Tartarusios cut through the endless dark, its colossal frame gliding silently across the sea of stars. Inside the control room Youri lay sprawled on the cold metal floor with one arm resting over his eyes, staring through the vast viewing glass at the space beyond — silent, endless, untouched — where thousands upon thousands of stars burned in the distance, their pale lights scattered across the void like forgotten memories. For the first time in what felt like ages there was no screaming battle, no crimson sky looming overhead, no Domain Ruler clawing at existence itself. Only silence. And strangely, silence frightened him less than peace did.
The control room had fully woken since their departure from Tartarus. What had once been a dead relic now glowed with restrained life. Endless consoles surrounded the chamber displaying symbols and streams of data in languages Youri could barely follow, the curved walls shimmered with faint silver lines, and distant engines pulsed beneath the ship like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant.
Then the AI spoke again, calm, mechanical, oddly elegant. "Energy and technology adaptation complete. Tartarusios is now fully synchronized with Eternes technological standards. All systems updated. Navigation and jump functions ready."
Youri didn't move. He kept staring at the stars, and a tired smile barely touched his lips. "Great," he muttered. "Then just take me somewhere I can eat and drink."
"Order acknowledged."
The ship adjusted its course — but before it could prepare to jump, the AI paused, and after a brief silence spoke again. "Warning. Jump preparation interrupted. Foreign object detected on the upper deck. Analyzing…" Several screens lit up across the control room. "Analysis complete. Object identified as an Orbiton-class machine. Classification: God Unit."
For the first time in several minutes, Youri let out an actual laugh — a dry one. Of course. Of course that thing had come too. He sat up and rubbed his face. "So it came along after all."
The AI went on without emotion. "Further analysis indicates severe damage and unstable energy readings. Object designated hazardous during jump procedures."
Youri leaned forward. "We can't jump with that thing on the deck?"
"Negative."
He sighed heavily, and asked the question that was already forming in his mind. "So where do I put it?"
"The secondary hangar is suitable for long-term storage and containment of the God Unit. Initiating hangar sequence."
The ship rumbled softly as ancient mechanisms groaned to life far below the control room. Youri rose slowly from the floor and walked into the corridor. His footsteps echoed through Tartarusios as he went; the ship felt impossibly large now that he walked it alone, its endless halls stretching in every direction, their pale walls and dormant systems waking one by one as he passed. At last he reached the hangar chamber. It was immense, its towering ceiling held up by skeletal metal arches etched with ancient Sacrosian patterns, and massive blast doors stood ahead of him, while to the far left a rack held several spacesuits. He went to one. It looked far more advanced than anything Terrian-made — sleek black plating reinforcing a flexible silver fabric, and a helmet gleaming with faint blue circuitry. He looked at it for a moment, then silently began to put it on. The gloves sealed over his hands, the chest plating locked into place, and finally he lifted the helmet onto his head. The visor activated and the pressure steadied. The hangar doors opened, and space greeted him.
He stepped outside into soundless stillness, and there, towering before him on the deck of Tartarusios, stood Altopereh, silent against the stars, its restored armor reflecting their distant light. Youri drifted closer, and in spite of himself, memories surfaced — Seron, the Hound, the anti-matter cannon, Tartarus, Tikadello, Atlantis, Leonora. Everything. How strange, he thought. A machine — and yet so much suffering had followed it. He reached the cockpit, laid his hand against the metal and stepped inside. The hatch sealed, and the world changed.
The watery abyss stretched around him once more, sunlight filtering down from far above and rippling through endless blue, and Altopereh swept through the water like a shadow. "So. You finally returned."
Youri said nothing. Altopereh circled him, its humanoid form moving effortlessly through the abyss. Then it slowed, and its tone changed. "What happened to you?" Still no answer, and then Altopereh laughed — a low, mocking sound. "Ah." It tilted its head. "Did that Sacrosian bitch break your heart?"
Youri smirked, but there was no humor in it. "No," he said quietly. "It was broken to begin with." Altopereh stopped moving, and Youri looked up toward the distant surface. "She just happened to take what was left of it."
The abyss grew quiet, and then Altopereh laughed again, louder this time. "I told you. You and I are the same."
Youri chuckled, slowly and almost bitterly. "You know, we do share a lot." He looked at it. "But the reason we're not the same has never been clearer to me."
Altopereh tilted its head. "And what reason is that?"
Youri smiled faintly. "You still have a goal." Altopereh said nothing. "Revenge. Purpose. Hatred. You're still chasing something." He looked down at the water beneath him. "Unlike you, I've got nothing." The words surprised even him, but once spoken, they felt true, and he laughed softly. "I've got all the time in the world now. No war. No duty. No promises. No chains. Just time."
Altopereh laughed. "Take your time, then."
Youri laughed too. "Oh, I will."
The two of them drifted quietly for a while, and then Youri looked straight at it. "And I've got one last thing to say." Altopereh stopped. "Whether this is goodbye or see you later, I don't know. But if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you and I are alike." Altopereh grinned, and Youri finished: "But not one and the same."
That made the anti-matter being pause, and for once, it didn't interrupt.
"I used to think the world did this to me," Youri went on, more quietly now. "That fate kept taking things away." He looked toward the surface again. "But after everything — after Leonora, after Tartarus, after all of it — I still can't blame the world." The water shifted softly around him, and his smile faded. "Because the only one responsible for all this is me. I kept thinking things would finally change — that if I just survived long enough, fought hard enough, loved hard enough, then maybe life would reward me for it." He laughed, a hollow sound. "But I was wrong. I wasn't fixing anything. I was only delaying the inevitable." His eyes narrowed. "My own self-destructive nature."
Silence followed, and even Altopereh didn't laugh. For the first time since they had met, the monster had no mockery left in it, only stillness — and then at last it smiled, a strange smile, neither cruel nor mocking, only knowing. "Maybe," it said quietly, "you really did grow."
Youri said nothing. The abyss shimmered around them, and somewhere beyond the cockpit, Tartarusios sailed on through the stars, carrying a broken man, an ancient god-machine, and a future neither of them could yet see.