The battle truly did not last long.
This base, like the one before it, had been built to function, not to endure. Against us, it never stood a chance.
By the time the last abomination fell, the moon’s surface was littered with dissolving remains and frozen scars left behind by lightning, shadow, wind, and runes. The silence that followed felt almost abrupt, as if the place itself had not expected its own end to arrive so quickly.
Lyrate stood a short distance away, her hand still pressed against the chest of the final phantom. The creature’s form flickered weakly, its visor cracked, deathmist leaking in unstable pulses.
When she finally stepped back, the phantom collapsed inward, its structure folding into itself before dispersing completely.
She exhaled softly and turned toward me.
"It resisted more than the previous one," she said. "But I got what we needed."
I raised an eyebrow slightly. "Coordinates?"
She nodded and extended her hand. A faint projection bloomed between her fingers, layers of spatial vectors and shifting markers, far more complex than anything a local gate would require.
"Relay gate," she continued. "One of them. The path isn’t direct. It routes through a protected node first, but the endpoint is stable."
A slow smile formed on my face.
"That’s enough," I said. "Then it’s time to move."
Steve rested his sword against his shoulder, glancing toward the planet hanging silently below the moon. It was close enough now that its curvature was obvious, blue and brown bands visible even from here.
"Before that," he said casually, "why don’t we check that place out?"
North tilted her head slightly, following his gaze. "It’s close."
I looked down more carefully this time, letting my vision sharpen as it pushed past the clouds and continents below. As my focus deepened, I realized something was off in a way I hadn’t expected. There was no planetary shield, no defensive layer of Essence, no artificial protection of any kind surrounding the world.
And yet, it was undeniably alive. I could feel it, faint but steady, vitality seeping out from the planet itself, a quiet pulse that told me life was present and enduring. That alone was enough to stir my curiosity.
A world this exposed should have been devoured or claimed long ago, yet it wasn’t. Which meant someone was living here. The question that followed naturally was one I hadn’t anticipated asking so soon. What race had managed to survive on a planet like this, untouched and unguarded, in a universe that rarely allowed such things to exist?
"No Essence circulation," I murmured. "None that I can feel."
Aurora frowned. "A dead world?"
"Not dead," I corrected. "Dormant."
Ragnar crossed his arms. "So... detour?"
I considered it for only a moment.
"Alright," I said. "Let’s take a look."
We didn’t return through the portal.
Instead, all of us pushed off the moon’s surface at once.
BOOM!
We streaked forward like falling stars. The void bent around us as we accelerated, our auras flaring just enough to shield against friction and debris.
As we pierced the upper atmosphere, heat blossomed briefly around us before dispersing under my control.
Below, the world unfolded.
Rivers cut through fertile land. Vast deserts stretched toward the horizon. And near one of those deserts, massive stone structures rose from the sand.
Steve slowed first.
"...Those are humans," he said carefully.
A massive structure was being built with stones.
They were surrounded by thousands of small figures. Humans. Normal humans. Their movements were slow, methodical. Ropes strained. Wooden scaffolding creaked. There was no aura. No system glow. No hint of Essence manipulation.
I let my perception spread fully across the planet, pushing past the atmosphere, through the crust, and into every corner of its surface. What I found was striking in its absence rather than its presence.
There was no trace of the system anywhere, no familiar pressure or silent observation following my awareness.
I could not sense a single awakened being, no circulation of Essence, no laws being actively enforced or bent by will.
It was simply a world moving forward on its own, driven by effort, instinct, and time alone. Humanity, untouched and unshaped.
"This world," I said quietly, "has never been touched."
Aurora looked at me. "By the system?"
I nodded. "It never descended here. Not even once."
Knight let out a low breath. "So this is what a baseline civilization looks like."
Steve glanced down again. "Primitive... but alive."
I wasn’t watching the stone structures anymore.
My attention had sunk deeper, far deeper.
It threaded through the space looking for something that I wanted to check and I found it soon enough.
The planetary core.
Or rather... what should have been one.
It existed inside a spatial pocket.
And completely dormant.
There was no Essence presence inside it. The cube shaped core floated silently in the void. It had no will as well.
The others waited as I slipped through layers of space, emerging inside the hidden pocket. The core was there, small compared to awakened worlds, dim, barely defined. It felt... young and asleep.
I reached out, placed my hand on top of its surface and let a thin stream of violet Essence flow from my palm.
The moment it made contact, the reaction was immediate.
The core shuddered.
Then it drank.
Essence surged outward, filling empty channels that had never known power. A deep ripple spread from the pocket, passing through the crust, the oceans, the air itself.
Across the planet, nothing visibly changed.
But something fundamental had.
The core drifted toward me slightly, hesitant, curious, like a child reaching out for the first time.
I smiled and placed a hand against its surface.
"Easy," I murmured. "Not now."
The core responded with a faint pulse, then settled, stabilizing under my imprint.
"Maybe someday," I added softly, "we’ll meet again."
I withdrew my Essence and stepped back through space.
When I rejoined the others in the sky, Steve was staring at me.
"You did something," he said.
"Yes," I replied. "But nothing that will affect them... yet."
We returned to the moon in silence.
Back at the ruined base, Ash was already working. He stood before the largest portal gate, sealing runes forming layered rings around its frame. As we approached, he glanced up.
"I’ve input the relay coordinates," he said. "And once we leave, these local gates will collapse completely. No return path."
"Good," I replied.
Ash activated the final sequence.
The portal flared, space folding inward as the relay path stabilized.
I took one last look at the moon, the destroyed base, the frozen remains of Hollow Star’s operations here.
"Let’s go," I said.
We stepped through together.
And somewhere far behind us, an untouched world continued building pyramids, unaware that its future had just quietly changed.