Above the West Coast of North America, Mark Grayson, like a meteor, weaved through violent hurricanes and towering waves.
Each punch brought forth a scream that tore through the air, and the pure force of the shockwave, like an invisible giant hammer, shattered the hundred-meter tsunami that was rushing towards the coastline!
The seawater exploded into a sky full of white foam, which was then swept into the higher sky by the raging wind.
In the city below, the piercing alarms, the groaning of buildings, and the cries of the populace were all drowned out by the roar of nature and the thunder of Mark Grayson's battle.
He had just ripped apart a tsunami wall large enough to submerge half a city when Director Cecil's voice, with an unprecedented, forcibly suppressed urgency, pierced through the storm's roar from his communicator.
"Mark Grayson! Return to base immediately! Top priority!"
"Lieutenant Allen has a situation here, cosmic... cosmic level!"
Mark Grayson's molten gold eyes suddenly narrowed.
Cosmic level?
For Cecil, this old guy, to use such a tone... it must be serious!
He twisted his body abruptly, casually taking the impact of a giant wave crashing onto his back, using the momentum to shoot up like a cannonball, instantly breaking through the violent clouds, leaving the raging storm below, and turning into a straight golden light, shooting towards GDA Headquarters.
Highest-level medical isolation zone.
The heavy alloy door slid open, and the cold smell of disinfectant mixed with the low hum of instruments rushed out.
Mark Grayson strode in, still carrying the salty smell of seawater and the scorching heat from battle.
Director Cecil and Lieutenant Allen stood in front of a huge one-way observation glass, their faces equally grave, even with a hint of an almost imperceptible pallor.
Behind the glass, the indigo-blue Kothar lay on a medical bed, connected to complex life support and monitoring equipment, his tentacles hanging limply, but his unique, lidless indigo-blue eyes stared fixedly at Mark Grayson as he entered, a light of unspeakable intensity, a mix of hope and extreme fear, bursting from them!
"Mark Grayson, this is not good news..."
Lieutenant Allen's voice was dry as he pointed to the Kothar behind the glass.
Cecil wasted no words, directly pressing the communicator switch and speaking to the Kothar inside with as steady but undeniable a tone as possible.
"Repeat the core information you just told us, Commander Mark Grayson is here."
The Kothar's tentacles trembled violently. He struggled to prop himself up slightly and, facing the microphone, began to speak in a hoarse, broken, but unusually clear common tongue.
His voice seemed to carry the chill of the cosmic abyss.
"They... there are three of them!"
The Kothar extended three trembling, slender fingers, his eyes filled with bone-deep fear.
"The Door... The Maw... And... and a new one!"
"Indescribable... bloated... dark... filled with gestation and decay... The moment He was born... the entire universe... screamed!"
"Our Kothar Nebula... is not too far from the Alliance's carrion nest... They came... like... like harvesting crops..."
His description was fragmented and chaotic, filled with subjective horror, but the core information pierced the hearts of the three like an ice pick.
The third Great Old Ones was born, its very concept twisting the rules of the universe, triggering a disaster that reached Earth.
The Old Ones' Tide was expanding at an alarming rate, and the Kothar Nebula Confederacy, a civilization with a high level of technology, was completely destroyed and corrupted in a very short time.
The scale and speed of the destruction far exceeded imagination. Lyra Beta-IV, Chiron Ringbelt... these civilizations, marked on the star charts by Lieutenant Allen and Cecil and possessing a certain defensive capability, fell one after another like castles made of paper.
As Mark Grayson listened, even with his will and strength, an uncontrollable chill ran up his spine.
He had experienced the despair of pocket universes, faced the minions of Taviel, and knew the horror of the Great Old Ones.
But hearing one glorious civilization after another systematically erased and transformed in such a short time, listening to the Kothar describe that moment of birth when the universe screamed...
This scale, this speed, this thoroughness, still exceeded his previous estimates!
This was not war, it was a harvest!
It was a format!
"Then... then what?"
Cecil pressed, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
"Are there... are there any others of you?"
A faint light, like a spark in despair, flashed in the Kothar's eyes.
"Yes... there's resistance, scattered... like sand... different planets, different races... communicating on the net... forming an alliance, trying... trying to huddle together... to fight Them..."
"An alliance? Who is the leader?"
Lieutenant Allen keenly caught the key point.
The Kothar's face showed a complex expression mixed with confusion and a glimmer of hope.
"No... no real leader... it's too chaotic... many people from the fringe star systems... don't believe the central universe... is being destroyed so quickly..."
"They think... it's a rumor... an internal struggle within the Alliance... or... a small-scale disaster... arguments... bickering..."
He coughed violently a few times, and indigo-blue blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Until... until their message came..."
"Whose?"
Mark Grayson asked in a deep voice, his molten gold pupils locked on the Kothar.
"The Titans... it's the Titan Clan!"
The Kothar's voice carried a reverence that was almost devout.
"After being silent for so long... They... They actively contacted several key nodes of the alliance!"
"They said... the most experienced in fighting the Great Old Ones... are Mark Grayson and... Lieutenant Allen. They said... only you two... have truly faced Their minions... and returned alive... only you two... might... find a way!"
The Titans?!
The word exploded in Mark Grayson's mind like a thunderclap!
He looked sharply at Lieutenant Allen and Cecil, whose eyes were also filled with shock and disbelief!
The Titan Clan!
Those taciturn, technologically unfathomable, powerful beings who existed like invisible people within the Alliance!
Mark Grayson remembered their cold gazes, their indifference to non-Titan life, and even more... when the Alliance ostracized him and suppressed Lieutenant Allen, they quietly withdrew like bystanders, without leaving a single word!
Mark Grayson even suspected that when he was precisely trapped in a pocket universe by Taviel, the Titan Clan might have played a role?
After all, their understanding of space was unmatched!
Did they have a grudge against him?
Not a deep-seated hatred, but definitely not friendly!
According to their usual coldness, even disdain, towards lower civilizations, and their self-preserving modus operandi, the most logical thing for them to do now should be to completely hide in some corner of the universe, or perhaps they had already left this doomed universe.
And not to jump out and act as propagandists for some resistance organization, even specifically naming and praising Commander Mark Grayson and Lieutenant Allen!
This was too abnormal!
So abnormal that it reeked of conspiracy!
What were the Titan Clan up to?
Using them as targets to attract the Great Old Ones' firepower?
Or... had they foreseen some outcome that only Mark Grayson and Lieutenant Allen could achieve?
Mark Grayson's mind raced, countless questions and conjectures swirling like a storm.
The Titan Clan's motives were like a thick, impenetrable fog.
"Are you sure it's the Titan Clan? What exactly did they say?"
Lieutenant Allen's voice also carried extreme caution.
"Yes! Their communication... cannot be faked... that kind of... cold will... and... technical characteristics..."
The Kothar nodded with difficulty.
"Specifically... I don't remember clearly... very brief... 'Seek Mark Grayson and Lieutenant Allen, they are the only known individuals who have directly confronted the Great Old Ones' minions and survived, they are the core for the alliance to coalesce, time is short...' That's all..."
Time is short.
These three words struck Mark Grayson's heart like a cold anvil.
He forced himself to suppress the storm of doubts about the Titan Clan's motives.
No matter what the Titan Clan wanted to use him for, no matter how many schemes lay behind it... the immediate threat was real and imminent!
The cosmic devastation described by the Kothar, the terrifying natural disaster Earth had just experienced, triggered by the birth of the Third Great Old Ones, and the all-consuming speed of The Old Ones' Tide... all coldly declared a fact.
Earth's peace was over!
War was no longer a distant threat, but a Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads!
Director Cecil took a deep breath, breaking the oppressive silence, his voice regaining the cold, hard edge characteristic of a GDA commander.
"Information received. Kothar, thank you for the intelligence, it is crucial for Earth. Rest assured."
He closed the communication and turned to Mark Grayson and Lieutenant Allen, his gaze sharp as a knife.
"Regardless of the Titan Clan's motives, one thing in their message is clear: the Great Old Ones are our common, imminent, and existential threat!"
"And Mark Grayson, Lieutenant Allen, your names are now the only lighthouses that those desperate sparks scattered across the universe can see!"
He pointed out the window; although separated by thick alloy walls and one-way glass, all three seemed to see the abnormal storm still raging outside and the scene of busy disaster relief.
"Earth's defense construction must enter maximum overdrive!"
"The intelligence brought by the Kothar, especially the parts about the Great Old Ones' army's combat methods and corruption characteristics, must be immediately organized, analyzed, and distributed to every combat unit!"
"The alien alliance... although chaotic, it is our only possible external aid channel right now. Lieutenant Allen, intelligence departments, operate at full capacity, try to trace back and contact this alliance through the clues provided by the Kothar, even if only a small part of it!"
Cecil's gaze finally rested on Mark Grayson, carrying a heavy entrustment.
"Mark Grayson, you are our strongest spear, and our last shield. Whether Earth, this cradle, can survive the coming storm... largely depends on you."
Mark Grayson did not answer immediately.
He walked to the large observation window, his molten gold eyes piercing the glass, watching the GDA personnel hurrying through the corridor outside, watching the constantly flickering disaster data on the screens and the disturbing, expanding purple-black chaotic vortex in the deep space monitoring.
The Titan Clan's enigma still lingered, like a hidden thorn.
But at this moment, a larger, more monstrous shadow had already enveloped the entire universe.
He slowly turned around, his voice deep and firm, carrying an undeniable sense of power that dispelled the fear permeating the room.
"If the Great Old Ones want to devour us, then let them break their damn teeth!"
"Cecil, Lieutenant Allen, gather all department heads. In five minutes, I want to see the latest global defense assessment and upgrade plan."
"Earth will not sit idly by! As for the Titan Clan... once we survive this war, it won't be too late to figure out their intentions!"
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