The conference room on the top floor of the GDA Command Center remained brightly lit until dawn.
Mark, Allen, Cecil, and the leaders of major global powers who joined urgently via holographic projection, engaged in a long and somber deliberation.
The intelligence brought by the Korta people was disclosed to a limited extent, enough for every leader to realize that this was not an ordinary natural disaster or a localized alien conflict, but a cosmic-level purge concerning the survival of their entire species.
Panic was forcefully suppressed, replaced by a heavy sense of urgency for the continuation of civilization.
The meeting ultimately reached a consensus: global cooperation would be upgraded, GDA authority would be elevated to global defense supreme command, national resources would be unconditionally allocated to defense plans, and the Planet Shield Project and Deep Space Fleet construction would be fully implemented.
Through networks and news, the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations would be gradually disclosed to the public, to prevent social unrest and emphasize unity and hope.
At the same time, the GDA officially sent out a signal to the universe, stating that, under the premise of ensuring safety, Earth was willing to offer limited refuge and technological exchange to civilizations suffering from the Great Old Ones' persecution, using this as an opportunity to reverse-engineer and develop more advanced technologies.
This initiative was spearheaded by Allen.
Furthermore, the most important point was to proactively seek out the alien Alliance.
Only Mark Grayson was capable of this mission; he possessed the ability to survive and move at high speeds in the universe, as well as the power to deal with potential dangers.
"Mark, this means you will once again venture alone into the unknown."
Cecil looked at Mark, his gaze complex.
"We don't even know the Alliance's specific coordinates; we can only search a wide area based on the vague directions provided by the Korta people. The danger level…"
Mark interrupted him, his golden eyes showing no hesitation.
"This is the only way."
"Waiting for the enemy to come to us or hoping for others' charity will lead to the same outcome. We must find them, even if it's just a sliver of hope."
He looked at Allen.
"I'm leaving things here to you all."
Allen clapped him heavily on the shoulder.
"Go with confidence. We will make Earth stronger by the time you return. Stay in contact, and be cautious in any situation."
Bidding farewell to Earth, Mark transformed into a streak of light, soaring into the vast and boundless star sea.
He had no specific coordinates, only heading in the general direction of the Korta Nebula, moving at unimaginable speed, while expanding his senses to their limit, searching for any traces of civilization or unusual energy fluctuations.
The universe had never seemed so empty and silent.
Familiar constellations were left behind; ahead was unknown darkness, and the occasional galaxies he passed were mostly dim and lifeless, as if they had died years ago.
The harvesting scene described by the Korta people was silently imprinted on this overly quiet starfield.
Just as he was traversing an extremely desolate intergalactic dust belt, where even starlight was sparse, a sudden change occurred!
The space in front of him warped without warning, rippling like water, and the next moment, three figures radiating a soft yet chilling light silently appeared, perfectly blocking his path.
Their forms resembled humanoid light avatars, but their unique, mind-freezing cold will and spatial manipulation techniques made Mark recognize their identity.
The Titan Clan!
Mark abruptly stopped, his body's energy instantly surging into combat readiness. His molten-gold eyes locked onto the opponents.
"Titans?"
The leading Titan Avatar emitted a flat, consciousness-level voice, bypassing the issue of sound not propagating in a vacuum.
"Mark Grayson, we foresaw your path and awaited you here."
"Waiting for me?"
Mark's voice was cold and hard.
"Why? Back in the Alliance, you were silent like stones, watching Allen being ostracized, watching Taviel's scheme succeed, and then you were the first to quietly withdraw."
"What role did you play, and when did you realize something was wrong with the Alliance?"
His suspicion and vigilance had reached their peak.
These guys appeared too coincidentally, and their attitude was too calm.
The Titan Avatar's expression remained unchanged.
"The Alliance's foolish internal strife was meaningless; we had already calculated that its structure was bound to collapse."
"Taviel? Its actions merely accelerated the process, but were not the fundamental cause. We withdrew because data indicated that remaining within the original structure and directly confronting the Great Old Ones had a survival probability of less than 0.00001%."
"We did not discover, but rather calculated, the inevitability of the Great Old Ones' awakening and expansion, long before most Alliance members perceived it."
"Calculated?" Mark frowned.
"Yes, calculated."
Another Titan Avatar interjected, its voice equally cold and unfeeling.
"We utilized nearly all of our clan's computational resources, simulating all variables, all possible development paths, and all modes of civilizations resisting, united or alone, within the current universe as the stage… exceeding trillions of simulations."
The leading Titan Avatar resumed speaking, its emotionless voice delivering a conclusion that chilled one to the bone.
"But the simulation results were highly consistent: failure, a complete and irreversible failure."
"The Great Old Ones and The Old Ones' Tide are an irresistible, cosmic-constant level disaster. Any form of resistance will ultimately be devoured, assimilated, or annihilated, with the probability of survival infinitely close to zero."
Mark was struck as if by lightning; even he, hearing this ultimate verdict from the universe's most skilled calculating race, felt tumultuous waves surge within him!
The entire universe… all civilizations… could not escape?
"So you just ran away, and now you appear before me just to tell me this despairing answer?"
Mark's voice carried suppressed fury.
"No."
The leading Titan Avatar gazed at Mark.
"We are here to offer another option, based on a variable: you, Mark Grayson."
"Me?"
"Your existence is a significant anomaly."
"By breaking through your limits, you are destined to touch the realm of gods in the future. This is a low-probability event that was not fully weighted in our computational models."
"Your potential… is very special."
For the first time, the Titan's tone showed an extremely subtle fluctuation, akin to evaluating a precious item.
"Our previous perceptions of you are irrelevant in the face of racial survival. Your value transcends those trivial emotions."
"Our clan has found an extremely distant interdimensional rift, detached from the current cosmic coordinate system, sufficient to evade the Great Old Ones' perception and erosion. That is the only way to survive."
The Titan Avatar extended an invitation to Mark.
"Join us, Mark Grayson. Abandon meaningless resistance and migrate with us. Your power can ensure our stable existence in the new environment."
"In return, in the new cosmic epoch, you will gain a status and authority second only to our clan. This is the optimal solution based on cold logic."
Second-in-command of the universe?
Hiding in a sanctuary, waiting for the universe to be destroyed and reborn?
Mark was stunned for a moment, then an intensely absurd and angry emotion replaced his shock.
He looked at these beings, representing the universe's highest intelligence and cold rationality, and suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter reverberating through the surrounding dust on a mental level.
"Hahahahaha… Optimal solution?"
Run away?
Then hide in a corner like a seed, waiting for everything to end, only to emerge and become the so-called second-in-command?
Mark's laughter abruptly ceased, and an unyielding flame burned in his golden pupils.
"You cold-blooded calculating machines don't understand at all!"
He raised his hand, pointing to the endless deep space, as if pointing to the invisible Old Ones' Tide.
"You surrender directly without even the courage to fight?"
"My power does not exist for the sake of cowardly survival! Earth is still fighting, everyone is trying to find a way, even those chaotic alien races are still trying to resist, yet you want me to abandon them and go hide like a coward with you?"
"I'm telling you, Titans, even if your calculations show a hundred percent failure."
Mark's voice was resolute, every word imbued with immense power and unwavering will.
"I will still carve out that zero percent possibility for you to see!"
"If you want to run, get lost yourselves! Don't block my way!"
Before his words finished, Mark's body surged forward, no longer paying attention to these cold Titan prophets. He transformed into a determined meteor, unhesitatingly bypassing them, and continued to charge into the dark deep space that had been condemned to death, yet might harbor a sliver of hope.
The Titan Clan Avatars remained in place, their light flickering slightly, seemingly engaged in silent communication.
They appeared unsurprised by Mark's refusal, merely confirming the uncontrollability of a non-logical variable.
Immediately, space warped again, and their figures silently vanished, as if they had never appeared.
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