No Lowest, Only Lower

Following the cluster leader's instructions, the jump organisms switched their combat perspective to thermal imaging. They could clearly see a great ball of light—the star within this stellar system—as well as several luminous spheres dimmer than the star. However, the brightness of these spheres was unevenly distributed, with one side more dazzling than the other. These were planets. The heat from starlight raised the overall surface temperature of their sunward sides. This was not obvious at close range, but it was clearly visible in long-range thermal imaging.

Besides these, the Collectors also saw a group of light spots smaller than planets. They were spaced close together and scattered about, like fireflies drifting through the air on a summer night.

These were undoubtedly enemies. The Collectors locked onto them.

The enemy remained completely unaware that the Collectors had changed their perspective. They approached the Collectors by blinking through space, closing the distance between themselves and the cluster of jump organisms.

Under normal vision, that enormous stellar-system-level monster was also moving. Countless tentacles writhed, each one as thick as Saturn's diameter. Its innumerable eyes and gaping maws were hideous and terrifying. Its colossal mass completely blocked out the background starscape; under normal vision, the Collectors could see only fifteen percent of the starry sky.

It swung its tentacles, intending to wrap the Collectors up and manipulate them at will, like some nameless god beyond comprehension that ruled the stars. All things in heaven and earth were but dust and drifting clouds before it. Its gaping maw slowly opened, revealing the deepest level of hell within—the endless, unfathomable black abyss.

It advanced toward the Collectors in a straight line, pressing down, enclosing them... The cluster of jump organisms had become prey trapped in an urn, fish on a chopping block.

Under infrared vision,