The Core of Terminus was a place where no biological life should exist.
There were no rocks or magma here. Everything was compressed white plasma, glowing with the intensity of a small sun.
Zin's drop-pod landed on a solitary solid platform floating in the middle of this inferno.
In front of them sat a ship. But it wasn't a machine. It was a Masterpiece.
It was crafted from solidified liquid gold, with fluid, organic curves that looked like a giant leaf or a teardrop falling from a god's eye. It didn't have a single scratch, despite enduring a thousand years of crushing pressure and heat.
"Heat shields at 98%," Gorge reported, sweating inside his heavy exo-suit. "This place is slow-cooking us, Doc. We have 20 minutes before we turn into soup."
"We won't be late," Zin said, staring at the Golden Ship in awe. "This design... it's not organic (like us), and it's not industrial (like the League). It is... perfect."
Elara approached the hull. She touched the warm golden metal.
"It's sad," she whispered. "The ship is mourning its pilot."
The side hatch of the ship slid open silently, as if it had been waiting for them for centuries.
They stepped into the cockpit.
Inside, they found the Pilot.
He sat in the command chair, dead for a millennium.
But he wasn't a skeleton. He wore a glass suit similar to the one Overseer Prism wore in Chapter 6. But instead of bright, shifting light, the energy inside him had crystallized. He had turned into a statue of dark, opaque blue crystal.
An angel of light, frozen into stone.
"This is a Founder," Zin deduced, scanning the crystal with his light-scalpel. "A member of the Aseptic League. But why is he hiding here? And why is his ship gold, not black?"
Zin pressed the main console.
FLASH.
The holograms activated. A 3D projection of the same being appeared, but this one was alive, radiating a warm, golden light—not the cold, sterile blue of Prism.
The recording began.
[Last Log: Commander Sol - The First Architect]
The being spoke with a voice like chiming bells. The Queen translated instantly.
"If you found this... then I have failed. And the universe is still suffering from the madness of my brothers."
The hologram looked at Zin and Elara (or at the empty space they now occupied).
"My name is Sol. I was one of them. We, whom you call the 'Creators'. We were not monsters in the beginning. We were Gardeners."
Elara's eyes widened. "Gardeners?"
"Yes. We planted life in the cosmos. We created the Celestial Entities (The Star-Whales) to be floating gardens. We wanted beauty. We wanted diversity."
Sol's face in the recording shifted to sorrow.
"But... a fanatic rose among us. 'Null'. He convinced the Council that life was too chaotic. That pain, disease, and death were 'errors' in the design that needed correction. He argued that the only solution for eternal peace was... Sterilization. Turning the universe into a silent, clean machine."
Zin clenched his fist. It explained everything. They weren't conquerors; they were religious extremists who worshipped "Cleanliness."
"I tried to stop them," Sol continued. "But they created the Virus (Humanity) and sent it to kill my children. I fled. I stole a piece of the Map. The map to The Nursery."
The hologram held out its hand, and complex coordinates floated in the air.
"Take this. The Second Piece. And find the Third Piece in the 'Black Hole Graveyard'. Do not let 'Null' find the Nursery. If they reach it... they will wipe life from existence, and nothing will remain but silence."
The recording ended. The golden light faded.
A small drawer opened in the console, revealing a crystalline data chip. Map Piece #2.
Zin picked it up. It felt heavy. Heavier than its physical weight.
"They were angels who fell," Zin said softly. "They thought they were curing the universe, but they were killing the patient."
"Doctor Sol tried to save us," Elara said, wiping a tear.
"Doc!" Gorge shouted. "Temperature spiking! The ship is melting! And The Queen says a signal just blasted out!"
Zin looked at the chip.
"Activating the data sent a ping," Zin realized the terrifying truth. "The Aseptic League didn't know where this ship was... until now. We just broadcast our location."
The floor shook. The plasma magma began to boil with angry turbulence.
"To the pod!" Zin ordered. "We got what we came for. Now we need to get out of this oven before the Chef arrives."
They sprinted back to the drop-pod.
As they left, Zin took one last look at Sol, solidified in his chair.
"Thank you, Colleague," Zin whispered. "We will finish the surgery you started."
The pod blasted off, shooting up through the artery of the Core, leaving the Golden Tomb to sink back into oblivion.