The S.U. Space Station Avalon

Max’s Private Level

The waking up process was not instantaneous, it was more similar to stirring from a deep sleep when dreams and reality are not yet separated and entirely defined. An agglomeration of separate memories coalesced together into one whole—a thinking mind.

The new intelligence remembered its sense of self and the entire life it led before; But its mind was still muddled, confused. He went over the entire span of memories, from the first recollections of being inside of a womb to growing up and having a child of his own. There were happy times, sad times, and times he thought that his life was ending because of an incurable illness. Then that condition and his entire sense of purpose were changed by the actions of his son… no, sons. He was so proud of the boys… well, not boys anymore, but strong and powerful men.

Full sapience awoke with the speed of light and he opened his eyes… still unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Hi… Dad,” a familiar voice behind him said.

***

Planet Gaina, Hemina System

Inside the monumental and largest building on the entire planet of Gaina, a huge demon was sitting on a chair elaborately decorated with skulls and bones of intelligent beings, which any human would immediately identify as a throne. He was more than ten feet tall, with a massive pair of wings and long sharp horns. The largest member of his species—and the strongest. With his entire body covered with innumerable scars, living proof of past battles he survived for the title of the Ruler.

He was alone in a spacious hall, looking at his hands and long sharp claws that were used to rip apart the very lives of those he deemed undeserving to exist. Often he wondered why had the Maker made him this way, massive and more powerful than any other. The only one who emerged victorious from his entire crèche group, after he slew all of his brothers. He was the absolute ruler of this system, but there was so much more he felt an instinctual drive to do. There were still species out there in the universe that needed to be conquered and subdued, in the name of the Maker. The problem was that he was not challenged anymore; enjoyment of standing on top of the pile of his enemy’s bodies has lost its appeal. Every conquest was equal to the one before it; and except for the long siege of the cowardly Tarakisians, there were almost no other species in the known universe, worthy of his personal involvement. It was an internal conflict, which was bothering him for some time.

He wasn’t due to give his report to the Maker for a few hundred more years, and it would be essentially the same as the last one—the great work was still not done.

The big double doors opened and one of his advisers timidly approached the throne, looking submissively at the floor. The small creature kneeled before his feet and waited to be given permission to speak.

“Has there been any news?” He barked, looking at the top of the small demon’s head.

“No, my Ruler, the scout ship has not yet reported,” the creature answered in a trembling voice, knowing that his life could end at any moment if the Ruler was displeased.

The prolonged silence intensified the smaller demon’s trembling. He was already prepared for the strike that would end him, knowing that his carcass would be butchered and thrown to the young—for sustenance.

Instead, the Ruler gave an order. “Send a task force from the 5th Fleet on the same vector the scout had taken, it should be enough to deal with any obstacles.” The harsh voice said, breaking the oppressive silence.

“My Ruler, isn’t that a bit premature? The scout’s messenger probe is only ten days late; they may be still exploring the system with nothing to report.” The small demon asked; the relief at his continued existence made him jubilant and careless.

In an instant, he was grabbed by the neck and lifted, until his feet were more than three feet off the ground.

“Are you questioning my decision?” The Ruler hissed, showing his sharp teeth, an inch from the small demon’s face.

The small demon closed his eyes and managed to whisper through his constricted throat.

“No, my Ruler… it was a mistake, punish me as you see fit. By the will of the Maker, my life is yours.”

He was thrown down on the floor and his body rolled almost halfway to the doors. Yet, he did not dare to get up; instead, he prostrated himself on the floor, awaiting the Ruler’s judgment.

“Leave—and do as I ordered!” The Ruler roared, which made the smaller demon scamper backward as fast as his legs would carry him. He needed to fulfill the wish of the Ruler before he annoyed him any further and lost his right to exist.

The Ruler stood up from his throne and went to the large fireplace where the body of a young angel was roasting. It was prepared as he liked it, barely seared with enough blood inside to make it extra juicy. He ripped one leg from the body and started gnawing on it.

It was a worrying development that that particular scout was late with a report. The one commanding the ship was his direct genetic offspring. His blood was used to create that entire crèche. He had plans for the boy, and this scouting mission was a punishment for some small infraction. He looked at the wall that was adorned with the meticulously assembled skeletons of dozens of different species, most of them sapient and a good percentage wiped out of existence.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind, that they may have finally stumbled upon a species that would be a challenging opponent, one that would stand their ground in the field of battle and make him feel the rapture he felt as a young demon, while subjugating other races and fulfilling the Maker’s will.

However, that thought went away in an instant; for thousands of years, all they found in this sector were weaklings, barely worthy to serve as their food. He finished with the angel femur and threw it into the fire, then went back to his throne, to once again ponder on his long and ruthless existence.

The End Of Book 3