Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Chapter 271 Human civil war. {4}

Krilthea remained silent for several long seconds, her massive form looming in the void like a shadow cast by a dying star. Then, slowly, she spoke, her telepathic voice carrying the weight of millennia.

"What… is… a human?"

Her words were slow and deliberate, as if she were digging through the vast archives of her ancient memory. She had fought countless species, crushed empires, and devoured civilizations, yet the name carried no weight.

Syrixith, on the other hand, let out a light chuckle, her tone laced with mild amusement.

"Aren't those one of the slave races?" She mused, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. "I vaguely remember them being pathetically weak… useless, even as laborers. Did you really end up mating with a human, Xytri?"

There was no mockery in her words, just pure, intrigued disbelief.

Xytrallia let out a soft giggle, her green eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Yes. Though I believe he is human, his genetic structure is… strange. His DNA carried the traits of three separate species," she said, her mind drifting back to the moment she first kissed him, the moment she tasted his genetic imprint and unraveled the mystery within.

Syrixith's curiosity sharpened, her telepathic presence leaning in with palpable interest.

"Three races?" Her voice turned more intrigued. "Then what were the other two?" Xytrallia's green eyes gleamed with amusement.

"One of them was the Kaelzars, and the—"

She never finished her sentence since Krilthea's aura detonated like a violent star going supernova. The void trembled under the sheer force of her fury.

"KAELZARS!"

Her telepathic voice shook the very fabric of space itself. Her massive flagship screeched, its energy surging wildly, its weapons priming as if ready to obliterate anything in sight. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

Her rage was absolute.

Her aura darkened and grew heavier with each passing second, the vast hatred within her threatening to spiral out of control. Xytrallia barely flinched, her green eyes narrowing as she faced the storm of Krilthea's wrath.

"Calm yourself, Krilthea," she said, her tone shifting from playful to commanding. "I know you hold a deep grudge against the Kaelzars. They killed your daughter, but I do not need to remind you of the destruction you wrought upon them in return." Her voice was steady, unyielding.

"You wiped them from existence...." Krilthea's aura continued to burn like a dying sun, her telepathic presence a maelstrom of fury and grief. Xytrallia pressed on, her words cutting through the chaos.

"And while it is true that my mate carries Kaelzar DNA, he was human before his genetic fusion. He has nothing to do with the sins of the past. Your rage is misplaced."

For several long moments, Krilthea remained frozen, the intensity of her hatred radiating through the void like a living force.

Then, ever so slowly, she exhaled.

"...I know."

Her aura, though still heavy, began to recede. Her flagship's energy stabilized. The storm of fury within her settled into a controlled inferno rather than a mindless blaze. Xytrallia smirked, her green eyes glinting with satisfaction.

Syrixith, sensing the tension breaking, seized the moment to change the subject.

"Well then!" Her voice regained its playful edge. "Have you chosen a battlefield for your youngborn's hatching?"

Xytrallia's smirk deepened.

"Oh? Already thinking ahead, are we?"

"But of course," Syrixith purred. "The first hatch of a Khryssari is critical. You know the law. The newborn emerges already in its adolescent stage, but its hunger will be unstoppable. It must feed immediately. If it cannot kill, it does not deserve to live."

She paused for dramatic effect.

"As a Hive Mind, surely you've already chosen a battlefield worthy of your offspring?" Xytrallia's voice took on a teasing edge.

"Oh, I have," she said while tilting her head slightly. "A perfect place with not too powerful enemies… but just enough prey to awaken my youngborn's instincts." Syrixith hummed in curiosity.

"Oh? And where might this battlefield be?"

Xytrallia smiled.

"Well…"

Meanwhile, on Nakor. The battlefield should have been a scene of carnage, a city overrun by fire and blood, yet an unsettling silence hung in the air as if something inside the Holy City was wrong.

General Jiro reclined lazily in his command vehicle, chewing on a piece of dried meat while scanning reports. The battle had been going too smoothly but his instincts, honed by years of warfare, whispered that something was off.

Suddenly, a frantic human officer sprinted toward him, his breath ragged, his face drenched in sweat. "General Jiro! Urgent report from the other generals!"

Jiro barely lifted an eyebrow. "What is it? Has the battle already ended?"

The officer swallowed hard, his voice shaky.

"N-no, sir. That's just it… the Holy City is empty."

Jiro's chewing slowed while he placed the remaining strip of dried meat between his fingers, his other hand stroking his beard in thought.

"Empty, you say?" The officer nodded vigorously.

Jiro remained silent for a moment. Then, gradually, a grin began to stretch across his face... a wide, wild grin.

And then he burst into laughter.

"HAHAHAHA! SO YOU'RE LIKE ME, SAINTESS!"

He roared with laughter, his body shaking with exhilaration as if he had just found his long-lost rival. Without another word, he bolted toward his command vehicle, kicking it into high gear and speeding away from the battlefield at full throttle.

Seconds later, the ground beneath the Holy City detonated.

Five titanic bombs, each designed to pulverize entire asteroids for deep-space mining, ignited simultaneously with a chain reaction of unimaginable destruction erupting through the city's foundation.

A wall of fire and metal surged skyward, engulfing entire districts in an instant.

The Holy City, once the heart of zealotry and faith, became a monument to devastation.

And amidst the chaos, Jiro's laughter echoed over the comms, his voice filled with pure, untamed exhilaration.

"WELL PLAYED, SAINTESS! WELL PLAYED!"

The moment the bombs erupted, the ground beneath the soldiers vanished in a deafening explosion, followed by a shockwave that ripped through the battlefield, shattering bodies, obliterating steel, and flinging debris high into the sky before it all came crashing down into the gaping crater left behind.

Thousands perished in an instant.The once-beautiful Holy City, revered and sacred, had become a graveyard of smoke and ruin. Dust choked the air, thick as a funeral shroud, and through the swirling haze, the survivors staggered, coughing, bleeding, disoriented.

That was when they heard it... screams... guttural, raw, that were cut short.

"NO! NO! HYYAAAA—!"

"SOMEON—!"

"THEY'RE—!"

Then came the gunfire, hundreds of shots ringing out in every direction, chaotic, desperate. But the generals, watching from afar, saw nothing. The dust cloaked the battlefield in shadows.... Only those inside the slaughter knew the truth. And the truth was a nightmare.

Out of the haze, they came... bare-chested with their faces hidden behind white raven masks while wielding axes dripping with blood. They moved like demons, unstoppable, frenzied, their bodies slick with sweat and blood. The cultists of the Holy City, sinners seeking redemption through carnage.

Their only rite of passage? To stain their white masks with the blood of the unholy. Only then would they earn the right to fight alongside the Zealots, the chosen warriors of the Saintess. After witnessing this, the soldiers panicked.

"SHOOT THEM! THEY'RE NOT EVEN WEARING ARMOR!" a lieutenant shouted out, rallying his men. "A SINGLE BULLET WILL SEND THEM TO THEIR FAKE GOD! FIRE!"

Bullets tore through the charging fanatics, but they didn't stop.A shot to the stomach? They kept running. A bullet to the leg? They crawled forward, clawing at the dirt, snarling like rabid beasts. Only a shot to the head could end them.

And in the chaos, with the dust blinding them, headshots were hard to land. The soldiers morale plummeted. Every time one of them faltered, a masked fanatic was already there with its axe swinging, carving flesh from bone.

Overseeing it all, far from the carnage, stood Paladin Seris. She watched the massacre unfold on a flickering monitor, her sharp eyes scanning the remaining numbers. The plan had worked. The enemy had been lured into the ruins of the Holy City, right where she wanted them.

Now, the second phase would begin. A crusader approached while saluting sharply. "Paladin, the enemy soldiers are regrouping in the kill zone. The cultists are falling faster now."

Seris exhaled slowly, with her eyes locked on the thermal imaging. Her expression remained cold and unshaken."Then it is time," she murmured. "Send in the Zealots. Have them form a defensive line. Deploy the field shields; we hold our ground against their artillery."

"Understood, Paladin. May the Lady in White protect us all," the crusader said before leaving."

"Phew... that was close." General Jiro exhaled while standing at a safe distance, watching the devastation unfold before him. Fires raged, smoke twisted into the sky, and the screams of dying soldiers still echoed through the ruined battlefield.

Did he care? Not in the slightest. Limbs and bodies, shattered or broken... all was expendable. The battlefield had always been a meat grinder, and today was no different. Jiro adjusted his communicator, clearing his throat before releying his orders.

"Attention, all generals! We're pulling back! The enemy has ambushed us, and we've suffered heavy casualties. We need to regroup with the main offensive force before we waste any more men here!"

Silence overwelmed the communication for a few minutes.

Then, a crackling voice cut through the static. "That's impossible, General Jiro! The main offensive force… they were ambushed too!"

Jiro's stomach dropped. "W-what!?" His voice came out hoarse, disbelief twisting his expression.

{That couldn't be right. They had the numbers, the strategy... how could the enemy be this coordinated?}