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Everyone-those who knew the true reason behind the betrayal of the Bright Galaxy's army, and those who remained completely ignorant of it-could do nothing but stand still and watch as the galaxy collapsed planet after planet, world after world, their breaths trapped in their chests. Fear, disbelief, and helplessness blended together as the fall continued without pause.
Kaylis herself spoke out. She reached across the vastness of existence and pleaded directly with the army of the Cursed Behemoth, using the galaxy's own soul as a conduit for her voice. Her words carried desperation, authority, and sorrow in equal measure. Yet she was met with nothing but silence. Her pleas were ignored entirely, as though she had never spoken at all.
Her remaining children rushed into action, desperately attempting to gather the scattered inhabitants of the galaxy, calling on them to unite and resist the invaders. But it was nothing more than a beautiful illusion-a fragile dream destined to shatter. Like chaff carried by the wind, they were cut down with horrifying ease. Some were slaughtered outright, others captured alive, all at the hands of the planetary garrisons themselves. In the end, even the children of the Pure Kaylis were forced to flee once more, chased away by those who had once sworn loyalty to them.
The situation descended into tragedy with terrifying speed. The collapse was so rapid that many began counting the days-waiting in silent dread for the inevitable night when Planet Bright itself would fall, should this pace continue unabated.
And yet, no one understood how close that day truly was more than the Pure Kaylis herself.
Long before this moment, she had already reached out to the Sorcerer Behemoth, informing him that she was ready-willing-to accept his offer. That cruel, suffocating offer.
The one that would force her to use the galaxy's spirit to forge five planetary weapons.
The one that would compel her to surrender nearly half of her sector.
The one that would require her to sell her own daughter.
That offer-every last condition of it-had been accepted without resistance.
But on that very day, it was the Sorcerer Behemoth who refused. His response struck Kaylis like a thunderbolt. Shocked beyond belief, she screamed within the halls of her palace, her voice echoing through chambers once filled with light and dignity. The Sorcerer Behemoth explained that he had been dragged into a brutal and unrelenting war against the Temporal Behemoth in Mid Sector 97.
Worse still, the infamous Bull of Mid Sector 99 was gathering his armies within the star field bordering Mid Sector 98, openly occupying planets under the guise of expansion-yet clearly positioning himself to launch a full invasion toward Mid Sector 98 at any moment.
Despite being overwhelmed by her own catastrophe, the Pure Kaylis forced herself to investigate the situation in Mid Sector 97. What she discovered chilled her to the core.
A devastating war was already raging there-one no less severe than the destruction consuming her own sector. In truth, it was even worse.
There, the Behemoths themselves had cast aside all pretense. The Temporal Behemoth Arkael had openly and unapologetically declared his intention to seize Mid Sector 97 in its entirety.
And there, the sector's inhabitants-already worn down by endless proxy wars against the followers of the Sorcerer Behemoth Zargul-were not shocked by this declaration. Instead, they welcomed it. They found themselves supporting Arkael, actively aiding him in crushing Zargul's followers, whose cruelty and exploitation had drained them for generations. All of this unfolded under the quiet but decisive support of the Shadow Swords.
No matter how strongly the Sorcerer Behemoth Zargul wished to avoid direct conflict with another Behemoth, and no matter how little he understood the chain of events that had led to this disaster, there was no escaping it.
He had to fight.
For in the minds of Behemoths and mortals alike, there exists an unwritten law -an absolute, instinctive truth. The farther you are from the nearest Behemoth, the more authority you possess. The more space you command, the greater your power, your freedom, and your perceived dominance.
If a Behemoth rules a sector and a Monarch dares to build a galaxy directly beside him, it is akin to a man constructing a house of paper next to a lion's den. Such an act proclaims confidence-no, arrogance. It declares that the builder believes himself safe, that he sees the neighboring Behemoth as weak, restrained, or irrelevant.
This is how people will always interpret it.
Even if there exists a decree from the Cosmic Elder forbidding interference, perception outweighs law.
And that is precisely why all the great Behemoths maintain vast expanses of empty sectors around their domains-silent buffers of space, born not of peace, but of fear and unspoken understanding.
The Dreamer Behemoth's galaxy exists in Sector 500, a colossal domain whose very presence commands awe and respect across nearby sectors, and yet astonishingly, no one has dared to establish a galaxy anywhere from Sector 450 all the way to Sector 550. Entire stretches of cosmic space remain silent and empty, a buffer forged by fear, reputation, and the unspoken power of the Dreamer itself.
The Tyrant Behemoth Interas resides in Mid Sector 1, a figure of overwhelming might whose shadow alone reshapes the map of the universe. And yet, the sectors stretching from 950 down to 50 remain completely barren-void of any other Behemoths, of any Millennium Empires, or any major powers daring to challenge the silence. Not a single army, fleet, or colony dares to encroach into
these regions.
This phenomenon exists despite the fact that neither of these colossal entities ever needed to dispatch armies to occupy those territories. They did not break the ancient decrees set by the Cosmic Elder, yet the universe obeyed
nonetheless.
People simply... knew their place.
They respected the invisible boundaries, the unspoken zones of influence
surrounding these titans.
This was not mere fear.
This was prestige.
This was the raw, undeniable force of absolute authority.
The mere existence of the Tyrant and the Dreamer had effectively cleared 10% of the universe for each of them, carving out vast voids in space to stretch their power, expand their dominion, and move without hindrance. Every sector left unclaimed acted as a testament to their might, a reminder of the stakes in a universe where such beings walk among the stars.
Following them came the Destroyer Behemoth Helmor, stationed in Sector 110. Even in his case, the surrounding sectors-from 106 to 115-remained untouched, empty, and reverent. Rumor had it that his enduring hostility toward Zavaros arose from a single audacious act: Zavaros dared to construct his own galaxy in Sector 105, encroaching too near the formidable Helmor, an act that ignited tension and deep-seated contempt.
This Savage Zavaros, a being historically unique for utilizing the crystal of a Young space beast as a stabilizer to breakthrough into a World Cataclysm, had nonetheless failed to earn Helmor's respect. Conflicts, rivalries, and clashes had marked their relationship for ages, each incident amplifying the storm between
them.
But then consider Zargul the Sorcerer, whose domain sat next to another Behemoth. When the adjacent territory became occupied, the balance of power was suddenly in motion.
The declaration of war by Arkael the Temporal acted as a spark of cataclysmic consequence, mobilizing Zargul's army with astonishing swiftness. The bulk of his forces surged immediately toward Mid Sector 97, engaging in direct,
unrestrained combat.
No politicized skirmishes.
No subtle interference from behind the veil.
Two Behemoths-ancient, immense, and lethal-had entered a full-scale war, direct and unrelenting. And at stake: the full control of Mid Sector 97, a territory whose strategic importance could reshape the cosmic balance for
decades to come.
Meanwhile, the already-doubled Millennial Grave Empire amassed hundreds of fleets along the borders of Mid Sector 98, forcing Zargul the Sorcerer to divide his focus. A substantial portion of his army remained tethered to his own territory, unable to commit fully to the war. He fought on two fronts, one eye ever-watchful of his direct enemy, the other wary of the cunning Bull waiting in the shadows behind him.
Witnessing this, the Pure Kaylis, exhausted and overwhelmed, finally conceded. She gave up further attempts at intervention, recognizing that even her influence had limits against forces of such magnitude.
The Sorcerer Behemoth Zargul-the last card upon which Kaylis had pinned her hopes-found himself trapped in a pincer of epic proportions. He faced a war as devastating as any consuming her own domain, and survival would demand every ounce of his cunning and strength.
...In a desperate bid, the Pure Kaylis reached out to Arkael the Temporal
directly.
She presented him with terms mirroring those she had previously offered to Zargul, even signaling her willingness to negotiate further, to bend, to compromise-anything to halt the war or elicit even the smallest aid.
But he refused.
He calmly stated that granting such requests might interfere with the interests
of... a friend of his.