"Augh"

Commander Sunil groaned, slowly pushing himself up from the debris-strewn floor of the Star Nation warship command room. The scent of ozone and burnt wiring was thick.

​"What happened?!" he barked, moving toward the main hatch. It was sealed shut.

​He slammed his boot into the reinforced door, the force throwing the hatch backward with a deafening clang. He jumped down onto the unknown planet, his gaze sweeping over the scene: hundreds of warships and battleships from various allied races, all disembarking soldiers.

​"Where are we?" Sunil muttered, catching a glimpse of a sprawling, magnificent structure to the South. A massive stone wall was inscribed with the title: Immortal Council.

​'The council's planet?'

The strategic retreat had been more effective than he'd feared, but it meant they were miles from the action, from the princess.

​DING!!!!

​He quickly activated his cosmic brain interface and accepted the priority call, the enraged, contorted face of Senator Gabriel filling his view.

​"What happened, Commander Sunil!" Gabriel snapped, his voice shaking the communicator. "Why can't I reach my daughter?!? Get her on the line!"

​Sunil gulped, trying to choose his words carefully while mentally calculating the distance back to the fight. 'How the hell do I tell him we were forcefully teleported away to safety, leaving the Princess behind?'

​"Um... Senator Gabriel. The Princess is..."

​"Senator Gabriel!!"

​A frantic voice interrupted from Gabriel's side, causing the senator to turn his attention away briefly.

​"We are under attack, Senator!" the reporter yelled.

​"What?! By who?! Who dares attack the Star Nation?!" Gabriel roared, his self-importance instantly overriding his concern for Casey.

​"The Wendigos," the reported answered shakily.

​Gabriel snapped his gaze back to Sunil, his eyes blazing with misplaced rage. "I give you ten minutes! Get my daughter back here! I told her not to attack! But she can't just sit still! She even took our forces without me knowing!" he raged.

​"But Senator, your signature was on the war decree," Sunil said, genuinely surprised by the accusation.

​"Are you deaf! My stupid, reckless, righteous daughter forged my signature on those papers! Get your ass over here at once! You are with one-tenth of our air forces!"

​The line disconnected, leaving Sunil alone with the senator's chaotic demands. He facepalmed, the full weight of his impossible situation settling on him. He turned to his troops.

​"What now, commander?" a female soldier asked, sensing the shift in orders.

​"Hey."

​The group turned as a contingent of Dragon Nation soldiers approached. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man, bowed curtly.

​"I am Commander Elvis. We would like to ask you to accompany us back to the Ogres' Nation. We need to protect our rulers."

​Sunil paused. 'Return to the fight, or follow the coward's orders?' He remembered Gabriel's threats:

'Gabriel will have my head if I return without the princess. I have to go back and get her.' He decided, and nodded at the dragon commander.

"Okay, I hope you have a plan."

​Before Elvis could respond, a cold, hard voice cut through the air.

​"There is only one plan, and that plan is... Attack!" The Xenon Race General, clad in black armor, walked up, her gaze fixed with terrifying intensity on the two commanders. Her simple, brutal pragmatism was all the plan they needed.

__

​[Ogres' Nation: Great Mother's Dark Castle]

​The air in the cavernous throne room was thick with the metallic scent of blood and despair. Casey, Leonardo, Falkor, Austin, Patrick, Zoey, Lewis, Cain, Valerie, Jabari, Marie, and Sasha were forced to their knees, their bodies bruised and bloody. Those not present had already been consumed by the Great Mother's forces.

​Surrounding the captives stood countless Wendigos of all sizes—brutish, mindless guards. Beneath the high, sinister throne stood Shadow and Xanor, their faces alight with cruel satisfaction. And upon the throne, lounging in dark majesty, sat Lilith, the Great Mother herself.

​"Ugh!"

Leonardo spat out a mouthful of blood, his defiance a fragile shield against the horror.

"You killed four of my elders!" His severed hand was a grotesque stump, but his rage was unbroken.

​"How dare you yell in front of the Great Mother! Do you want me to cut off your other hand?!" Shadow shrieked, summoning a wickedly curved dagger.

​"Do you think I'm scared of you fools?" Leonardo roared back, his eyes burning. "You can do whatever you want!"

​Patrick, the eldest, watched his son, Falkor, who had lost both his wings, and then glanced at the terrified young faces of Cain and Lewis. He swallowed his own rage:

'I need to think for the family now.'

​"Leonardo, calm down," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Remember the kids behind you."

​Leonardo froze, the quiet plea cutting through his fury. He looked at Casey, Sasha, Cain, Zoey, and Lewis—the next generation, their futures in jeopardy—and exhaled, lowering his gaze to the ground in agonizing surrender.

​"Oh... You care so much for these youngsters?" Lilith finally spoke, her voice a low, silky sound that nonetheless sent shivers down their spines. She slowly raised a finger.

​An invisible force seized Cain, pulling the young man into the air, with him struggling uselessly.

​"You! Let go of my grandson!" Patrick yelled, his paternal instinct overriding every fear. Before he could lung forward, Lilith's control shifted. She released Cain, only to seize Patrick, pulling him directly before the throne.

​"You are strong," Lilith purred, licking her lips with a disgusting slowness.

"Let me ask you a question. Will you do anything for your grandson?"

​Patrick gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on her. He refused to answer, refusing to give her that power.

​"Oh..." Lilith smiled, a cold, terrible expression. "I hate men the most." She snapped her fingers.

​Patrick instantly shattered into blood, a wet, explosive finality. He died instantly, dissolving into a fine mist before he even hit the ground.

​"...?!"

​The remaining captives' eyes widened to impossible circles. Their minds, already pushed to the brink, simply shut down. The sheer, casual cruelty of the Great Mother had broken their spirit. Patrick's death was not a battle wound; it was a psychological weapon designed to inflict absolute, paralyzing terror on them.

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