133: Chapter 133 The Divided Alliance

The mental aftershocks kicked up by the memory bomb were like an invisible cold mist, entwining deep within the nerves of every corridor, every cabin, and every crew member of the star. Outside the portholes, the universe remained deathly silent. The remaining thousand-plus warships of the Alliance huddled under the protection of the Central Star's defense shields. Despite possessing enough firepower to incinerate an entire star sector, they were currently like a herd of beasts thoroughly terrified by the darkness, not even daring to ignite their engines to full power. The shadow of the end had only been temporarily stalled by AKai's memories; it had never disappeared or retreated. That pitch-blackness that devoured starlight and erased space-time still hung at the edge of deep space like a dormant giant beast with closed eyes. It would only take one more opening of its eyes to tear all resistors, along with the hope in their hearts, into shreds.

The atmosphere on the bridge was so oppressive it nearly solidified, with only the faint hum of operating instruments floating in the air. Every soft sound seemed to remind everyone that death had never been far away. Franklin stared at the constantly refreshing mental damage reports on the light screen, his wrinkled fingers trembling uncontrollably. Behind those cold numbers were souls torn apart by memory backlash—some stood before familiar consoles but could no longer remember the steps to operate them; some looked at comrades they spent every day with, their eyes as hollow as if meeting for the first time; and nineteen crew members had completely lost their self-awareness, standing vacantly like soulless husks, unable to even speak their own names. Forgetting was never simple amnesia; it was the dismantling of a person's existence from its roots, harder to heal than wounds that tore the flesh, and more despair-inducing than the fear of facing death.

Kate stood before the observation window, her silhouette upright yet thin, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the cold alloy glass. That childhood memory forcibly extracted by the memory ripples was like a void that could never be filled, a dull ache in her heart at every moment. She couldn't remember the warmth of her mother's embrace, couldn't remember her most cherished possessions, couldn't remember that soft and warm time at the beginning of her life—those most precious traces of being 'human' that should have belonged to her had thus vanished forever into the universe to stall the shadow of the end. She didn't dare turn around, didn't dare look at Lin Fan beside her, not because of estrangement, but because she was afraid he would see through the fragility she couldn't hide in her eyes, and even more afraid of glimpsing the increasingly restless golden light flow beneath his left arm—that was the core power of the Light Sphere Race, the hope AKai had placed in his hands with his life, and also a blade hanging over everyone's heads that could lose control and fall at any time.

Lin Fan stood quietly a step behind her, maintaining a distance that was neither too far nor too close, just right. The dizziness from the memory backlash still swirled deep in his mind, but he remembered everything. He remembered the anxious, trembling voice of Kate as she rushed to his side; he remembered the inexplicable panic in his heart when he forgot her name; he remembered the instinctual urge to shield her when danger arrived; he remembered the warm and soft Light Orb Energy in her palm; he remembered the tears shimmering in her eyes when she whispered, "So forgetting hurts more than death." Every image was as clear as if carved deep into his soul, and every recollection made his heart tighten. He didn't dare get close, fearing the out-of-control energy within him would hurt her, and even more afraid that one day, even the right to stand quietly by her side like this would be completely erased.

Zero still crouched in the corner of the main console, his silver-white mechanical body curled into a small ball, his pale blue optical lenses blinking quietly like a silent mechanical bird on night watch. No one knew that in the deepest encrypted area of his Core Code, a frame was sealed that could overturn the entire universe's perception—an ancient emblem belonging to the Sower civilization, glimpsed within the collapsing black fragments of the shadow of the end. AKai's message left in the encrypted data, "Trust Kate," was like a silent command carved into his base logic, making him choose silence. He didn't understand what humans called loyalty and guardianship, but relying on the purest command, he hid this secret—one enough to make everyone break down—deep in his heart, not leaking a single bit.

"The range of the memory backlash is still spreading," Franklin finally broke the suffocating silence, his voice hoarse as if rubbed repeatedly by sandpaper. "Three hundred and twenty-seven crew members have already lost their combat and operational capabilities. Nineteen people have completely forgotten their identities, missions, and even what their loved ones look like. If this continues, we won't even need to fight the shadow of the end head-on; we'll completely collapse mentally first."

Kate slowly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, all fragility and softness were tightly wrapped in a cold, hard shell, leaving only a determination as heavy as iron: "The all-sector meeting of the Interstellar Council has already begun, hasn't it?"

"It started long ago, broadcast live across the entire star sector." Franklin gave a bitter smile, raising his hand to tap the main bridge light screen. A massive image instantly lit up, cutting directly into the hall of the Alliance's Supreme Council. "They're arguing more fiercely than on the front lines. This group of decision-makers hiding in the rear has finally been forced by fear to tear off all their dignity."

The council hall, which should have been solemn and symbolic of the highest power of human civilization, had already devolved into a vortex of chaos. Arguing, roaring, table-slamming, and cursing—all sorts of sharp, noisy sounds mixed together, making one's eardrums ache. Some slammed the table with bloodshot eyes, roaring to fight to the end; some covered their faces, breaking down in tears and demanding surrender; some were grim-faced and silent, their eyes filled with nothing but numb despair; and some had already quietly packed up core data, their eyes flickering with calculations of escape. The extinction-level fear brought by the shadow of the end had first crushed the Alliance's last backbone, turning all so-called order, bottom lines, and unity into vulnerable jokes.

The Speaker sat in the primary seat, his white hair disheveled and his face haggard, like a statue completely hollowed out by despair. He raised his hand to gently press down the clamor of the hall, his movements slow and weak. His voice was terrifyingly calm, without a single ripple, yet it contained a chill that made one shudder: "Enough. Endless arguing won't solve any problems. Now, we will conduct the final vote—whether to officially initiate the Ark Project."

The Ark Project.

Those three words were like a thousand-pound block of ice, smashing hard into everyone's hearts.

Everyone on the bridge of the star turned pale instantly.

They had all heard of this project. It was the Alliance's highest secret, sealed for decades—an ultimate contingency plan formulated to deal with civilization-extinction-level disasters. It sounded high-minded, but its essence was incredibly cruel: select the top elites from various fields, top scientists, high-level combatants, the civilization's gene bank, and core data to board three super ark ships built with countless resources. They would then perform ultra-long-distance cross-sector jumps, abandoning all civilians, all low-level soldiers, and all star systems and compatriots that couldn't be taken away, fleeing alone to the edge of the universe just to preserve the so-called 'seeds of civilization.'

To put it bluntly, it was running away.

It was discarding.

It was letting a small group of people live on by stepping over the bones of trillions of their compatriots, leaving the vast majority behind to become fodder for the shadow of the end.

This was the Alliance they were fighting bloodily for at the border, protecting with everything they had.

This was the ending they had exchanged their lives, their memories, and their everything for.

"I strongly object!" Admiral Raymond, commander-in-chief of the Border Army, suddenly stood up, his heavy combat armor clashing with a deafening bang. His knuckles were white from gripping, and his eyes surged with suppressed fury. "Once the Ark Project is initiated, the trillions of people on the Central Star and the surrounding seventy-two star systems will instantly collapse! We are Guardians, not butchers! There is no reason to abandon our own compatriots!"

"Guardians? In the face of civilization's survival, Guardians are worthless!" Horn, the chief representative of the Mars Corporation, countered shrilly, his fat face filled with blatant selfishness and indifference. "Staying means total annihilation; leaving is the only way to preserve hope! Do you want the entire human civilization to be completely deleted by the shadow of the end? The weak are meant to be eliminated. Giving the chance of survival to useful people is the most rational choice!"

"Those are trillions of human lives! Not data! Not garbage!"

"Human lives have never been worth mentioning in the face of civilization's extinction!"

Fierce arguing broke out again. The Resistance Faction and the Escape Faction were completely torn apart. Allies who once stood side-by-side for the Alliance instantly became bitter enemies under the threat of death. Some were unyielding for the sake of their inner bottom lines; some were unscrupulous just to survive; more people swayed wildly between fear and conscience, their faces pale and bodies trembling, unable to even determine which side they should stand on.

Kate looked at those distorted, selfish, and cowardly faces on the light screen, her heart feeling bone-chillingly cold.

AKai had burned all his memories to turn into a weapon to stall the shadow of the end, using his life to buy a brief moment of respite—not for this group of elites hiding in the rear to use for running away. He had stood at the very front of the gunfire in his white robe, smiling as he told them to live on—not for them to abandon their compatriots with a clear conscience and flee by stepping on the corpses of the weak. The deletion by the shadow of the end was cold and indiscriminate, while the selfishness of these people was meticulously calculated and deliberately chosen, uglier and more nauseating than the deepest darkness in the universe.

The voting results came out with an overwhelming majority; the votes in favor of the Ark Project far exceeded those of the Resistance Faction.

The Speaker slowly raised his head, his murky gaze sweeping across the hall, his voice devoid of any emotion as if reading an inconsequential document: "The Ark Project is officially initiated. The three ark ships will take off immediately, prioritizing research personnel, genetic sequences, civilization core data, and high-level combatants..." He paused and spoke the cruelest, coldest words, "Remaining personnel, stand by on-site and fend for yourselves."

Stand by on-site.

Fend for yourselves.

These words were the Alliance's final response to all those who held the line.

It was the final seal they stamped upon everyone who fought bloodily, using betrayal.

Countless soldiers bleeding at the border, countless civilians holding the line in the rear, countless ordinary people who gave their all for their homes—at this moment, they were completely abandoned by the Alliance they had desperately protected.

Admiral Raymond slammed his fist heavily onto the console. The hard alloy surface instantly cracked with spiderweb-like patterns, his finger bones shattered, and blood dripped from his fingertips, yet he remained completely oblivious. He only stared with reddened eyes, letting out a desperate and furious roar at the light screen: "You bastards! You cowards who fear death!"

Horn, however, smugly adjusted his expensive collar and looked toward the star outside the light screen, his eyes filled with condescending disdain and contempt: "The weak should accept the fate of being eliminated. The shadow of the end is here, and they wouldn't have survived anyway. It's better to give the precious chance of survival to those of us who can push civilization forward."

These words were like the sharpest needle, ruthlessly piercing the final layer of hypocritical decency and completely igniting the small figure in the corner of the bridge that had been ignored by everyone.

Little Kate stood up abruptly.

She was a derivative of Kate's consciousness fragment, the top network hacker on the star, a soul that had crawled out from the abyss of cold code and data. She had never experienced the cruel interstellar battlefields, nor did she bear heavy missions or pasts, yet she understood better than anyone what it felt like to be abandoned, given up on, and discarded like useless trash. She had always shrunk quietly in the corner, like an unremarkable child, so well-behaved that people easily forgot her existence; but at this moment, in those pitch-black eyes, a fire brighter, fiercer, and more unquenchable than the entire starry sky was ignited.

"The Ark Project, is it?" she spoke softly, her voice not loud but carrying a coldness that pierced through everything. "You want to run, you want to abandon all civilians, and you want to keep the chance of survival only for the so-called elites you speak of?"

Horn glanced at her, his face full of dismissive mockery: "Don't butt in here, child. This is not a level you can understand. The choices of a civilization are not for you to judge."

Before he could finish speaking.

Every light screen in the entire council hall instantly went black!

Ear-piercing red alarms blared frantically, their sharp sounds piercing through every warship, every colonial planet, and every corner where the live broadcast was still being watched. The entire universal communication frequency was instantly and forcibly taken over!

"Warning! The ark ship main control system has encountered an unknown intrusion!"

"Engine core forced lock! Unable to start!"

"Warp channel closed! Coordinates tampered with!"

"Highest security protocols have completely collapsed! All permissions lost!"

The technicians responsible for controlling the ark ship turned as pale as paper, their fingers tapping frantically on the consoles, yet they couldn't reclaim even a shred of permission. All systems were like iron boxes that had been completely locked tight; no matter how they operated them, there was no response at all.

Little Kate slowly raised her hand, her slender fingertip lightly tapping the void.

A pale blue data stream spread out from her body, traveling rapidly along the interstellar links, instantly breaking through all the Alliance's firewalls and encryption barriers, and taking over all public screens, all communicators, and all live broadcast equipment in the entire universe. Her small figure appeared clearly in every eye watching the broadcast, appearing before every person who was desperate, angry, confused, and helpless.

The child's face was tender and clean, but her eyes were as cold as ice that hadn't melted for ten thousand years, without the slightest hint of fear or retreat.

She looked at those high-and-mighty, sanctimonious decision-makers in the council hall, and at those elites who were prepared to abandon their compatriots and flee alone. Her voice was clear, firm, and possessed a power that tore through all hypocrisy, spreading across the entire starry sky word by word and sinking into the bottom of everyone's heart:

"You think you are elites, you think you are more noble, and you think you are entitled to stand on high and decide who lives and who dies."

"But what is the difference between you and the shadow of the end?"

"It is deleting the universe, deleting all the emotions and memories it considers useless."

"You are abandoning your compatriots, abandoning all the people you consider weak and useless."

"It is calculating the redundant data of the universe; you are calculating who should live and who should die in civilization."

"You are just as cold, just as selfish, and just as much killing people at will according to your own rules."

She paused slightly, her pitch-black eyes sweeping across every panicked and pale face. Her voice suddenly rose, carrying an unquestionable determination, like a knife ruthlessly nailed into everyone's heart:

"If we die, we die together."

"If you want to run, none of you will escape."

The entire council hall instantly fell into a dead silence. Everyone froze in place, their minds going blank. No one could believe that a seemingly non-threatening, unremarkable child could actually hack through the Alliance's highest-level defense system in an instant and lock down three super ark ships built with countless resources, turning their carefully planned escape plan, which they thought was foolproof, into a total joke.

Horn was so angry that he shook all over, pointing at the light screen and screaming incessantly, his voice sharp and pathetic: "You're crazy! You're destroying the entire human civilization! You'll make everyone die here!"

"I'm not destroying civilization; I'm just defending its final bottom line." Little Kate sneered, her eyes showing not the slightest wavering. "I won't let you use the name of civilization to act as the most cowardly deserters."

In the global live broadcast, long-suppressed anger exploded instantly. The roars of civilians, the bellows of soldiers, and the cries of the common people converged into a surging wave that ruthlessly battered this already decayed hall of power. The people of the Escape Faction turned pale, unable to utter another word of defense, while the warriors of the Resistance Faction straightened their backs, the light of hope reigniting in their eyes.

A man who had been standing silently at the very front of the Resistance Faction slowly took a step forward.

He was once the core leader of the Anti-Emotion Alliance, who had spent his life believing that emotions were a burden to civilization and an obstacle to progress. He was the most cold, rational, and impersonal decision-maker in the Alliance. But at this moment, as he looked at that small figure on the light screen and saw the fire in her eyes that refused to be extinguished or yield, a look of complete wavering and relief appeared on his aged and rigid face for the first time.

He slowly took off the badge on his chest that symbolized power and stance, placed it gently on the table, and then bowed deeply toward Little Kate in the global live broadcast.

This bow was for a child's courage.

This bow was for the power of emotion that he had denied his entire life.

"I once denied emotion, denied all warmth and bonds," his voice was low and clear, spreading to every corner through the broadcast. "I believed it was a weakness, a burden, and an obstacle that must be eliminated on the path of civilization's progress."

"But today, I have seen its true power."

"It is not weakness, not escape, not a selfish struggle for survival. It is the persistence of refusing to abandon anyone even in a desperate situation; it is the courage to still choose to stand up and protect, even knowing that the road ahead is death."

He straightened up, his gaze turning toward everyone in the council hall who advocated for flight. His voice suddenly became stern and firm, carrying an unquestionable authority: "The Ark Project is hereby cancelled. From now on, anyone who dares to mention abandoning compatriots or fleeing alone will be treated as a traitor. All fleets of the Alliance, enter the highest state of combat readiness and prepare to fight the shadow of the end!"

The Escape Faction was completely silenced, with no one daring to speak up in rebuttal.

The banner of the Resistance Faction was raised high once again amidst the boundless despair.

On the bridge of the star, everyone looked at the light screen, unable to speak for a long time. Kate looked at that small figure, a trace of a soft smile appearing in her eyes for the first time; that was her fragment, her shadow, and her soul hidden in her heart that refused to yield to any darkness. Franklin let out a long sigh of relief, his aged face showing the first truly relaxed smile in days as he nodded repeatedly: "This child has more guts and more backbone than all of us." Lin Fan's mouth curled up slightly, and the restless golden light stream on his left arm gradually settled down, as if soothed of all unease and frenzy by this sudden courage. Zero raised its head, its pale blue optical lens blinking slightly as it looked toward Little Kate. It didn't speak, but in its heart, it silently recorded the temperature of this moment.

The crisis seemed temporarily resolved. The Alliance had reunited, and the will to resist had been ignited once more. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they had finally defended the final bottom line.

But in the very next second.

In the entire universe, on all frequencies, all screens, all communicators, and every device capable of transmitting sound.

Without any warning, a voice rang out.

It had no emotion, no fluctuation, no warmth, no roar, and no threat. Like the most fundamental rule of the universe, it was cold, empty, and calm, yet it directly pierced through everyone's soul and was etched into the bottom of everyone's heart.

That was the voice of the shadow of the end.

It was as calm as a casual reminder, slowly broadcasting to the entire universe:

"Escape."

"All of you can live."

"I have no interest in cleaning irrelevant redundant data."

A brief pause, like the finger of the God of Death, lightly brushed across everyone's throat.

In the entire universe, all sounds, all clamor, and all breathing vanished at this moment.

The voice of the shadow of the end rang out again, clear, calm, and with a certainty that made everyone's skin crawl, echoing through the starry sky word by word:

"My target is only her."

The next second.

On all screens across the universe, the image was instantly and forcibly switched.

There was no starry sky, no fleet, no council hall, and no human figures.

There was only a face.

A face that was pale and cold, with weariness in the eyes, yet with a spine that was always straight and incomparably firm.

—Kate.

The gaze of the entire universe was locked onto her at this moment.

What the shadow of the end was looking for was never the Light Sphere Race, not the Alliance, not any civilization, and not any planet.

From beginning to end, across the star rivers and through the darkness, its target was only her.

Outside the porthole, the pitch-blackness in the depths of deep space squirmed slightly.

It was as if it were smiling.

As if it had finally found the prey it had been waiting for for billions of years.