Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

On the outer edge of the Milky Way, there is a group of star systems that have been flung out, with their accretion disks resembling a giant black vortex, slowly rotating around the center.

Countless tiny rock fragments and ice crystals collided with each other under the influence of gravity. This was a blank area on the star map, quite a distance from the edge of the galaxy. No civilization had marked a route here, and no ship dared to venture into it easily.

This is the pirate alliance's stronghold, a place shrouded in fear. A spaceship is slowly passing through, its surface covered with camouflage meteorite marks, making it look like a living, breathing stone creature.

Inside the cabin, an envoy sat upright in his chair, casually preening the feathers on his body. His gaze fell through the porthole onto the seemingly empty star field ahead, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Although invisible to the naked eye, countless red dots were flashing on the spaceship's detectors, like venomous insects lurking in the darkness. These were the Pirate Alliance's space minefield, a death zone created by nanotechnology lost by an unknown civilization.

These space mines are not large in size, but they have the ability to self-replicate. They can continuously absorb matter from the accretion disk to grow themselves, and when they reach a limit, they split into new individuals.

"Primitive and inefficient," the messenger disliked the design. This minefield, which relied on quantity and brute force, had no aesthetic appeal whatsoever. In his eyes, it was no different from the traps used by barbaric, unintelligent indigenous peoples to capture their prey.

Back then, the Pirate King found this special star system where the minefields were constantly multiplying, like a swarm of ants drifting on an accretion disk, and thus chose this place as his lair.

In retrospect, this crude and primitive defense has proven effective; over a long period of time, the minefields here have made it difficult for the fleet to break through.

The space station, located in the center of the minefield, resembles a giant octopus perched in the starry sky. Its exterior is completely devoid of any design, as if it were pieced together from countless abandoned ships, space station modules, and metal debris. Its surface is covered with messy pipes and antennas, making it look bulky and ugly.

The spaceship slowly passed through the minefield and entered the space station, where hundreds of pirate ships were randomly docked in the berthing area, their hulls covered with explosion marks and penetrating wounds.

Rough modifications were visible everywhere, with discarded parts and dried bloodstains scattered on the ground, and the air filled with the stench of engine oil and ozone.

The pirates, of various races, brandished their weapons and argued and haggled, like a night market nestled in a slum. The graffiti on the walls and the red curses against the giant corporations seemed somewhat vulgar and ridiculous to the messenger.

"These slaves are overpriced! Do you think I'm a fool?" a tall, crocodile-like creature roared, brandishing a chainsaw axe that clanged loudly. "What kind of scum did you sell me last time? If you try to fool me again, I'll chop you into pieces and feed you to the fish!"

"Hey, don't get excited!" the short creature opposite him said with a grin, toying with a collectible dagger that gleamed coldly in his hand. "This batch is guaranteed to be top-notch, all stolen from the Boros Foundation. You definitely won't regret buying it! I guarantee it!"

Just then, a series of orderly footsteps sounded, and the once noisy anchorage fell silent instantly. The arrogance and greed on the pirates' faces were replaced by fear. They all bowed their heads, took off their hats, and pressed them to their chests, even their breathing became cautious.

The messenger looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of soldiers wearing bright red power armor striding towards them. The color of their armor was like congealed blood, their shoulder armor was raised, and the skull insignia on it was particularly eye-catching. Their arms were equipped with sharp claw blades, and their whole bodies exuded a strong aura of killing intent.

This is the Pirate King's Royal Guard Executioners, a group of butchers with blood on their hands. At the Pirate King's command, they can slaughter any creature without hesitation, including other pirates and even their own comrades.

The pirates dared not meet the eyes of the firing squad members, as if annihilation was imminent. One pirate, with his back to the gate and his attention focused on the firing squad, slightly blocked the envoy's path.

A firing squad soldier appeared in front of him instantly, the claws on his power armor arm piercing his chest. The pirate didn't even have time to scream before collapsing into a pool of blood. The other pirates ignored it, as if it were just a trivial matter.

"Your Excellency, the King is waiting," the captain of the execution squad said as he approached the messenger, his voice as rigid as a machine.

The envoy nodded slightly, without looking up at the captain, and strode forward, with his guards and firing squad following closely behind, like the ocean parting ways, passing through the chaotic anchorage.

If the outer area was a chaotic slum, then the inner area was a well-ordered military base. The passageways were clean and spotless, and every so often a pirate in a black uniform stood guard, well-trained and upright, a stark contrast to the barbaric pirates on the outer perimeter.

The monitoring console continuously updated the status of the minefield, the fleet's supply situation, and the giant corporation's trade route map. The pirates moved silently, each performing their duties. This order finally lessened the envoy's disgust, making him willing to let his gaze extend outward.

Finally, they arrived at a large hall, where the Pirate King sat on a cold, hard-style black metal chair on a high central platform. His emaciated body was covered with a thin layer of gray skin, like a dried-up corpse.

Its head is hairless, its eye sockets are sunken, and only two electronic eyes that flash with a ghostly blue light remain. Its whole body is covered with traces of cybernetic modification, and its mechanical arms gleam with a cold light. The complex circuits on its surface overlap with the worn metal shell.

Time and battles have etched countless scars on the Pirate King, but they have never dulled the sharpness in his eyes. His will, which seems to burn everything, remains just as it did when the messenger first saw him.

The Pirate King's gaze fell on the messenger, his hoarse, deep voice carrying a hint of familiarity, yet without a trace of flattery: "Your arrival is always related to 'opportunity'."

The envoy finally raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the Pirate King as if examining an object. His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable air of authority: "We are extremely interested in the power of the 'Undead Dragon.' You must launch an attack on it. Regardless of the outcome, it will be considered a successful mission."

"If you can inflict substantial damage and bring back fragments of His body, then we will fulfill our new commitment to support you in eliminating all competitors in the galaxy and making you the sole overlord."

The messenger conveyed the unprecedented mission objective without any further explanation, as if simply picking up a chess piece from a basket and placing it where the player intended to play it.

Of course, a chess piece has its own thoughts. The place where it is placed by the player may not be the place it wants to go. The Pirate King was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons quickly.

He was well aware of his relationship with the civilization behind the envoy; it was one of mutual exploitation, and also an opportunity for him to move closer to his goal. This exploitation had continued from the moment the envoy first met him and was willing to support him in becoming a force to be reckoned with.

"I accept this task. You'll see the results in a while."

"Of course," the envoy nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave. The firing squad was used to this, and they escorted the envoy away, leaving only the Pirate King in the hall.

He sat on the high platform, his mechanical fingers gently tapping the armrests in a slow and rhythmic manner. He was not afraid to face "Leviathan," and the goal that sustained him in his survival had never changed. This unexpected mission might be the key step for him to change the overall situation.

That burning will in one's heart is like a coal mine that has been ignited; it will either burn all the enemies to death or burn oneself to death.

"Pass on my orders," the pirate king said, opening the communication channel. His voice was cold and resolute. "All fleets shall return to port immediately and begin preparations for war. Those who fail to arrive on time shall be treated as traitors, and the rest may be annihilated."

The space station began to operate, and the pirates' faces showed fanaticism. They may not have known the true significance of this large-scale operation, but the pirate king's willingness to go to such lengths must be for enormous profits.

A new storm is brewing in this river system, a place that has never been peaceful, where conflict is the eternal theme and the engine that drives the world.