Admiral Rufus, fleet commander of the Dakkit Empire, and current Admiral of the White Death, stands at attention aboard his vessel's bridge. A timer counts down on the screen before him, while his officers sit in their seats, quietly checking various readings and metrics about their vessel's conditions.

Already, ten days have passed since their escape from the Veter system. Most of the seasoned crew and veteran officers have calmed down, but an air of tension lingers as they cannot help but recall the horrifying acts of destruction a single Terran unleashed against their fleet. In all their years, never have the current galactic leaders felt like such helpless puppies before a flesh-eating monster.

The Admiral himself stands tall, projecting an air of authority. However, unseen by his crew, Rufus's bones minutely quiver in fear. He recalls all too well that even with more than three hundred years leading the flagship of the Dakkit Empire, not once has he ever suffered such a horrendous setback as he did just two weeks before.

The Terran crushed our ships one-by one. He toyed with us. All this time... he possessed such a superweapon, yet he did not use it until we forced his hand.

The Admiral flicks his eyes to the main monitor, just as a crew-member pipes up.

"Bark! Admiral, one minute until we exit hyperspace and regain connection with our fleet!"

Rufus doesn't reply. He merely nods.

In hyperspace, individual ships lose connection with the galaxy outside. Only by accessing the Galactic Net through quantum entanglement nodes can they maintain contact, but doing so will allow anyone to snoop on the signal, provided they can hack the transmission feed.

Therefore, unless in an emergency, the Admiral would never allow his fleets to do such a thing. Only if someone were to directly pursue them with a superior fleet would he allow intra-hyperspace communication.

Luckily, my people thrashed the Terran's hyperdrive. It will take him at least a month to rebuild it and to make his ship barely spaceworthy. Once we return to Enchillon, we can gather our forces and rebuild our fleet. We'll call in favors from all of our allies. They won't dare to stay idle after they see the power this Terran can unleash. If we all gather our might, we should be able to kill him, once and for all.

The Admiral's face flickers with rage.

Goddamn you, Benjiro! What have you done? How could you toy around with this Precursor after knowing what his people were capable of? Don't you remember the tales we heard, growing up? We've seen the records. We've all learned bits and pieces of their planet-scarring wars. You should have killed him when you had the chance; atomized his body!

The Admiral maintains his rock-steady expression. He glances at his Communications Officer.

"Borf! The moment we arrive, establish contact with the Black Death. We will gather together all the senior officers to have a word with the Alfras."

"Yes, Admiral. Ten seconds until we exit hyperspace."

The time ticks past, agonizingly slowly.

Finally, the stars outside the window shift and shudder, as if a distortion bubble has popped. The White Death hums, transmitting a faint vibration through the floor into the feet of every sentient on board.

Rufus's First Officer speaks. "We've arrived in the Enchillon system, Admiral-"

"Bark! Sir!" Another officer says, interrupting his superior. "The rest of the fleet arrived ten seconds before us! They're transmitting a Priority One message!"

Immediately, all of the lights on the Bridge change color, shifting to blood red.

A message appears on the main viewscreen.

RED ALERT. THE BLOODBEARER HAS ARRIVED FIRST.

Rufus's fur stands on end.

"No... that's impossible! There must be a mistake!"

.......................................

The moment the final Dakkit ship emerges from hyperspace, a transmission beams outward from the awaiting 50th-Era Dreadnought, the vessel belonging to the Terran himself.

Like a predator which has hidden in the ocean's depths, only to spring a trap on the creatures above, his starship hangs within the blackness of space at the edge of the Mallali fleet's exit point. Though outnumbered nine thousand to one, the sheer arrogance behind his appearance, against all odds, makes the Mallali feel as if a Sword of Damocles has sprung into place over their heads.

Across every vessel, the Terran's face materializes on their viewscreens. His facial hair seems much thicker and fuller than before, making it look as if he has spent several years growing it out. His eyes, dark and somewhat sunken-in, contrast with his slightly greenish skin, giving him a monstrous aura.

"Dakkit Empire. Mallali heretics. You thought you escaped me. You did not. You took away everything I held dear. I am a righteous man. I punish those who commit acts of evil... and yet few Terrans I have encountered would sink to the same levels as you. I've spent the last decade debating what punishment would suit you best... and I have made my decision."

The Terran leans forward.

"Extermination. Just as you struck at those I loved, I will do the same to you. My people did nothing to harm you, and yet you slaughtered them like cattle. Expect no mercy from me, for you shall receive none. This concludes our negotiations. Now, please. Take your time dying. I want to savor your deaths."

His face winks away, not allowing any chance for a response.

Across nine thousand vessels, the crews report scatterings of bad, very bad, terrible, and outright awful news.

"The Bloodbearer's hull has been completely repaired! We've observed thousands of tons of starship alloys scavenged from the vessels we left behind!"

"A fleet of 50th-Era interceptors were waiting for our arrival! They're moving to attack!!"

"All three battlestations in the Enchillon system are... they're gone! Completely destroyed! The Terran must have annihilated them before we arrived!"

"Sir, we can't access the Galactic Net! The Terran has installed a virus, taking it over completely! We can't connect to our fleets across the galaxy! We can't call for help!"

...

Dozens of reports flood through the local communication channels, bombarding Admiral Rufus with countless pieces of terrible news. For a split-second, the Dakkit officer momentarily considers fleeing his post. In all his years, never has such a shameful thought occurred to him, but now, faced with this relentless, unstoppable enemy, he suffers the same terror a pup might feel when its mother comes home to find her squeaky-clean floor soiled.

Rufus pushes that stray thought away. He grits his teeth and barks at the nearest officers.

"Borf! Do not lose hope! We still outnumber our enemy! Start feeding detailed logistics to all the ships in our fleet! Scan the Terran's ship for faults! He must have patched it up somehow with... with his Terran gadgets! Such a quick, slipshod rebuild will have left countless vulnerabilities. And you there, scramble our own fighters! He's only fielded three hundred interceptors. That's nothing compared to our fifteen thousand!"

As a well-seasoned veteran of more than a dozen major wars, Rufus takes command with elegance and grace. Authority radiates from his body, allowing his officers to regain some of their confidence, which in turn travels downstream to the lowest deck-hands and other Mallali crew.

A massive battle ensues.

Spread across five thousand kilometers of space, the initial salvos of long-range weaponry travel toward each other. Even at the speed of light, it would take a split-second for lasers to cross such a distance, and their effectiveness will always fall off over such a range as their particles spread out and diffuse.

Therefore, the first salvos come in the form of missiles and other such explosive ordinances. The Terran's Dreadnought stuns the Mallali by immediately deploying two thousand long range missiles, sending them flying toward three of the fleet's dreadnoughts. He ignores the small fry, instead aiming for their most powerful vessels.

Rufus frowns. "Time before impact?"

"One minute, seventeen seconds!" Comes the reply.

The Admiral's expression turns dark.

How did the Terran rebuild so many missile launchers? We annihilated the Bloodbearer's weaponry and outer hull, yet our scans have revealed that not only has he fully rebuilt the ship's exterior, but all of its weapon systems, too. Even stranger, he has added hundreds of new weapons, turning the Bloodbearer into a veritable assault platform!

But... how did he manage such a feat in only ten days? Is the Terran a wizard? Can he conjure technology out of thin air?!

On any other day, Rufus might cast aside such an idiotic thought. However, faced with the truth before him now, he can only come up with such a wild theory, given he knows nothing about the mechanics behind Inverted Space.

A minute later, the Mallali armada fires back, unleashing hundreds of point-defense missiles, laser beams, and ballistic ordinances. They tear through the Bloodbearer's missiles, shredding them to pieces. Not a single long range rocket makes it into their battle lines, though plenty of small and large pieces of scrap bang harmlessly against various ship hulls.

"We've deployed our interceptors, Admiral. The ship quality difference is much larger than we thought, though. 35th-Era Interceptors are far slower and less agile than 50th-Era Interceptors. Additionally, the Terran's ships seem to move with uncanny precision; we believe they must be pilotless drones! There's a synthmind controlling them!"

Rufus nods. "Good. That's good news! See if we can hack their systems! The Terran must not have many crew members left. We only counted twenty or so Kessu left before we wiped out all of his forces, and that certainly isn't enough crew to staff such a massive flagship! His synthmind will be spreading itself thin, making it possible for us to hack the machine!"

Rufus's communication's officer nods. She transmits his orders to the rest of the fleet, and all of them begin activating their hacking protocols to try and disrupt the superior interceptors.

Across Rufus's primary viewscreens, thousands of green and red dots continue to battle. The Bloodbearer sits alone, a single dot placed a sizable distance away from a sea of his enemies, while his comparatively tiny interceptors weave around the edges of the Mallali fleet's periphery. Outnumbered fifty to one, the Terran's fighters engage in a hellish dogfight, slugging it out with the Mallali fleet's superior numbers. Not only must the Terran's ships avoid the weapon-fire of the enemy interceptors, but also the point-defense weaponry of the Mallali fleet.

Even so, the 50th-Era ships perform so incredibly that they barely suffer a scratch!

"Sir! We've lost six hundred interceptors!" One of the White Death's officers reports. "Bark! We just can't land a clean hit! Even if we do, their armor systems are superior to our fighters. Only a Destroyer or Cruiser-grade weapon will be able to take them out!"

"Noted." Rufus growls. "Focus fire! Target each interceptor one-by-one. Even if we only take out ten or twenty, we'll lower their united firepower by at least five percent! They won't be able to cover their own backsides."

"Two more rocket salvos, incoming!" Barks another officer. "The Bloodbearer has begun its approach! It's closing the gap!"

Rufus bunches up his claws into a fist. "Grrr! That arrogant Terran! He wants to fight us in close-combat? Fine! But keep an eye out for his superweapon. If you detect its appearance, alert me, immediately."

"Yes, Admiral." Replies Rufus's First Officer. "But sir, if it does appear, will we flee again? If we do, we'll consign Enchillon to the grave!"

Rufus hesitates.

"...The Terran isn't stupid. Arrogant, yes, but stupid, no. He won't dare to lay a paw on a civilian world. That would be an act of war which would allow us to call together all of our allies! He'd have to be an imbecile to do such a thing..."

Rufus trails off. Despite his strong stance, his inner thoughts run counter to his public statements.

After all, the Terran did use that one specific term...

Extermination.

But... surely... the Terran would not go so far as to involve the helpless civilian population?

The Admiral keeps those dark thoughts to himself.

"We must win. We must defeat this ancient monster today. We cannot allow him to escape!"

His fleet accelerates, moving toward the Terran to speed up their attack. At the same time, Rufus finally receives a piece of good news.

"We've taken down two of the Terran's interceptors! Three! We caught them in a focused cross-fire!"

The Mallali warships build up a bit of combat momentum, increasing their morale. By the time the Terran's missile salvo arrives, they've already shrunken the gap between themselves and their enemy by twenty percent. Ten of the Terran's interceptors lay in ruins, compared to a thousand of theirs.

Rufus snarls to himself.

Even if we take out all three hundred of the Terran's fighters, we will have paid a heavier price than him. Every one of our fighters has two seasoned pilots crewing them, while the Terran only loses metal and circuitry. He's not risking any of his crew's lives! Perhaps, to him, this theater of war is little more than an elaborate game.

Rufus's ships fire their point defense lasers. They wipe out the incoming missiles, even as the Terran launches another wall of explosive ordinance.

"Does the Terran only know how to shoot missiles?" Rufus asks, his question mostly rhetorical. "Why does he draw closer? I don't understand. Is he planning to unleash his super-weapon?"

Finally, after more than twenty minutes, the Bloodbearer draws into range of the Mallali's mid-ranged weapons. Lasers and ballistics go online, with the Mallali concentrating all of their fire on the approaching Dreadnought.

"Minimal damage, so far," Says the communications officer. "The Terran has begun firing back. As expected, the Bloodbearer's armor and weaponry are far superior to our fleet. The gap between 45th and 50th-Era warships are not insignificant. He's already torn apart three of our close-range Cruisers and seventeen Destroyers."

"Another missile salvo incoming! They're too close for us to shoot them all down!"

Rufus grimaces. "Prioritize protecting the ships with weaker armor! Our capitals can take a few hits!"

"Yes, Admiral!"

The Dakkit Admiral begins pacing as he flicks his eyes from one screen to another. Different readouts appear, making him almost want to smile.

We've eliminated a hundred of the Terran's interceptors. We're landing hits against his ships. Everything seems to be going well. But... why do I get this creeping feeling that we're playing right into a trap? Why would he choose to face us head-on? Is he going to use his super-weapon, again? If so, why has he waited so long to deploy it?

At that moment, a communication request appears on the Admiral's personal wristband. He glances at it and scowls.

"Damn. The Alfras, and now of all times?"

He taps a button, causing Benjiro's face to appear on his communicator's screen.

"Grawf! Admiral, I do not like having my life put in danger," Benjiro says. "You must arrange for myself and the other higher-ups an escape craft."

Rufus growls, keeping his voice low. "With all due respect, Benjiro, that is a stupid idea. The Terran's interceptors are still out there. If you leave on anything smaller than a Destroyer, you'll be asking for the Terran's ships to concentrate their fire on you. And if you take a ship that's bigger, you'll weaken our offense."

"I don't care!" Benjiro growls. "I am the Alfras! Saving my life takes top priority."

"Brother..." Rufus growls. "You are too selfish. Too greedy. You might be the Alfras, but we share the same blood. Do you think my life is worth less than yours?!"

"Grawf. You are our father's 61st pup. I am his firstborn. Naturally, my value is higher than yours," Benjiro says, his face shifting to a smirk. "But that is beside the point. One less ship won't cause you any trouble. I need-"

Before Benjiro can continue, Rufus swipes his paw across the screen, turning it off.

"Borf. Screw you. I have a battle to fight."

Rufus regains his focus. He pays close attention to the engagement outside as his officers report back several momentum shifts.

"We've shot down more than two hundred of the Terran's interceptors. They aren't able to effectively evade our point defenses anymore!"

"The Bloodbearer has stopped its approach and halted at one thousand kilometers away, but our fleet is continuing to advance. The Bloodbearer is now firing gauss rounds at our ships! We've lost two cruisers and seven destroyers in the last minute!"

"We're firing back. Direct hit! We've caused minor damage to the Bloodbearer's armor!"

"Our fleet is converging their beams. We've started melting through the Bloodbearer's forward-plating. It's retaliating- two destroyers lost!"

More and more good news pours into the Bridge. To Rufus's surprise, the Terran still doesn't unleash his super-weapon. Instead, like some kind of crazed idiot, Admiral Rodriguez stands still and takes a beating, allowing the Bloodbearer to suffer the pummeling of a lifetime.

Dozens and dozens of destroyers, cruisers, and capital-class ships arrive within weapons range of the Bloodbearer. Their concentrated firepower, while weak at first, rapidly begins piling up. The Terran's ship loses dozens of missile-launching systems, suffers catastrophic armor damage along half a kilometer of its forward-section, and even begins to falter in its aggression.

The more Rufus's fleet wins, the more hesitant he grows.

We're missing something. It's as if the Bloodbearer itself is... just a diversion. Is this all just a bit of theatrics for the Terran? Or have we overestimated him? Is the bastard simply braindead after suffering a half-death and that strange revival?

One of Rufus's officers reports. "We've detected multiple secondary explosions inside the Bloodbearer's weapon systems! Our attacks have detonated the ship's internal explosive ordinances. The Bloodbearer is suffering a feedback loop. If this continues, the whole Dreadnought will break apart!"

Cheers erupt on the White Death's bridge, along with several other Mallali warship bridges. Countless crew members laugh to themselves about what a pitiful foe the Terran has proven, and how he has wildly overestimated his battle capabilities.

"It's true what they say. One ship cannot defeat an entire armada!"

"We've taken out the last interceptor. Our only remaining enemy is the Bloodbearer!"

More and more good news reaches Rufus's ears. He nods slowly, taking in the information, even as the Mallali press their advantage.

"Give no quarter. Borf! Blow the Bloodbearer to scrap. I'd rather ensure that Terran stays dead than worry about capturing his ship intact. We'll make do with the scraps of his 50th-Era technology."

Rufus recalls the bit of intel he received after their failure ten days before.

We may have lost control of the Bloodbearer, but we succeeded in obtaining a few files regarding 50th-Era ship construction techniques. Even if we gain nothing else, the Dakkit Empire will still hold a vast advantage over the other sentients.

At that moment, Rufus receives some bad news.

"Admiral! The Bloodbearer is preparing to enter warp! We've detected gravimetric fluctuations!"

"No!" Rufus barks, his expression turning to horror. "Take out his engines! Don't let him escape! If he flees, he could go anywhere! We need to take that ship out, right here and now!"

Hardly have the words left Rufus's mouth before the red blip on his screen, the only enemy ship in the entire star-sector, disappears.

Two seconds of silence swallow the White Death's bridge.

"...What? He's gone?" Rufus asks, blinking three times. "How... how could the Terran spin up his warp coils so quickly? That jump didn't take ten seconds! Even the fastest Corvettes require a full minute, let alone a god-damned capital ship!"

Nobody immediately answers. Several of the Mallali officers open and close their mouths, aghast that their prey has somehow fled right from under their noses.

"S-sir..." One of the Dakkit officers says, speaking up timidly. "I can try to track his flight path. Give me a minute."

Rufus takes a step back. He plops in his Admiral chair, sighing deeply.

"Borf. Make it so."

Not ten seconds later, another officer practically jumps out of her seat. "Aaaiyee! It's not- that's impossible! Admiral, Admiral! A ship has just warped into Enchillon's orbit! It's... it's the Bloodbearer!"

Her voice jumps two octaves. "Oh, ancestors! The ship... it's fully repaired! How is this happening? It doesn't look as if it's taken a speck of damage!"

Rufus jumps out of his chair. Immediately, his mind goes back to full alert. "What do you mean, 'fully repaired'? Explain!"

"The Bloodbearer no longer bears a single scar! It's as if the Terran has reset it back to pristine condition!"

Another officer whimpers and whines. "Aaooo... is that... something 50th-Era ships can do? Is the ship... immortal?"

"Unlikely!" Rufus barks. "This must be a trick! It's a hologram! A projection! Scan the Bloodbearer more closely, look for-"

Suddenly, the White Death shudders. Multiple alerts appear on the primary viewscreen, even as the security officer pipes up.

"Hull breach on Deck Two! Something has collided with the White Death!"

"Is it the Terran?" Rufus asks.

"No, sir! It's something metallic. A ship! It's a small frigate... our scans aren't able to penetrate its exterior but, optics confirms... it's the Slipstream! The Terran's stealth-craft shuttle!"

"Intruder alert!" Barks another officer. "Multiple hostiles have come aboard! They're... Kraktol and Kessu! Over a hundred in total! What in blazes?!"

The ships' viewscreen blinks a communication alert. Reflexively, Rufus accepts the request, only to find the Terran staring back at him. His facial hair appears to have grown even bushier, giving him a werewolf-like appearance.

"Ten more years, gone." Admiral Rodriguez says. "A drop in the bucket. Whether it takes me ten years or ten thousand... your fleet will fall. Your empire will crumble. Your species will disappear into the history books. You cannot stop me. You cannot even resist me. There are many creatures in the universe more terrifying than I, but in this galaxy...?"

The Terran chuckles evilly.

"Heh heh heh. There is no comparison."

His face winks away, leaving the Dakkit to stare at the viewscreen in silent horror.