At the outskirts of the Solar System, crimson descended.
They had arrived.
Not one ship, not ten, not a hundred.
It was a sea.
A sea of dark crimson metal, writhing crystals, vicious gun muzzles, and endless malice, swallowing starlight and hope alike.
The main force of the Abyssal Hilling Empire's expeditionary fleet, having utterly crushed all resistance in the universe, slowly entered the outer orbit of the Solar System with three Sovereign-class fortresses as its spearhead.
That soul-freezing sense of "presence" bore down upon them, and every remaining trace of resistance within the Solar System completely collapsed at that moment.
An instinctive premonition of utter destruction made them stop whatever they were doing and look up at the sky.
In low Earth orbit, the bombardment between the Ulysses Imperial Authority and Bulwark Star continued, but its momentum had clearly weakened.
Sandora's brows were tightly furrowed. She could even clearly "hear" the thunderous arrival of that fleet, like a funeral bell drawing ever closer, striking against the fabric of space-time in this fragile star system.
Viska's crazed smile grew even brighter. She even slowed her assault on the Imperial Authority for the moment, spreading her arms as though welcoming victory's arrival.
"Look!" she shrieked, her voice piercing the vacuum and echoing directly within Sandora's mind. "My fleet! Our Imperium! They've come to welcome us home! Soon, very soon, you'll become one of us again!"
Sandora did not respond.
Deep in her eyes, there flickered an extremely faint... regret.
Her gaze swept across the devastated Earth below, across those heroes making their final, futile stand amid the ruins, and across Bulwark Star, so close yet impossibly distant—inside it, Neos's team had probably already...
Time had almost run out.
Had they... still failed?
A whisper so soft that only she could hear