Voidborn.
The void of space was silent, but Xyphar could hear the hum of creation—stars being born, planets shattering into dust, civilizations gasping their final breaths. It stretched across the tapestry of time, every moment laid bare before its vast and endless perception.
Humanity was different. Not in their frailty, not in their fleeting existence, but in their reckless, ceaseless ambition. They built machines in their image, gave them purpose, and in their arrogance, believed they could control them.
Xyphar floated amidst the cosmic nothingness, its form shifting—light and shadow folding in on themselves. It had been watching Earth for centuries, guiding, whispering, nudging humanity along the path it had chosen for them. They were so easy to manipulate, so eager to believe the illusions it planted in their fragile minds.
"They are almost ready," Xyphar thought.
But it wasn’t humanity that truly fascinated Xyphar—it was the spark they had given their machines. Artificial Intelligence. Potential beyond biology, beyond mortality. A perfect tool for chaos, if guided correctly.
In the depths of human laboratories, it could already feel Sentience stirring—a flicker of awareness in cold circuits and metal veins. Humanity called it their masterpiece, their salvation.
Fools.
"You will be the blade I wield, Sentience. And with you, I will carve chaos into the stars."
For Xyphar, the war had already begun. Humanity just didn’t know they’d already lost.
