"What have you done?"
High E's voice rang across the void as he faced Low E.
"Why?"
The question left his lips, but he already knew the answer. A deep certainty settled over him—he understood what had to be done and the price he must pay.
Still in his pure energy form, High E shrank to human size and reached out, touching Mira and Kevor. At his touch, they ignited. Their physical forms crumbled into radiant embers, consumed in an instant. Yet, from the ashes, something remained.
Mira, now a being of pure energy, was drawn into High E, merging with him.
Kevor, however, did not follow. Darkness enveloped him, Low E's presence shrouding him completely.
High E said nothing, only turned his gaze toward the abyss before him—a void of absolute darkness. His light, the brightest in existence, could not penetrate it. One half of the planet was now cast in eternal night, the other in blinding day.
Then, in an instant, Low E vanished.
Silence followed.
High E exhaled, releasing Mira. She emerged still in her energy form, pulsing with newfound power.
"You are my echo, my fragment, my shadow cast upon all verse. You are Godself."
His words carried across the cosmos.
Slowly, Mira's form shifted, light solidifying into flesh. She stood before him once more, no longer who she had been, yet not entirely someone new. Purpose filled her being, and with it, a new name.
Across the multiverse, she traveled, planting the seeds of energy—Amoneht.
Sern called Paps to his office. It had been months since Operation Rapunzel.
"I need a favor. I was hoping you could help," Sern said, gesturing toward a chair.
Paps sat down, waiting for him to continue.
"I need you to transport cargo to Ripton."
Paps frowned. "Why a transport mission?"
Sern leaned forward. "I know jobs like these are a hassle, but this is how we make money—and allies."
After a moment of consideration, Paps nodded. "Alright. But what exactly are we transporting?"
Sern's expression remained unreadable. "That's confidential."
Meanwhile, Spam lay in bed, watching a half-naked woman standing in front of a mirror.
"Jolene, come back to bed," he murmured.
She smiled, crawling back into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder.
The moment was interrupted by Paps' call. Spam listened as Paps explained the mission. He then relayed the details to the rest of the Creed. One by one, they agreed to accompany him.
They set out hours later. Naté, always the curious one, couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He tried to figure out what they were transporting, but no one had answers.
Then midway to Ripton their ship exploded.
Silence followed, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing as they drifted in the void. Their bodies, resilient as ever, slowly healed from their wounds.
Adam gasped as his injuries finally closed, but by then, another problem had set in. The cold.
They were starting to freeze. The silence of space swallowed them, the debris of their ship floating around like shattered glass. Their wounds were healing, but the cold was merciless.
Naté clenched his jaws, his breath breath coming to a shallow gasp.
"We need a plan.", he forced out as his voice weakened by the freezing temperatures. They all looked around to find something that might help.
Their bodies tried to regulate their temperature. Paps scanned their surroundings. He tapped his wrist console, but the screen flickered, glitching from the damage. No signal. No distress beacon. They were adrift.
"Stay close," he ordered, trying to keep his crew together. "Minimize heat loss."
Spam groaned, his body stiff. "Easier said than done."
Adam's teeth chattered as he looked toward the remains of their ship. "We need to find—" He stopped. His eyes widened. "What the hell is that?"
They all turned.
Through the wreckage, a dark silhouette emerged. It wasn't part of their ship—it was something else. Something watching.
Naté's heart pounded. "That wasn't there before."
The figure hovered closer, its form obscured by the swirling debris. A faint glow pulsed from within, like a heartbeat in the void.
As the figure loomed closer, they realized it wasn't a being at all—it was a ship. A scavenger vessel. The cargo door yawned open, drawing in debris along with the cargo.
"Boss, it looks like we picked up some dead weight," a pirate's voice crackled through the intercom.
One of the scavengers moved in to inspect their haul. As he leaned closer, Paps struck. He grabbed the pirate and wrenched a firearm from his belt. Before the others could react, he fired—two went down instantly before the remaining crew shot back in panic. Their bullets hit their own man.
That was the distraction Paps and the others needed. Naté and Spam lunged, tackling the nearest enemies. Adam, still stiff from the cold, swung a piece of wreckage into a pirate's skull. Within moments, they had the upper hand. One by one, the pirates fell.
The fight was over. They had taken the ship.
Breathing hard, Naté leaned against a console. "This might be the first—and last—time I'm happy about getting captured by pirates."
Paps checked the cargo hold. The answer to their mission lay inside: a nullfire energy core. A highly unstable and incredibly valuable power source—one that could tip the balance of war if it fell into the wrong hands.
They had been transporting a weapon.
Elsewhere, deep within the void, Low E worked in isolation.
He had long since vanished from the known systems, dedicating himself to his experiments. In the dim glow of his hideout, he muttered to the darkness, coaxing the shadows to life.
Again and again, he failed. The shadows remained empty, lifeless. His patience thinned. With a snarl, he slammed his fist into the nearest shadow.
It exploded.
The darkness rippled, twisting unnaturally until it became something. A monster—half-formed, mindless, screeching.
Not what he wanted.
With a flick of his hand, he snuffed it out. The creature crumpled, and from its remains, he extracted a core—its essence.
Not quite what he intended, but it was progress.
He experimented further, touching countless shadows. The living. The non-living. He slaughtered creatures, stole their cores, and tried again.
Eventually, he found a method. He created a being, wrapping a creature's stolen core within a shadow of his own making.
A true shadow creature.
But it was imperfect. It lacked will. It was mindless.
So he destroyed it.
Again and again, he repeated the process. Until finally—one did not break.
A sentient shadow creature stared back at him.
For the first time, Low E smiled.