Miles away, in a sector of space that was cold, orderly, and ruthlessly efficient, Lord Valerius sat on the throne-like command chair of his new flagship.
The sting of his public humiliation at the hands of Ryan Stone was still a fresh, burning wound in his soul. His Technocratic Hegemony, which he had declared with such arrogance, was already showing cracks.
Whispers of doubt and dissent were spreading through his ranks. His commanders had seen their best technology fail against Ryan's "reality magic," and their faith was shaken.
Valerius knew he needed to regain control. He needed a decisive victory. He needed to prove that his way, the way of cold, hard technology, was superior.
He had become obsessed. His life was no longer about building a perfect society. It was about destroying Ryan Stone.
"Report," he snapped, his voice echoing on the sterile, silent bridge.
