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Seven days had passed since Aidan had sent word to both Earth and the Anteverse. Still no delegation. Interdimensional travel was apparently complicated enough that even a civilization with millions of years of experience couldn't manage it quickly.
On Earth, life was slowly returning to something resembling normal. With no new Kaiju attacks, the constant tension that had defined existence for years began to ease. The Planetary Warfare Council worked with media outlets to carefully shape public opinion—nothing heavy-handed, just strategic information releases and narrative framing. The Wall of Life project was quietly cancelled, budget redirected to more useful initiatives. Meanwhile, the Jaeger program and space battleship development accelerated.
In the Anteverse staging ground, on the second day after the meeting announcements, Aidan stood on the observation platform studying the crimson artificial sun.
Movement caught his eye.
Something emerged from the star's dark core—an afterimage moving at incredible speed, trailing energy signatures. As it decelerated, the shape resolved: a spacecraft designed to mimic Precursor anatomy, sleek and organic-looking, crowned with structures resembling their bone crests. A row of holes lined its trailing edge, still glowing with residual energy from whatever propulsion system had launched it from the star's interior.
The ship settled into a hover position.
A figure began emerging from its surface—not through a door or airlock, but through the hull itself, like someone rising from liquid. The metal rippled, parted, reformed. A Precursor stepped out onto the ship's exterior, followed by another, then another.
Soldiers. All wearing black combat armor, all carrying weapons. Their compound eyes scanned the area until they locked onto Aidan standing near the stellar harvester.
Aidan started walking toward them—
The soldiers launched.
No warning. No announcement. They bent their legs and jumped, clearing the distance in powerful arcs, wings flaring to control descent. Mid-flight, their hands moved to their belts.
Blue lightsabers ignited.
They were attacking.
Aidan stopped walking, eyes narrowing.
On the spacecraft, another Precursor emerged—clearly the commander, bone crown significantly larger than Achilles's, radiating authority. It watched the soldiers charge toward Aidan with cold indifference, making no move to call them back.
The first soldier reached striking range, lightsaber raised for a killing blow—
Aidan's hand moved in a sharp gesture.
Red smoke exploded around him in a perfect circle. Every attacking Precursor froze mid-strike, bodies going rigid, limbs locking into place.
Then their arms began to move.
Against their will. Fighting desperately but unable to resist, their hands rotated, bringing their own lightsabers around in smooth arcs.
Toward their own throats.
The nano-blades made contact. Superheated edges cut through flesh and bone with surgical precision.
More than a dozen Precursor soldiers' heads separated from their bodies simultaneously, toppling to the platform.
On the spacecraft, the commander stood frozen, staring at the carnage.
Aidan didn't even look at the bodies.
The Magician mecha materialized around him, bio-metal flowing into existence. His hands began moving through complex gestures, words in an ancient language spilling from his lips.
Purple-red lightning coalesced in Magician's palms.
He pushed.
"KRRRZZZAAAKKK!" Dozens of thick, pillar-like bolts lanced toward the spacecraft, wrapping around the vessel like intelligent serpents.
The commander had maybe two seconds to process what was happening.
Then the Thunder of Balthakk detonated.
The explosion was purple-white, so bright it temporarily overwhelmed the crimson sun's glow. The spacecraft disintegrated, every Precursor aboard vaporized instantly.
When the light faded, nothing remained except ash drifting on heated air currents.
Aidan dismissed the mecha, dusted off his hands like he'd just completed some minor chore, and turned to look at Achilles.
The commander stood rooted to the platform, all four eyes wide, body language screaming shock.
"CRASH!" The sound of wreckage hitting distant ground finally broke through his paralysis.
"I... I don't..." Achilles's voice came out strangled. His wings spread in agitation. "I don't know what just happened. I didn't expect them to attack. And you were so direct—destroyed the entire ship without even asking for explanation..."
He sounded miserable, almost panicked.
"Was this some kind of test?" Aidan asked. "Your leadership checking if I'd betray you?"
"I don't know! I didn't even recognize who that was!" Achilles looked genuinely distressed. "Please—let me contact our leader. Find out what happened."
Aidan considered, then nodded. "Go ahead."
Achilles pulled an egg-shaped device from his bone crown—smooth, black, seamless. He twisted it, breaking it cleanly down the middle, then pulled the halves apart into a single arc-shaped screen.
The display flickered to life.
An enormous red bone crown appeared first—easily twice Achilles's size, elaborately decorated. Then the face beneath it: a Precursor, clearly ancient, eyes carrying the weight of millennia.
"Greetings, human," the figure said. "I am the leader of Precursor civilization, Ella Hayshiz. Official communication between our civilizations will now be conducted. I want an explanation for what just happened."
Aidan straightened slightly. "I want one too. Your people just tried to kill me."
"I apologize. The spacecraft we sent our representatives on did not arrive," Ella Hayshiz explained, voice measured. "Only a group of rebels arrived there in advance through the teleportation channel."
"You still have a rebel army?" Aidan was stunned when he heard the words. He remembered that the Precursor coup seemed to be over.