Silence reigned across distant corners of the universe.
Dead planets slowly turned in space. The remains of broken space fleets floated like metal ghosts: twisted hulls and shattered engines—the wreckage of long-gone cosmic empires.
Debris fields stretched for light-years, left behind by battles so violent that they tore at the fabric of space itself.
Drifting through it all were angry, restless souls: Soldiers who died in war, elderly people, and even children who once believed in a better future.
Usually, they would have dispersed and returned to the origin ocean and according to the soul law of the universe, some souls would turn into soul energy.
However, that law has become too weak to function properly. Because of what Lex did, the soul law can no longer help them; to be precise, it can't make them dissipate. As a result, the souls remain trapped among the ruins.
Zerg scouting units moved through the debris and the dead planets like insects through rot, each unit no more than three hundred strong.
They searched endlessly for traces of bio-energy, scavenging from the fallen.
Deep beneath a dead planet, survivors hid at its fractured core.
The last remnants of civilization clung to life in bunkers buried near the planet's molten core.
The atmosphere above was long gone. Cosmic radiation saturated the surface. No sunlight had reached the crust in years.
In the dimly lit command chamber of one such bunker, static holograms flickered. The stale air had been recycled too many times. The mood was grim.
An old woman sat at the head of the table. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow, but they still burned with resolve, an ember refusing to die.
"How long until the rations and energy serums run out?" she asked, voice heavy, her eyes hardly blinking.
There was silence. Then, a man just as old, slumped over a cracked datapad, answered without lifting his head.
"Two years. If nothing changes… two years."
The silence that followed was heavier than gravity.
"Sigh… it's been hundreds of years," the woman muttered, her voice dry and cracked like the world above. "I guess the food our predecessors escaped with is finally running out."
She leaned back, eyes gazing at nothing. At one point in time, those eyes had seen the stars.
She had only been seven years old when the Zerg race began their unending assault and now she is three hundred years old, almost at the end of her life.
Back then, the universe was full of hope, civilizations stretching across galaxies, powerful empires warring over light-years of space.
And then the Swarm came without notice.
They didn't just kill, they devour planets. They erased all living in it, whole solar systems vanished in their wake.
Stars collapsed, black holes bloomed like open wounds, and once-proud galactic capitals were reduced to drifting bones and ash.
The worst weren't the endless hordes but them—the four abominations, the Queen's chosen. Her Heavenly Zerg Guard.
Even the top-tier cosmic empires, the ones thought untouchable, were wiped out within days. Not months. Not years. Jusa matter of days.
No one has ever injured the four. Not a single time, not even with the last weapon of the Supremes.
"Just thinking about them…" the old woman whispered, her voice faltering.
"It makes me feel like I'm seven years old again. Powerless and watching everything I knew vanish," she mumbled.
Just as the old woman sank deeper into her memories, the dim light of the bunker's central tablet suddenly flared red.
The room fell dead silent. Everyone knew what it meant.
The Zerg race was scanning the planet.
Grim faces turned to each other. No question and no talking. They all moved. Slowly at first, then faster, toward the stasis chamber located deep near the core of the bunker.
"Go. Get in. Now!" the old woman whispered, her voice strained. "Before the scan reaches the core."
The survivors picked up their pace. Some held hands, some didn't look at anyone, they just crept toward the chamber.
Then a scream broke the tense silence. "Where's my child?!" "Where's my son?!"
A woman stumbled into the group standing in front of the chamber, her hair a mess, eyes wide and frantic. Her voice cracked. She looked around, searching every face, her panic rising with each second.
"He was just with me. I told him not to wander—please, no—not now!" She dropped to her knees.
"Please," she begged, looking up at the old woman. "Please, he's all I have. My husband, he died in the last collapse. I don't have anything else. He's the only reason I keep going."
The chamber was still. Most looked away entering in the chamber. No one spoke to her.
The old woman stepped forward. Her voice was firm. But her eyes looked tired, like they'd seen this too many times.
"I'm sorry. But we can't risk the lives of many, for one child. Not with the scan this close." she said as she looked at two men, and with swift movement they brought her in to the chamber forcefully.
"No, no, no—please! Don't do this! I'll go with him! Just let me stay with him! I won't be a burden. I swear. I'll hold him. I'll stay quiet. Just don't leave him alone!"
But the chamber was already sealed. The soft hiss of the lock was louder than any of her screams.
She collapsed, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. No one could look at her, the guilt of leaving a child outside and not being able to help twisted like a knife in some of their hearts, some were so desensitized that they couldn't feel anything for him, or maybe they were only caring for themselves.
The scan was still coming. There wasn't time to mourn.
Meanwhile, on the Surface, two Zerg units broke from formation, racing across the cold dead ground like shadows with purpose.
Their sensitive tendrils twitched, the faint flicker of a life signature had reached their sensory web.
They dove into the planet's crust with terrifying speed, burrowing with precision and hunger.
Whoosh.
They appeared above the bunker their sight set on the life signature.
A massive tentacle pierced the air behind the boy who was thinking he had hidden well.
Before he could scream, before he could even turn, the tentacle struck him.
The impact was silent. His body collapsed instantly, skin withering, flesh drained of all vitality. One second he was alive, the next, just a brittle husk.
But his soul remained. It floated silently above his lifeless body, unseen by the Zerg, untouched by their hunger.
And it burned; with overwhelming sorrow, rage, and betrayal.
Back at the Stasis Chamber. A dull thud echoed through the chamber.
Then another.
The mother was slamming her forehead into the cold metal wall. Once. Twice. Blood smeared the surface.
No one tried to stop her. No one even moved.
She collapsed in front of them with a soft gasp, her life leaking out quietly. The others simply stared.
They'd seen it before. Too many times.
Her soul rose seconds later, drifting upward like smoke. It screamed without sound.
"Hate… hate… MONSTERS… I hate this… my son… my baby… REVENGE—"
"I CURSE YOU! ZERG RACE—"
Somewhere in the fabric of the cosmos, the weight of her hatred, combined with the boy's, and all those innocent dead creatures tipped the scale.
The universe trembled. The Origin ocean of this universe, turned blood red.
And with it came something no Zerg mind, no Queen, no swarm had foreseen: A curse.
It was so powerful that it silently placed a limiter on every swarm without any of them realizing it. Not even the Zerg Queen could detect it.
Curses were not her domain, and such attacks were nearly extinct in a universe obsessed with technology and evolution.
Only the Supremes had once wielded that kind of power