The Bloodline System Chapter 1663 1663: The Last Resistance
Previously on The Bloodline System...
The phenomenon recurred while Angy assisted the youngsters in sowing luminous seeds.
Movement ceased entirely.
Vibrancy bled away.
The Hidden Star crumbled, dissolving into a chaotic vortex of shattered recollections.
Visions flashed before her:
The snapping of a golden chain
A rhythmic throbbing from a dark sphere, pulsing like a heart
The gaze of a pair of deeply familiar eyes fixed upon her
And a luminous trail, caught in an infinite loop
Then came the faint breath of a voice:
"It's left to you now..."
With a sharp intake of air, she snapped back to reality.
"Miss Angy? You okay?" a child inquired.
"Mm. Just tired," she replied, masking the truth.
--
As the days progressed, the atmosphere during the council meetings grew toxic.
E.E. and Alero nearly traded blows in their fury.
Falco abandoned the room in a rage when a proposal was made to develop a new Mixedblood supersoldier regiment.
Yonda retreated into a stony silence for hours after an extraterrestrial envoy blamed the human race for the collapse of the universe.
Eventually, a voice muttered through the gloom:
"Gustav should have stayed—he shouldn't have left us like this."
The statement plunged the chamber into a heavy, agonizing silence.
Beneath the surface of the table, Angy squeezed her hands into fists as her thoughts drifted back to the swirling visions.
However, she remained silent.
...
On a different morning, she jolted awake, gasping for air as her hand emitted a soft radiance, as if a part of her soul was answering a summons from the void.
The imagery had sharpened:
A humanoid statue riddled with cracks...
A chain forged from the essence of entire universes....
Gustav reaching toward something obscured by a curtain of radiance...
Time folding back upon itself…
reversing…
and reversing once more…
Yet the true meaning of these glimpses remained elusive to her.
She required understanding.
...
...
The shadowed cosmos shuddered.
Where the universe once resonated with the soft pulse of life, only the reverberations of carnage now echoed through dying star systems. Vast expanses of space had been reduced to empty husks... worlds stripped down to their skeletal remains, suns consumed, and civilizations wiped out with cold, divine apathy.
Nevertheless, a small spark continued to fight for light amidst the wreckage.
The Last Resistance, a union gathered from dozens of broken star systems, moved through the emptiness aboard the massive ark-ship, Sanctum Vanguard. This was their final fortress, constructed from the ruins of three annihilated worlds and shielded more by desperate will than by genuine hope.
Within the primary hall, hundreds of Mixedbloods, leaders, psionics, technomancers, tribal aliens, and former guardians of the stars congregated around a shimmering hologram of what remained of the universe. Massive sectors were cast in shadow, designated as Deity Dominions—zones where death was certain.
A heavy silence fell as Commander Vespera Rael, the sole survivor to ever encounter a deity and live, moved to the front.
Her silver hair was now stained with soot, her protective gear fractured and repaired with scavenged alien technology. With a mechanical right arm and eyes that betrayed her trauma, she stood before them.
"We all know why we are here," her voice boomed. "Running is no longer an option. We are left with a single choice: we strike."
The room erupted in panicked whispers.
"That's suicide—"
"The K'thar Dominion was wiped out in moments—"
"Our weapons cannot even leave a mark on them—"
Vespera struck the holotable with her armored fist, causing the light of the projection to ripple.
"It is irrelevant. If we retreat, we perish. If we hide, we perish. If we simply wait…"
Her voice cracked as she took a breath.
"…we are the universe last hope."
From the shadows of a corner, a younger Mixedblood’s eyes grew cold, though his hands shook at his sides.
He spoke without raising his head.
"We fight."
The other Mixedbloods who had endured this long looked up; they were drained, exhausted, and lacked the true power they were destined to hold. Their survival had been a result of constant movement, a never-ending flight as world after world crumbled behind them.
Maro let out a soft breath. "Then we die together."
Another warrior looked up from the ground.
"Better to die fighting than die begging."
Grim, resolute nods spread throughout the chamber.
Across the table, a towering alien figure with a dim, fractured crystalline form approached. This was Elder Zhor of the Luminaris, the final member of his race.
"We must target the source," his voice rasped like grinding glass. "The Overseer. Should the Overseer fall, the others might lose their stability."
"Might," someone echoed with bitterness. "We have no proof of that."
Vespera countered, "We have no alternative but to believe it."
The strategy was set.
The Last Resistance would launch a final, desperate gamble against the deities' celestial seat. Their objective: penetrate to the Overseer, unleash every ounce of their power, and hope that something—anything—would make a difference.
---
Battle-cruisers moved into formation behind the Sanctum Vanguard.
Just over two hundred ships remained.
The final two hundred vessels in existence.
Gravity cannons were primed. Photon lances were calibrated. Etheric blades hummed with life, and psionic amplifiers began to drone. This meager fleet, when measured against the cosmic magnitude of the deities, was like a swarm of insects challenging a mountain.
Still, their hearts beat in a single rhythm.
Vespera stood upon the bridge, watching the fleet.
"Transmit my message," she commanded.
"Broadcasting across remaining channels," a pale communications officer answered.
Vespera drew a breath.
"To anyone who still breathes… know that today, we choose not despair, but defiance. If this is our last stand… let it shake the heavens."
As the armada neared its destination, it came into view—
A massive crystalline citadel floating in the void, eclipsing galaxies in size and layered with ever-changing geometric patterns. Veins of radiance pulsed through its structure like the blood of a living god.
Standing as sentinels were the deities.
Hundreds of them.
Each titan was a radiant horror, radiating a level of power that distorted the fabric of space. Their mere gaze could warp reality; their presence alone was enough to shatter a mortal mind.
And at the center, looming over all, was the Overseer.
A cosmic giant, a deity whose will governed all of existence. His eyes were burning stars, and his breath gave rise to cosmic storms. His aura alone began to fail the fleet's defensive shields.
Despite this, the Vanguard surged ahead while the deities observed their coming with mocking amusement.
"FIRE!" Vespera yelled.
The cosmos was set ablaze.
Every ship discharged its weaponry on an incredible scale. Cannons capable of shattering planets, fusion warheads, bursts of antimatter, and reality-warping disruptors forged from stolen deity shards were unleashed.
The resulting detonation illuminated the universe like the birth of a sun.
The leading deities stumbled, and a few were pierced with gaping wounds.
"WE CAN DO THIS!" a voice cried out over the comms.
However, the Overseer remained motionless despite the onslaught.
He simply watched, much like the other deities who continued to absorb the hits without bothering to strike back.