The Core: The Dark Enemy

29. The touch of death

With a surge of dark energy, I broke free from the bonds of restraint and morality that had once held me back. The transformation was complete - what remained was an unstoppable being fueled by vengeance and a desire to end the tyranny of the U'lennea.

The universe had taught me many things, but perhaps the most damning lesson was that mercy, in the wrong hands, could be a weapon. I'd always believed in restraint, in the idea that power must be tempered by the laws and structures of society—that even the vilest beings deserved a chance to face their judgment before those deemed worthy to decide their fate. But what had that ever accomplished? How many lives had been shattered because someone "in power" allowed evil to breathe another day, thinking it wasn't their place to be their executioner?

No more.

I'd seen too much, endured too much to keep playing the role of a savior who only delayed the inevitable. Every time someone spared the wicked, every time someone handed them over to a broken system, they'd return stronger, more determined, more destructive. Their evil was a disease, festering, spreading, infecting the innocent—leaving a trail of pain and suffering in its wake. And I was done being part of that cycle.

I wouldn't be their Superman anymore, the one who swooped in to save the day only to step aside and watch as the monsters caught slipped through society's fingers. No, I would be the cure, the end of their existence, the eraser of their malignancy.

The world had its rules, its laws, its appointed judges to uphold them. But I had seen the truth: the system wasn't enough. It couldn't be. To let evil live was to allow it another chance to corrupt, to destroy, to thrive on the suffering of others. I wouldn't stand by and watch it happen anymore.

If the universe wanted someone to be its final arbiter, to cut away the cancer and leave space for new growth, then I would take on that mantle. No more letting evil slip away, no more hesitation in the face of darkness. I'd become the sword, cutting through the lies of justice as society saw it. I'd make a way for people to live without fear, without the constant threat of those who preyed on the weak.

I wasn't a hero anymore. I was a reckoning. And the universe would know what it meant to face true justice.

The corridors of the U'lennea dreadnought no longer posed a challenge. What had once been a maze of defenses and traps was now laid bare before me. I ascended, the darkness wrapping around me, a tangible extension of my will. My mastery over Depletion, the core concept of Loss, was absolute. Each action was purposeful, informed by the map my swarm had constructed. I wasn't just navigating the ship—I was dismantling it from within.

This ship of torture would be gutted.

I only had a little bit of swarm left in my command at the moment. I could feel more returning from their mission of delivering the escape pod to safety, having not been needed once the dreadnoughts gave up their bombardment and pursuit, but it didn't matter to me. The few that remained were more than sufficient to propel me forward and carve out voids of Depletion wherever necessary.

I left the experimentation lab, but not before unleashing dozens of my swarm to cleanse the room. It was an erasure—small motes of darkness consuming everything in their path. It must have seemed impossible, these tiny fragments of void sweeping along the walls, like miniature black holes, erasing whatever they touched from existence. The spiked tentacles vanished, along with segments of the walls, exposing hidden containers and tubes underneath. The entire ship was a repository of suffering, a breeding ground for viruses and weapons of torment. Depletion erased it all.

As I moved deeper into the ship, the grotesque remnants of tortured beings littered the hallways, each one a testament to the U'lennea's cruelty. The sight could only mean one of two things: either death was inevitable once someone was unplugged from the tentacles, or the U'lennea were doing this deliberately, testing me, waiting to see what I would do next. The Skii I had encountered earlier, now even more twisted and broken, dragged itself toward me, its malformed body unwilling or unable to find the escape it so desperately needed.