistair felt confident they’d be in a strong position. The bridges would continue to strengthen, but at a much slower rate—at least from his perspective. He’d heard many times that hundreds of years were just a blink to immortals, but to him, it was still plenty of time. Once they reached Grade 5, where the path of immortality began, the journey of growing stronger would be much more arduous than anything they had yet experienced, especially if they failed to raise Lacustrine alongside them.


    They exited warp space travel, and Alistair heard the familiar sound of crew members stomping their feet to steady themselves, the jerky sensation still disorienting for many—especially the new recruits. Some of the more experienced crew members had since moved on, now in charge of their own ships, leaving fresh faces aboard the Kaiakos. Alistair’s gaze shifted to the screen, which displayed Lacustrine and Nautilus, with a massive station being constructed between them. Drones and construction ships buzzed around it like a hive of busy bees. The station was making impressive progress; the spine and much of the base structure were already in place. The speed at which magic and robotics accelerated construction still amazed him.


    As the Kaiakos slowly entered a stable orbit, Alistair and Riseth made their way to the bay to descend to Rathos. When they finally arrived in their quarters, they collapsed onto the couch, letting out long, tired sighs as they sank into its comfortable cushions.


    Alistair’s gaze wandered to the bronze map of Asteroid City of Magral hanging on one of their living room walls, a memento from their first dungeon. He smiled, remembering how Adamar had insisted on trimming the edges of the map. They had come so far since then—roughly two years had passed since they left that dungeon, yet it felt like an eternity ago.


    They had made countless friends and enemies, faced unimaginable challenges, and discovered things that had changed them forever.


    Alistair thought back on all the decisions he’d made, briefly considering the "what ifs." But with a content smile, he shook his head. Even if given the chance, there was little he would change. Despite the opening of the bridges and the looming threats on the horizon, he felt a deep sense of peace in this moment. Wrapping his arm around Riseth, they leaned against each other, savoring the brief respite.


    They both knew that much was bound to change, and more challenges would arise. But whatever came their way, they would be ready to face it—together.