The mark left on that cuboid was an imprint.
Due to the unique nature of this dreamscape, it was not constructed by a single entity. Therefore, even after the constructor's demise, the fabricated objects would persist.
Take, for example, the imagined version of Luna itself.
However, even from a great distance, if the constructor remained alive, they could still dispel their illusion.
This observation suggested that the imagined Luna could rely on the imprints left by its companion; they were precise and devoid of deceit.
"As expected of me, a stroke of genius."
The imagined Luna possessed a degree of conceit. It lacked the meticulous caution of the original Luna and felt no reverence toward anything.
It was more resolute, executing every notion that crossed its mind.
The imagined Luna followed the trajectory indicated by the imprint, moving with incredible swiftness.
It wasn't utilizing the acceleration backpack that Luna had originally conceived, but rather something akin to a mecha suit. This apparatus was specifically engineered by Walton, who theorized it could effectively augment the imagined Luna's capabilities.
This specialized mecha allowed Luna to achieve a velocity of 167 km/s. While this speed wasn't truly fast by cosmological standards, it represented the current technical limit.
It is important to note that many advanced thrusters in reality are powered by dark energy or antimatter. To engineer these thrusters, one must first conceptually grasp dark energy or antimatter—a task deemed far too difficult. Unless scholars specializing in those two specific energies were present, imagining such propulsion was impossible here.
Walton was thus constrained to utilize the simplest available energy source: nuclear fusion reactions.
Nuclear fusion only required the conceptualization of hydrogen isotopes, and hydrogen is a fundamentally simple element. This turned out to be the optimal power source accessible to them at the time.
The imagined Luna flew onward.
It could already sense that beings from the seven-dimensional Civilization had detected its presence.
They were approaching from every conceivable direction.
The imagined Luna sliced through the space like a streaking meteor. All the surrounding cuboids rapidly receded into the periphery. It remained exceptionally calm, utterly undisturbed by the escalating malevolence closing in, rapidly closing the distance to its objective.
Those seven-dimensional Civilization entities seemed aware of its goal as well, converging and closing in.
Their speed dwarfed its own.
Exceeding 10,000 km/s.
By comparison, the imagined Luna's velocity was utterly pedestrian, akin to a snail.
The gap was shrinking rapidly.
Without even needing to close fully, one cuboid advanced toward the imagined Luna at an even greater velocity.
That specific cuboid was traversing through various other cuboids in its path.
From a true perspective, it manifested as a serpent-like energy source weaving through countless structures, finally pinpointing the imagined Luna.
It possessed an extremely potent tracking capability.
Very quickly, it caught up and established a lock onto the imagined Luna.
The imagined Luna attempted to evade, but operating here, on the opponent's home ground, such evasion was impossible. Here, it was nothing more than an insect.
"Boom!"
The resulting explosion triggered a spatial tremor.
The imagined Luna possessed the ability to manifest objects here through sheer imagination.
Behind it, a tall wall materialized—transparent and ethereal, seemingly offering no actual defensive power. And indeed, its function was purely to deflect the enemy's incoming assault.
That tracking energy struck an adjacent cuboid, and the resulting impact generated an even more violent explosion.
Countless fragments scattered outward; a portion struck the imagined Luna, causing its form to swerve sharply.
The imagined Luna, however, calmly pressed forward without faltering.
Its gaze was incredibly resolute, fixed straight ahead from beginning to end.
The marker!
It was searching for the specific marker.
It needed to avoid confusing any marker to secure the most suitable and fastest route.
The marker indicated: Almost there!
"Once I arrive, how will I destroy it? How will I be destroyed?"
Mirroring the information Walton possessed, the imagined Luna only understood nuclear fusion technology. Its only viable recourse was to engineer a large-yield nuclear device.
But could a nuclear bomb actually destroy those entities?
In reality, a nuclear blast would achieve nothing; its power was too negligible, akin merely to a child's toy.
The imagined Luna pondered this internally as behind it, more unknown weapons were already locking onto its trajectory. The terrifying pressure, even before being triggered, was affecting its entire being.
A series of shields instantaneously appeared behind it.
These shields were struck; they could only manage to marginally slow the speed of those incoming weapons.
This was futile.
They were far too fast; so rapid that even a 99% reduction in speed was still enough to guarantee interception.
These weapons had definitively surpassed the speed of light.
Just as tachyons are classified as high-dimensional particles, the seven-dimensional realm could be considered a sufficiently high-dimensional space, rendering the existence of superluminal particles unsurprising there.
The imagined Luna was pursued and captured instantly.
That weapon fractured into thousands of strands, clamping down like massive pincers from two opposing flanks. The imagined Luna could only evade by sacrificing speed, but attacks were simultaneously incoming from the rear.
The weapons from behind struck it. It couldn't precisely identify what these aggressors were. Its body felt as if it were being violently torn apart, yet from a three-dimensional viewpoint, its physical structure showed no visible damage.
The weapon was targeting its seven-dimensional aspect.
"No, that is a false seven dimensions, not true seven dimensions."
"My dimensional ascent is similar; I haven't truly reached the pure seven-dimensional state, but rather I exist simultaneously in seven dimensions and in three dimensions, maintaining existence across any dimension from seven down to three."
"I am a life form that transcends single dimensions; I am not restricted to a life of one isolated dimension."
At this critical juncture, the imagined Luna gained a completely novel comprehension of its own state of being.
It might possess a longer lifespan than anticipated.
Although annihilation in any single dimension would trigger the collapse of its other dimensions—seemingly making no difference—it retained sufficient residual thought to reconstruct its seven-dimensional form.
This was a dream world; the impossible was meaningless.
The imagined Luna evaded the attack once more. Its body, from the perspective of the seven-dimensional pursuers, appeared unimaginably mutilated, yet it retained a tenacious spark, much like an insect. Then, after a few seconds, its form regenerated.
The relentless pursuit commenced anew.
But that was all there was to it.
Before the imagined Luna, an increasing tide of emotions gathered. It felt as though it was being blocked by an army numbering in the thousands.
From every conceivable direction, countless attacks surged forward. Whichever way it attempted to turn, tens of thousands of assaults awaited it.
"What a magnificent send-off!"
The imagined Luna still desperately sought to achieve something more.
It located the next available imprint marker.
The consciousness imprinted there projected a message: Almost there, just one final step!
It surveyed its surroundings. There was no convergence of life or structures in this location; the area felt relatively vast and open.
The imagined Luna could not believe that the seven-dimensional beings would leave their core domain undefended; that was impossible, especially after it had caused such sustained disruption.
So, why the apparent lack of resistance?
The imagined Luna suddenly burst into laughter.
"So I've been manipulated!"
Yes, it understood now that it had been tricked—by itself.
It couldn't be the protagonist who accomplished this grand objective; it could only be a supporting character acting as a distraction.
Just as the surrounding attacks were about to strike, it witnessed a violent explosion in the distance, where dense energy coalesced into a colossal, incalculable cube.
That cube was constructed from tightly packed cuboids.
"Well, being a supporting character is acceptable too."
It had served as its own decoy.
It successfully drew the attention of numerous seven-dimensional entities, enabling another "version of itself" to achieve such a monumental feat.
Although that enormous cube seemed to only occupy perhaps 1%, or one-thousandth, of the entire foundational structure of the dream world...
But that was sufficient!
This was the extent of their capability.
And at this exact moment, the surrounding attacks finally connected.
The imagined Luna was utterly engulfed.
This time, even if it desired resistance, it could not muster any.
Moreover, it had lost the will to fight.
The two detonations echoed each other; they were nothing more than two insignificant bubbles popping within the dreamscape.
...
Kamelin.
Haru continued to observe the Sector beyond the dimensional gateway.
It felt profound anxiety.
This was because, for over a hundred years, absolutely no communication had been received from that sector.
It had no understanding of what transpired on the other side.
Kamelin ceaselessly transmitted data towards that location. If the fleet still existed, a response should have been registered.
As time dragged on, the dwindling hope for the fleet's survival became increasingly slim.
"Archon!"
Haru refused to accept that the Archon had perished so simply.
Even though Walton had occasionally displayed some dissatisfaction toward it, Haru had always held this Archon in deep respect.
This time, when Walton accompanied the expeditionary fleet, Haru had voiced an objection, sensing that something disastrous might occur on that mission.
A seven-dimensional Civilization could not be easily overcome.
Now, reality had confirmed its accurate premonition.
A researcher quickly flew in from an external station.
It urgently relayed to Haru: "Overseer Haru, the Monarch is initiating contact with Kamelin. They request that you attend and receive the communication."
Haru was startled but quickly entered Kamelin City, proceeding to the chamber where Walton used to conduct his work.
This chamber not only housed vast amounts of knowledge but was also the designated point to receive the Monarch's decree.
Upon entering the room.
Haru beheld a pair of enormous wings suspended motionless in mid-air.
The mere sight of those wings stunned Haru, causing it to immediately prostrate itself onto the ground.
Its entire being—wings and body—was pressed tightly against the floor.
"Haru, where is Walton?"
The Monarch's voice poured directly into its nerves, seemingly laden with immense, inherent power.
Haru's voice trembled. This was its inaugural conversation with the Monarch; while an extreme honor, it was also overwhelmingly nerve-wracking.
"Monarch, the Archon proceeded to the dimensional gateway. It has been over 28 aeons without any response. I fear the fleet commanded by the Archon has met with disaster."
"All of this is the fault of that detestable human. If it weren't for her interference, the Archon would never have ventured there. If only she had met her end sooner."
"Humans are inherently arrogant and self-righteous, believing they truly managed to halt the progress of the seven-dimensional Civilization."
Haru's voice carried pain, infused with an uncontrollable surge of fury.
It deeply resented Luna.
Not only because of this disastrous outcome and the previous incident, but also due to the inherent schism between species and Civilizations.
The more learned and powerful Luna appeared to be, the more detrimental it became for Haru and its entire Civilization.
"Monarch, I implore you, absolutely avoid any alliance with the Galactic Federation. They possess extremely aggressive tendencies, and their intellectual capability is formidable."
"I observed no hesitation or weakness in their eyes. A prolonged stalemate will only lead to a disadvantageous situation for us. We must expel them from our Civilization's sphere of influence. Their capacity for learning is simply too profound. Only by preventing them from fully comprehending us can we secure ultimate victory."
Haru sincerely hoped the Monarch would heed its counsel.
This was, in its estimation, the boldest action it had ever undertaken in its existence, daring to proffer advice directly to the Monarch.
The Monarch was silent, but its silence seemed deafening.
The Monarch finally spoke: "Is Walton no longer present?"
"Kamelin requires stability, Haru. You shall assume responsibility for Walton's management of Kamelin."
"As for your proposals, this Monarch will take them under advisement. Furthermore, within Kamelin, any decision you make from this point forward falls under your full authority. This is your mandate."
"This Monarch hereby bestows upon you the designation of Provisional Archon."
"Since that seven-dimensional Civilization is so formidable, and persists in existence, your mission is clear: explore that seven-dimensional Civilization, endeavor to comprehend it. Only by understanding them can we acquire the means to neutralize them."
"Do not disappoint me, Haru!"
Haru was overcome with elation.
Provisional Archon.
This was a status it had never dared to aspire to before.
Logically, it remained far removed from achieving this rank.
But now, it held it.
This was the Monarch's decree; no citizen dared to voice an objection.
"Yes, Your Majesty. In the future, you will assuredly receive the intelligence I transmit. That will not merely be data regarding a seven-dimensional Civilization; it will be a battle report."
A battle report, naturally, a report signaling victory.
Haru was now dizzy with sheer happiness.
The Monarch's symbolic wings began to fade in the chamber. After they vanished, Haru remained prostrate for one metawa before slowly lifting its head, observing that the female Monarch had departed. It rose, flew a single circuit around the room.
"Now, this domain belongs to me."
"Walton, I sincerely hope you are… still alive!"
Haru's former awe directed toward Walton now carried a distinct undertone of danger.
Title.
This represented the ultimate honor within the Flyer Civilization.
And Archon was the pinnacle of that honor.
Even if it was merely a Provisional Archon, a temporary appointment, it had already eclipsed countless others.
After a prolonged period of excitement, Haru slowly regained composure.
It then summoned the other Kamelin officials for a conference, announcing its elevated status and issuing a series of immediate directives.
The most critical directive involved severing all ongoing affiliations with the Galactic Federation, declaring Walton's prior commitments null and void, and simultaneously transmitting the revised situation report to the other Archons.
However, the reported reality was intentionally skewed.
Haru deliberately embellished the narrative.
In its communications, it heavily emphasized the threat posed by the Galactic Federation and painted Luna as an extremely malicious entity. It asserted that Walton had been manipulated by Luna into proceeding toward the dimensional gateway, and it even fabricated a conflict between Luna and Walton at that location, allowing the seven-dimensional Civilization to exploit the chaos and cause the entire fleet to lose contact.
Haru understood the implications of its actions.
This maneuver was designed to incite conflict between Civilizations.
Yet, it firmly believed this path was genuinely advantageous for the Civilization.
Its intelligence effectively swayed the other Sector Archons.
...
The Civilization Trade Zone.
Or perhaps, the Zuoe Sector.
The sovereign power engaged in trade exchanges with the Galactic Federation was named Zuoe.
Brakk received the updated intelligence sent by Haru.
At that moment, it was deep in negotiations regarding trade zone allocations with Bill. The Federation had secured the advantage in the previous round, necessitating a concession of specific technology and the opening of a defined number of trade slots.
As the Galactic Federation and the Flyer Civilization deepened their exchanges, at least within Zuoe's domain, the two factions were practically indistinguishable.
Though enemies in theory, they were also allies in practice.
However, upon receiving this news, Brakk's immediate priorities shifted elsewhere.
"Bill, I still require careful consideration regarding the specific technology allocation," Brakk stated.
Bill noticed nothing unusual. While negotiations typically concluded promptly, perhaps Brakk simply had an urgent matter arise this time.
He escorted Brakk out of the meeting room.
No sooner had Brakk departed than one of its subordinates rushed in, gasping for breath.
"Commander, this is urgent."
"I don't know the full details, but those Kirara have blockaded the entire trade zone and are forcefully expelling our merchants. Some merchants have even sustained injuries as a result."
Bill was instantly startled.
Something significant had clearly transpired!
...
Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
Qili-class warship.
At this moment, the conflict above had dragged on to a grinding conclusion.
Initially, Damoro believed that merely activating the pseudo-quantum field within the corner boundary would deliver a decisive, fatal blow to the colossal entity residing within.
But reality proved his assessment far too simplistic.
Although the boundary was successfully engaged, the behemoth, positioned inside the pseudo-quantum field, remained operating within the super-microscopic realm. It retained immense power, and critically, it manifested as pure consciousness.
These constituted three distinct advantages (buffs).
To destroy it, one must penetrate the super-microscopic world, possess overwhelming offensive capacity, and that offensive capability must exceed that of the behemoth—it still had to be a consciousness-based attack.
With these accumulated advantages, the situation became exponentially more difficult.
None of Damoro's weaponry capable of affecting the super-microscopic world registered any impact.
The behemoth persisted, and had now actively entered the battlefield.
The sole sliver of positive news was that the behemoth's power operated on a different principle.
It could not target or affect any life form incapable of perceiving sound.
In this engagement, the behemoth was constrained to a defensive posture.
Standing on the warship, Damoro was currently confined within a chamber, writing furiously.
He was researching methods to finally overcome the behemoth.
This was undeniably a terrifying puzzle for him.
He was fundamentally a warrior, not a researcher or scholar. Even possessing some baseline knowledge, it was exceedingly difficult for him to steady his mind and execute precise analysis.
"Another failed strategy!"
Damoro instantly deleted the plan he had just documented. He slammed his fist onto the table before him.
Even though the table was crafted from a specialized alloy, his blow still fractured it.
And this table was already latticed with countless similar fissures.
It also bore several deep fist imprints.
"This issue must be resolved, otherwise, if we reach Star City 4, it will coincide with another critical problem."
"Could Star City 4 potentially become the enemy's stronghold by that time, making the confrontation even more difficult to manage?"
"If I can uncover its vulnerability now, I might find the engagement at Star City 4 significantly easier."
Damoro understood these necessities, but he lacked the means to achieve them.
This represented his greatest current source of agony.
Indeed, the proverb rings true: one never stops learning until the moment knowledge becomes absolutely critical.
"Even if I send countless personnel into the super-microscopic realm, I still cannot truly comprehend it. If I cannot comprehend it, then how can I possibly defeat an adversary dwelling within the super-microscopic world?"
"I might as well venture into the super-microscopic world myself."
Finally, Damoro, unable to bear the frustration any longer, reached this decision.
He rose and exited the room, making his way toward the circular chamber.
But the moment he stepped out, he saw a woman standing at the doorway.
The woman, upon seeing him, trembled slightly before hastily introducing herself to Damoro: "Chief, my name is Yuccaile; I am a tactical analysis clerk aboard this warship."
"I heard you are facing significant difficulties in resolving this enemy situation. I wish to volunteer my expertise to assist you."
A mere clerk?
Damoro appraised her, then immediately queried the main computer to determine if the newcomer posed a threat.
The main computer responded swiftly:
[Negative!]
Damoro, upon hearing she wasn't an enemy, felt no pleasure; rather, a distinct disappointment.
If she were hostile, a bit of careful probing might have yielded crucial intelligence.
But a genuine clerk on a warship? What use was that?
"I do not require anyone's assistance. You should perhaps focus your energy on strengthening yourself and ensuring your survival after reaching Star City 4."
With that, he strode past Yuccaile. Just as he was about to utilize the high-speed transit lane to depart, he heard Yuccaile speak with a slight edge of anger.
"I am prepared for any necessary sacrifice, Chief. Do not underestimate the conviction of every soldier on this warship. Although no one rushed to aid you earlier, everyone's dedication remains resolute."
What a profoundly dramatic, almost chūnibyō-esque declaration.
If he hadn't been confined to the warship constantly, Damoro might actually have been misled by her performance.
"Very well then, simply accomplish that much."
Damoro departed via the express lane.
Yuccaile, observing Damoro's dismissive demeanor, felt a pang of frustration.
She had clearly spent so long preparing, waiting for this precise moment.
Damoro had sequestered himself in his quarters, and she had deliberately avoided disturbing him.
Countless scenarios involving a warm-hearted, magnanimous Damoro had been meticulously sketched out in her mind across thousands of iterations.
As a result, the reality unfolding was nothing like her initial vision.
But she could not abandon her objective.
She directly pursued Damoro; she knew precisely where he was heading.
Upon reaching the circular staging area, she indeed spotted Damoro.
Once again, Yuccaile greeted him, watching as Damoro tinkered with the intricate equipment, even momentarily contemplating the audacious thought of entering the apparatus herself.
"This is incredibly perilous, Chief!" Yuccaile cautioned.
Damoro did not turn around, still engrossed in his preparations.
"You haven't given up yet? I do not need anyone dictating my work. If you value your life, you had best vacate this area."
Damoro was certainly capable of lethal force; he carried no intrinsic burden of guilt.
The sole reason he hadn't employed it was that he deemed it unnecessary; he was not, after all, a random serial killer.
"Even if you enter the super-microscopic world without adequate preparation, Chief, do you truly believe you stand a chance against that entity?"
As Yuccaile finished speaking, she instantly perceived a vertical cuboid directly before her, radiating terrifying energy fluctuations.
"How do you know this?"
Damoro's voice resonated with clear murderous intent. He would naturally never discuss his findings or any details concerning the super-microscopic world with just anyone.
"System logs!"
Yuccaile felt genuine fear now. She sensed that Damoro might genuinely execute her.
Wasn't he the elite operative sent by the Star Nation to save them?
Damoro quickly reviewed the system logs. He discovered that all his dedicated work over the past days had been meticulously recorded and was openly accessible for viewing.
This revelation caused his expression to darken instantly.
Of course, this was assuming he possessed a facial expression capable of darkening.
"This shoddy main computer!"
Damoro cursed, yet found himself powerless to act. He certainly wouldn't waste time arguing with the core computer; such arguments were always fruitless.
Delete the records?
What purpose would deleting serve when the information had already been witnessed?
"The main computer is logging this data for the benefit of the entire Star Nation. You cannot complete this mission alone. Why not allow all the soldiers on this warship to contribute their thoughts?"
"The enemy in the super-microscopic realm is terrifyingly powerful. It possesses unparalleled consciousness. While you alone might contend with it in other operational capacities, the entire Star Nation, indeed, the entire Civilization, lacks anyone who possesses or actively trains this specific aspect of consciousness."
"I hope you will examine our proposed strategy. It may prove useful."
"Chief, this is not a trivial matter. It concerns the survival of our entire Star Nation. Everyone will perish due to this single failure."
Yuccaile spoke with utmost sincerity.
Damoro's initially tense mood settled somewhat at this moment.
He stated: "Then present me with your strategy!"
Yuccaile joyfully transmitted the entire plan to Damoro, accompanied by a brief, triumphant remark.
"It is our plan!"