However, false hope always reaches a breaking point. The true state of the galaxy was far crueler than the carefully curated fragments centered on Soma’s perspective.
Soma, pushed to the forefront by the major conglomerates as a figurehead, presided over a momentary calm in the turbulent Empire. But that fragile peace quickly gave way to escalating war.
The first major shift was a sudden and dramatic increase in the number of Zergs. Swarms of them surged toward the Empire from all directions, occupying nearly a quarter of its territories. While the remaining planets were not yet overrun, they lived under constant threat.
Yet the newly formed provisional government centered around Soma did not live up to the people’s hopes of salvation.
At first, the Four Major Conglomerates had been willing to maintain appearances—letting Soma lead campaigns to repel Zergs near the border worlds. But as the enemy’s numbers and power grew, these self-serving magnates began to retreat.
The cost and risk of resisting the Zergs had far exceeded expectations, and everything was slipping out of control.
It wasn’t just the Zerg swarms—they were also contending with organizations and cults that had emerged during the panic. After surviving brutal internal purges, two or three of these groups had grown large enough to form their own independent regimes, each claiming entire sectors of space and refusing to obey the authority of the Galactic Empire.
The royal family’s control over the Empire continued to erode. Among these rising factions, the Holy Legion stood out as the most prominent, carving up star systems and founding new governments in defiance of imperial rule.
But the Zergs, ever hungry, were not deterred by the Empire’s internal collapse. Instead, the fragmentation only made their conquest easier. Under the command of the humanoid-type Zerg generals, the swarm devoured another quarter of imperial territory in just a year.
The Empire had been halved.
By this point, the endless tide of Zergs, impervious to extermination, had struck fear into the hearts of everyone.
The people no longer dared hope for a military victory. They simply wanted to survive and protect their remaining homes.
As the rest of the Empire resigned itself to slow defeat, only Rong Heng’s group refused to give in. After a year of trials and cooperation, the five of them had forged a bond of unshakable trust, becoming true comrades who could entrust each other with their lives.
Led by the Black Ghost, the interstellar pirate fleet continued to grow. Refugees whose homes had been destroyed joined them, forming a mobile force that roamed the galaxy.
They had no permanent base. Wherever the Zergs attacked, the fleet would rush to assist, sacrificing resources and lives in a desperate bid to save what remained of the Empire.
But it was all in vain.
As imperial territory continued to shrink, both the conglomerate-backed government on Sikkim and the separatist factions fighting to divide the Empire opted for strategic withdrawal. Each focused only on defending their own strongholds.
The abandoned planets, deprived of aid, could only resist in despair—only to inevitably fall.
Conditions worsened.
Initially united in their resistance, the pirate fleet too began to splinter after nearly two years of attrition. Morale eroded.
Only Rong Heng and his four companions remained steadfast.
Some captains defected to other factions, trading loyalty for temporary peace. Others, tempted by profit, betrayed their allies outright.
During one such rescue mission, the team’s location was leaked by a traitor, and they were ambushed by the Imperial Fleet.
Just like the ambush Rong Heng had once suffered in the Baghdad District years ago, this one had been meticulously planned. Their enemies held an overwhelming firepower advantage.
All around them, friendly ships fell. The Black Ghost fought on, but its hull was shattered, its systems failing.
Then Heli, against everyone’s pleas, transformed into his massive dragon form. His vast, leathery wings unfurled, blotting out the stars as he soared directly into the enemy barrage, intercepting the attack to buy the Black Ghost a single moment of escape.
The black dragon perished alongside the Imperial Fleet—flesh, steel, and fire all reduced to stardust in the silent void.
The Black Ghost, barely limping away, had no time to mourn their fallen comrade.
Halfway through their retreat, they encountered the Ark of Apocalypse.
The massive vessel was more fortress than ship, surrounded by a staggering array of warships and fighters.
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
Even though Rong Heng and the others fought with everything they had, there was no way to break through. In the end, the remaining four were “invited” aboard the Ark.
But the Apocalypse they faced now was nothing like before.
He had changed bodies again—no longer humanoid, but fully transformed into a war machine. Standing over three meters tall, his entire frame—from skull to limbs—was bristling with lethal weaponry.
Only his elegance remained unchanged, seemingly hardcoded into his programming.
He did not attack them. Instead, with impeccable courtesy, he ordered his robot subordinates to detain them—politely, of course.
Then the massive Ark set off across the stars, heading toward an unknown destination—until a blue planet appeared in the viewport.
Only then did the Ark slow, descending gradually into the atmosphere.
Unlike Rong Heng and the others, whose movements were restricted, Ruan Shiqing was free to roam the Ark—and he too had seen that blue planet.
Blue Star.
It was no longer the lifeless husk preserved in inherited memory. After countless ages, the ruins of the old civilization had been swallowed by time. The buildings of the past had crumbled into dust, all traces of humanity wiped clean. The seas had returned to their deep cerulean hue, the land was once again rich and fertile. Mountains rose in endless ranges, vast plains stretched to the horizon. Forests sprawled across the land, and flora and fauna now grew wild and unchecked.
Everything teemed with vibrant life.
All except for a single canyon, where a low-lying complex of buildings lay hidden.
The Ark descended directly into that compound, and Rong Heng’s group was transferred into the facility.
During the transfer, Ruan Jiao stirred slightly, his antennae swaying slowly as he glanced around. Only after they were locked inside a sealed chamber by the robotic guards did he murmur softly, “This is Blue Star.”
He had spent many years on this planet—even without stepping outside, the scent of its vegetation was unmistakably familiar to him.
The group speculated about Apocalypse’s purpose in bringing them here, but they weren’t given long to ponder. On the second day after arrival, Apocalypse ordered his machines to inject all four of them with muscle relaxants, then had them placed into specially designed stasis pods.
Rong Heng resisted the effects of the drug with all his will, forcing his eyes open to question Apocalypse.
But Apocalypse merely replied, “This is part of a transaction.”
Before Rong Heng could grasp the meaning of those words, unconsciousness claimed him.
Ruan Shiqing, watching from nearby, saw Apocalypse copy and store his own core programming, then instruct the robotic attendants to safeguard the four stasis pods.
It felt like catching a glimpse of the tip of a vast iceberg.
He was reminded of Siyan—the one in his world—who had quietly plotted revenge for years.
In this world, Siyan was merely called the “Mad King,” an eccentric whose inaction had made him nearly invisible as the Empire fell apart. But Ruan Shiqing found it hard to believe this world’s Siyan had truly done nothing.
Especially now, seeing Apocalypse speak of a “transaction,” Ruan Shiqing had his suspicions.
There weren’t many people capable of negotiating with Apocalypse.
And aside from Siyan, who else would go to such lengths to protect Rong Heng and the others?
His mind made up, Ruan Shiqing didn’t linger at the stasis pods. Instead, he followed Apocalypse deeper underground.
Beneath their feet lay a vast subterranean laboratory.
Countless glass columns lined the chamber, each containing a preserved specimen—human, animal, even Zerg. In the center stood a massive quantum mainframe, running streams of data at incomprehensible speeds.
As the numbers flew by, Ruan Shiqing’s sharp eyes caught snippets of information.
This lab… was a colossal artificial ovary.
It stored and cultivated an immense collection of biological embryos.
After methodically inspecting the facility, Apocalypse opened a secure communication line.
A holographic image appeared in the lab—it was Siyan.
Compared to his counterpart from Ruan Shiqing’s world, this version of Siyan had changed dramatically. His long hair veiled much of his face, his aura had turned ice-cold, and his eyes brimmed with a manic obsession.
“Are they all settled?” he asked.
Apocalypse gave a soft “Mm.” “Once they wake up… they should be in a different world.”
Siyan frowned, still doubtful. “Was the dosage enough? They’re not ordinary humans. If they wake up early, it’ll be a problem.”
“Three times the standard dosage,” Apocalypse replied. But even he sounded uncertain. “That’s the maximum. Any more, and it becomes too dangerous.”
Siyan could only relent at those words. “Make sure your people guard that place well.”
With the communication ended, Apocalypse piloted the Ark away from Blue Star.
Ruan Shiqing followed closely and gradually began to understand the full weight of that brief exchange between Apocalypse and Siyan.
It seemed the two had reached a consensus: they had completely given up on the Empire and instead turned their efforts toward the Zergs. But it wasn’t a direct confrontation—they had covertly tainted the “Celestial Stones,” the very foundation of Zerg evolution, with foreign elements…
Their actions were stealthy. No one noticed.
As the years passed, only Sikkim, Tutar, and a handful of surrounding planets still resisted the tide. To ensure their survival, these once-insular planets finally started launching rescue missions, retrieving scattered survivors from across the starfields. But even so, the population continued to plummet. Under the Zerg threat, the social hierarchies on the remaining planets became even more rigid—resources were distributed strictly based on merit, and unrest and crackdowns became a daily reality.
In contrast, the Zerg population surged—particularly the lower species, which multiplied at an exponential rate. They rampaged unchecked across the galaxy. And yet, no new high-level, humanoid-type Zergs emerged.
Both humanity and the high-level Zergs appeared to be fading together—but no one noticed at the time.
In the first decade, the Four Great Conglomerates were overthrown by the meteoric rise of the Holy Legion. In their despair, survivors began worshipping the Creator, praying for salvation.
In the second decade, the Holy Legion’s leader—the so-called Creator Alfonso—was torn apart by his own furious followers after he failed to deliver any miracles. Sikkim descended into chaos.
In the third decade, the chaos had reduced Sikkim’s population to a fraction. The Four Ancient Clans, the Royal Family, the Four Conglomerates, and even the Holy Legion faded into history. Of particular note, the bloodlines of the Merfolk and the Nine-tailed Foxes were completely extinguished. Only the Dragon Clan, who had never clung to bloodline purity, endured. After years of silence, they reclaimed leadership and began attempting to establish a new order for the remaining survivors.
It was around this time that the high-level Zergs finally realized something had gone wrong with their evolution.
But by then, the damage was done. The degradation had already taken root over decades. Even the humanoid Zergs began to show signs of weakness. When they entered this decline, Siyan and Apocalypse returned with an army of machines and wiped them out.
All that remained were the devolved, low-level Zergs—mindless creatures driven only by instinct. And without the guidance and control of their more evolved kin, they bred at an uncontrollable pace, becoming a rampant plague.
By the fourth decade, these lesser Zergs were everywhere. Sikkim had fallen. The last of humanity fled into the void, drifting through the stars in search of a new home.
And at that moment, with the end of his life approaching, Siyan returned to Blue Star alongside Apocalypse.
This planet, tucked far from the Galactic Empire’s main starfields and hidden with great care by both of them, had remained untouched by the Zerg scourge.
The Ark landed once again in the canyon. The surrounding bulkheads unfolded and anchored into the canyon walls, transforming the area into an impenetrable fortress that shielded the buildings below.
Siyan, nearing death, visited the stasis pods one last time.
He didn’t leave a single word for Rong Heng and the others. Holding the wedding ring he had once shared with Farah, he walked to his end with a faint smile on his lips.
Following his final wishes, Apocalypse scattered his ashes into the river—along with the necklace bearing both rings, which sank quietly into the depths.
Apocalypse had once urged Siyan to preserve his genetic code in the artificial ovary, so that when life began anew, he too could return.
But Siyan refused. He chose death, stubborn to the very end.
Even though Apocalypse prided himself on understanding humans, he could never fully understand Siyan.
According to their plan, within a few centuries, the last remnants of humanity would vanish, and the out-of-control Zergs would eventually destroy themselves.
They simply had to wait.
When the time came, the artificial ovary would activate, nurturing new life into the world. Apocalypse—and the robots standing eternal vigil over the stasis pods—would awaken to build a new civilization, where humans and machines coexisted.
This was Siyan’s final promise to him.
Using the old Zerg labs as a foundation, Siyan had personally designed and built the massive artificial ovary system, filled with countless biological embryos. Apocalypse was entrusted with nurturing these future humans.
With control over the next generation, he could establish a new society under new rules.
After one final inspection of the entire system to ensure everything was in order, Apocalypse shut down all power—except for the low-level energy needed to keep the ovary functioning.
Then he entered hibernation.
The fortress fell silent, shrouded in darkness. Only the faintest glow of power continued to protect the sleeping embryos within the ovary.
Ruan Shiqing stood quietly in the shadows, but a deep unease gnawed at his heart.
Siyan’s plan seemed flawless.
But from what Time had shown him, this world still ended in ruin.
He waited in silence, unsure of how much time passed—until a noise came from the stasis chamber.
Rong Heng had awakened.
Still weak from his long sleep, he nevertheless tore open the pod with brute force.
Soon after, Ruan Jiao also emerged. Together, they woke Nota and Ruan Yuebai.
The four wandered the fortress, eventually finding the archived video logs Apocalypse had left behind. From them, they learned that sixty years had passed since they entered hibernation—and the full scope of Apocalypse and Siyan’s plan.
But they did not choose to return to sleep.
Instead, they decided to leave—to see the state of the outside world for themselves.
Boarding the restored Black Phantom, they departed Blue Star and set course for the Imperial Starfield.
The territory they once knew had changed beyond recognition. Many planets on the starmap had disappeared entirely, replaced by swarms of Zergs. These creatures had changed again—massive, slow-moving, acting purely on their instinct to devour.
The Black Phantom’s agility allowed them to evade the swarms. They roamed the stars for a long time before stumbling upon other survivors.
These remnants of humanity had eked out an existence on harsh, desolate worlds. Their ships and warcraft were out of fuel, their supplies nearly gone. Stripped of all technology, they had reverted to primitive survival.
Only the old warships and cruisers—buried beneath sand and dust, repurposed as shelters—still bore traces of the once-glorious Galactic Empire.
There were few survivors left.
Barely a few thousand in total.
They clung together, fending off the environment and the occasional Zerg incursion.
Most of them had never even heard of the Black Phantom. But when they saw it descend from the sky, they looked upon it as if witnessing the arrival of gods.
Rong Heng and the others decided to stay on that planet for a while.
Under the constant threat of brutal enemies and a harsh environment, the surviving humans there had finally learned to unite and survive as one. With their numbers so drastically reduced, they cherished every single companion as precious.
And so, Rong Heng’s group was welcomed with warmth and trust.
They remained on that planet for two years before making the decision to bring the survivors back to Blue Star.
Blue Star’s environment was far more suitable for human survival and reproduction—lush, fertile, and untouched by war or plague.
On the day the Black Phantom prepared to launch again, the planet stirred like never before. The survivors packed what little they had with excitement, boarding the ship with hope in their hearts.
The long-silent Black Phantom was, for once, filled with life.
But Ruan Shiqing’s heart only grew heavier.
Everywhere the Black Phantom passed, he saw shattered planets, exploding stars, broken star systems—and with them, countless massive, terrifying Zergs vanishing into cosmic dust.
The change swept across the galaxy like a slow, unstoppable tide. Though gradual, it was inevitable.
On the tenth year after the Black Phantom led the survivors back to Blue Star, the explosion came.
It had, in truth, already begun.
At first, it was only a single planet.
Then an entire sector.
Then the explosion rippled outward, a vast chain reaction spreading like rings in water—expanding further, faster, engulfing everything in its path.
Blue Star, too, was not spared.
In just an instant, a searing, brilliant light streaked across its surface—then surged outward into the void.
Everything dissolved into stardust.
The explosion might rage for countless more years, and perhaps, eons from now, the drifting dust and remnants would once again collide, coalesce, and form new planets.
But as Time had said—that would be another world.
It would have nothing to do with Rong Heng, Ruan Yuebai, Nota, Heli, Ruan Jiao… or any of the people who once lived in this universe. Perhaps new life would rise again, but the ones who came before would never return.
A deep and aching sorrow rose in Ruan Shiqing’s chest. He snapped his eyes open, his spiritual power withdrawing sharply from the crystal orb.
Clutching his chest, he sat upright. The glow in the crystal orb on his nightstand was beginning to fade.
A sliver of light seeped through the curtain cracks. Downstairs, he could hear the voices of the Xiong brothers and the hum of machines—familiar, mundane sounds that gradually steadied his heart.
Footsteps echoed up the staircase—soft and quick. A golden little robot poked his head in through the doorway. “Sir! Mr. Garland sent a message—he says when you’re awake, come by the lab.”
The robot clung cheerfully to the doorframe, a neat little bowtie fastened to his neck. On the screen that served as his eyes, two red dots blinked in a regular rhythm—a clear sign he was in high spirits.
A stark contrast to the Apocalypse of that previous world—so solemn, so cold.
“I got it,” Ruan Shiqing replied with a smile. “I’ll head over in a bit.”
The little robot chirped an acknowledgment, then thump-thump-thump—he darted back down the stairs, humming a bright, cheerful tune as he went.
Outside in the courtyard, the starlight vines had grown longer again. Ruan Shiqing had a new design in mind for them, and he was determined to trim them neatly before the little ones came home.
He wanted the vines to look beautiful—so he could welcome them back, properly.
Thankfully this time around Ruan Ruan didn’t fall into a long coma to experience that previous life, I was worried for a second lol
Thanks for reading!
For every three ko-fis, I will upload a bonus chapter~
Imagine the trauma all the cubs and Rong Rong would have if he went into another coma. They’d never let him sleep again
Thanks for the chapter Gocchan ~~
I think the last bit ‘Ruan Shiqing had a new design in mind for them…’ in reference to the vines, should be 09 instead of Ruan Shiqing.