"And here I thought you were smart enough to realize the implication of my words."
Surreal's voice echoed faintly, dripping with contempt.
But it wasn't audible. It wasn't a speech.
It was a thought—scatter-scanned telepathic dialogue ricocheting across the alien expanse of space.
"And it seems like I need to interpret it for you alien scum daring to invade my world…"
In this moment of time, Surreal floated in a realm of exotic, semi-real space-time known as theospace.
The environment was bathed in a sickly green glow, punctuated by bursts of chaotic radiation that fractured and reassembled the surrounding reality in nonsensical patterns.
In here, no gravity tethered him, no air surrounded him, but none of it mattered. Black magic coursed through his veins, insulating him from the inhospitable environment.
In such a state, he was akin to a ghost.
Before him hung a creature unlike anything found in humanity's universe. Its form was fluid yet grotesquely geometric—a shifting amalgamation of translucent polygons and fleshy tendrils, pulsating with a faint bioluminescent glow.
Spires of crystalline structures jutted from its back, glowing faintly as if holding its fragile existence together. Black ichor seeped from its wounds, floating like ink in water.
The creature was surrounded by the wreckage of what could only be described as an alien vessel, its design wholly incomprehensible. Warped metal plates, coiling conduits, and strange sigils carved into glowing panels drifted aimlessly in the vacuum—the obvious aftermath of a battle that Surreal had clearly won.
Surreal surveyed the wreckage with disinterest for a moment, his closed eyes somehow conveying disdain. "Ingrain this fact into your full-body nervous system—the action that you just did was much more foolish than anything you have performed and accomplished within your whole meaningless lifespan," he said aloud, his telepathic voice cutting through the void like a scalpel. "Heading to my universe through the theospace was your first worst mistake. Facing me was your last."
The alien creature emitted a strange, distorted telepathic sound—a mix between a guttural laugh and a symphony played backward. Its jagged, crystalline eyes seemed to glint with defiance despite its obvious defeat.
Surreal's lips curled into a faint smile. "I see, so that's your answer."
Surreal tilted his head, sensing something in the distance. His serene expression didn't falter as he turned his attention outward, to the distant glimmers of light approaching from all directions.
Hundreds of vessels, each larger and more menacing than the last, were converging on his location. Their silhouettes flickered against the warped theospace backdrop, their weaponry glowing ominously. The soundless void seemed to vibrate with their collective presence, an unspoken threat reverberating through the dimensional rift of this exotic hyperspace.
Surreal let out a sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. "A flotilla of reinforcements," he mused. "How tedious."
As he stood there, unbothered by the impending fleet, a sudden realization dawned on him—something that appeared to be more important than the ordeal he was facing right now.
He had left Forreal alone with Yuria.
"Ah…"
Forreal, being his twin in essence and thought, would undoubtedly feel compelled to spill the entirety of his humanity-cleansing plan to Yuria out of sympathy—something that Surreal wanted to inform Yuria himself because of how guilty he felt for still meeting with Yuria despite the plan that he was brewing from the start.
"Damn it," Surreal muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I guess the headache overwhelmed me, I didn't consider this when I left Earth in a hurry."
He cast a glance back at the alien before him, who seemed to be laughing even harder, its tendrils twitching in mockery.
Surreal's expression darkened. "You squids are not worth my time," he said flatly. "But you, in particular, might make a fine instrument~"
In one fluid motion, he reached forward, his gloved hand piercing through the alien's chest cavity.
There was no resistance, no struggle. His fingers curled around something solid—a crystalline spine, glowing faintly with alien energy.
The creature's laughter turned into a distorted psychic shriek as Surreal yanked the spine free, as its fragmented form collapsed into itself. He held the extracted spine aloft, its jagged edges refracting the dim light of theospace.
"A fitting overture," he murmured, his tone almost reverent. "And possibly for my shortest performance, yet."
The two extra arms at his back began to weave intricate sigils into the air, the black magic forming glowing trails of ink that spiraled around the spine. Slowly, the grotesque artifact twisted and reshaped itself, its edges smoothing into the elegant form of a conductor's baton.
Surreal twirled it experimentally, the motion leaving trails of shimmering energy in its wake.
But before Surreal could do anything, one of the alien vessels fired first.
A colossal beam of destructive energy that tore through the theospace environment, warping reality in its wake. It struck Surreal directly, engulfing him in a blinding explosion of light.
But when the light faded, Surreal stood unharmed, his baton poised mid-air.
A faint shield of black energy shimmered around him, dissipating like smoke.
"Well then," he said, turning to face the incoming fleet. His voice was tinged with a playful lilt of mockery. "You lots appeared to be awfully uncultured. So how about I guide you all to this classical revelry of mine~?"
He raised the baton and gave a grand flourish, as if commanding an unseen orchestra. The debris around him began to move, pieces of shattered alien vessels coalescing into jagged projectiles.
With a flick of his wrist, the projectiles hurtled toward the nearest ships, piercing their hulls with devastating precision.
The fleet responded, unleashing a barrage of missiles and energy blasts. Surreal twirled the baton, each motion creating arcs of black magic that intercepted the attacks mid-flight, transforming them into bursts of harmless light.
"The wildcat's cry foretells the hour, the hedgehog quakes, the sky turns sour—behold, the end of the kingdom's lore~"
The beginning of the symphony, proclaiming the downfall of his enemies.
With a sweeping gesture, he turned his attention to the fleet itself. The alien vessels began to shudder, their engines sputtering as if caught in an invisible grip. Surreal conducted with deliberate precision, his movements elegant yet commanding.
"Let no shadow touch my throne! the king proclaims with might. Let the stars bow to my crown, let all bend before my light. But ah, the wise bird calls at dusk, Pride feeds a brittle flame. When morning comes, O haughty one, you'll kneel before the same."
One by one, the ships were forced to turn on each other, their weapons firing indiscriminately. Explosions rippled across the fleet as ships collided, their twisted wreckage scattering like confetti.
"Violent and fear, the king calls upon a known prophet, O benevolent sorceress of realms unknown. I summon you. Grant us a just prophecy, and may fate favor us all!"
He raised the baton high, and with a dramatic downstroke, unleashed a wave of destructive energy that rippled through the fleet.
"I shall unveil the prophecy and shatter these burdensome stones—abandon the needless sentiments, and you shall ascend the throne!"
Ships crumpled like paper, their reinforced hulls disintegrating as if made of sand.
"Amused by the prophet's song, the king calls upon a feast to celebrate…"
The remaining vessels attempted to flee, their captains realizing the futility of their assault. Surreal allowed them to scatter, his smile widening.
"The honeyed wine has clouded their senses and quenched their flames of avarice, yet these wines are without goodwill, poisoned by the prophet's apprentice~"
He twirled the baton once more, and the fleeing ships stopped abruptly, caught in a web of black magic.
"And dead was the king, a crown taken in his final embrace."
With a final flourish, Surreal clashed them together in a cacophony of destruction, their debris scattering into the void like shattered glass.
"The wildcat has sounded thrice, and the hedgehog four." Surreal smiled upon the death of his audiences, ending the tale that he spun. "May the dying kingdom rest in vain, uncovered evermore~"
When the performance ended, the theospace was as silent as an empty theater—the fleet of alien vessels reduced to a drifting graveyard of metal and alien remains.
Surreal lowered the baton, his expression serene.
He extended a hand, and the remnants of the battle began to move, the debris gathering into a swirling vortex. Piece by piece, it disappeared into his subspace storage, a black void swallowing the spoils of war.
To think that the Vyahales attacked this early, Surreal was lost in a moment of thought as most of his brain power was used to scan and appraise the materials he extracted. They did invade Earth at a random time on each and every reset, but the fact that they managed to find my universe's coordinate within the theospace this close to my starting point… This means that an all-out war on the Mirage Front might come a lot sooner, and I need to finish the first phase of my plan to properly establish my influence within the surrounding patch of universes.
As the last fragment vanished, Surreal turned his gaze to the distance, his expression unreadable.
"Alien scums," he muttered, before disappearing into the void with a flicker of black magic.