Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1668: Leviathan

BAAAAAAANG!

BAAAAAAAAAAANG!

The sound of the blows grew louder and heavier with every echo—no, It was pounding, deliberate and furious, like the hammering of some forgotten god upon the door of the universe itself. Each strike carried the weight of a world, a sound that tore through the silence of the void and made every living being shiver to the core of their souls.

”Fall back!” Fargus’s thunderous roar shattered through the comms and the emptiness alike, his voice shaking the battlefield as if the heavens themselves had spoken. Friend and foe heard him in equal measure—there was no side anymore, only survival.

”Retreat! Retreat now, damn it!!” the colossal bull bellowed, his tone trembling with a kind of fear that no warrior had ever heard from him before. For the first time in countless battles, the two marshals—eternal rivals—spoke as one.

That single, unified command froze the stars themselves.

Every warship ceased fire at once, their blazing cannons going dark as panic seized the crews. Orders were shouted, alarms blared, and the silence of hesitation turned into chaos. The engineers ran through narrow corridors, bootsteps echoing as they powered the engines, desperate to flee.

No one knew where to go. No one even asked. No coordinates were given, no explanation offered. But the pounding—those deep, resonating strikes—told them everything they needed to know. Something ancient and colossal was coming, and staying here meant death beyond imagination.

”No, no, no...!!” The Nexus Stats from both sides screamed, their composure shattered. These were beings who had faced cosmic storms and reality fractures, yet now they abandoned their duels, scattering like frightened insects through the stars.

”Big brother Sakaar, what’s happening? Why is everyone—”

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!

CRAAAAAAACK!CRAAAAAAACK!

The colossal fissure that had already scarred the void began to widen at a horrifying pace. The cracks raced outward like veins of light through glass, devouring the surrounding darkness until it seemed space itself was being torn apart.

Then, something moved inside.

From beyond the shimmering wound in reality, shapes began to emerge—an endless row of metallic mountains, their sharp peaks glinting like blades forged from the core of dead stars. They stood side by side in an unnaturally perfect line.

”...?!” Sakaar stepped backward—not with haste, but with the hesitation of one who had forgotten the meaning of fear itself. His instincts screamed, but his mind couldn’t comprehend.

No... when he extended his soul sense farther, deeper into the rift, he saw another line of those metallic mountains—but these had their jagged tips pointing downward, mirroring the first.

A dreadful realization dawned.

That shape... that pattern... that alignment...

Teeth?!

”Oh...” Sakaar whispered, his body gone cold, his voice hollow. He stopped retreating entirely, like a man staring at the face of a god.

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

With one final thunderous break, the rift split open completely.

And then...

Something came through.

Awooooooooooooooooooooom!

The sound was not just heard—it was felt. The vibration coursed through flesh, steel, and starlight alike. A massive head, pitch-black and abyssal, pushed its way out from the rupture—so enormous that it dwarfed entire moons. Its eyes, two colossal orbs the size of oceans on Verilion, gleamed with ancient hunger. Within each, continents of light swam like drifting islands in a boundless, nightmarish sea.

The very moment that monstrous head breached the rift, the cosmos convulsed. Space shivered like fabric in a storm, making movement almost impossible. Only a handful of ships—those whose captains had reacted in pure instinct—escaped at full thrust, vanishing into streaks of light. The rest... remained, paralyzed by terror. Traveling through this warped, shaking void was no longer possible.

”No...” Fargus whispered, his voice low, heavy with despair. His gaze swept across the frozen fleets of the Empire. Thousands of ships still anchored, trapped in fear. He could flee—but to leave them behind was unthinkable.

Whoooosh! The great bull’s form shimmered and collapsed, his titanic body shrinking into his semi-human shape. Even he dared not stay large; even he feared drawing the gaze of that thing.

”That... that’s a Space Beast!!”

The Marshal of the Allied Forces screamed in sheer terror, his voice cracking as he prepared to flee.

”Wait!!” Fargus’s shout tore through the comms. ”You’re abandoning all your men here?! You command three hundred and fifty fleets under your name!”

”...Arghhhh!!” The other marshal froze, sweat running down his temples. He knew—if he returned to Zaryon empty-handed, without ships, without victory—he’d be executed without a word. Yet what choice did he have? What mortal could stand against that?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawooooooooooooooooooooooooom!!

The Beast’s massive form surged out faster, its endless body flowing from the rift like a serpent of the void. Despite its terrifying speed, it still took several long, agonizing minutes for the entire creature to emerge.

And then... silence.

Pure, suffocating silence.

Those who had moments ago been locked in battles for life and death now stood frozen, their weapons useless, their courage gone. Some even forgot they existed.

The Space Beast was shaped like a whale—an impossible, cosmic leviathan stretching thousands upon thousands of kilometers long. Its maw could swallow planets whole. Its fins could slice the heavens in two. Its long, shadowed beard shimmered with fragments of starlight, as if it carried galaxies tangled within it.

”Ooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh—”

It released a bellow so deep and resonant that it rippled through time itself, a sound of joy and release—of freedom.

”......”

No one spoke. No one moved.

Not a single shot was fired. Not a curse, not a cry.

Even the smallest noise felt sacrilegious in that moment.

Not even a whisper, not even a breath... not even the faintest fart dared escape.

Hoooooooooooooooooo~

The Space Beast circled Verilion in one immense sweep, its colossal shadow blanketing the planet and its orbiting fleets. Even this single motion sent tidal waves rippling through the fragile space around Verilion, distorting light and gravity alike.

The countless armies —tens of millions strong— felt utterly insignificant, like plankton adrift in an endless cosmic sea. Soldiers who once stood tall in defiance now felt like insects, powerless. They could neither defend nor retreat. Their battles, their empires, their weapons—all of it seemed laughably small.

Even far below, on the planet’s surface, Helga and the others lifted their gazes skyward, paralyzed by a terror so primal that most of them collapsed onto their knees, trembling before that moving mountain of flesh and starlight.

”....”

Fargus and the Marshal of the Allied Forces exchanged a long, wordless look. It wasn’t friendship nor understanding—only instinct. A silent agreement that in this moment, neither should speak, neither should act recklessly. Both of them stood suspended in the void, watching the Beast’s grand, deliberate motion.

But then... something changed.

Their expressions began to twist—uneasy, uncertain.

At first, the creature had looked joyous, almost playful in its newfound freedom, gliding through the stars as though celebrating release from eons of confinement. But soon, its immense body began to slow. That colossal eye—bright as a dying sun—shifted downward, scanning the world beneath it with deliberate curiosity.

A vast planet... countless moving specks...

A vast planet... countless crawling insects...

A vast planet... countless living insects...

The Beast’s gaze lingered. Its pupil contracted sharply, and an ominous stillness filled the void.

Then came the low, dreadful rumble of its voice, muffled and ancient—

”Oooooooooooohhhhhh—”

In the next instant, it turned violently, angling its massive body downward. The vacuum of space screamed as it descended, its enormous maw yawning open wide enough to swallow planets awhole.

”Not while I still breathe!!”

Fargus’s roar shook the comms, raw fury ripping from his chest. His soul force surged like a supernova as he drew his arm back, every muscle in his body tensing, the air around him bending under the weight of his intent. Then—he struck.

Kwoooooooooook!

The void in front of Fargus compressed, light itself bending inward as if dragged by an unseen gravity well.

THWAAAAAAAAAAACK!

The punch landed squarely on the Beast’s right cheek. The blow was colossal—a burst of power so dense that the stars around them flickered out for a heartbeat. The creature recoiled with a guttural groan, twisting sideways as the impact hurled its titanic mass off course. ”Oooooooooooh—!!”

Its new trajectory sent it crashing straight through the midst of the warring fleets.

BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!

Every movement of its body was a disaster; the shockwaves shattered formations, tore hulls, and shredded defenses. Hundreds of ships—entire squadrons—were caught between its massive jaws and disappeared into the darkness of its mouth, devoured in an instant. Many more slammed into its black, scaled body and erupted into burning fragments, filling the void with debris and screams that faded into static.

”No!!” The Allied Forces Marshal cried, his voice breaking with despair. His chest heaved as he watched entire fleets—the pride of his command—reduced to sparks against the creature’s hide.

”Oooooooh!!!”

Once the beast slowed again, it pivoted in a wide, terrifying arc. It turned to face Verilion once more, its enormous eye burning brighter, its movements sharper. It wasn’t done. The beast had chosen its prey, and its wrath was growing. This time, there would be no mere curiosity—only hunger and rage.

”Damn it... where did this nightmare come from?!”

Fargus blasted forward like a comet, streaking toward the far side of Verilion, trails of light spiraling behind him. But just before reaching the other side—he paused. His instincts screamed. He turned sharply, looking back toward the man who had been his mortal enemy mere minutes ago, the one he’d sworn to destroy.

”Brontor!” he roared, his voice slicing through the battlefield. ”Are you just going to stand there and watch?!”

The Allied Forces Marshal—Brontor—flinched, his mind torn. For a moment, his usual cold smirk faltered. His reply came sharp and bitter:

”...You want me to protect Verilion for you? I’m here to destroy it!!”

”Then drag that monster away and protect your own damn fleets!” Fargus shouted back, fury laced with reason. ”After that, you can destroy Verilion all you like!” He turned his back, energy flaring around him like a storm. ”But if you won’t help—don’t blame me when I drive the Space Beast straight into your lines!!”

SWOOOOOOOOOSH!

With that, Fargus vanished in a burst of motion, streaking toward the Beast’s flank.

”...!?” Brontor’s eyes widened, his face twisting between rage and disbelief.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated—then cursed loudly, ”Damn it alllllllll!!”

And with a blinding flash, he too launched forward, joining the impossible battle against the monster that threatened to devour them all.