Astra's return to the normal flow of time on Vesper was always a disorienting shift. The bustling, vibrant energy of First Stone felt almost frantic after the deep, silent focus of The Cradle. He appeared on the central dais of the Anchor Nexus, his arrival unannounced but instantly felt. The very air seemed to still, the pervasive hum of the Nexus harmonizing with his own immense power.
Captain Elara and Borg were waiting for him, as they always were after one of his long absences. Their faces, however, were not filled with the usual reports of civic progress or resource management. They were etched with a grim tension.
"Architect," Elara began, her voice tight. "We have a situation. A Zarlac Syndicate scout ship entered the system. It was a different vessel from the one you... dealt with before. It didn't get close, but it was scanning the outer asteroid belt."
Borg grunted, crossing his arms. "They're sniffing around. Like jackals after a kill. They must have tracked the energy signature from the first ship's destruction, or picked up the residual trace from your portal."
This was the downside of action. Every move left a ripple. The Zarlac weren't a galactic power on the scale of Frieza, but they were a persistent, parasitic infection. They wouldn't stop. They would send more scouts, then hunters, then a small fleet. They would probe and test until they found the source of the mystery, and then they would swarm.
Astra's gaze was distant, his [Circlet of the Architect] already accessing the planetary sensor logs, reviewing the scout ship's trajectory and scan patterns. "They have a base of operations in this sector," he stated, not a question. "A nest."
"Our long-range scans indicate a high probability," Elara confirmed. "A planetoid in System X-12, the one the Saiyans used for Arcosian ore mining. It's been repurposed. Heavy weapons emplacements, a small shipyard. It's a forward operating base."
Astra was silent for a moment, his mind a supercomputer running scenarios. He could fortify Vesper, create a planetary shield of immense power. But that would be a reactive measure. It would turn his sanctuary into a fortress under siege, a constant drain on resources and morale. The Vesperians would live in fear, waiting for the next probe, the next attack.
That was not the way of the Architect. He did not build walls and cower behind them. He removed obstacles.
"Then the nest must be cleared," he said, his voice calm, final.
Borg's eyes gleamed with a familiar, predatory light. "I'll assemble a strike team. Our best warriors—"
"No," Astra interrupted. "There will be no strike team. There will be no battle."
Both Elara and Borg stared at him, confused.
"The Zarlac understand only one language: overwhelming, absolute force. They are a disease. To cure a disease, you do not negotiate with the symptoms. You eradicate the pathogen at its source."
He turned and walked towards the Ouroboros, which sat gleaming in its dedicated hangar bay. "I will handle this. Personally."
"Architect, the base is heavily defended!" Elara protested. "Their combined firepower—"
"Is irrelevant," Astra said, not breaking his stride. "This is not a military engagement. It is pest control."
He boarded his ship. The hatch sealed. The Ouroboros lifted silently and shot into the sky, vanishing from sight in seconds.
The journey to System X-12 was a single, short jump. The Ouroboros reverted to real space at the edge of the system. The planetoid base was exactly as described—a pockmarked rock bristling with gun emplacements and surrounded by a small cloud of Syndicate vessels.
Astra did not decloak. He did not approach. He sat in the pilot's chair, his Bio-Steel gauntlet resting on the console. He closed his eyes.
He reached out with his Cosmic Energy Manipulation, but not to form a shield or a blast. He reached for the fabric of spacetime around the planetoid itself. He focused on the gravitational constant, the nuclear forces binding the matter together.
On the viewscreen, the planetoid... shimmered. The gun emplacements, the shipyard, the Syndicate vessels—they all seemed to waver like a mirage. Then, without a sound, without an explosion, the entire base and everything in a hundred-kilometer radius simply disintegrated. It didn't blow up; it came apart at the subatomic level, dissolving into a harmless, expanding cloud of elementary particles.
He had not attacked the base. He had revoked its permission to exist.
The Ouroboros turned and jumped back to Vesper. The entire operation had taken less than five minutes.
He landed and emerged from his ship to find Elara and Borg still standing on the dais, their faces pale as they received the sensor confirmation from their own long-range scanners. The Zarlac base was gone. Vaporized. No debris, no energy signature, nothing.
Borg looked at Astra, a new, profound fear in his eyes—the fear a soldier feels not for an enemy, but for a natural disaster. "What... what did you do?"
Astra met his gaze, his own eyes calm, like deep, still water. "I sent a message. To any who are watching. Vesper is not a target. It is a fact. And facts are not negotiated with."
He had fought his first war for Vesper. A war that lasted five minutes and left no witnesses, no debris, and no doubt. The echo of his power would ripple through the criminal underworld, a silent, terrifying warning. The Architect had shown his hand, and it was a hand that could unmake worlds.