Sovereign of the Karmic System

Under the woman's command, the army of cultivators erupted with roars of righteous fury. Their collective immortal essence surged outward, swiftly marking and taking control of every shard of space, fragment of ice, and speck of dust around them. But despite the speed of their preparations, their enemies moved even faster. Hypersonic bullets sliced through their individual domains in an instant, leaving only a trail of yellowish light before tearing through bodies, equipment, and elemental constructs alike. By the time the strongest cultivators finally assessed the strength of their opponent's weaponry and issued orders to assume defensive positions, the hellfire raining down upon them had already claimed a tenth of their forces. "It must be the first time they've encountered a civilization this advanced," Der muttered, shaking his head in disapproval. As a warlord himself, how could he not see the mistakes the cultivators were making? In his eyes, they'd become so accustomed to their bubble of power that they had begun to think of themselves as gods. But when someone came along with a needle to burst their delusions, they had no idea how to respond. Still, despite his current position being more akin to that of the leader of the advanced army than a low-level immortal cultivator, he instinctively found himself rooting for the latter. After all, these were the ones with their backs turned to their home planet—a world where their families likely lived, and to which they might never return. Der wasn't the only one observing the space battle with interest. Ian, who had known conflict only through second-hand accounts from veteran warriors in their group, watched the spectacle in awe. Every plasma ray, every rift in space, every collapsing ship and terrifying construct of spiritual essence—none of it compared to the magnitude of power wielded by Xargy, Ligart, Wolfe, and Aeron. But the sheer scale of the conflict before him made it a much more captivating sight. As the battle raged on, the cultivators slowly adapted to the pattern of their enemies' strange weapons. They realized they were facing plasma attacks—strikes not unlike the lightning they knew, while their ships were made of light alloys. Soon enough, the most observant commanders barked out orders, shifting their men's efforts in more worthwhile attempts. Experts in the essences of water and earth took charge of the defense, and after a few tense minutes, the cultivators began their counteroffensive. The vanguard was formed by small teams of spiritualists specializing in metal and lightning essence, sent through short-distance rifts like a swarm of locusts raiding a field of grain. The strategies of the advanced civilization, skilled in intergalactic warfare but unfamiliar with dealing with cultivators, began to unravel. Their ships fell apart or lost power the moment a small group of cultivators emerged nearby. Worse still, size didn't matter—a nimble fighter jet would fall as easily as a massive crusader-class vessel, leaving their pilots and marines exposed to the harshness of open space. With their fleet in disarray, the remaining cultivators abandoned their defensive positions. Coordinated strikes unleashed their full might, devastating the enemy. What wasn't melted by columns of fire was torn apart by swords and ice shards, and what didn't explode was crushed into lumps of metal by the pressure of millions of tons of rock. To add to the confusion, the minds of some enemy pilots were overtaken by skilled mental cultivators, causing them to fire on their own allies without permission from their commanders. After several long minutes of incessant assaults, the intergalactic army had lost its structure. With the fleet now in chaos, the remaining cultivators rushed to support their vanguard, ending a battle that had seemed hopeless just minutes earlier. "They pulled through in the end," Daniel muttered quietly, disappointment thinly veiled in his voice. "You don't seem pleased," Aeron observed, clearly aware of his companion's mood. Daniel shrugged. "As we've established, we're stuck in a temporal trap. This means either this event hasn't happened yet, and the white lightning will stop any interference, or it's already happened, in which case interfering is pointless. So I thought I might as well conduct some tests.." His words were drowned out by the jubilant cheers of the cultivators' army, who celebrated their harshly-earned victory and narrowly escaped disaster—But the celebration was short-lived. "You might have that chance yet," Der said, his gaze turning to a distant point in space where beams of light dashed across the void at faster-than-light speed. When they stopped, new ships took their places—one, then another, and another. Seconds were enough to summon hundreds, and in a minute, an army far superior to the one just defeated had assembled.. with far more beams incoming. The cheer of the cultivators fell into stunned silence, then despair. In the span of five minutes, an armada ten times the size of Der's own had appeared. Not just a few freighters, but thousands of them, accompanied by countless battle cruisers and dreadnoughts—enough warships to obliterate not only the cultivators' relatively small army, but the planet they defended as well. The sheer size of the incoming fleet shattered the cultivators' high spirits. Their jubilant cheers turned to dry gasps, and their first thoughts weren't how to fight off this second wave, but whether they would survive at all. The answer naturally came when one of the battlecruisers turned its bow toward the planet. In eerie silence, the gun mounted on the ship's bow hummed to life with a low-frequency vibration, sending tremors through the ship's frame. Brilliant arcs of blue energy shot from its core, lighting up the darkness as it began to charge. The glow grew steadily stronger, and the charging process created a crackling sound, like an animal preparing to strike. The air shimmered with power and heat. The surrounding space seemed to warp under the immense energy being harnessed, while the ship's shields flickered under strain as the weapon continued charging. Feeling the immense power of the ship, the cultivators lost all hope for survival. Their hearts growing heavy with guilt and shame as the final surges of power charged the core, signaling the imminent annihilation of everything in its path. But just before the weapon could unleash its devastating attack, a beam of golden light sliced through space, striking the heart of the ship's weapon, detonating it's attack before it could be unleashed. Unable to witness the magnitude of the explosion, Der and Roley were only able to briefly turn their dumbfounded gazes towards Daniel before the obliterating white power struck again. Their senses trembling at the presence of a power they hadn't thought him capable of—the power of Karma. Once again, the obliterating lightning struck Daniel, turning his physical body into a cloud of sparse ashes that drifted into space. But as Aeron began chanting in an ancient tongue, the cloud began to condense. Slowly, Daniel's body took shape again—pale pink bones, bundles of muscles, intricate veins, and soft skin slowly regrew. When his eyes opened once more, the battle was still ongoing, showing the cultivators' initial struggles against the tech-centered fleet. But what caught his attention were the gazes of his two companions, locked onto him, their intensity boring holes into his bare skin. "I thought your power couldn't survive in this place," Roley said, disbelief in his voice. Daniel smiled, the healthy red of his lips curving upward. "I thought so too," he said with a shrug, his gaze drifting back to the battle. For the first time since witnessing the power Der and Roley wielded, his heart raced with excitement. As always, the events repeated themselves with perfect precision. The cultivators adapted to the fleet's tactics, organizing a counteroffensive. *Dum dum* Aeron's eyes narrowed, observing the aspect of karma. The spiritualists among the cultivators once again proved crucial, breaking down enemy ships and their electric controls in swift, fluid movements, before shifting through space with mastery. Daniel's hands and knees began to tremble. His heartbeat quickened. His breath caught the attention of his companions, who looked at him in confusion. The sound of cheers echoed across space, carried on the waves of sound essence, but then fell to silence. Beams of light shot toward them like a meteor shower, each transforming into colossal metallic constructs of unimaginable power. Then another beam, and another—until the number went beyond counting. Without a word, Daniel stepped forward, eager to see what would come next. As before, the incoming fleet took advantage of the cultivators' stupor to prepare a devastating strike. The main ship turned toward the planet, and with all its power, prepared to unleash an attack of cataclysmic proportions. The ship's beams crackled with blue arcs, coalescing into an orb of pure energy. The surrounding space trembled, on the brink of shattering—and then it happened. A beam of golden light cut through space, plunging into the orb. When it struck the orb of pure energy, there was no explosion—only a flash of radiation bright enough to outshine nearby galaxies. Plasma waves shot out in every direction, swirling and expanding into nebulae of debris, annihilating half of the fleet. Daniel smiled with pure satisfaction, while the cultivators were at a loss. They couldn't understand the nature of karma, but they could feel an incomprehensible power disrupting the enemy's attack, causing it to collapse on itself. Der and the others stared at Daniel in shock. Their expectations of an incoming obliterating attack were dashed—but the attack had been repeated, nonetheless. When Der and Roley turned to face Daniel, they saw him standing still, grinning with malicious satisfaction. "What have you done?" Roley muttered in disbelief. An eerie giggle bubbled in Daniel's throat as he spoke, almost maniacally, "I have struck across ages... and altered the fabric of time."