Intergalactic conquest with an AI

The words hit Yssera like a lightning strike. Her head snapped up, her multifaceted eyes wide with a mixture of shock and desperate, burgeoning hope. For so long, her stagnation had been a source of shame and frustration, a seemingly unbreakable barrier.

When Xytrallia saw the raw, vulnerable hope on her daughter's face, she turned away, presenting her back to Yssera. For the briefest moment, a slight, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, a rare crack in her regal composure.

But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, smoothed away into her usual mask of impassive authority.

"Tell me," Xytrallia's voice dropped, becoming more intent as she stared at a pulsating organic node on the far wall. "How much do you know about the Void Creatures?"

Once Yssera heard her mother's question, her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of intense concentration.

She closed her eyes, and a faint psychic hum filled the air as she connected her mind to the collective knowledge of the swarm units under her direct control, sifting through their rudimentary understanding and her own scattered studies.

"Not much, Mother," she finally admitted, her voice losing its childish lilt and becoming more serious. "So far, I only know that they are creatures that emerge from the dark, empty areas of the universe where no light is present... and that is all."

She stole a few hesitant glances at Xytrallia, her posture braced for a reprimand for her inadequate knowledge.

Instead of scolding, Xytrallia gave a slow, approving nod. "While your information is incomplete, what you said is correct. The Void life forms are defined by an absence, a profound emptiness. They yearn for the light, the heat, the very essence of life that they do not possess..." Her gaze grew distant, as if looking across time itself.

"And it is for that reason," she continued, "that from time to time, they mount massive raids into our galaxy, seeking to consume all that we are. While I do not know what transpires in other galaxies, I can surmise their fate is the same as ours."

Xytrallia glided towards one of the membrane-like organic windows of her throne room. The view outside was a testament to her power. As far as the eye could see, the void of space was teeming with the massive, chitinous forms of the Khrissary swarm.

And directly in the path of this living armada was the shattered remnant of a massive fleet belonging to one of the arrogant megacorps that had come to conquer the sector, only to be ambushed and consumed by her children.

She then turned, her imposing presence filling the room despite her smaller form. "There are always signs before the main Void fleets begin their invasion. The most telling of these is the appearance of their Vanguard, the Void Motherships."

"And one of my deepest spies has just located one." She moved to her colossal throne, a structure designed for her true, planet-sized body. Seating herself upon it, she looked like a solitary, regal ant upon a mountain.

"Why are you telling me all of this, Mother?" Yssera could no longer contain her curiosity, the question bursting forth.

Xytrallia looked down at her, her face an unreadable mask of chitin and cool authority. "Because within that mothership," she stated, her voice dropping to a resonant, serious tone, "there is a crystal that can catalyze your evolution and unlock the battle power you lack. When you consume it, it will resonate with the core of your being."

She paused, letting the significance hang in the air. "After all, the unique genetic essence I used to create you was harvested from a Tier 7 peak Void Creature that I spent immense effort to kill over five hundred years ago. The potential is within you, daughter. It is merely dormant, and this crystal is the key."

The two months following the dramatic confrontation at the mansion passed in a blur of preparation and, for Rex, a profound shift in focus. Then, a week ago, the most joyous event he had ever known arrived... the birth of his first child.

It had not been without its perils. Despite Cleo offering the safety of a medical suite and a painless operation, Nyra had refused; she remained adamant about bringing their child into the world naturally.

What none had anticipated was the unique nature of the baby, a fusion of a pure Blood Clan mother and a Silver Titan father.

The moment he was born, the infant's innate Titan physiology instinctively drew upon the nearest, most potent source of energy... Nyra's own lifeblood.

The sudden, dangerous drain had paled her in an instant, a moment of sheer terror. But Rex, who had remained a steadfast, unwavering presence throughout the entire labor, had acted without a heartbeat of hesitation.

Offering his own wrist, he let Nyra drink deeply from his potent Titan blood, the vital energy instantly countering the drain and stabilizing her, turning a potential tragedy into a mere moment of profound relief.

"How are you feeling?" Rex's voice was a soft rumble as he entered the serene recovery room. True to his disciplined nature, he had come directly after his morning training regimen, his massive frame still radiating heat and the faint, clean scent of sweat.

"Hey! I told you not to come here when you're so stinky!" Lyra, ever the fierce protector of her older sister, immediately launched herself at him, her small hands pressing against his rock-hard abdomen in a futile attempt to push the giant back out the door. It was a comical sight, like a hamster trying to dislodge a boulder.

"But... he's the father of my cute baby... I can't tell him to leave..." Nyra's voice was a shy, flustered whisper from the bed. She wanted to hide her blush, but her arms were occupied, cradling their newborn, who was contentedly breastfeeding.

Hearing those words, Lyra's pushing stopped. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at Rex's face. And there it was... the same insufferable, victorious smirk that had been taunting her for the past week.

"You heard her; move aside, midget." In one fluid motion, Rex scooped Lyra up and draped her over his shoulder as if she were a squirming sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Release me, you big dumbo dubo!" Lyra kicked and flailed, her protests echoing in the room, but as with every attempt before, it was utterly useless against his strength.

Rex paid her struggles no mind, taking a seat in the large chair beside Nyra's bed. He settled Lyra on his lap, and with his free hand, used his fingers to gently push her lips into a classic, pouting "angry fish" expression.

Witnessing this warmhearted, chaotic, and deeply calm moment, Nyra couldn't suppress a radiant, loving smile. "Rex... don't bully her too much..." she chided softly, carefully adjusting her gown now that the baby had fallen into a milky slumber. "She's about to cry..."

"Who's crying? I'm not!" Lyra insisted, her voice thick with the very sobs she was denying.

"Oh my... your aunt is sobbing, baby," Nyra cooed, leaning down to gently rub her nose against their son's tiny, peaceful face. "Don't be such a crybaby like your aunt when you grow up, okay?"

"Oh, you're right, she is sobbing," Rex agreed, his smirk softening into a genuine, tender smile.

With a surprising gentleness, he used his thumb to wipe away the little tears of frustration tracking down Lyra's cheeks, the simple action filled with a fond, familial affection that spoke of a bond forged in the fires of their shared experiences.

"Why are you two always bullying me!?" Lyra pouted, her arms crossed in a huff that was far more adorable than she intended.

The moment Rex saw her like that, his heart softened. He couldn't resist reaching out and ruffling her hair, his large hand completely enveloping her head. She batted at his arm with tiny, ineffective swats, but as always, her resistance was futile.

"So, how is the baby? Any change in his feeding?" Rex finally relented, pulling his hand back and turning his attention to the sleeping infant.

His gaze was a mixture of awe and trepidation. For all his world-shattering power, he hadn't yet dared to hold his son. Every time he'd gently poked the baby's cheek or hand, he was struck by how incredibly soft and fragile the little one felt, making him fear his own strength.

"The little glutton is still drinking both milk and blood, but he prefers the milk for now," Nyra reported, her voice a loving whisper as the baby's tiny hand instinctively closed around her finger in his sleep.

"It seems he's still too little to naturally convert blood into most of his nutrients. Isn't he just the cutest?"

"Of course he is," Rex said, his chest swelling with a pride that felt entirely new and profound. "He's my son, after all." He then shifted his focus, a glint of purpose returning to his eyes.

"Anyways, today I came to look for this little troublemaker." He pointed a thumb at Lyra, who was still trying to smooth down her hopelessly mussed hair.

"Mmm? Are you playing for two teams with the twins now?" Nyra asked, a mischievous, knowing smile playing on her lips as she referenced something totally different than what Rex intended.

Rex responded not with words, but by leaning over and gently knocking his knuckles against the top of her head in a soft, playful punch.

"I don't know what's going on in that little head of yours, but this is work-related." His tone was firm, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable. The peaceful interlude was over; the demands of his empire were calling.