A brilliantly decorated room, filled with priceless artifacts and treasures recovered from the Ancient Precursors, rests hidden underneath the Galactic Assembly Hall. High-tech projection emitters lay inside the walls, all of them capable of simulating objects with weight and presence. Two golden chandeliers provide light, though multiple backup lights sit embedded in the ceiling above, in case of a power outage.

The Alfras, Sir Benjiro, third of his name, sits at the head of a thirty-foot-long rectangular table. Along its sides, eight other distinguished Mallali nobles slowly consume a range of delicacies, while at the opposite side of the table, the second most distinguished guest, Leevoo the Observant, sits. As the leader of the Core Worlds' merchant factions, she possesses the most say when it comes to running the economy, and her words carry more weight on such matters compared to Benjiro.

However, as the one who heads much of the Core's military, Benjiro's authority via force still makes him 'top dog.' As a long-aged Beagle-looking Dakkit, his floppy jowls and saggy cheeks show how far he has fallen into decadence in recent years. The alert and wary eyes of his youth have long since faded, leaving him a jaded old hound with little to do beyond indulging in the luxuries of life.

"...you a long time, Benjiro. You act far too cavalierly when it comes to matters such as these," Leevoo says. The Merchant Queen's tongue flops around in her mouth as she speaks, making the severity of her words come off as somewhat comical. Nobody laughs. "Mlerp! These Kraktol are becoming a real nuisance! They've raided five of my cargo ships in the past month! Five! We have to put a stop to this!"

Benjiro sighs, causing his fat stomach to shudder. "You... worry too much... Leevoo. The Kraktol are merely outer rim thugs. Pirates. Grawf! They are not our opponents. Rather, it is the Doats and the Groff we should worry about. Those slippery amphibians have restored a 20th Era battleship recently. We must... take care of them."

"The Groff are a dying species," Leevoo counters. "Once, they used to hop all across the galaxy. Now, they stay rooted to their lily-pads. They had to sign a unification treaty with the Doats simply to afford such a powerful vessel, and in the end, they became mere serfs for the Doats! Besides, the Doats know well which lines to cross and which to tow. They will not threaten our interests now or in the future. They wish only to expand their influence to the Northern Rim."

Leevoo calls up a projector in the middle of the table, one which displays a huge image of the Milky Way Galaxy. Countless splotches of color appear, showing the various factional territories of all the different Sentient species. Among them, a huge blue area just below the galaxy's center indicates the Core Worlds owned by the Mallali, Avaru, and other sentients belonging to the Unified Alliance.

This area, known as the Southern Core, also happens to stretch up to the Western and Eastern Core areas as well. Only the Northern Core, where the Doats reside, appears differently colored.

Leevoo gestures toward a relatively tiny patch of galaxy directly underneath the Southern Core, one that presses right against the Allied Sentient's borders.

"Look here. These filthy swampers have continually pressed themselves against our borders for years! The Kraktol intend to slowly take bites out of our territory. Mlerp! We cannot allow them to succeed!"

Another Sentient seated at the table, a Trellut known as Turbo Baryon, slowly blinks his eyes. "The Kraktol. Not a threat. Very weak. Sad. Taking them out is... easy."

"For you, perhaps," Leevoo snaps, glaring daggers at the shell-wearing turtle. "Mlerp! I do not possess the authority to command military vessels as I please. That is why I called this meeting. You must remind the Kraktol of why we rule the Milky Way! While the Doats expand north, away from our territory, the Kraktol continue to deliberately poke and prod our borders. They're testing us! You can't keep letting them get away with such blatant acts of aggression!"

Benjiro appears unconvinced. He slowly pulls out a roll of smokeleaf, lights it, and places it in his mouth. After deeply inhaling, the Alfras's eyes become foggy. He coughs a few times, then taps the ashes onto the floor. A tiny cleaning droid zips over to pick them up before scooting away.

"The Kraktol are not our match. They never will be. They were born slaves, and they can only exist in this galaxy as thieves and pirates. It is in our best interest to allow them to remain as they are."

Leevoo blinks. "What? Explain."

"You don't know?" Benjiro asks, chortling to himself snidely. "Snuffing out the Kraktol would take my glorious military a week at most. It would be a simple matter. Our vessels are already the most advanced in the galaxy. However, don't you think those slime-scales provide us with a valuable service? By occasionally attacking our trade convoys, they place pressure on our military and keep our pups sharp. If the worst threat we face are a bunch of pirate dregs, then I say we leave them alone. We've more important matters to attend."

Another Sentient seated at the table, a Kwaa leader named Marlon Fischer, turns his beak up at Benjiro's words. "Skree! Preposterous! You speak of the Precursor theory known as Battle Pressure. If those theories truly worked, then the Precursors would never have gone extinct! More likely, if we allow the Kraktol to expand, they might stumble across some unmapped world. What if they discover Precursor ruins containing high-level knowledge?"

Benjiro waves his paw dismissively. "Let them. I have made my decision, Naval Commander. You will follow my orders."

The Alfras lazily leans back in his chair. "As for the Doats, Leevoo's observations do have some merit. Leave them be. So long as they do not encroach on our territory, they will never pose a threat to us. The Core possesses the highest abundance of exotics, and we control three-quarters of it. Grawf! That is enough for my liking."

Leevoo shakes her head in annoyance. "The longer we allow those Kraktol to run amok, the longer my profits-"

"Enough about your profits. Losing a few billion credits won't affect your operations," Benjiro counters. "Let's move on to the next item. I am well overdue for my nap."

Several of the Sentients seated at the table glance at each other with knowing looks in their eyes. They have experienced Benjiro's petty downplaying of serious matters on countless occasions, and he never changes his mind unless doing so will allow him to laze about even harder.

Before the discussions can continue, from the rear of the room, a pair of lightly-armed Dakkit guards step inside.

"Ruff! Great Alfras, your retainer has returned ahead of schedule. He says he brings important information."

Benjiro blinks in surprise. "Eh? Little Fer-Fer came back? I told him to leave me alone until I finished."

After a few seconds, Benjiro sighs. "Knowing Fer-Fer, this matter must be something troublesome. Fine. Grawf! Let him in..."

"As you command," The guards say.

They exit the room. A moment later, a Doberman wearing a slick suit casually strolls into the hall. He bows politely toward the Mallali leaders before silently walking over to his leader's side.

"Master Benjiro. While I was outside, one of my informants passed me a data chip with insider information on it. After carefully reviewing its contents, I decided that you and the other Revered Ones here should take a look at its contents immediately."

The Alfras slowly nods. Having spoken to his secretary tens of thousands of times, every word Farund says confirms his observations on the Doberman's past behavior.

"Sigh. Alright. Get on with it."

He waves his paw dismissively, giving his secretary carte blanche to manipulate the room's projectors. A moment later, Ferund pulls the data chip out of his pocket. He presses his paw against its top, then sets it on the table. Immediately, its contents download into the table's electronic surface, causing the projection of the Milky Way to fizzle out. In its place, a series of videos play, each one recorded in stunning three-dimensional high definition.

They show a scene of absolute carnage. Countless Buzor flood inside a wide-open underground passage, surrounding a somewhat smaller but far better equipped military regiment consisting half of Kraktol, and half of Kessu. This strange combination immediately causes many of the noteworthy politicians in the room to sit up in their seats.

They watch for half a minute as the unlikely allies fend off the horde of Buzor, pushing their way deep into the underground tunnels. While many Kessu and Kraktol fall, tens of times more Buzor perish as well, causing their numbers to slowly diminish.

Leevoo, unable to restrain her curiosity, finally breaks the silence. "Who recorded this footage? Mlerp! What is the context surrounding these... these strange events?"

"I believe I know who recorded this footage," Ferund says, his posture straight as a board. "But they aren't too important. As for the context, this battle took place on Tarus II. It involved a fight between the Kessu and the Buzor, while the Kraktol chose to align themselves with their blood-enemies to fight off the Buzor."

Still entranced by the fascinating visual of two ancient rivals fighting alongside one another, it takes a moment for many of the seated Sentients to shake themselves of their stupor.

"Tarus II?" Marlon Fischer repeats. "Skree! That is the Kessu's containment world. Why would the Buzor and Kraktol show up there?"

Benjiro shifts in his seat. He shoots an odd look at the Kwaa leader before clearing his throat. "Harrumph! I can offer a reason as to why the Buzor would be there, but this has to do with matters above the pay-grade of most here aside from Miss Leevoo and myself. Grawf! The more curious question should have to do with the Kraktol. Never in a million years would they fight alongside the Kessu. They must have had an... interesting reason."

Ferund closes his eyes and nods his head. "Yes, Master Benjiro. According to my informant, the Kraktol learned an important secret involving the Kessu and Buzor. This caused the Kraktol to set aside their enmity with the Kessu in an attempt to free them from the Buzor's clutches."

Marlon Fischer blinks. His bird-eyes, more observant than most, flick from Ferund's face to Benjiro's. As the nominal head of the Core military, serving directly underneath Benjiro himself, he possesses top-secret clearance, yet knows nothing of the 'secret' which Ferund must be alluding. Yet, for a brief instant, the Kwaa leader observes a flicker of emotion on the Alfras's face, one which hints that he might.

"Skree! What secret? What is this about?" Marlon asks.

Benjiro hesitates. He glances at Ferund, uncertain what he should say. To his surprise, his secretary also stares back, carefully examining his face, as if to search for clues.

"Cough, cough! Fer-Fer, regarding this secret... is it, perhaps..."

"It does indeed involve that secret," Ferund replies, nodding slowly. "But... I would not bring this matter up to you if it only involved that. You know well the Kraktol would not align themselves with the Kessu over such a simple matter, either. Instead, there is something which perhaps even you do not know."

The two of them tacitly hint to one another the existence of the ancient 'deal' which Benjiro's grandfather made many centuries earlier, one in which he sold out the Kessu to the Buzor and allowed them to fall into slavery. Now considered long-buried ancient history, only a few people remain who still possess knowledge of that deal.

However, as Benjiro watches, his secretary pulls up a second recording, one which shows a huge, glowing blue portal located in an unknown facility.

"This is called a 'Warp-Gate,'" Ferund explains. "According to my informant, the Buzor have been secretly obtaining control of these gates with 'help' from the Kessu. They allow anyone to instantly travel across the galaxy, and even the universe, in the blink of an eye. We are not certain how many of them there are, but my informant estimates there may be anywhere from one to three hundred Warp-Gates strewn across the Milky Way."

After Ferund finishes speaking, a dire silence falls over the table.

"...Preposterous," Leevoo murmurs. "Warp-Gates which allow one to travel across star systems? Are we to believe one of these was... was located somewhere on Tarus II?"

"That's right," Ferund confirms. "The choice of settling the Kessu on Tarus II may not have been a random one."

His words, somewhat cryptic, cause the other Sentients to become even more confused.

What choice? Who 'decided to settle' the Kessu? Didn't they leave voluntarily from the Galactic Core? Didn't they wipe their own memories in order to pursue a life free from the pursuit of power? Was their exit not a way to offer penance to the galactic community at large?

While many of the Core leaders present occupy the highest echelons of power, few of them know the sordid history behind the departure of the Kessu thousands of years before. Of those who do, they remain tight-lipped, volunteering no information without Benjiro's express approval.

After a few tense seconds, the Alfras shakes his head, causing his fat, floppy jowls to flip around. "Grawf! What a troublesome matter. As always, you damn me with more work, Fer-Fer. This matter of 'Warp-Gates' is not a small one. For the Buzor to store away such a precious commodity from us, their rulers, they have indeed schemed deeply."

Benjiro strokes his chin. "Still. The Buzor are no threat to us. They are a primitive species, barely capable of traveling through space. Their Precursor technology does not even reach the starting line of the 1st-Era. They must be using these Warp-Gates to secretly settle unknown worlds. Marlon, I will leave this matter in your capable wings."

The Kwaa leader nods, but a look of suspicion rests in his eyes. Before he can speak, Ferund interrupts.

"My apologies, Master Benjiro, but I have not finished. Even if this matter merely involved the Kessu, Kraktol, and Buzor, it would hardly be worth interrupting your meeting. I know that you are slow to action, after all. The true reason I came is because of... a far more terrifying existence."

Ferund's use of the word 'existence' somehow causes everyone's skin to crawl. In their minds, they imagine a sinister presence, one beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. Marlon ruffles his feathers. He looks uneasily across the table at Turbo Baryon, who also appears somewhat disturbed.

Benjiro nods slowly. "Go on."

The Alfras's secretary hesitates for a moment, as if steeling himself to reveal something unspeakable. Eventually, he firms up his courage and activates another recording, revealing several dark, hazy images, barely visible to the naked eye.

A horde of shadow creatures hurl spears of darkness at the person recording. The 'cameraman' holds up a strange, furless arm, while shouting in a language none of the Mallali present can understand. Many of the shadow-creatures explode into mist, but others take their place.

Seeing these shapeless, faceless monsters, looks of alarm pass across the faces of everyone present.

"These... what are these things?" Leevoo asks. The Cheemu Merchant Queen becomes momentarily tongue-tied as she tries to visualize their full appearances in her mind's eye, yet fails.

"They are known as 'Shades,'" Ferund says, his tone turning ominous. "They are not normal sentients like you or me. They are aberrants. Horrors from the Precursor Era, and potentially the cause of their annihilation. They are Demons, and they come from a realm known as 'Hell.' These Shades fight under the banner of the last remaining Demon Emperor... Yama. He is a malevolent entity from beyond the grave. He exists only for the sake of his own desires. He seeks to eradicate all Sentient life... and he has allied himself with the Buzor."

Leevoo becomes noticeably more anxious. "H-how dreadful! How awful! Those monsters... the Shades look like no other being I've ever laid eyes on!"

"It gets worse." Ferund adds. "You are a female. Yama is notoriously... choosy. You see, his Shades are not only Demons, like himself. They are slaves, serfs taken from sentient life. He captures them and... experiments on them. He turns females into his toys. He controls them and does with them what he wishes. As for males, he merely exterminates them."

While Leevoo's face becomes even more unsettled, Benjiro instead settles into his chair. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Oh. Is that all?"

Ferund turns to his master and blinks. "Pardon?"

The Alfras chuckles. "You really had me worried. Shapeless monsters from the Precursor Era. Frightening to look at, but not entirely unknowable. Grawf! This Yama is not some mindless monster hellbent on destruction. Fer-Fer, I expected better from you."

Hearing the Alfras's words, Ferund becomes noticeably more confused. "I do not understand, Master Benjiro. Did you not hear what I said? My informant has given us recordings of Yama. We can see his might for ourselves. He wishes to consume the galaxy!"

Benjiro shakes his head. He glances at Ferund like a father disappointed in his son. "Tsk. Since when did you become so short-sighted, Ferund? Grawf! This 'Yama' creature is just as beholden to his bodily instincts as the rest of us. You said so yourself. He lusts for women. He lusts for power. He allied himself with the Buzor, showing that he is open to communication. I don't know who your 'informant' is, but they sound paranoid and addle-brained to me."

The Alfras continues. "This Yama sounds like he could make for a potentially useful partner. Look at his abilities. See how he blends into the darkness? He would make for a fine supplier of saboteurs! We could use him to quietly take out the power structures of our enemies. His talents are clearly wasted on the likes of the Buzor! We should attempt to locate him at once so that we can establish contact!"

Ferund's eyes widen. "With all due respect, Master Benjiro, that is a terrible idea! He possesses an ancient power known as 'magic.' He can manipulate the shadows, steal into your room at night, and kill you while you sleep. As a Demon Emperor, his power is far beyond your imagination!"

However, Benjiro appears unconvinced. "Is that so? Grawf! If Yama was capable of doing such a thing, why would he not have done so already? If he truly was a being capable of killing the mighty Precursors, then we would all have perished long before now! No, instead, you need only look at his actions up to now to understand his true power. He is weak, fragile, and dying of 'thirst'. He wishes to fulfill his vices, but to do so, he needs the assistance of mightier beings."

The more Benjiro talks, the less alarmed the other Sentients appear. Soon, even Leevoo falls into his train of thought. She nods contemplatively before adding her own thoughts.

"I have plenty of beautiful females at my disposal. If we can befriend this Yama, we will obtain a powerful ally."

One of the other Sentients at the table, a previously silent Dornet named Virapa Thicktooth, leader of the black markets, nods. "I am able to procure many suitable slaves, if the Alfras desires."

Other Sentients chime in with their own affirmations. They come around to Benjiro's way of thinking, realizing the many potential benefits of befriending this so-called 'Demon Emperor.'

Ferund's movements become slightly flustered. "Master Benjiro, with all due respect, I think you are taking Yama's threat far too casually! Look at the abilities he's demonstrated in this recording alone! He can not only move while undetected and convert women into his personal Shade-bodyguards, but he can fling shadow spears, devour darkness to heal himself... his only weakness is light! If we move quickly, we can eliminate him before he amasses too much power!"

Contrary to Ferund's hopes, the Alfras's eyes glint with interest. "Fascinating! So he has a weakness to light! As a creature of shadow, that only makes sense. It will be much easier to keep him under our thumb if we seize this crucial advantage."

"But, Master Benjiro!" Ferund protests. He starts to say something else, only for Benjiro to cut him off.

"I have made my decision! Grawf!" Benjiro declares. "Marlon, I expect you to ready our naval fleets. Seek out Yama using our best stealth vessels. Once you find him, express our goodwill and interest in negotiating for benefits. A chance like this won't come up again if you let the Buzor snatch him away!"

"Please, sir, I beg of you to listen to reason!" Ferund cries, clearly distressed.

Instead, his words only cause Benjiro to glower at him. "Quiet! Know your place! Fer-Fer, in all the years I've known you, you've never been one to speak back to me. And since when were you such an idiot that you couldn't see the clear benefits in allying with a powerful shadow-minion? Come to think of it..."

Benjiro pauses for a split second. The old dog's eyes flick across the off-putting appearance of his secretary, usually never one to appear flustered in front of other dignitaries. Suddenly, Benjiro reaches with his left paw to press a button on his right wrist. After two seconds, his eyes widen when nothing happens. He jumps out of his chair and takes a step back, alarming the other Sentients.

"Why didn't the Neural Inhibitor work? Y-you! You aren't Fer-Fer! You're a fake! Guards! GUARDS!"

Immediately, four guards burst into the room. They take one look at Benjiro and another at the person he's facing.

"This isn't my secretary!" Benjiro shouts. "He's an imposter!"

The guards instantly spread around the table. Two travel along the right to rush to Benjiro's side, while two more run toward 'Ferund.'

The secretary curses under his breath.

"Fucking idiot Mallali leaders. They're even dumber than I expected."

Before the eyes of every Sentient present, a holographic screen enveloping Ferund fizzles out and disappears, revealing the figure of a much taller, much scarier looking creature. A furless biped, one with only a bit of hair atop its scalp, stares at the Alfras with enraged eyes.

As the guards momentarily jerk back in fright, they aim their guns at the unknown infiltrator, momentarily feeling frightened by his unexpected, somewhat alien appearance.

"So it's come to this..." Admiral José Rodriguez says.

Diplomacy and subterfuge fails him, despite his hopes. Now, he has only one recourse left to obtain what he wants.

Brute force and coercion.