Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World-Chapter 299: For Shadow! (1)

The invisible vessel soon dropped out of warp. It hadn’t stopped in open space; it had pierced the veil of a restricted dimension.

They had arrived at the coordinates of the Space Tunnel and it looked unrecognizable.

A normal Space Tunnel was a roaring river of subspace currents. But this one was a graveyard. It seemed like something had ravaged the structural integrity of the dimension.

The "walls" of the tunnel were scarred with jagged cracks where void leaked through. The once-violent gravitational tides were now weak, stagnant pools.

"It is wounded," Zero said to the crew. "Fortune smiles upon the Shadow."

He stepped out afterward, followed by the twelve other beings in the vessel with him..

Zero inhaled deeply, though there was no air to breathe. He was tasting the metaphysical scent of the area.

"I can sense it," Zero whispered with reverence and hunger. "It is not bound to anyone. The Core sits alone."

The realization meant that the Core was waiting like a ripe fruit to be plucked.

They sped deeper into the tunnel. Even with the weakened gravity. But they were not normal.

"Umbra, tegumen nostrum. Vacui, via nostra," Zero chanted and black aura erupted from his skin, enveloping the twelve disciples in a protective shroud. They moved as a single entity, a streak of darkness cutting through the stagnant grey of the damaged tunnel.

They flew against the remaining currents, dodging the floating debris of reality shards.

Minutes passed in silence, but then they saw it.

Zero raised a hand, and the group halted. He waved his arm, dispelling a lingering illusion field that hid the core.

The air shimmered and vanished, revealing the heart of the galaxy.

It was magnificent.

The Galactic Core hovered in the center of the tunnel’s widest chamber. It was roughly the size of a small shuttle. It shone with a brilliant, electric blue radiance; a color so pure and intense that it threatened to sear the retinas of the Shadow-kin.

It pulsed with a heartbeat that echoed the rhythm of creation itself.

Zero shielded his eyes with a pale forearm, overwhelmed by the beauty.

He turned to his brethren. The twelve figures stood in a semi-circle. They were vibrating with anticipation.

"Brothers," Zero said with a voice that carried the weight of destiny. "We have fulfilled the first part. We have found the heart. But now... it is your turn."

He looked at them, not with sorrow, but with pride.

"We must make the Core pure again."

No one questioned him. There was no hesitation nor fear. They knew their assignments.

The twelve disciples moved. They surrounded the Core, positioning themselves at the points of a perfect dodecahedron. They extended their arms, their bodies beginning to dissolve into thick, oily smoke.

Zero drifted backward, distancing himself from the formation. He watched as they prepared to sacrifice their very existence for the cause.

He raised his hands, his fingers contorted into arcane shapes as he began chanting.

"Nunc incipit finis."

"Lux moritur! Tenebrae oriuntur! Sanguis pro umbra!..."

***

Meanwhile as Zero chanted. Light years away in the deepest sanctum of the Celestial Palace, a god was afraid.

Sol-Prime, the Galactic Emperor, sat on his throne. He was a being of pure light, usually as constant and unshakeable as the stars themselves. But now, he shifted uncomfortably.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

He wiped it away, staring at his hand in confusion. He hadn’t sweated in his existence.

"What is this?" he muttered.

He felt it then. A sickness. It wasn’t pain; it was emptiness. It felt as though a hook had been sunk into his stomach and was pulling him inside out.

He stopped cycling energy and closed his eyes, his consciousness expanding across the Heartland.

His instincts screamed. They directed him not to the fleet battle at the edge of the system, but inward. To a particular sector. To the Space Tunnel.

"Something is wrong," Sol-Prime muttered to no one in particular.

The feeling of dread spiked, turning into panic. He didn’t wait for a report or summon anyone.

He stood up immediately and jumped into Space, tearing a hole that allowed him to step through the System. Two jumps were all it took for him to be inside the Space Tunnel.

He arrived just in time to see the end of the world.

"WHAT IN THE ABOMINATION IS THIS?!" the Emperor screamed, his voice shaking the very foundations of the dimension.

He peered into the darkness of the chamber.

He saw a large core that was pitch black. Twelve pillars of oily smoke were pouring into it, and standing before it was a creature that was chanting into it.

Zero turned his head, his black eyes meeting the Emperor’s golden gaze. He didn’t look afraid. He smiled.

Sol-Prime felt a surge of rage so pure it nearly blinded him. He didn’t waste a millisecond.

"ERASE!"

The Emperor flared his aura. He unleashed a wave of omnidirectional destruction, a supernova contained within a tunnel. It was enough power to vaporize a System. He intended to wipe out every single molecule of shadow in the room, including the Core.

The wave hit.

~ZRRRRRRT!~

The twelve disciples didn’t scream. They simply vanished, their physical forms vaporized instantly by the light.

Zero was hit by the shockwave. His body crumple and he was flung hundreds of miles backward, smashing through three layers of dimensional rock.

But the Core...

Nothing happened.

The Emperor’s attack hit the sphere and dissipated.

The blue light was now completely gone.

In its place hung a sphere of absolute, vantablack darkness. It didn’t reflect the Emperor’s light; it ate it.

Sol-Prime hovered in the void, his chest heaving. He looked at the Core, then at the broken form of Zero in the distance.

The creature dragged himself up from the rubble. Zero was missing an arm, his chest was caved in, and half his face was burned away. But he was watching the Emperor.

And he was laughing. A wet, gurgling sound of absolute victory.

"Impossible..." Sol-Prime whispered.

He tried to summon a second attack. He reached for the ether that permeated the Galaxy.

He grabbed nothing.

"My... my powers..."

His golden skin began to dim. The blazing corona of solar fire that usually surrounded his head flickered and died out.

His essence was weakening rapidly. Without notice, he couldn’t sense the ether anymore. Even the ambient mana in the air eluded him. It was as if the concept of magic had been deleted from the file.

But the scariest part wasn’t his own weakness. It was what was happening above him.

Above the Emperor, a dark rift tore open. It was a tear in the fabric of reality itself.

It seemed to absorb every single photon of light underneath it, swirling with dark energy that widened with each passing second.