CHAPTER 226: A FATHER’S DESPERATION

"In the end, even a god’s power cannot outrun its own past."

In the vast, silent expanse of sublight space, Richard looked back. The berserk Mainu, a dark red comet of rage, was still chasing him, its massive form a blur against the distant stars. This was good. It meant the bait was working. But the bad thing was, it was gaining speed. Mainu’s berserk state, fueled by pain and the nanite-induced internal chaos, was making it faster, more unpredictable, but also more reckless.

Richard cursed under his breath inside the Prometheus X-19’s cockpit. "Shit. What took that virus so long? He should’ve already slowed down instead of speeding up." He glanced at his navigation panel. 0.15 AU left before they reached Mercury’s orbital line, the point of no return for conventional ships around the Sun. The heat from the solar winds was already a tangible force, even through the Prometheus’s shields.

He commed Lina, his voice strained but steady. "Lina, is the Black Hole Arsenal and the containment matrix prepared?"

Lina’s voice, calm and professional despite the dire circumstances, responded. "Yes, sir. All ANV fleets are on standby with the BH-7 torpedoes. Containment matrix is charged to maximum capacity, awaiting for instructions."

Richard nodded. "Good. Wait for my command. Since we’re too close to the Sun now, we should hurry. Our shields might run out first before we can finish the Dragon. It’s already risky enough to use the BH torpedoes near the Sun, and I’m already running low on power as it is." The Prometheus’s internal alarms, though silent to the outside, were a frantic symphony in his ears. [Shield Integrity: 5%. Energy Reserves: 20%. Crystalline Musculature: 8% functionality.]

Lina responded. "Yes, sir. Awaiting your mark."

Richard then taunted Mainu, his voice amplified by the Prometheus’s external speakers, cutting through the void. "Come on, you winged-lizard! Is your power just for show? Or are you just a weak-ass coward, afraid of a little heat?" The berserk Mainu roared even more, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage, and sped up, its dark red form surging forward, its eyes locked onto the blue-and-silver speck. Richard smirked, a grim, defiant smile. "That’s it. Come towards daddy."

As Richard arrived 7.8 million kilometers away from the Sun’s surface, the Prometheus X-19’s shields flickered, barely holding against the intense solar radiation. The Dragon was only 50 kilometers behind him, a terrifying, enraged shadow. He taunted the Dragon one last time, his voice laced with venom. "Come on! You scared, big guy? Or are you just slow?"

Mainu, already lost all reason, its mind consumed by rage and Richard’s taunts, roared one final time and sped up, a suicidal charge towards the armless mecha, hurtling towards the Sun. Richard’s console blared red, his shield integrity hitting a critical 3%.

Then, as soon as he hit 6.9 million kilometers from the Sun’s surface, Richard pressed eject. The Prometheus X-19’s cockpit canopy blew open, and Richard, clad in his personal suit, activated his spatial warp skill. A small, shimmering rift opened, and he vanished, reappearing at a safe distance, watching. The Dragon, consumed by its berserk rage, didn’t spot Richard’s ejection. It focused solely on the 250-foot mecha, now a rapidly accelerating, armless projectile speeding towards the Sun’s surface.

Richard breathed hard in his suit, the silence of space a stark contrast to the internal alarms that had just been screaming. He watched Mainu, a dark red blur, plunge deeper into the Sun’s corona. He could see the Dragon’s form slowly burning, its dark scales beginning to glow white-hot, its movements weakening. Then, a blue speck of light appeared as the fusion reactor in the mecha exploded, a contained, powerful detonation within the Sun’s fiery embrace. The blast rippled through the solar plasma, sending a shockwave that buffeted Richard even at his distance.

Mainu recovered from its berserk state too late. The shockwave from the Prometheus’s explosion, combined with the searing pain of the Sun’s corona and the relentless internal destruction of the nanites, jolted it back to a semblance of rationality. Its ancient mind, though ravaged, desperately clung to coherence. It felt the agonizing heat, the burning pain of its scales melting, its flesh searing, its very essence being consumed. It felt the relentless internal decay, the nanites consuming its very being, piece by agonizing piece. A realization washed over him, a truth he had denied for millennia. Is this how I die? Consumed by the very chaos I wielded, at the hands of these... humans? How ironic.

Its life, spanning millions of years, flashed before its eyes, not as a coherent narrative, but as fractured, vivid images, moments of joy, betrayal, and endless, consuming hunger.

It began millions of years ago, on a distant planet somewhere in the galactic core—a planet where the birthplace of all dragons existed, a vibrant world teeming with colossal, elemental beings, each a force of nature. But Mainu had been born different from the rest. He was the ugly duckling, its scales a a deep dark purple, its energy signature erratic, a discordant note in the symphony of draconic power.

Even the elder dragons, beings of immense wisdom and power, advised all other dragons to stay away from him, whispering of a prophecy, of a so-called "calamity" that would consume all. They saw not a child, but a threat. All young Mainu ever wanted was to be recognized as one of them, to coexist with them in harmony, to find its place in the grand tapestry of draconic life, to be acknowledged by its kin.

But the fear of the prophecy proved stronger than any compassion. The whispers grew louder, the gazes colder as he tried approaching them. It all began when the Draconic Pavilion, the ruling council of the draconic race, decided to take his life to prevent the prophecy.

Mainu. A young chaos drake, barely past its infancy, was chased from planet to planet, across star systems, with nowhere else to go, nowhere to hide from the relentless pursuit of its own kind. Mainu realized then that perhaps the only way for him to be recognized, to survive, was to be the strongest of all. To assert its existence through overwhelming, undeniable power.

The prophecy started with that thought alone. He started fighting back, not just for survival, but for dominance. And in doing so, he found out he could absorb every dragon’s life force and make it his own, adding their power as his own. The seed of chaos, once dormant within his unique physiology, awakened in him, not as a curse, but as a path to power. As he consumed more, he grew more corrupted by power, his scales turning to a shimmering obsidian, his eyes burning with a new, terrifying light. He continued his relentless pursuit, absorbing every enemy and every living being he encountered, his hunger growing with each conquest, each act of destruction. The calamity truly became a reality, just as the elders had feared, a self-fulfilling prophecy born of fear and rejection.

Millions of years later, the Dragon Pavilion was wiped out. Mainu stood alone atop the corpse of his own kin, the devourer of its own lineage. The victory was hollow. He had lost all of his initial goal, the dream of seeking harmony between the draconic race, of being recognized and acknowledged. His hunger for power had overshadowed it all, leaving only a vast emptiness, a cosmic void within its own being. He continued its pursuit for dragons, traveling the entire galactic quadrant, a solitary, all-consuming force, driven by an insatiable, lonely hunger.

That’s when it encountered the Solar System in its infancy. Earth and Mars were twin planets, sprawling with oceans and vibrant green ecosystems, teeming with life, a stark contrast to the barren worlds it had left in its wake. It spotted someone that changed him forever. He met Terralia, a female guardian dragon of Earth and Mars’ inhabitants, a dragon of pure light, radiating warmth and life, a beacon in the darkness of Mainu’s existence. Mainu engaged in battle with Terralia, expecting another easy conquest, another source of power to absorb. But to his surprise, Terralia was way stronger than he was.

For the first time in millennia, his chaos power had a rival, a being of pure light that overcasted chaos itself, not through brute force, but through an inherent, fundamental opposition.

Terralia didn’t see Mainu as a hostile being, but a lost one. She saw the flicker of its original desire for harmony beneath the layers of corruption, a spark of light in the heart of chaos. Throughout their battle, Mainu was the one being toyed with, not out of malice, but out of a playful, almost maternal amusement. Terralia found it entertaining how Mainu could be so persistent, yet so unintelligent as a draconic, so driven by a simple, raw hunger.

For the very first time, the chaos in Mainu subsided, quelled by the sheer, overwhelming purity of Terralia’s light. The least decision he would make became a reality. A prideful draconic being, Mainu surrendered to Terralia, not in defeat, but in a profound, almost spiritual exhaustion.

He had fought for eons, consumed for eons, and for the first time, he felt a peace that transcended power. With Terralia’s watchful eye over him, a gentle but firm presence, he and Terralia spent time, living with humans and Martians, for millions of years. Throughout the years, he tried to fight Terralia, time and time again challenging her and testing his strength, not out of malice, but a primal need to understand the source of her power, to push his own limits. But it was futile. Terralia defeated him so easily, laughing and enjoying his defeated state as some kind of entertainment, a cosmic game of cat and mouse. Over the course of a few hundred thousand years, he learned how to pacify himself. To hold back his violent instincts, to channel his chaos, not into destruction, but into a protective force. With a surprising change, even he realized, he became the guardian dragon of Mars, a silent protector, while Terralia remained the guardian of Earth. Both coexisted in harmony, fulfilling the dream he had wanted for a long, lonely time, a dream he had almost forgotten.

But what he didn’t know was he found love. A deep, profound connection that transcended their opposing natures, a bond forged in shared guardianship and mutual respect. Both guardian dragons finally settled their relationship with each other, their essences intertwined, their destinies bound. Mainu also finally decided to settle on Sol System, as his home, where he would atone for his sins, where he would finally find peace, a true sense of belonging.

Two hundred thousand years later, Terralia finally laid their only egg. An egg born from chaos and Light, a testament to their impossible union, a symbol of their hope for a balanced future.

But of course, Chaos had other plans. Their child was suffering from an imbalance of power. The egg inherited too much of Mainu’s Chaos, a raw, destructive energy that threatened to tear it apart from within, preventing its birth. Mainu and Terralia didn’t know what happened or what caused it. They tried everything, every ritual, every method of energy manipulation. But they were hopeful their child would have got out of its shell eventually, that time would heal the imbalance.

One hundred thousand years later, it didn’t happen. The egg was in a state of dormancy, a tragic moment to their failed hope. The imbalance prevented the dragon from ever hatching. They did what every dragon had done last: they swallowed their pride and sought help from younger civilizations that was already present on Earth. The planet had already become an interstellar hub in this part of the sector, a crossroads of galactic powers, teeming with advanced, if still fledgling, scientific minds. They sought help from them, but none was an expert on genetic technology at the level needed to fix a cosmic imbalance within a dragon’s egg, nor would they attempt to anger both beings, if they failed to cure their child or made it even worse.

That was when the Krill Civilization arrived on Earth, four hundred light-years away, drawn by the unique energy signatures of the Solar System. They were a technologically advanced race, the only ones superior in genetic and biological manipulation, their knowledge of life itself twisted to their own ends.

Thus, Mainu sought help, desperate to save his child, willing to pay any price. But the current Krill Emperor at that time, a cunning and ruthless being named Khar’Vhan, wanted something in return. They wanted Mainu’s own blood and power. For him to become their guardian dragon for a specific amount of cycle. A contract. Terralia knew something was up with this young civilization, and it didn’t sit right with her that they wanted to use Mainu as a puppet, a weapon, to bind his power for their own nefarious purposes. But Mainu, blinded by his paternal love and desperation, never wanted anything more than to see his own child born, to hold it, to nurture it, to finally have the family he had always craved. Thus he agreed, signing the contract in his own blood, a pact that would seal his fate.

At that time, the Krill did their own side of the bargain, working on a solution to the imbalance, their scientists poring over the dragon egg, making promises they never intended to keep. At that time also, the natives of Earth, the early humans from the Lemurian Kingdom, Atlantis, and Maharlika, were working day and night to find a solution in hopes of freeing Mainu, from the Krill’s subtle bindings, their growing influence, their manipulation of Earth’s resources and population. But the Krills were in opposition; they wanted no one to interfere in their business, their insidious plans on conquering the entire sector.

Thus, tensions arose between the Earth natives and the Krills, a silent war brewing beneath the surface. Terralia couldn’t do anything either, as interfering with them would break the contract and they would bind Mainu forever against his will, using him as a weapon, a cosmic slave. She knew that after their child was born from imbalance, the chaos slowly started to arise from him, a dormant evil reawakening, and one hundred thousand years later, Mainu’s chaos grew to the point that they were now equally stronger, maybe Mainu was now even stronger than her, his power fueled by desperation, anger and fear.

Going against the Krills would make Mainu mad towards her, as he would take it, that she chose the natives over their own child, a betrayal he would never forgive. Which was entirely bad. The chaos would only grow uncontrollably, consuming him entirely, and then, perhaps, the universe. And so, Terralia waited, hoping for a different path, a different solution, a different future for her love and her child.