Inside the surreal hyperspace jump corridor, endless streams of light streaked past the warship's portholes like long threads of color.
After a violent tremor in spatial curvature, the Starsetter's massive, cold black hull finally stabilized within the escape corridor a Level 5 Grandmaster had carved open by sheer force.
The terrifying gravity and mortal pressure that had weighed on every soul like ten thousand mountains at last receded like a tide.
Abyss Pole Star, that world of savagery, slaughter, and endless alien armies, fell away into the darkness millions of light-years behind them. So did the three Level Five alien lords roaring helplessly on the ice.
Inside the warship, the engines settled into a steady hum. The shrill air-raid alarms fell silent, replaced by the soft circulation of the Life-Support System.
For a full minute, near-total silence gripped the Starsetter's command deck and the Transport Ships and Escort Ships behind it, all packed with battered survivors.
Everyone sat limp and motionless on decks and in seats, or leaned against cold bulkheads, as though all strength had drained from their bodies.
They gasped for breath, their eyes vacant and unfocused. None seemed to have recovered from the slaughter of millions, or the world-shattering clash between Level 5 Grandmasters.
Then a Black Dog Mercenary, his body strapped with unexploded High-Energy Explosives and his left arm severed at the shoulder, lost his grip from sheer exhaustion. His battered High-Vibration Particle Blade clattered onto the metal floor.
That sharp metallic sound opened the floodgates.
"We're alive..."
The mercenary stared blankly at his bleeding stump. His eyes reddened, and tears spilled down his face. He threw back his head and, with the last of his strength, broke into a hoarse sob:
"I'm alive! We made it out!!!"
"We're alive! We won!!!"
"Hahaha! Screw the alien