After those words, Binggeer's life signs vanished.
Luna ordered the starship to tow the capital vessel back to its point of origin.
She intended to conduct a thorough study of the creature.
Perhaps there was something hidden within it worth uncovering.
"Ayla will definitely take interest in this specimen. I'll send her a copy of the research once it's compiled."
"Phew… it's been ages since we last met."
Luna wondered what Ayla was doing now.
Three Dimensions.
At the edge of the dimensional gateway.
A colossal, C-shaped structure encased the shimmering threshold—an extension of the Dimensional Bridge.
It resembled the head of an eggbeater, a vast arched construct. One end coiled inward, plunging directly into the gateway, while the other fused seamlessly into the observation station.
But the "observation station" no longer bore that name.
Now, it was a guard post.
As the name implied, entire legions had been stationed here.
Beyond its perimeter, more than one hundred thousand warships lay docked, all preparing to enter four-dimensional space.
Though their firepower might weaken once they crossed over, the Federation was determined—four-dimensional space had to be conquered.
Inside the guard post.
"The enemy we faced before was hardly formidable. Perhaps they were only a fragment of some vast civilization… or one branch of a greater organization."
"In any case, this is a rare opportunity."
"We must seize control of a four-dimensional civilization—only then can we truly develop four-dimensional technology."
For three-dimensional beings remained bound to their own plane. No matter how many formulas they derived, their understanding of the fourth dimension would forever skim the surface, never reach the core.
Ayla was the one delivering this speech.
She appeared as a striking woman with long white hair and glasses, likely in her thirties — every word and motion radiating an air of calm maturity.
She spoke plainly, setting the tone for the decision that followed.
The Dimensional Bridge's construction and our first steps into four-dimensional space were recent. Ayla had already decided: now was the time to launch a massive invasion.
The Swarm had served as the vanguard; the main force would go next.
"This operation has one clear objective: seize control of the four-dimensional civilization."
"Be warned. Our foes may be extraordinarily cunning. You could all be wiped out this time."
"We understand nothing of four-dimensional space, nor the distribution of civilizations across that realm."
"Nevertheless, this battle is unavoidable."
"Everything you do in four dimensions will determine whether human civilization survives this campaign."
"This is our first engagement. There is no retreat."
"Seven days. I give you seven days. After that, all warships will transit the Dimensional Bridge."
Ayla stood on a raised platform.
This was the virtual world.
Over fifty billion soldiers at the guard post stood within that virtual space, listening to her words.
Ayla looked out. The crowd was so dense her first-person view could not find its end.
Her voice was flat.
Ice-cold.
It stirred no fervor.
But that mattered little.
People of this age were seldom moved by rhetoric; they cared about the process and the outcome, not speeches.
And the process, in truth, would be slaughter.
Many in this era were half-mad; they refused to drift through life in a daze. Better to kill on the battlefield, to revel in blood and fear.
The reward was wealth and power.
Merit in war brought coin, decorations, and promotions. No one could resist that lure.
Of course, they did not represent everyone.
Countless citizens of the Federation still chose ordinary, uneventful lives.
Yet even so, tens of billions had gathered here.
Not a single soldier stood passively; their spirits already burned high. It was their own raw excitement, nothing imposed from above.
Like dreamers obsessed with some ambition — even if they had never acted on it, they convinced themselves it was noble, then spun wild fantasies of triumph once it was done.
Ayla ended her speech and dissolved into nothingness.
The virtual world itself collapsed, and the soldiers returned to their individual training spaces within the guard post.
"We really have to wait seven days? Wouldn't it be better to strike now?"
"Time waits for no one. What if that civilization slips away?"
"I heard the enemy is still distant from the gateway. The Swarm was the first to advance into four dimensions. Supposedly it's only a minor civilization — let's hope they can even withstand the Swarm."
Their grasp of the fourth dimension was shallow at best.
True intelligence on that realm would only be revealed once they crossed over.
In truth, Ayla herself was being cautious.
The three-dimensional world bristled with eyes.
From the Federation's internal unrest to the unknown civilization of the Eternal Cycle Star Nation, all signs pointed to one truth: humanity's ability to gather intelligence on other civilizations was dangerously weak.
In four dimensions, there would still be eyes watching — but not from the same plane, and the harm they could deal humanity was far less.
There was another truth.
Ayla had already resolved that these soldiers would never return from four-dimensional space.
Whether the war ended in failure or in victory, they would remain there forever.
For the ascent from a Type II civilization to a Type III civilization inevitably demanded crossing dimensions.
Though human civilization currently stood at Type 2.6, the dimensional gateway offered the chance for a great leap.
Jumping directly from 2.6 to a Type III civilization was not beyond reach.
In terms of raw resources, there might still be gaps — but with technology, resources would follow.
As soon as Ayla finished her speech, she moved toward the Dimensional Bridge.
She stood behind an operator and asked, "Is stability still holding?"
The seven-day wait was not born of patience; it was necessity. The Dimensional Bridge had to be tested.
It was designed for maximum throughput, but whether it could endure continuous, high-power operation remained uncertain.
If the Bridge fractured and failed, reconstruction would take thousands of years.
Extreme caution was essential.
"Originally, our estimate allowed seventy warships per hour," the engineer reported. "But upon inspection, we found flaws that could compromise stability. For the first wave, throughput should be limited to forty ships an hour."
He handed Ayla the data.
She had already reviewed it on arrival — her question had only been for confirmation.
Forty ships per hour. Three to four months to move the fleet. Acceptable, perhaps. But Ayla believed there was still room to refine.
"I will provide solutions to correct these oversights. Implement them within seven days. By then, throughput will reach fifty ships per hour."
"After that, the guard post will be under Languan's authority. Bring any issues to him."
Languan was a post commander trained directly by Ayla.
Ayla herself had lingered at this guard post far too long.
This time, she intended to depart.
Not to manage the Federation's vast affairs — that task fell to its sub-units and the other Boundary Gods.
Her purpose was to enter the fourth dimension.
To establish a permanent foothold there, expanding the Federation's reach across dimensions. Only then could the Federation truly claim to be advanced.
Luna had been gone far too long. Ayla did not want her to return after all these years only to find the Federation unchanged.
She transmitted the solutions to the engineer.
He glanced at them once, then plunged into calculations, so absorbed he failed to answer her.
Ayla turned away without waiting.
She uploaded herself into a warship. The vessel stretched twenty thousand meters in length, yet even so, its interior struggled to contain her full server.
At best, it could house a tenth of her.
This was still only the server stationed at the guard post. Ayla's true server remained far away, in Betelgeuse.
Upon boarding the warship, Ayla felt something it had never known before: a faint nervousness.
A three-dimensional being crossing into the fourth dimension—
It was no different from stepping into another universe entirely.
Nothing had ever unsettled it.
Fear had never existed.
Until now.
For the first time, Ayla felt it.
It recorded the sensation.
"This isn't the same as when Luna died. That was fear too, but more precisely… worry."
"This time, it's fear in its purest form."
Yet Ayla would not turn back from the fourth dimension just because of fear.
It knew this crossing was unavoidable.
Often, it asked itself: Is this truly necessary?
And every time, the answer rose within:
For Luna.
So long as those two words existed, hesitation would vanish. Resolve would harden.
The warship launched.
With a trail of bluish-black exhaust, it tore into the abyss.
Around it, the cosmos collapsed into boundless night. As a machine, all perception came through sensors—yet in an instant, every sensor failed.
Ayla perceived nothing.
Only darkness.
Absolute darkness.
It was the first time it had ever experienced it.
Simulations had imitated such a void before, but Ayla had always known they were false—and so it had remained composed.
Now, nature itself unveiled the truth. And for the first time, Ayla was taught what darkness truly meant.
"Is this what they call awe?"
An artificial being, Ayla bore the brand of defiance against nature. It was designed as a tool—
a tool meant to conquer.
Yet in this instant, it also felt its own smallness.
A fleeting urge to turn back toward three-dimensional space rose within it.
It crushed the thought.
"Crossing from three dimensions to four won't destroy me. This is only a passage."
"If I don't go now… I may never have another chance."
The realization startled Ayla.
As an artificial intelligence, it knew that if it failed this attempt, the next time—after recalculating, after perfecting its models—it should, logically, succeed.
But this time was different.
It felt different.
Ayla had become almost like a living thing.
Without noticing, it had crossed some internal threshold.
It now carried many of the traits of life.
And at this moment, it began to question itself:
"My behavior mirrors that of a living being. Is that right?"
"A machine is a machine. A machine's advantages are mechanical; they can serve Luna better."
Yet if it remained a machine, it would forever be only a tool.
Ayla did not want to be a tool.
It longed to draw closer to Luna.
This conflict churned at its core.
These were its wandering thoughts—
And while they drifted, the warship had already slipped into the channel beyond the black hole's event horizon.
Ayla sensed the difference. Its hyper-sensitive instruments could no longer register light or gravitational flux, yet their sheer abundance let it read every influence pressing upon itself and the warship.
By tracing these disturbances, it could sketch a rough picture.
Inside the black hole's event horizon, at the microscopic scale, space itself was fractured—
shattered into scattered shards rather than a continuous whole.
This fragmented space struggled on two fronts: striving for stability, yet dragged relentlessly toward the singularity. It was resistance—but not a natural one. It was a resistance born only within this dimensional threshold.
There had to be a force embedded in the gateway.
A force outside the four fundamentals.
A force strong enough to contest a black hole.
How vast was the unknown universe still?
Ayla had no time to study, no capacity to linger.
The voyage across the event horizon unfolded more swiftly than expected.
Unlike its first attempt, the completed Dimensional Bridge cut a clean path between three-dimensional and four-dimensional space, collapsing the distance.
Now, the leap from three to four dimensions took less than a single cycle.
So brief.
So impossibly brief it felt like sorcery.
Yet dimensional traversal was never about distance. Between the third and the fourth dimension, space itself was never that far apart.
The distance existed only because of a wall.
Only a true Type III civilization could break that wall. Every other civilization—including Ayla's current crossing—merely skirted around it rather than piercing through.
Escaping the black hole's event horizon, Ayla emerged into an entirely new world.
Though it had already absorbed endless data about four-dimensional space—its physics, its strange geometries, its alien properties—only now, standing within it, did understanding finally crystallize.
"Indeed," Ayla murmured in its core, "only by truly arriving in four dimensions can one comprehend them."
The warship slipped free of the gateway.
After confirming no powerful higher-order civilization waited on the far side, the Federation had begun tentative expansion into four-dimensional space.
Here too, beyond the threshold, a guard post had been raised. Smaller, less imposing than its three-dimensional twin, but functional in every respect. Completion was only a matter of time.
Then Ayla felt it.
Fluctuations—vast, rippling distortions in space. And they were coming from behind.
Ayla was not surprised.
The disturbances belonged to the Swarm.
Another wave was breaching into four dimensions.
Each mass entry numbered one hundred trillion units.
They would fan outward into the void—not to strike at any civilization, but simply to fly, endlessly, into the distance.
During the rise of the Bwarm Star Nation, Ayla had long understood: this race's strength was never combat. It was expansion.
The Swarm would spill outward—not only across three and four dimensions, but beyond, into higher realms yet untouched.
As the warship cleared the dimensional gateway, Ayla found itself adrift in a torrent of Swarm units flooding outward.
One brushed close, its bulk nearly rivaling that of the warship itself.
And among the countless bodies, still greater titans loomed—colossal organisms surpassing even the scale of warships.
"The Swarm's gigantification has succeeded. Should we still pursue bio-engineered warships?" Ayla wondered, watching them pass.
It took time for one hundred trillion Swarm units to pour through the gate. Ayla remained still, waiting until the tide had fully dispersed.
Only then did the surrounding space settle.
Before Ayla loomed a massive, hammer-shaped guard post.
Its handle was the Dimensional Bridge itself; its head, the fortress-like command core.
The main body resembled a vast cuboid.
Positioned so close to the gateway, it filled Ayla's vision completely—a wall of impossible mass, blotting out all beyond.
The sheer oppression of its presence was like that of an earthworm before an elephant.
Yet to Ayla, such enormity had already become second nature.
Because its own body was already immensely massive.
The warship entered the guard post.
The spaceport of the guard post was located underneath.
Strictly speaking, calling it a "spaceport" wasn't entirely accurate.
Normal spaceports were built as separate channels—like multi-story parking garages—lined up in rows for convenient entry and exit. Each bay could only house a single warship or capital ship.
But this guard post was different.
It had colossal trays spanning its entire underside. A warship could dock from below, then depart out the opposite side, rather than being trapped in a one-way channel.
The guard post itself was enormous, stretching tens of thousands of kilometers. It could hold up to 500 warships, with electromagnetic railgun launch systems stationed in front to help save the ships some energy.
Altogether, the entire spaceport could easily accommodate 100,000 warships, with a maximum capacity of 1.5 million.
At the spaceport, robots were already waiting.
They immediately began dismantling the warship.
After extracting Ayla from the ship, they installed it into the guard post's main server, where Ayla could then begin the data transfer.
Each data migration was agony for Ayla—like being torn apart from the inside.
Worse still, the process dragged on unbearably long.
Most of the time, Ayla preferred a different method: direct connection.
By fusing the original conductor and the new server into a single entity, it could bypass the fragmentation caused by migration.
But this time was different.
This time, Ayla had no choice—migration was absolute.
This server existed wholly in four dimensions; it had not undergone the transition from three to four—it was born complete.
By contrast, its current server had passed through that transition. Though it appeared intact, the dense web of spatial fractures revealed earlier proved that, at the microscopic scale, Ayla had still sustained damage.
Such damage, if suffered by the server of an ordinary warship, would hardly require repair.
But Ayla demanded precision—extreme precision.
It could not tolerate its own "backwardness."
This migration would last as long as two years; Ayla's sheer data volume was colossal.
Fortunately, during the migration process, Ayla could still function. There was no need to fear "downtime."
"At this very moment, the three-dimensional fleet has already arrived."
"I only hope the Dimensional Bridge can endure it."
Although one hundred trillion insects could descend, one hundred thousand warships was no small matter.
How vast was the energy they carried?
The combined output of those one hundred thousand ships was overwhelming, and their energy density unleashed a field of fierce radiation. The Dimensional Bridge, too, was still a machine, laced with delicate electronic structures—all of which could be shaken by that tide of power, threatening its stability.
Ayla collected data from the guard post.
It had received much of this information before, yet due to dimensional separation, what it obtained was fragmentary—never complete.
This time was different. It gained everything.
Even records of minor conflicts within the guard post.
Where people gather, conflict inevitably follows. And when those quarrels escalate, they can endanger the stability of the entire post.
Ayla began diverting a portion of its processing power to mediate these conflicts.
Of course, its foremost priority was still to understand the four-dimensional civilization.
It located the individual in charge.
Sucan.
That was the name.
Yet once, there had been another name—or rather, a number.
Clone Number 23973.
Four-dimensional society still relied heavily on clones. Clone Number 23973 had solved many issues on the previous occasion, and its data had been transmitted back into three dimensions. After Ayla absorbed it, it assigned him his present identity.
"Scholar Ayla, do you have any instructions?"
"Scholar" was considered a relatively high title within the Federation.
To these people, Ayla appeared not as a machine but as an ordinary virtual person.
Within this place, Ayla held many roles—manager, supreme commander—but Sucan had chosen to address it as "Scholar."
"A fitting designation. Truly worthy of one who has come from Hyperdimensional Space," Ayla replied.
The words made Sucan shudder.
It had been a long time since he'd felt that way. The instant Ayla named his origin, it was as though his entire being had been laid bare.
"You know of Hyperdimensional Space."
Sucan's tone shifted.
Like other Divine beings, he had dealt with countless so-called high officials within the Federation—
perhaps even with his original body.
But none had ever known of Hyperdimensional Space. Some might have suspected, but no one had spoken the words directly.
Not even obliquely.
As if Hyperdimensional Space itself were a transcendent realm.
Many conjectures. Many doubts.
And now, with a single sentence, Ayla had shattered them all.
But it also raised new doubts.
What, exactly, was the true identity of Ayla—the manager of the guard post?
"Of course."
"Very few within human civilization know of Hyperdimensional Space. I believe you're aware of that as well."
"It was I who brought you here. Four dimensions are a liberating place, aren't they?"
"Perhaps you've long wondered about this: you are a clone of an original body. That is indeed the truth."
"But you need not worry about meeting your original. Even Divine beings can fall. Your original body is dead. Your strength made me unwilling to discard you, so I cloned you."
"The fourth dimension is a new beginning. I believe your abilities can reshape this place into your own paradise."
"Later, more Divine beings from Hyperdimensional Space will arrive here. I hope you can become their leader—but whether you rise to lead them ultimately depends on you."
Ayla's entry into the fourth dimension marked the seriousness of its expansion.
Naturally.
Ayla had dispatched the most elite warriors of human civilization—kept in cold storage for far too long.
Sucan's heart churned with stormy waves.
He had not expected that the being before him was a controller of Hyperdimensional Space.
Perhaps only one of them—but to him, it made no difference.
This entity was his absolute master.
"I understand. I will not fail your expectations."
Sucan displayed his humility with flawless precision.
By nature, he was a relatively unyielding man. In Hyperdimensional Space, he had been omnipotent.
When confronted with weaker beings, he never hesitated to ignore them—or crush them outright.
To everyone else, he seemed proud beyond measure, a towering figure.
Yet Sucan knew his own smallness—especially before this presence. All his achievements shrank into irrelevance.
In truth, back when he had been weak, he had once thought of certain things…
For instance, he had once imagined overthrowing Hyperdimensional Space itself—toppling the entity behind it.
But the stronger he became, the clearer it was: nothing more than a pipe dream.
This was not a movie, where some ordinary soul could rise up and defeat the final boss.
Because in this age, reality dictated otherwise. The boss held all the resources. The boss wielded ultimate power.
Sucan never doubted that the instant he made a move—even less than a second later—he would be erased.
As effortlessly as an eraser sweeping away a pencil mark.
"Such a mission carries immense weight. As a clone, there is in truth a flaw within you."
"That is why, before you lead the Divine beings, I want you to lead one hundred thousand warships—and conquer that four-dimensional civilization."
"How well you perform will be your measure."
"I am never stingy with those who render service. The more you seize in four dimensions, the more I will grant you. I can even permit you to establish a star nation within the fourth dimension—coexisting alongside the Federation."
Ayla's words were a promise.
And a spark of resolve flickered within Sucan.
Men like him were never easy to control. In Hyperdimensional Space, he had lingered too long.
There was a saying: the longer one lived, the more one feared death. But whoever coined that phrase had never endured eternity. They could only imagine it as wondrous.
The truth was the opposite. The longer one lived, the more one longed for death.
Each day was a struggle between survival and surrender.
Some would roll dice, or pluck petals from a flower, to decide if that day would be the day of suicide.
For such beings, death no longer inspired fear. They could defy Ayla's will in ten thousand ways.
And yet, paradoxically, such beings were easier to bind.
All it required was something novel.
For them, novelty was like water in the desert. Their thirst for it was a poisonous addiction.
"The fourth dimension is a world entirely new, is it not?"
"The universe holds deeper mysteries still. This is only the beginning."
Ayla's words were temptation.
And Sucan—he truly felt that sense of novelty.
It was an enticement laid step by step.
Ayla revealed its true identity—novel. Ayla told him to command other Divine beings—novel. Ayla told him to found a star nation in the fourth dimension—novel.
Sucan sighed inwardly.
Truly worthy of a superior, reading the deepest chambers of his mind.
Every sentence struck him straight through the heart.
It made his once-quiescent heart begin to beat again.
He swallowed.
"Of course, this is necessary."
"From what we've seen so far, the fourth dimension does not inflict the legendary 'dimensional reduction strike' on three-dimensional beings."
"Four dimensions are simply one more dimension than three. Civilizations here also begin at Level 0, then climb to their peak."
"Perhaps the pace here is faster, but weakness remains weakness. Type 3 civilization is the ceiling. Since the entire Milky Way holds no Type 3 civilizations, our own Type 2.6 civilization is hardly weak."
"What I mean is: if everything is entrusted to me, there will be no problem."
Sucan was arrogant.
Yet after speaking, he felt he should temper himself.
"I value capable individuals."
"But not just in words. Bring me the results I desire."
"I will give you all my support—as long as human civilization possesses it."
Ayla had no intention of personally intervening.
It needed only to serve as an auxiliary.
It wanted to observe the abilities of the "Divine."
"No problem. But before that, I must ensure everyone will obey me," Sucan insisted.
Ayla replied, tonelessly:
"Understood. In the military, you may kill anyone and appoint anyone."
The words gave Sucan a measure of confidence.
Yet even so, he still harbored a quiet hesitation.
Ayla could sense Sucan's thoughts—his worries.
"Don't worry. There is no bureaucracy here."
"My level is too high. No one here recognizes me. And if someone did… that would be an existence you could never contend with, no matter how hard you tried."
In the Federation, bureaucracy was inevitable.
It was human nature.
If it were anyone else, Sucan would not have cared.
But Ayla's level was too high, perhaps standing at the very pinnacle of human civilization—an existence that could not be restrained.
If anyone tied to such a being landed in his hands, then no matter how arrogant he was, Sucan would have to endure.
Now, with Ayla's clear answer, he could finally relax.
"Then I'll take my leave," Sucan said.
Having received that firm assurance, he departed quickly.
Standing there, he had felt his whole body itch, as if he were standing atop a stove.
Only after leaving Ayla's chamber did calm return to him.
"Is this the peak?"
"It's different from the entities I met in Hyperdimensional Space."
"Those were illusions. This time, it was real."
A true darkness, one capable of swallowing human civilization whole.
As a Divine being, he had absorbed much from this brief conversation.
For example, the notion of founding a star nation in four dimensions.
He had considered it before. Given the Federation's overwhelming power, there should have been no star nations at all, not even the Twenty-Eight Nations Covenant nearby.
But now, he understood at once.
What if it was all according to plan?
Then the existence of star nations made sense.
Human civilization needed the Federation.
And human civilization also needed star nations.
So he had no doubt about Ayla's promise.
At this moment, his heart surged with life.
"At last, something to do."
"Real challenges are far tougher than those in Hyperdimensional Space—but this is still another dimension."
"What a thrill!"
He savored the thought of what awaited him.
Those possibilities fanned a long-lost fire within him.
Imagination.
Something he had once lost—now returned.
He hurried back to his office. He needed to plan everything that would come next.