IBHJ 1368

Getting around space wasn't the problem. Sure, Shirou's human body would freeze and cook simultaneously out there, but his mud form could handle cosmic radiation and the absolute cold just fine. Same with his Emperor transformation.

The problem was everything else.

Space was too big. Too empty. Too quiet.

Flying through it felt like diving into an ocean trench where the only light came from distant stars that might've died a million years ago. Shirou had grown up with constant noise—traffic, conversations, the hum of electronics. Out here, the silence pressed against him like a physical weight.

He could manage it for short trips, but weeks, months, or years of that endless black? His mind would snap long before his magical energy ran out.

That's why Gaia's offer of starship transport actually mattered. Sometimes the practical solution beat the heroic one.

Cosmic Alaya guided him away from Earth, past the orbital debris fields, toward a structure that made the planet look like a marble. The stellar base clung to space near the Sun, all gleaming metal and geometric.

Energy acquisition, detection, production. The same pattern humanity would probably use thousands of years from now when they finally reached the stars. Assuming they made it that far.

Shirou followed Alaya's directions to the base's lower hull. The docking area opened up into something that shouldn't have been possible—a folded space that stretched out like an aircraft hangar the size of a city. Massive interstellar ships sat in neat rows, each one being fed streams of True Ether from thick umbilical cables.

[Three vessels have completed fueling and are ready for departure. Please proceed to launch bay seven, Mr. Shirou.]

The launch port buzzed with activity as they ran final checks, while True Ether flowed directly from the Greater Source into the ships’ cores. The three vessels looked identical—silver-white hulls that caught the artificial lighting like mirrors, their cargo bays yawning open to receive the last of their energy supplies.

"Eh, Shirou?"

The telepathic voice made him pause. He glanced around the launch bay but didn't see anyone familiar.

"Down here—well, sort of."

Snowflake particles swirled together in front of him, sketching out a human silhouette that looked suspiciously like Mordred. The glowing figure solidified just enough to be recognizable.

"Tethys?" he blinked. "What are you doing here? Thought you were busy playing god with evolutionary trees."

"Hey, I prefer 'advancing biological science,'" she said, sounding offended. "And I'm here on business." She gestured toward the cargo loading area. "Those are my Origin Trees going into storage. Can't exactly leave them unattended while I'm gone."

Right. He'd almost forgotten she wasn't just conducting research—she was building weapons. Living, breathing, planet-killing weapons.

"Speaking of which," Tethys tilted her glowing head, "weren't you supposed to be checking out some Vortex Gate thing with Gaia? How'd you end up at the departure lounge?"

Something about that question nagged at him. Origin Gaia and the other Origin beings shared information constantly, like nodes in the same network. But Tethys seemed genuinely confused about his presence here.

Either Gaia was compartmentalizing information, or something else was going on.

"Change of plans," he said. "I'm heading to the frontier."

"The front lines?" Tethys's form flickered with what looked like surprise. "Shirou, that place is a meat grinder. Even for someone like you."

"That's exactly why I need to go."

She groaned, a sound that came through telepathically as static. "Let me guess—Lord of Salvation business again? You're like a dog with a bone about that thing."

"It's why I'm here." Shirou's smile turned grim. "Can't solve a problem by avoiding it."

"Fine, you win." Tethys threw up her hands in defeat. "If Gaia signed off on this insanity, who am I to argue? So which ship are you taking?"

"Haven't decided yet. Do you have any recommendations?"

"That one." She pointed to the middle vessel. "We built her back in the late Material Age. Technically obsolete now, but she's still got teeth. More importantly, her wormhole drives are bulletproof. If things go sideways out there, you'll want reliable FTL."

"Good to know." he nodded. "Thanks, Tethys."

"Don't thank me yet." Her glowing form turned serious, the playful edge dropping from her voice completely. "Shirou, listen to me. If you run into the Golden Emperor—and I mean if, not when—don't you dare try to fight him. I don't care how powerful you think you are. Just run. Promise me."

The intensity in her telepathic voice made him pause. "I promise."

"Good." She seemed to relax slightly. "Anyway, my trees are loaded. Try not to get yourself killed out there, yeah?"

After Tethys's form dispersed, Shirou walked toward the designated starship. The cargo bay doors were already sealing, final checks running on the displays.

"Alaya," he said quietly, "just how dangerous is the Golden Emperor?"

[Dangerous doesn't begin to cover it.] Alaya's response came back flat and grim. [That thing makes Transcendents nervous. That should tell you everything you need to know.]

"Could you take him? At full strength?"

[I could force a retreat, maybe buy time to evacuate a solar system. But actually destroy him… I'm sorry, Mr. Shirou. Some things are beyond even my capabilities.]

"Understood."

The conversation left Shirou with a clearer picture of what he was walking into. The Golden Emperor wasn't just another enemy—he was something that made cosmic gods nervous. When beings like Alaya admitted they couldn't win, that said everything.

He climbed aboard the designated starship and made his way to the bridge. The cockpit stretched out before him, all sleek curves and softly glowing interfaces. At the center sat what could only be the pilot's throne.

The moment he settled into the seat, the ship came alive.

Light bloomed around him like gentle starfire. Systems hummed to life with musical tones that seemed almost organic.

[True Ether reserves at maximum capacity. All systems nominal. Initiating launch sequence.]

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Then the light gathered, swirling into a shape that made Shirou's breath catch.

A child appeared before him—maybe six or seven years old, with silver hair that seemed to hold its own inner light. Her eyes flickered with strange X-shaped patterns.

"Tiamat?" The name slipped out before he could stop it.

"I am the Solar System Sequence Navigation Intelligence," she said, her voice carrying an odd mix of innocence. "Network synchronization with Alaya complete. Launch window opens in sixty seconds. Please secure yourself, Master."

Shirou gripped the throne's armrests. The similarity to Tiamat was unsettling, but he pushed the questions aside. Time for answers later.

"Sixty seconds to launch." The child's voice remained perfectly calm. "Thirty. Fifteen. Ten, nine, eight..."

"Three, two, one. Launch initiated."

The universe tilted.

G-forces that should have liquefied him pressed against the Emperor form he'd shifted into just in time. Through the viewports, the stellar base fell away like a discarded toy. Then space itself seemed to tear open ahead of them, revealing a tunnel of writhing energy.

The wormhole swallowed them whole.