**Chapter 38: The Alien Armada**
**Day 1,186.**
**Location: The Moon (Dark Side).**
**Current Status: Level 22 Novice (Avatar).**
**Threat Level: Existential.**
A king without a throne is just a man in a chair. But a god locked out of his own temple is a catastrophe waiting to happen.
The teleportation sequence was rough. Usually, Zero smooths out the molecular reassembly, making it feel like stepping through a doorway. This time, it felt like being shoved through a cheese grater made of static electricity.
I stumbled out of the portal stream, my boots crunching onto the obsidian platform of the Moon Base. The air—artificial and thin—tasted of ozone and stale dust.
"Clear," Ren announced, stepping out behind me, daggers drawn. His eyes were already glowing violet, scanning the dark horizon.
Damon materialized last, his heavy armor thudding against the black stone. "So this is the crib," he grunted, looking up at the towering spire of my fortress. "Nice view. Little sparse on the furniture."
I didn't have time for a tour. I looked at the Spire.
The defensive railguns—the massive, mile-long barrels I had forged from lunar iron—were silent. Worse, they were pointed *down*. They were aimed at the Earth.
"Zero," I subvocalized, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Why are my guns pointing at my house?"
**[System Override in progress,]** Zero's voice was distorted, glitching in my mind. **[The intruder has accessed the Fire Control sub-routine. I am fighting for kernel access, but he has a key. A physical key.]**
"The Divine Core," I realized with a sinking sensation.
The Spy—*Guest_01*—hadn't just broken in. He had found the tank where I grew the Null avatar. He had likely analyzed the residue energy. He knew the frequency of my soul.
"We need to get to the Throne," I said aloud. "Run."
We sprinted across the crater floor toward the base of the Spire. The low gravity turned our run into a series of long, bounding leaps.
As we neared the massive double doors of the fortress, they didn't open. They dissolved.
Standing in the archway was a figure.
It wasn't a monster. It wasn't a soldier.
It was me.
Or rather, it was a perfect, pixel-for-pixel copy of my *Null* avatar. Same linen shirt. Same messy black hair. Same bored expression.
"Hello, me," the figure said. Its voice was my voice.
Ren stopped, his daggers crossing. "A Mimic."
"Guest_01," I said, stopping ten yards away. "You have a lot of nerve wearing my face."
The Mimic smiled. It was a smile that didn't reach the eyes. "It's a comfortable face. Unassuming. The face of a man who likes to hide."
He stepped aside, gesturing to the interior of the fortress.
"Welcome home, Architect. I kept the seat warm."
Damon growled and took a step forward, but I put a hand on his chestplate.
"Don't," I warned. "He has Admin privileges."
"Smart," the Mimic nodded. "I control the gravity in this sector. If the big man swings that sword, I'll increase the local G-force to five hundred. He'll crush himself inside his own armor."
"What do you want?" Ren asked, his voice cold.
"I want to watch," the Mimic said. He pointed up. Not at the Earth. At the stars.
"You prepared for the locusts," the Mimic said, his voice turning mocking. "You built guns to shoot biological trash. You thought the Myriad was the endgame."
He laughed.
"The Myriad are scavengers. They feed on rotting carcasses. But the *Predators*... they hunt the living."
**[CRITICAL ALERT.]**
The System notification screamed in my vision. It wasn't the usual blue or gold. It was a strobing, violent purple.
**[DEEP SPACE SENSORS TRIPPED.]**
**[MULTIPLE SLIPSPACE RUPTURES DETECTED.]**
**[SECTOR: ALL.]**
"Zero?" I asked. "Sector 'All'?"
**[They aren't coming from a specific vector, Architect. They are emerging everywhere. High Earth Orbit. Lunar Orbit. The Lagrange Points. The sensor grid is overwhelmed.]**
"How many?"
**[Count: ...Error. Buffer overflow.]**
I looked up.
The stars were disappearing.
It wasn't a cloud. It was metal.
Space folded. It looked like glass shattering in slow motion. Thousands of rifts opened simultaneously, encircling the Earth and the Moon in a cage of spatial distortion.
And from the rifts, they came.
These weren't the organic, fleshy ships of the Myriad. These were geometric nightmares. Pyramids of black chrome. Cubes of shifting silver. Dreadnoughts shaped like jagged spears, miles long, bristling with energy cannons that glowed with a cold, blue light.
They didn't drift. They moved with absolute, mathematical precision. They snapped into grid formation, creating a Dyson swarm of warships around the planet.
"The Zorgon Empire," the Mimic whispered reverently. "The Architects of Order."
I stared at the sky. There were thousands of them. A fleet large enough to blockade a sun.
"This isn't a scout party," Ren breathed, his void-sight overwhelmed by the sheer density of the mana signatures appearing above them. "That's... that's an Armada."
**[INCOMING TRANSMISSION.]**
The notification appeared on every screen on Earth, every HUD, every Black Box.
A hologram projected into the sky above the Moon, and simultaneously above every major city on Earth.
It was a face. Not human. Not Myriad.
It was geometric. A face made of shifting triangular plates of metal, floating in a field of blue energy. It had no eyes, only sensors. It had no mouth, only a speaker grille.
**"INHABITANTS OF SOL-3."**
The voice was synthesized, perfectly translated, and devoid of any emotion. It sounded like a judge reading a sentence.
**"WE ARE THE ZORGON IMPERIUM."**
**"WE HAVE DETECTED AN ILLEGAL MANIPULATION OF REALITY WITHIN THIS SECTOR."**
The geometric face rotated, seemingly looking directly at me standing on the moon.
**"THE USE OF SYSTEM-CLASS ARCHITECTURE BY A LEVEL 0 CIVILIZATION IS A VIOLATION OF GALACTIC LAW. IT DESTABILIZES THE ENTROPY OF THE UNIVERSE."**
**"YOUR PLANET HAS BEEN DESIGNATED A HAZARD."**
The ships in the sky began to charge their weapons. Millions of blue lights flared in the darkness.
**"SURRENDER YOUR ADMINISTRATOR. SURRENDER THE CORE. SUBMIT TO RE-EDUCATION."**
**"YOU HAVE ONE HOUR TO COMPLY. FAILURE WILL RESULT IN PLANETARY FORMATTING."**
The transmission cut.
Silence returned to the moon.
"Planetary Formatting," Damon repeated. "That sounds like they're going to wipe the hard drive."
"They're going to glass the planet," I translated. "They don't want the mana. They don't want the resources. They want to delete the anomaly."
I looked at the Mimic.
"You called them," I said. "The virus. It wasn't just a hack. It was a beacon."
"The Zorgon despise chaos," the Mimic smiled. "And you, Architect... you are pure chaos. You gave monkeys machine guns. You broke the natural order of evolution. The Empire is here to correct the error."
"You traitor," Ren hissed, stepping forward.
"I am a pragmatist," the Mimic shrugged. "The Myriad would eat us. The Zorgon will merely enslave us. Slavery is preferable to digestion."
I looked at the fleet. Thousands of ships.
If I fought them...
I did the math. My *God Body*—currently sitting in stasis inside the Spire—had grown. My power increased by 15% every day. I was strong. Stronger than anything in this solar system.
But against *thousands* of capital ships? Ships that likely possessed planet-cracking weaponry?
If I unleashed my full power, I would destroy the Zorgon fleet. But the collateral damage... the shockwaves, the gravity distortion... I would tear the Moon apart. I would strip the atmosphere off the Earth.
I would save the planet by destroying it.
"I need the Throne," I said.
I needed to merge back with my main body. I needed the precision control of the Godform. If I stayed in the *Null* avatar, I was useless.
"Step aside," I told the Mimic.
"No," the Mimic said.
He raised his hand. The gravity around us spiked.
Damon fell to his knees, his armor grinding against the stone. Ren struggled to stay standing, his void energy flaring to counteract the pressure.
"The Empire has offered me a governorship," the Mimic said. "All I have to do is keep you away from the Throne for one hour. Once the formatting begins... the Architect dies with his pets."
I felt the weight pressing down on my *Null* body. My bones creaked. My lungs struggled to expand.
"Zero," I groaned. "Options."
**[Railguns are locked. Orbital defenses are suppressed by the Zorgon jamming field. Myriad Main Fleet is still 15 days away, but the Zorgon arrival has accelerated the timeline. We are checkmated, Architect.]**
"Not yet," I gritted out.
I looked at Ren. He was on one knee, struggling. But his eyes were locked on me.
"Ren," I whispered. "The King."
Ren blinked. "What?"
"The chess piece," I said. "The one he put in my pocket."
Ren remembered. The broken King.
"He touched you," Ren realized. "He got close."
"He copied me," I said. "He's a Mimic. He copies stats. He copies appearances."
I looked at the Mimic.
"But he copied *Null*."
The Mimic frowned. "What are you babbling about?"
"You copied a Level 22 Novice," I said, forcing myself to stand upright despite the crushing gravity. "You copied the disguise."
I took a step forward.
"You didn't copy the *God*."
The Mimic's eyes widened. "Impossible. I scanned your bio-signature. You are weak."
"I am a container," I said.
I reached into my inventory.
I didn't pull out a weapon. I pulled out a *System Command*.
**[Admin Command: Unmask.]**
I dropped the filter.
For a split second, I let the connection between *Null* and the *God Body* open fully. I let the 15% compound growth of three years flow through the tiny, biological straw of my avatar.
It was agony. My skin cracked. Golden light erupted from my eyes, my mouth, the pores of my skin.
The gravity spell shattered. The sheer density of my presence overrode the Mimic's control.
"You want to see the error?" I roared, my voice layering over itself—human and divine.
I punched the air.
I didn't hit the Mimic. I hit the space *between* us.
*CRACK.*
A shockwave of pure golden Prana exploded outward.
The Mimic was blasted backward. His form flickered, struggling to maintain the copy against the overwhelming data flood.
"Ren! Damon! The door!" I shouted, my avatar's arm hanging limp, broken by the force of my own punch. "Get me to the Throne!"
Damon scrambled up. He grabbed me with one arm, ignoring my broken state.
"I got you, boss!"
Ren blinked forward, *Void Stepping* through the shattered doors of the fortress. He cleared the way, cutting down two automated turrets the Mimic had hacked.
"Go! Go!" Ren yelled.
We ran into the dark hall of the Spire.
***
**Inside the Fortress**
The hall was long, lined with obsidian statues. At the end, bathed in a shaft of starlight, sat the Throne.
And on the Throne sat *Me*.
My true body. It was glowing, silent, terrifying. The eyes were closed. It looked like a statue made of light and marble.
"That's... that's you?" Damon whispered, slowing down as the aura of the God Body hit us. It was heavy. Oppressive. It felt like standing next to a nuclear reactor.
"Put me down," I wheezed. "I need to touch it. I need to upload."
Damon lowered me to the floor. I dragged my broken avatar toward the Throne.
Behind us, the Mimic stumbled into the hall. He was glitching. His face shifted between mine and a featureless void.
"You cannot!" the Mimic shrieked. "If you merge, the Zorgon will detect the energy spike! They will fire immediately!"
"Let them fire," I said, reaching out for the foot of the Throne.
"Ren! Stop him!" the Mimic yelled. "If he wakes up, he breaks the moon! We all die!"
Ren stood between me and the Mimic. He looked at the terrifying God Body on the throne. He looked at the broken, bleeding avatar crawling toward it.
"Ren," I whispered. "Trust the math."
Ren looked at the Mimic.
"Sorry," Ren said, drawing his daggers. "I prefer chaos."
Ren charged the Mimic.
I touched the Throne.
***
**The Awakening**
*Click.*
The moment my finger brushed the Tungsten, the *Null* avatar died.
My consciousness rushed out of the biological shell like water bursting from a dam. It flooded back into the main vessel.
I opened my eyes.
The real eyes.
**[System Reboot.]**
**[Identity: The Architect.]**
**[Power Level: Uncorked.]**
I stood up.
The motion was smooth. Powerful. The Tungsten Throne dissolved into dust behind me, unable to withstand the sudden shift in mass.
I looked down at my hands. They were perfect. Glowing.
I looked at Ren and the Mimic. They were frozen in mid-combat, pinned by the sheer pressure of my awakening.
"Enough," I said.
The word was a physical force. The Mimic was slammed against the wall. Ren was gently pushed back to Damon.
I walked out of the fortress. I floated over the obsidian floor.
I exited the Spire and looked up at the sky.
The Zorgon Armada was there. Thousands of ships. Their weapons were charged.
**"ANOMALY DETECTED,"** the Zorgon voice boomed from the heavens. **"ENERGY SIGNATURE EXCEEDING PLANETARY PARAMETERS. FORMATTING SEQUENCE INITIATED."**
Blue beams of energy lit up the void. Thousands of them. Converging on the Moon. Converging on Earth.
They fired.
"Zero," I said, my voice calm, infinite.
**[Yes, Architect?]**
"Activate the **Planetary Shield**."
**[We do not have a Planetary Shield.]**
"We do now," I said.
I raised both hands.
I didn't push the beams away. I didn't block them.
I *expanded*.
I released the three years of compound interest. I released the 15% daily growth. I released the Tithes of seventy million players.
I turned my bio-field into a bubble.
It expanded outward from the Moon at the speed of light. It washed over the Earth. It encompassed the entire orbital sphere.
A golden dome of pure, solidified Prana materialized around the Earth-Moon system.
*BOOM.*
The Zorgon barrage hit the shield.
The sky turned white. The impact was strong enough to shake the solar system.
But the shield held.
I stood on the moon, holding the sky up with my mind. I felt the strain. It was heavy. Heavier than anything I had ever lifted.
But I wasn't alone.
I felt the connection.
Ren. Damon. Elena. The Arcane Battalion. The millions of players on Earth watching the sky turn gold.
They were feeding me. Their awe, their fear, their hope. The *Tithe* surged.
**[Growth Spike Detected.]**
**[Current Multiplier: 20%.]**
I smiled at the armada.
"You want to delete my server?" I challenged the fleet of thousands.
I clenched my fist, and the golden shield pulsed, pushing the Zorgon ships back with a wave of gravitational force.
"Try it."
The Zorgon fleet hesitated. Their sensors were screaming. They were looking at a single biological entity that was outputting more energy than a main-sequence star.
**"RECALCULATING STRATEGY,"** the voice boomed, sounding less like a judge and more like a confused calculator.
I looked at the Mimic, pinned to the wall of my fortress.
"You said they were the Architects of Order," I said.
I pointed at the chaos of the fleet, scrambling to adjust to a god they couldn't quantify.
"I am the Architect of This."
**[Day 1,186 Ends.]**
**[Status: Under Siege.]**
**[Daily Growth: +20%.]**
**[The War has begun.]**
**[Chapter 38: The Alien Armada]** ends.