The Battle of the Gods
Written by Akane :: [Saturday, 11 December 2021 03:39] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 11 December 2021 20:27]
Art by TenchiZone and Megido72
Edited by Rhys86
For countless generations, the Known Universe had been ruled by the Empress. This was the truth, absolute and eternal, a statement of fact as flawless in its reason and nature as the Sublime Ruler herself. Who was she before she ascended to the Stellar Throne? None could tell, for no-one still living could recall the name to which she was born. Such petty details were of little import in these glorious days, for she was ‘The Empress’ and needed no other identifier or cognomen. Her title encapsulated everything that needed to be said of her, proclaiming her as a singular force, unbreakable and perfect, protector of all, a majestic Goddess deserving of the adoration and worship of all her subjects. A Goddess indeed, for it was known there was nothing beyond the powers and charm of the Empress, no task of which she was incapable, no prize beyond her reach. Indeed it was hard to believe that there was ever a beginning to her, that there had ever been a time ‘before’, or that her reign would ever end. That was the scope of her omnipotence in the eyes of the Empire, an eternal force, the axis upon which all existence turned, the altar to which all worlds paid their knowledge and resources and love, and the font from which flowed the power and mysterious beauty that had shaped the Empire into a mirror of her own glory.
Yet the same reason that proclaimed the Empress absolute proclaimed that to all things there was a Beginning, and the archives and old legends supported this truth. The Empress was indeed a Goddess, but she was not the creator of the universe or even the creator of mankind. Instead she was the creation, the ultimate achievement of long evolution and strictly-regimented selective breeding. In the distant past, a rudderless and rulerless people had sought genetic perfection, and so for long eons had overseen the bloodlines that produced their strongest warriors, greatest minds and most gifted of artists. Thus had all of humanity’s potential been sifted into a trinity of Body, Mind and Spirit - Ethos, Logos and Pathos - Strength and Logic and Heart. This great restructuring had been the first step, and through manipulation of genes and co-mingling of bloodlines, multiple lineages of excellence had been established, interbred and refined until that perfection was made incarnate in the personage of a living godhead, the holy grail to which mankind had aspired since first he crawled gasping from the primordial muck: The Empress.
Hard to believe now that the Goddess that ruled over all known worlds was truly of Man’s own flesh: she needed no rest or rations to sustain her, no known weapon could harm her immaculate flesh, and the abilities of her mind and body and soul were beyond comprehension to most anyone now lived. With a wave of her hand she could erase an entire galaxy, leaving no trace behind it. Her wit was so great as to convince the most blasphemous of heretics to fall in worshipful adoration at her feet, and her slightest command was met with loving obedience across all the inhabited worlds. How could basal human reproduction have produced such an exemplar, a being of such high-minded power?! And yet there she was, self-evident proof of her own genesis: incredibly swift in both thought and action, unimaginably strong of spirit and self and… stunningly beautiful, possessed of a high-born charm and elegance that none could rival. She was far more than just a high Empress or distant Goddess to the flock of mankind, she was their Mother - the eternal matron and guardian who had reigned in majesty for so long that not only did the entire known universe now rest in her caring hands, but half of its population could claim direct descent from her immaculate glory. Her people were also her Children, and all mankind was her family, in a perfect synergy that had sustained lasting a peace and prosperity.
And yet in all systems there is a free radical, in every harmony a note of discord. An anomaly, a taint, a blemish upon her perfect Empire that no amount of force or cunning or charm had been able to scrub clean: Nynke.
Nynke… the troublesome upstart that had seemed to mushroom up out of nowhere and spread like a fungus. Unlike the gorgeous and long-labored perfection of the Empress’s creation, Nynke was the freak result of an experiment that had gone wrong. She had been intended as a super-soldier, a prototype of improved legionnaire to serve in the Imperial Army, marching forth to command and conquer as directed. In one sense, the project was a great success, for Nynke had surpassed all expectations. And yet it was also a colossal failure, for the end goal had always been to prejudice a superior servant, not a being that could look The Empress in the eye… and who had not only done so on several occasions, but walked away from their clashes not only alive, but absolutely unharmed.
One such encounter would have been a miracle, but for all of their conflicts to have ended in draws was unprecedented. Perhaps it was Nynke herself that was the miracle, with beauty and power that matched the Empress herself, and yet a radically different temperament. Whereas The Empress sought peace and stability, Nynke seemed to thrive on spontaneity and whimsy - both her equal and her antithesis.
Quietly, in her most private thoughts, The Empress suspected that Nynke’s emergence was no mere accident, but some cosmic stroke of balance. For millennia beyond count her Empire had gone unchallenged, her reign and person inviolate, bending the entire arc of history and creation into her personal orbit, enforcing her vision of order upon a universe that had once obeyed its own harmonies. At some point, might not the cosmos have rebelled against such a unipolar distribution of power, and called forth a champion of chaos to redress the balance?
It was an unsettling thought, but one that at least affirmed The Empress by giving some Grand Purpose to Nynke’s existence. The more alarming possibility that this was indeed an accident, perhaps even one of The Empress’s own making. For generations she had shared her love and power freely with her supplicants; casually, perhaps even carelessly, and with all that lovemaking and blessing she had cast her genetic seed and spiritual essence into the universal gene-pool and psyche. The results had been dramatic: over her long rule certain traits had asserted themselves, and mankind as a whole had become smarter, stronger and faster, a race of supermen, demi-gods by any measure except when compared against their Goddess Empress. Was it so strange that eventually the cross-pollination of her descendants had produced a second godhead, someone The Empress could call an equal?
Wherein lay the truth? Was Nynke her dark shadow, or her twisted descendant? The herald of the universe, or a warped reflection?
And then the Empress would shake herself out of such musings and focus on the facts at hand. Regardless of Nynke’s origins, she was a threat that had to be met and overcome. This had been proved shortly after Nynke’s awakening, when she had usurped the rule of the world on which she had received her powers. Natural for one who lacked wisdom, as evidenced by how she wielded her powers to serve her own amusement and entertainment, without thought for honour, treaty or convention. Even those worlds that showed Nynke the respect of formal peace offerings might end up destroyed, the victim of her feisty, ever-changing moods.
Feisty, an interesting choice of word to append to Nynke, the Empress mused. And yet, in a way, they seemed most appropriate. For as much as she held that thorny little miscreant in contempt, there seemed no actual malice in Nynke’s actions, just a sense of spirited inhibition. She was less a tyrant and more like a force of nature, at once treacherous and innocent, as changeable as the seasons and weather.
Small wonder then that citizens of the Empire called her Nynke The Storm
Right now however everything seemed quiet and calm within the Empire. Both the Empress’s own intellect and her skilled intelligence services agreed that Nynke was currently far far away in a distant galaxy, amusing herself with her own devious devices. For a little while at least it seemed they could breath easy.
The Empress, therefore, was reclining on one of her many beach-worlds, surrounded by an ever-present coterie of devoted followers and servants. Wearing a revealing white swimsuit that concealed the bare minimum of skin she basked in the sun, feeling the light of this planet’s distant parent caressing her incredible curves. Upon her breasts, the hard tips of her nipples poked through the slinky bikini, slight traces of milk percolating through the fabric, a sign of how she had spent a long and delicious afternoon indulging her servants sexual appetites. It was a delightful symbiosis, they basking in her radiance and beauty, she delighting in the love and affection and sheer variety her harem offered her. They were one and all voluptuous beauties, drawn from almost every known sapient race, drawn close to their Goddess like shimmering planets adorning the necklace of a radiant star, dancing eternally in her orbit, faces upturned in shining adulation and ceaseless worship.
Even now, spent and weary, they did not cease in their devotions. Those among her lovers currently at rest, cuddling one another in a euphoric puppy-pile, their bellies filled and impregnated with their monarch’s fecund cum, still paid homage in their dreams, consumed with visions of atavistic euphoria. As they slept, they sucked their Empress’s titanic cock and swollen basketball-sized testicles, nursed at her breasts and mewlingly kissed her lips. The Empress in turn felt their dreaming devotions, felt their phantom kisses and ministrations, and shivered in grateful delight.
Of those supplicants still conscious, one of the prettiest was currently positioned near the Empress's feet, gently kissing her way up the deity's leg. She was a lovely, willowy thing, fair-skinned and emerald-haired, with delicate elfin ears. Another woman, a blue-skinned centaur, knelt in the sand beside her, massaging their Ruler's magnificent round hips and bubble butt. Two further concubines, one pink-haired and the other a slate-grey cyclops clothed in a flirty black dress were gently worshipping her enormous breasts with their hands, massaging the great masses of titflesh, occasionally reaching under the taut bikini to rim the sensitive orbits of her nipples with agile, dextrous finger-strokes. Yet even these efforts were insufficient to pay proper tribute to their Goddess, and thus two other women were enjoying themselves on either side of her chest, covering that stunning bosom with kisses, suckling those drops of milk that rose through the bikini and went dribbling down the Empress's flawless skin.
Letting out a pleased sigh The Empress shared a kind smile with her attendants and brushed a long strand of white hair away from her copious chest, giving the servants freer access to her marvelous assets. Another girl gracefully caught the lock and began to leave teasing kisses and strokes all over it, down to the reddening tips.
They were not the only figures in attendance, for the sheer perfection of her figure was enough to draw a crowd, thus many others had come to the beach, either to catch an admiring peep of the display, or to more openly give thanks and petition her for favours or assistance.
The Empress met with each and every one of them, and soon the queue to speak with her stretched into the distance. As it grew, a stream formed in parallel, a flow of creamy cum that dripping from the God-Empress’s mighty cock. Further down the beach it flowed into a river, and thence was carried off to the sea to sire new generations of healthy and virile marine life, granting sapience and demi-human form to the fish that encouraged the divine jizz now dispersing into the ocean. In a few years time, a new civilisation of merfolk would arise, and join with their land-dwelling brothers and sisters in worship and adoration of she that had sired them.
All of this was beyond the knowledge of the subjects queuing up to speak with the Goddess, though a few of the more desperate or faithful knelt beside the stream of cum and gathered a little of the precious stuff, applying it to old wounds or scars, or sipping it from their hands in communion with the Empress. Each went away rewarded for their faith, as did those who reached the front of the line to give thanks and offer presents to the one who so impeccably governed the Empire, for she, in her great kindness, returned every offered gift with one of her own.
"...dear one, to you I grant the gift of divination, the ability to perceive the future, so that even when all other lights are darkened, you shall remain a guiding light to your people…” she proclaimed, resting a palm on the head of the beautiful young woman now receiving her blessing. “So shall it be..."
“Thank you, My Empress!” The newly-minted seer gasped in awe and kissed the hand that had blessed her. “Praise the Stellar Throne.” She was the eleventh person in the last hour to have been granted such a great boon, others having gone away endowed with biological immortality, or the ability to transmute matter into whatever configurations their minds could imagine.
Before the next supplicant could step forward a true giant of a man arrived on the scene, golden armour glistening in the sun, even as his massively-muscled body seemed to eclipse it’s radiance.
“Ridd!” The Empress spoke in happy greeting. “Well met, my son.”
Whispers went up among the crowd, as well might when such a celebrity went out among the public. This was the great General Ridd, one of the Empress’s own children and hero of a dozen legendary battles. A mighty power in his own right, he carried with him as many titles as he did battle honours: Prince of the Realm, Conqueror of Worlds, Protector of the Primary Planets, Viceroy Imperialis, Grand General of the Imperial Defence, Chieftain of the Scarlet Order. And as he approached, the full majesty of Ridd’s presence came into focus. His stature was truly olympian, and his power-armour, far from being worn for show, was marked by the scars and welds of many a battle. Each step he took was accompanied by the whine of servo-motors and aura-capacitors, hinting at the technology and wizardry the scientists and mages of the Empire had invested into the suit that both protected his body and enhanced his already-fearsome strength.
Such was Ridd. Ridd the Invincible, Sword of the Empress. Enemies fled the second he took to the field, and soldiers rallied behind him with loyal devotion. Beyond the battlefield, he was renowned as a scholar and justice, bringing order to troubled worlds and justice to those in need of his protection. Some said his power was second only to his divine mother, and that Ridd alone could rival the strongest armies marshalled in Universal history. Tall tales perhaps, but his deeds always spoke in favor of such claims.
Bearing all this in mind, you can imagine what a shock it was, both to the Empress and the gathered citizenry, to see so storied a figure approaching with tears of shame in his eyes, and then sink to his knees in a gesture of abject defeat. His face was torn and bloodied, and smoke rose from burst seams and ruptured panels in his armour. It was a great and terrible sight, like beholding a mighty vessel sinking beneath the waves, or a mighty old lion brought low by the ravages of time.
“Mother,” Ridd spoke in a voice like grinding mill-stones, bowing broken before his mother’s deck chair. “Forgive your son his failure.” His heavy breathing broke into a heavy, rattling cough, and flecks of red blood stained the pristine sands.
“Ridd!” The Empress rose in towering shock, her gargantuan cock and testicles vanishing as she did. Without needing to be prompted, her concubines immediately left her side and moved to aid Ridd. Far from mere companions and capable sextoys, each had their own skills and talents, holding such key positions in the Imperial household as master mechanic, captain of the guards and royal physician. They were all close friends, and had lived along Ridd for such a time as to consider him a beloved sibling. In seconds they had released the catches on his armour and extracted him, before laying him out on a bower to tend to the severe injuries that the suit had struggled to prevent.
Bare and vulnerable, the mighty warrior seemed hauntingly frail, especially when his mother drew near and knelt beside him. Less the general of legend, more a child afraid of disappointing his parent.
“Ridd,” the Empress touched his brow, wiping away the sweat feverishly blooming there.” Her eyes were heavy with concern, and behind them brooded clouds filled with wrath for whatever villain had done this to her son. “What happened?”
The general swallowed and fidgeted on the bower, struggling to express his shame, before finally managing to produce a halting explanation:
"I--I..I lost… forgive me mother, for I have lost." He said, then repeated the word in a halting murmur that sounded almost like a faltering echo.
“My lady, he’s delirious…” Said Aelira, the Royal Physician, the same elfin-eared woman who minutes ago had been kissing the Empress’s leg. Though the Empress herself was immune to disease and sickness, those around her were not, and thus Aelira was one of countless eminent surgeons and physicians who had forever attended upon the medical needs of the Stellar Court.
Running her hands across Ridd’s body to gauge his vitals, Aelira frowned. “His mana reserves are dangerously low, and his cerebellum is inflamed from magical overexertion. He must have self-spaced himself halfway across the galaxy to do this to himself. Shyenne!” At her call, another attendant came over, the centaur. “He needs an aural transfusion immediately, but please keep the feed gentle. Hot-flashing him with raw magic will only worsen the cerebral trauma.”
Shyenne clasped her hands in understanding and got down on all four of her knees, before gently tracing her now-glowing fingers across Ridd’s key chakra points. She was a shaman of the Col, and Aelira’s right-hand woman in treating magical maladies.
Meanwhile, Aelira was testing the various cuts and tears in Ridd’s flesh. Scowling, she magically produced a vial and syringe. “These wounds are infected, he’s going to need the strongest antibiotics I have to hand, but he will survive.”
“Thank you, Aelira, Shyenne.” The Empress dipped her head in recognition of her most trusted healers. “Do what you must, we are in your hands.”
Aelira did not waste time with pleasantries, but set to work with a brisk nod. Ridd flinched as the needle went in, and the Empress laid a calming hand over his own to distract him.
"Hush, child. Hush." Uncovering one of her breasts she held the nipple over Ridd, willing two heavy droplets to fall into his open mouth. Instantly he let out a shuddering sigh and relaxed, eyes falling half-shut as the potent substance went to work alongside Aelira and Shyenne’s own treatments. “Now, explain what happened. You were with the 8th Suiza, conducting anti-piracy operations in the Tannhauser Arm, is that right?”
Ridd had calmed, but at the mention of that name he tensed again and resumed his mumbling.
"Tannhauser… the 8th Suiza. They’re gone, mother, my brave boys and girls, all dead. Nothing of them even left for us to grieve." He wept once more, and Aelira felt a chill as The Empress’s expression grew cold. The 8th Suiza was an elite posting, not only as General Ridd’s personal legion, but as some of the most valorous and deserving troops in the entire Empire. Only legionnaires who had excellent in battle in their previous postings were eligible to join it, and those that did knew they marched forth with the Empress’s grace, for she personally vetted and blessed those who served beside her son.
For them to have all been struck down was not only a massacre and a tragedy, it was a personal insult to the Stellar Throne and she that sat upon it.
“This shall not stand!” The Empress rose tall to her full eight foot stature, casting an imposing presence despite possessing the slender frame of an athlete. The silky strands of her silver hair gracefully composing themselves around features newly sterned and ready to deliver Imperial Justice first-hand. A white blouse and battle-vest replaced her bikini, paired with tight leather boots, pants and gloves, all of which hugged her phenomenal tits and frame. She bore no sword or shield or armour, but on her collar and belt-buckle shone the insignia of the 8th Suiza. It was a statement that all present could interpret at a glance. The legendary legion was not dead, for now The Empress herself would avenge their memory, and do right by the soldiers who perished in her service.
“Thank you, mother…” Ridd’s tears were now ones of gratitude, and he reached weakly up towards her. “Let me… let me come with you… let me do right by my boys and girls.”
As a wise ruler should, The Empress did not decide without seeking counsel, and looked questioningly to her royal physician. “Aelira, is he fit to serve?”
“No!” The swimsuit-clad elf maiden responded firmly, showing no hesitation in speaking up to her Goddess. There was no fear or hierarchy here, only a trust and respect that flowed both ways. “His injuries are too severe, and using your own magic to accelerate his healing will take a further toll on his body.”
“What of his mind-self?”
“Beyond the physical trauma, it is as strong as ever,” Shyenne’s equine ears flicked thoughtfully as she worked her magic. “If he wishes to travel with you in spirit, then I deem it safe.”
“Thank you both,” again the Empress inclined her head in acknowledgement of their authority in matters medical, and offered out a hand to her son. “Then we shall depart. I leave his physical self in your capable charge.”
“Reach out, my Prince,” Shyenne encouraged. Ridd’s glassy eyes fluttered, and though his body did not move, the magically-sensitive on the beach saw him reach up to take his mother’s hand with an ethereal arm, a projection of the inner self.
"We shall deal with it..." The Empress telepathically whispered in his mind. “We shall deal with this outrage together!”
Then they were away, gone from the beach and soaring off into the air, the General’s projected spirit held close in the embrace. Higher and higher they soared, the beach retreating far below them, a silver stain sparkling across the bay beyond as her spilled semen was carried out on ocean currents. The coastline shrank into one sandy patch girding a beautiful crescent island, which revealed itself to be an outflung archipelago of a larger landmass. The horizon bent and the vista grew wider, continent and oceans curving from their perspective into a glistening blue sphere wrapped in gauzy atmosphere. And still they flew on, out into space, the planet receding first to a distant dot and then a single point of light among the infinite stars of the Imperium.
"Now my son, tell me what happened." The Empress spoke softly, soaring effortlessly among the cosmos, one hand holding Ridd’s soul-self close while the other gently stroked his projection’s mussed-up hair. "If we are to set this great loss to rights, I must understand what has taken place."
Ridd nodded to her words and took a deep breath, a physic affectation that seemed to calm him as much as the comforting presence of the Empress herself. When he spoke, it was with only the slightest tremor in his voice, and that a product of controlled rage rather than shame or fear.
"Out in the far reaches of Tannhauser we encountered the pirates we sought, and chased them to their base on an uncharted graveworld. We thought we had run them to ground, but it was a trap.” Ridd paused for a moment, as if finding his courage. “Mother...these pirates had not only settled that derelict world, but awoken something entombed there, an ancient God to which they now pay worship and tribute. The 8th Suiza and myself were lured there as a sacrifice to this insane creature, an offering of blood. When he manifested I saw we were outmatched and sounded a retreat, but it was too late, and the trap was sprung. I tried to hold him off, to win time for my troops to evacuate, but I couldn't win, and the 8th Suiza would not abandon me and rout.” Again his jaw clenched with pride and pain. “My brave boys and girls held the line, and paid for it dearly. This God, he bends reality, manipulates time… they were not just cut down, they were desecrated. He toyed with them, twisted their minds to madness, corrupted their flesh... “
The memories became too much for him to bare, and Ridd’s quavering soul shuddered and hid in the Empress’s embrace. Her normally gentle expression was resolved into stern iron, and the clenched set of her jaw promised retribution for this affront to humanity.
"This tyrant shall not trouble us any further. We shall see to it."
They accelerated further, the star system they had set out from quickly left behind. Nebulae and planetary clusters slid past, streams of light that were reflected on the Empress’s flawless curves.
“Ridd, did you commit all your forces to the pursuit of the pirates?”
“No, mother. The 3rd Safran were grouped with the 8th Suiza, and I instructed them to hold back in the event that the pirate fleet was a diversion to draw us off from any vulnerable worlds in that sector. Admiral Giess is their commanding officer.”
"Rashida Giess, I recall her as a highly-decorated officer.” The Empress nodded, then cleared her throat and spoke aloud, projecting her incredible voice across all military frequencies in the Tannhauser Arm. “This is the Empress calling upon Admiral Giess, of the Legio 3rd Safran.”
The answer came back almost instantly. “Majesty, this is Admiral Giess aboard your warship Maganac, reporting for duty.”
“Admiral, I am inbound to your position on bearing 345, carob 4. I require the coordinates of the planet to which the 8th Suiza recently sortied.”
“Immediately, Majesty. It is a chthonian planet and the sixth world in its native system, in orbit of an unnamed neutron star approximately 42 light-years towards the Galactic Rim from our location. Our long-range scanners currently show the 8th Suiza returning to us along a reverse course from that world.”
“That is not the 8th Suiza, Admiral.”
“But, Majesty, we are receiving their IFF codes from the inbound fleet, and it is far larger than the collection of ships that the 8th Suiza went in pursuit of.”
“It is a trick. I regret to inform you that the 8th Suiza has been lost in battle. The only survivor was General Ridd, who is accompanying me in psyche.”
“No…” Geiss answered with a pained gasp, a faint cry that carried in it the sudden shock of thousands of friends and comrades struck down in an instant.
“I confirm that, Admiral,” Ridd telepathically added his voice to the conversation. “We were massacred by a false god to whom those pirates had sworn their swords. They will have stolen those ident-codes from the wreck of the 8th Suiza, and are now broadcasting them in order to get within striking distance of your own forces. That will be their full fleet approaching you, along with whatever cultists and sell-swords this blasphemous being has won to his altar.”
A low growl came through the ether in reply, then a flurry of invective mixed with orders as Geiss began to bark instructions to her subordinates. “Shields up! All ships to action stations, prepare to repel raiders! The pirate scum shall pay for this insult! Majesty, the 3rd Safran stands ready to support you. I request permission to immediately sortie my ships!”
“Peace, Rashida.” The Empress counselled, though her heart sang at the loyalty and love expressed in the Admiral’s words. Such bonds were the foundational strength of the Empire. “I shall have need of your sword today, but the true foe was beyond the skills of even General Ridd himself. From that one, I shall collect the fee in person. But first the pirates. I shall make an initial strike, and the remainder of their fleet I leave to you, Lord Admiral Geiss.”
"By your command! Victory be with you, Empress!" Geiss shouted with admiration, audibly swelling in pride at the sudden promotion, before her voice disappeared into silence.
“Go to her, Ridd.” The Empress instructed. “You and Rashida are old friends, and you have the measure of the enemy’s fleet. She will have need of your wisdom.”
“I will go mother, and redeem my failure,” Ridd replied, only for her to silence his apologies with a kiss on the brow.
“There has been no failure on your part this day, neither to myself or to your soldiers. Now go, my son, and make the stars sing songs of vengeance on this day!”
“By your command.” Ridd bowed, his soul-self fading as he projected himself elsewhere, helped along by a gift of the Empress’s own mana. “Victory be with you, Mother.”
And then The Empress was alone, flying onwards in a silent journey through the empty paths of the spaceways. Here, where none could see, she allowed her heart the time to break, to lay aside shows of strength and weep tears for the youth that had been spent today in her name. Goddess she was, but it was not in her mandate to undo death. That was why she employed doctors and medics in her court, and why the Imperial military existed to secure and protect the worlds under her command. The 8th Suiza was indeed lost, but she would see justice done by her brave soldiers.
And to those responsible, she would show no mercy.
With that thought hardening her heart, within moments she came upon the enemy fleet, broadcasting their false identity codes as if clad in stolen heraldry. It was an impressive sight indeed, a multitudinous fleet of all makes and worlds, hammered together into ragtag formation. Shining battleships, artillery cruisers designed to blast through the finest shields and armor, carriers bristling with fightercraft and troop-transport shuttles. And paired to every ship was a crew, auras drunk with today’s victory, souls singing with the desire to fight and die for pillage and plunder and their new dark deity.
The Empress saw all of this, her superior brain and innate curiosity demanding that she examine and feed her ever-growing glut of knowledge. She looked into each and every heart, sharp sight discerning every detail and scrap of technology installed into this new navy, this vanguard of a god who sought to spread his grip across all the stars in the sky.
She was not impressed. The fleet, for all its size and bloodlust, was rough and undisciplined. Pirates and mercenaries and occultists had been thrown together with only the slightest thought for military doctrine. Their formation was clumsy, their chain of command fractured and unfocused. But most damaging of all was the lack of spirit between these crews. Soldiers of the Empire, regardless of creed or culture or species, were all volunteers, united by common cause and bonds of camaraderie. That bred strength and loyalty like no other. It was why the 8th Suiza had refused to flee in the face of a superior foe, and why Ridd, Geiss and even she herself had taken the loss of that legion as a blow to their own hearts.
Not these foemen, these would-be conquerors. Some were zealots, some were gang-pressed conscripts, and others were merely here for greed and glory. Their numbers alone were formidable, perhaps enough even to over-match the 3rd Safran if their ruse had not been discovered, but their hearts were weak.
“Take out the head, and they’ll break.” She whispered to herself. “Like frightened little birds.”
Her mind swept towards the flagship at the heart of the taskforce. Soaring through hyperspace it fairly groaned under the sheer weight of railguns and mass-displacement cannons that had been bolted to its frame, and was crowned with a command bridge wherein the Empress could sense a nexus of smug satisfaction and gloating confidence. This was the flagship, the command vessel. She could feel the gathered commanders there, generalissimos and warchiefs, dark sages and pirate kings. From them radiated out the lines of command, like strands radiating out from a fat spider at the heart of a web.
She swept alongside the ship and came right up to one of the bridge windows, staring through it with stern eyes. Within her was a lowly adjutant who saw her and jumped back with a scream, drawing the attention of the gathered council of commanders. They looked to the Empress, and she looked back with a scowl and a slow shake of the head, passing her verdict upon them.
She could have ended it there, but decapitating this one room’s occupants would not be enough. They would have subordinates and backup bridges throughout the ship, and so to bring this down she needed to take out the entire spider, rather than poking out a single eye. The Empress shot forward again, racing down the multi-kilometer length of the ship in free-flight, powering towards the prow. As she did so gun turrets began to track in her direction, attempting to shoot her within the relativistic confines of the ship’s warp bubble.
‘How meaningless an effort against me. How purposeless is their role in this assault… I will them to die, and die they shall.’
Then, without even blinking she propelled herself past the bow, and stopped dead.
The ship did not even have time to respond. At hyperspace velocities it struck the Empress right in the small of the back. The vessel’s hull comprised several trillion tons of mass, moving at thousands of times the speed of light. The Empress, by comparison, was eight foot tall and weighed all of two-hundred pounds. Were she not The Empress, she would have been instantly destroyed, vaporised so quickly that not even a bloody smear would have remained on the hull.
This was not the case. The warship immediately crashed out of hyperspace and disintegrated. The bow crumpled around her perfect back and powerful shoulders, while the engineering sections up in the stern, carried forward on interia, crushed and telescoped everything amidships. All persons aboard the vessel died instantly, the instantaneous crash to full stop overwhelming all interital compensators, hurling them forward into the nearest bulkhead at lethal velocities.
All this happened in a split second. In the next split-second, the ship disassembled itself into a cloud of shrapnel that dispersed at relativistic velocities. The flagship’s honour guard of cruisers and destroyers caught the brunt of this debris, and just as quickly were reduced to a group of shattered hulks, all power lost, engines dead, crews dead and dying, a flotilla of ghost-ships that would sail forever onwards, lost in the void of hyperspace.
In the blink of an eye, a substantial portion of the dark fleet had been removed from the board. It was a spectacular accomplishment, but meaningless to The Empress, who wished to hurry onwards to the chthonic planet from which these ships had sailed. But the remnants of the armada were still enough to pose a substantial threat to Geiss, Ridd and the 3rd Safran, and she was resolved to ensure that no more of her loyal soldiers would be imperilled that day. Her forces’ duty was to mop up the stragglers, not to bear the brunt of the blow, and so she still had work to do.
Senses opened wide, she cast a net of her perception across the rest of the fleet. Less than a second had passed since the flagship crashed into her immovable self, and the remaining battle-wagons, juggernauts and carriers had yet to realise their leadership had been decapitated, not enough time having passed for their onboard computers to verify the loss of telemetry from the destroyed ships.
In fact, the first person to become aware that something was amiss was a nervous, fidgety mercenary aboard to a pirate frigate. Feeling a shudder as a fragment of the flagship’s debris glanced off his frigate’s shields, he looked to his fellows and whispered. “Did you feel that?”
His faint words broke the hushed mutter of his fellows, and they came to alert, fingers on trigger-guards, ears pricked in the sudden silence. It was sheer luck alone that had prevented them from being outright annihilated by the errant chunk of wreckage. Now that luck ran out.
The awful sound of metal tearing pierced their ears, the hull of the frigate groaning ominously around them. Then the entire compartment exploded, venting all of them into space as a human figure shot straight through the ship, her clenched fist leading the way.
The frigate itself had not been the Empress’s target, small-fry that it was. However it was along the most direct path to what she determined to be the next battleship in the succession of command, and so she punched through it en-route to the larger prize. By the time she reached her target, its crew had realised the fleet was under attack and that their flagship was not responding to hails. An emergency hail ordered all ships to slow to realspace, and the Empress rode along on their coattails as the mighty armada emerged from hyperspace, warp engines and singularity drives glowing with latent radiation. Those eerie glows now served as stage-lights, allowing every ship within range to see what came next.
The Empress roundhouse-kicked the new flagship at near light-speed, severing it in two. Sighting her as a streak of light, the other vessels immediately opened fire in a panicked storm of laser-blasts, photon-rounds and bazookoids. Many of the rounds went wild, blind-fired without time for proper solutions to be calculated, and cut into their own forces, but many others had been aimed true, and converged on the Empress in a storm of nuclear fury. The massive barrage struck him with gigaton force, the kind of impact that would have triggered extinction events if directed at habitable worlds, but the Empress just frowned at such absurd attempts to harm her, the raw power of nuclear fusion merely tickling flawless form.
“All ships, attack! Attack!” a panicked voice screamed over the comms, and once again the vacuum was threaded with ordinance. The Empress however had no time to spend indulging these fools. With a glare she turned the missiles and particle-beams back on themselves, rebounding them as if by sheer will alone. Countless ships were immediately destroyed or crippled by their own weapons, and their dead-throes threw out further debris that crashed with maiming force into their fellows. One ship however had shielding sufficient to push through the barrage and chaos towards the Empress, a venerable old Monitor that stood some seventy-kilometers long, armed with enough firepower to crack a planet’s crust in two. It was a relic of another age, a dinosaur whose thick, armoured hull allowed it to still meet newly and more agile craft on an event playing field. It was grand and stately and majestic, a powerful leviathan.
The Empress crushed it between her beautifully-manicured hands like so much tinfoil, bunching and rolling the entire ship’s billion-ton mass into a size no smaller than a grape. She flicked this ball of hyper-dense matter at another old war-machine, which instantly collapsed into the intense gravity field of the crushed monitor and was crushed to nothingness. Surrounding ships saw this and tried to flee, but found their engines unable to pull away from the terrible grip of a newly-birthed micro-black hole.
Leaving them to their doom, the unscathed Empress shrugged off further attacks, ignoring the massing destroyers now laying down salvo after salvo of artillery. She was in constant motion, always out of range, predicting their maneuvers and trajectories with insight that bordered on presence, skipping through space’s black wastes with unimaginable speed, such that she appeared to be in several places at once. Uncatchable, unstoppable, she jumped and danced from ship to ship, dealing out precise blows, kicks and punches to stall engines, overload reactors, jam gun mounts and depressurise command spaces.
And in this moment of supreme triumph, the 3rd Safran appeared on the scene, storming out of hyperspace with shields up and guns blazing. The disorientated fleet found itself suddenly being hammered on two sides, and caught between a wall and a hammer it broke. Whole divisions fled in panic, their frantic movements so uncoordinated that many vessels crashed into one another. Without power, they were dragged into the gravity-well of a nearby planet, doomed to burn up as they fell entwined into its atmosphere.
The better part of the fleet however tried to retreat in good order. Someone aboard one of the carriers clearly had a smart head on their shoulders, and over comms could be heard browbeating ships into formation and dispatching fighters to provide a protective screen.
It was all for naught. As the hastily-organised ships turned onto their escape vector, they beheld The Empress standing in their path, hands on hips, ivory hair playing in the solar breeze.
“You pathetic fools,” she shook her head like a disappointed mother, and then drew in a deep breath. The carrier and its collection of ships were pulled towards her on a phantom current. Engines screaming in full reverse-thrust they let loose a terrified barrage, but the Empress simply ignored the swarm of firepower. To the horror of the crews, those lasers and energy blasts simply disappeared down her throat, carried along on the same tide that they themselves were now caught in.
The crews of those ships screamed, prayed, cried out at the impossibility of what was about to happen.
"This is the fate you invited when you slaughtered my troops. Your minds were simply too weak, not merely to comprehend this doom, but to the insurmountable odds facing any who stand against me. Go swiftly to your ends." That was the limit of the Empress’s mercy, a quick death. She continued to inhale, and effortlessly consumed the ships. As they were drawn in they seemed to shrink, or was it was the empress grew? Perspectives blurring, the doomed crews had enough time to perceive a fountainhead of stars within the Empress, then they slid between her beautiful soft lips, and entered oblivion...
“Fleet Admiral Geiss, I leave the remainder to you. Handle the stragglers as you see fit.”
“So it shall be, Majesty!” Even after everything the Empress had done, Geiss had no lack of targets for her guns. Something like half the amassed enemy fleet remained in existence, but were broken and divided, easy pickings for her fleet. “To Victory! Victory, and Vengeance for our Fallen!”
“Victory be with you, Rashida.” The Empress saluted towards the lead ship of the 3rd Safran, confident that Geiss and Ridd could see her from the bridge. “I shall depart to deal with the source of these pests.”
And then she was away, soaring across the interstellar void at such speeds that within a minute she was descending on the world where this god supposedly resided. As had been reported, it was a Chthonian world, a former gas-giant whose atmosphere had been stripped away by its parent star, leaving behind a hyper-dense metallic core many times the size of Earth.
It was a dark world, without atmosphere or life, of iron plains and mountains that reached from horizon to horizon under cold and empty stars. The very gravity itself was oppressive and crushing. The term ‘Chthonian’ was well chosen, for this indeed was a landscape of death, some Hadean nightmare that might well be ruled over by the Chthonic deities of the Grecian underworld.
Yet, as The Empress descended towards the surface with unparalleled grace, she saw evidence of past activity. Great ruins and mausoleums that filled entire valleys, rows of sarcophagi that stretched for miles along rills and ridges. All of them hewn from the planet’s own black metal.
She was impressed. This was the work of an ancient civilisation, one most advanced in both the arts and sciences. There was an ornate majesty to the structures, and skill in their construction, for only a race who had mastered interstellar flight and mass-negation could have laboured under such arduous gravity to transform this barren world into what it clearly was, a cemetery the size of a planet. Throwing her senses wide, she perceived trillions of graves spread all across the surface, great necropoli linked by derelict mag-rails, fanning out from a necklace of spaceports strung along the equator. Once upon a time, this must have been a sacred place, a world set aside solely for the internment of mortal remains. The Empress knew not who had worked these marvels, which evidently had been abandoned for many millennia, but she wished them well, and hoped their absence was evidence not of some species-ending apocalypse, but the sign of some great migration into deeper space.
Something tickled at her perception, and banking around in a turn she rushed south with all speed. The further she travelled, the thinner the graves were spread, until she found herself flying across an open desert, unmarked except for a single mag-rail that drove south with lonely purpose. She followed that desolate line, across the desert and through jagged mountains, until at last it terminated at the southern pole.
Here, on this planet’s very ass, rose the tallest and most monstrous construction that The Empress had ever seen. At first she thought it was a temple, a monument to the ‘God’ she had come to put down, but as she studied the massive architecture, encircled as it was with barricades and towers of guard, she saw its true purpose. Every line and curve was laid according to the precise rules of a higher order of mathematics, so that the entire structure functioned as a conduit of power. The central spire was a giant sink, draining away ambient energy and feeding it in turn to the outer walls, which passively amplified that leeched power into an impenetrable shield, turned inwards against the main tower. This was not a place of worship, but of incarceration, designed to turn the occupant’s own power against them, keeping them bound to this place of exile..
It was a prison, a penitentiary designed for a single captive, and again The Empress felt her heart swell with admiration for whatever people had achieved this feat, for in this place they had imprisoned a God. And though they themselves were long-gone, their creation had endured, until those foolish marauders had entered this place, thrown open the doors, and unleashed a captive calamity.
The evidence of that calamity lew strewn for miles about the prison’s opened gatehouse. Wrecked ships, crushed tanks, and countless thousands of dead bodies in shattered power-armour. The remains of the 8th Suiza.
Touching down before the mighty fortress, The Empress she took a knee, brushed her fingers across the hard, metallic ground, and whispered a twinned prayer of respect and thanksgiving, to her brave troops and to the vanished race that built this place, blessing their struggles and labours, and vowing to continue the work they had done here.
Then she rose, and issued her demands, voice carrying out across the deathly vacuum.
"I am The Empress of the Known Universe! I command that you show yourself, carrion-king! Your armies are gone, defeated in their fruitless effort to enact your will. Your servants lie decimated by my own hand, their survivors driven to desperate devastation by the armed forces of my people. It is time for justice to be done - your long stay of execution has come to an end! Come forth and face me!"
And so he did: rising from the inky shadow cast by the prison’s lofty tower, there emerged a man. No, not a man, a God, for his appearance was radiant and magnificent. One could easily tell that here was a being of a significant power, feared and worshipped for centuries until a brave folk had risen against him, and cast him behind bars. This God was several hundred feet tall, anointed with hair of purest gold, and a body that was muscled and perfect.
Physically, he towered over the Empress, yet she already knew the outcome of the coming battle. And as his features came into focus her resolve only grew, for just as his human appearance was a mocking affectation, so too was the face he now wore.
The face of General Ridd, her son, deformed into a hateful leer.
"Arrogant Speck! You came to MY world, intruded upon MY throne, and you pray NOT to me, but to the pitiful dead." He spoke in a deep, thundering voice, and behind him the structure of the prison swayed. It might have crumbled, had not The Empress extended a fraction of her own power to reinforce it.
“This is NOT your world, just as that tower is NOT your thorne, nor is THAT your face. This land is hallowed, consecrated by a mighty people that laid their loved ones to rest in this sacred ground, and further ennobled by the shed blood of my brave soldiers, those who lost their lives here today. Come today’s end, you shall be gone, accursed wraith, but their memory shall endure forever, as shall your prison, as a lasting shrine to the valorous dead, and a shameful monument to your impotent folly.”
Her words grated upon the God’s ears, and he replied with snarling malice. "Your words are empty, insect-queen! But I am not without wisdom, or mercy. In my infinite benevolence I will grant you a chance to repent. Bow before me now, and I shall not only spare your life, but take you as my concubine, and elevate your so-called Empire into a shining Imperium devoted to my glory. Disobey, and I shall not only destroy you, but burn every world within your care, desecrate and defile all who crawl upon them!"
"Show some of that wisdom you believe you possess." She refused to be riled, and replied with snark. "Those that shaped this world had within their hearts and hands the wit and will to entomb you. Their works proclaim their great power, even in ruin, but I am Power! I am the Empress of this Universe and mother of its children. You will be cast down today, like every tyrant who came before you. And were you to somehow end me, then you would still fall, for the people of my Empire live free, and would freely rise as one to drive you back into bondage. Your cause is hopeless, your bluster a meaningless charade. Surrender now, and you shall be granted a swift and merciful death. That is your optimal path, and it would be very wise of you to follow it."
"Surrender?!" He laughed in her face. "I can never be defeated. And for your effrontery you will suffer worse that death. Erased from the planes of reality, you will have never existed. None shall remember that you lived, your consciousness shall cease, and everything you are shall vanish, with but a simple movement of my mighty hand!"
He reached upwards and called forth a ball of pure concentrated magic, a twisted, swirling darkness ringed with crackling violet, that seemed to seep down and coat his fingers, right before he threw it screaming towards the Empress, aiming for the very center of her chest.
It struck true.
For a brief instant, The Empress was covered with dark deeper than ink, and light more vivid than the scarlet tips of her silken hair. Corrosive power lashed at her, the overflow surging past to carve trenches through the battlefield, while overhead the Mad God laughed like a maniac.
Then the light faded, and his laughter was silenced. Not only did the Empress still stand, with not a speck of dust upon her, but the trenches blasted behind had impossibly zig-zagged around every broked form and wrecked vehicle on the deathly plain, his own magic diverted so that it made no contact with the fallen remains of the 8th Suiza.
“Your filthy power shall not touch them!” She snapped. “Not so long as I stand in this sacred space, and I will not yield! Give up, for you are no match for the Empress of the Universe, and you shall never be!"
The God looked to his hands in confusion, and from his expression it was clear that never before had his power ever failed him. He was a schoolyard bully suddenly confronted by a stern truant officer, and like all such bullies responded to the shift in status with impotent rage.
"Witch! I shall show you true power!" He bellowed, and now his gigantuan fist came flying her way. Just as effortlessly as she defeated his armada, The Empress met his blow with a punch of her own, her tiny fist not only deflecting his attack, but sending him staggering sideways back, while she gave him no so much as the satisfaction of an inch. The God, carried by his own clumsy swing, crashed disgracefully against a range of cliffs that rose from the plateau like iron waves.
"Impossible!" He yelled, trying to right himself, and the true Goddess chuckled, seeing his rising panic, the quickening breath as he searched around desperately for any solution to the problem she presented. He was a true avatar of toxic masculinity, and to that familiar mindset she knew no worse insult or humiliation than to be defeated by a beautiful woman, the kind of being he was accustomed to seeing only as a prize trophy, without wit or will or wisdom. She had all these, and would strike back not only in memory of the dead, but with the strength and fury of every woman who had ever suffered this misogynistic crap.
“Round two, ding-ding.” She taunted, settling into a comfortable stance, arms folder. In response the giant roared and raised both of his hands to the air, gathering as much magical power between them as possibly. His fingers darted deftly as the energy mounted, shaping and moulding it to devastating effect. In his great anger and ignorance, he released the devastating spell, a mandala of such destructive might that half of the planet should have been reduced to a smoking crater. Mountains would crumble, plains fragment into crazy-paving rubble, the world’s very orbit shifted.
None of that happened. Instead, the Empress caught the headlong spell single-handed, hefted it casually above her head, and with a single flex of her fingers crossed all that power down to the size of a grape. And then she swallowed it.
“A little overcooked, but spicy enough,” she mimed a mocking round of applause, as the stolen energy spread through her, assimilated into her own majesty, shining forth from her body so as to make her usual grace and beauty burn all the more brighter. She stood proud and tall, her pale skin and ivory hair a beacon of light among the blackened lands of this barren world. Small and tiny she might have seemed before his hulking mass, but it was obvious to anyone that she was the winner of this match, without any doubt.
"What god destroys for petty spite. No god at all. You are unworthy of the title, and certainly beneath my notice. As I have said, your lame efforts will achieve nothing, and your mind is pathetically trammelled by your own arrogance. I did not expect much wisdom of you, only the trappings of power, but you wield it with all the gullible transparency of a child!"
The God now looked even more broken, horrified by his failures, by his most potent attacks not only being repulsed, but turned aside without any harm to his target. And all that shame and wounded pride coalesced and compressed into a burning point of rage. It burst, and flooded him with new power, with raw, furious, rage.
"I WILL DESTROY YOU” He screamed hysterically into her face. “Grind you down in the most humiliating way possible! You shall not even understand or foresee your downfall! I'm coming for you, bitch! Coming for a You that is only taking her first steps!"
With those words he disappeared, and the Empress felt time itself begin to ripple and quake about her. So, he had bent time in an attempt to strike at her in the past, probably when she was in the cradle. Patiently, she folded her arms, and closed her eyes, letting the ripple effect over-take her as the altered past caught up with the present. This did not cause her any discomfort, for in her great power and wisdom, she understood that time itself was on her side, and would not permit any upset deity to so radically alter its course. Small changes, perhaps, but reality honoured causality, and choices freely made could not be easily taken back. The fact that she was here proved that she would always come out the victor of this particular battle, and soon felt new memories form to confirm that truth.
“And three, two, one…”
The moment she finished counting down, the God crashed back into this time-frame. But this time he was no giant, or mighty conqueror, but a brutalised husk, no greater in stature than any mortal man. Limbless and insane he sprawled on the ground now, breathing erratically, tears weeping from his eyes.
"How...how is such a thing even possible!?" He cried out in gibbering despair. "Her younger self…a child--I lost to A CHILD! Impossible! Unimaginable!"
Sighing once again, Empress stepped closer to her devastated opponent. Now towering over him like the true Goddess she was, she looked down upon him with pity
"You should have listened to me. There is no possibility, no chance for you to defeat me. Every failed attempt you make will only result in ever-more humiliating defeats. Each disgrace piles upon another, with me prevailing every single time, until you die." She knelt beside him. “So make your choice. A swift and merciful end at my hand, or a slow, self-inflicted death of a thousand cuts.”
Reduced to a head and torso, the broken god writhed on the ground, burned by his own failures, madness frothing in his eyes. But then the chaos relaxed, and with a demented little giggle he regenerated his legs and rose into a kneel.
"I understand now, my Empress, and submit. You are Death incarnate, the essence of Conquest! Please, accept my surrender, and add my life to your glorious tally!"
“I am not Death, or Conquest. That title belongs to another, a living avatar of Chaos.” For a second The Empress’s expression grew wistful. “She is the storm, but I am merely Justice…and now I will see my justice done.”
And with that, she reached out to end his life-
“Nah, I don’t think so…” Something, or someone, appeared on the scene like a laughing comment, one that punched straight through the defeated god’s chest. He made a choking sound, and then fell back dead, his expression confused and disappointed.
The person responsible came to a screeching halt, and flexed, “Like I was going to let that bastard have the satisfaction of death by your hands, ha!”
“Nynke…” The Empress growled. “Daring as ever.”
"Hiya Queenie, or would you prefer ‘Empress of the Universe’." Nynke the Storm said in her usual teasing tones. "I felt kinda bored, and guessed you felt the same, so thought I’d drop by to play. What do you know, I pop in just in time to see you saying such nice things about me!"
In every way, Nynke was the Empress’s equal and opposite. Just as beautiful, but in a manner so different to her regal counterpart: brazen, bold and assertive, all tomboyish muscle and feminine sensuality.
Her beautiful blond mane danced behind her as she strutted forward, her wide and curvy hips swinging in an obnoxiously playful manner. Yin and yang, order and chaos. Even her scent maintained the same balance, being so radically different from the Empress's own pheromones, yet still was divine. Whereas The Empress’s musk evoked love, worship and respectful submission, Nynke’s evoked animal lust and primal energy, such that the Ruler of the Universe was right now having to focus against the aphrodisiac effects of the pleasant aroma.
They stared at each other in silence for the longest minute ever, like pugilists about to brawl, or cowboys ready to duel under a western noontime sun. Then Nynke's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"So, did you miss me?" Her voice adopted a sexual tone, and she stepped into the Empress’s personal space, giant breasts bouncing shamelessly, squeaking in the hold of her gaudy, tight latex outfit, so much like that of some fetish jester. Like everything about her, it was colorful and ridiculous...and rather fetching.
"How dare you intrude upon me like this?" The Empress answered, pushing those bothersome thoughts aside. "Did I not warn you to stay out of my way, once and for all? That I would destroy you otherwise?"
Nynke pressed close to her, and the knowing smirk on her glossy pink lips grew wider. "I know you did...and I know it was a lie. After all, what fun could the Empress have without her Nynke? Every time you send me away with the same warnings, and every time I come back. Admit it, you love having me around, love to bathe me with your attention. It’s almost like you look forward to these little play-dates." She winked one of her amber-colored eyes and ran her hands over her latex-clad curves. "So what is the truth, Queenie? Are you just afraid to confess your true feelings to me..."
"Feelings!?” The Empress clutched her fists, and tried not to think about how it would feel to pin Nynke down and caress that delicious body with her own hands. “I promised myself that I would rid the Empire of you, and I intend to follow on that promise. You just choose to keep appearing at moments when I’m not free to put you down!” For evidence she swept her hand out, encompassing the dead giant, the tragic battlefield, the entirety of the dead iron sphere that had served as the stage of these events.
“You keep saying that, Empress, but I think you’re struggling to convince even yourself.” Nynke chuckled once again, her hands continuing to explore herself, sliding over the arc of her perfect breasts. "It’s nice to know I’m living rent-free inside your head though...makes me feel warm and tingly inside. Admit it, all those worlds I destroyed were totally worth the time we got to spend together, right?"
“What I feel about such encounters matters not, the point shall always be the lives you take!” The Empress had come here to avenge a loyal legion, and now Nynke was making light of slaughtering entire worlds. "Your mockery of a life ends now, Nynke!"
“You’ve gotta catch me first!” Nynke cheekily taunted, and then launched herself up and into starlit space.
The anger now burning inside of her was far too much for the Empress to resist. Her actions today had always been restrained and controlled, her outrage tempered by cool reason. But now she leapt after Nynke with a furious roar, the force of her ascension punching a small crater into the iron ground beneath the heels of her boots
The grave-world shrank rapidly behind them as The Empress gave chase. She opened her palm, and golden power streamed from her fingers, gathering into a focused knot, one that blazed with the heat of trillions of suns. With a wordless cry, she fired it at the distant dot that was her target. Unfazed, Nynke rolled over to face the oncoming attack, opened her mouth wide and simply swallowed the blast whole. Then she slammed on the brakes, forcing the Empress to come to a dead stop herself, the two of them merely inches apart, Nynke’s smug gaze teasing her rival.
"I always knew you would taste good." The little rabble rouser winked, and then showed the gall to crane in and steal a kiss!
“You little bitch!” Infuriated, the Empress's fingers formed into a fist, which she slammed into Nynke's cheek. Cheek, for cheek. The obnoxious wench didn't even flinch, and the blow just rippled down her pink latex-bound body like waves. Nynke’s huge breasts bounced almost like liquid drops, nearly hitting the Empress in the face.
“That was a cheap punch!” Nynke, in retaliation, held up her hand and bitch-slapped right back. The Empress felt absolutely nothing, but the idea of being slapped like a naughty child only stoked the fires of her fury. How dare Nynke even touch her.
"Get your hands off of me!" she yelled, grabbing Nynke's wrist and throwing her with all of her strength right into the heart of this system, to the neutron star that sat at its very hub. With no little satisfaction she watched her nemesis melt away into the brilliant blue star, but her victory was short-lived. A chain of sunspots formed on the star’s surface in the form of a smiley face, and then boiled up and burst, rebirthing Nynke in the form of a solar flare.
Grown to thousands of miles in height, body reformatted into azure flames, the cosmic clown grabbed The Empress and yanked her right into the clutches of the unfazed super-soldier. Momentum and gravity grabbed hold, and reaching the height of her flaming arc, Nynke rolled over backwards and dived into the star, dragging The Empress with her.
Life played forward. Ridd and Geiss returned to the Imperial Capital with news of what had transpired, and how 3rd Safran’s sensors had recorded the Empress and Nynke’s dive into the heart of a star. Neither goddess was seen again. The Empire nearly collapsed from the loss of its central figurehead, but with the backing of the Royal Court, Ridd eventually accepted the mantle of the Stellar Throne. In time, Rashida Geiss joined him there, bound by oaths of love and marriage, the Empress to his Emperor. Their strength and wisdom, combined with the strong institutions The Empress had set in place, not only allowed the realm to endure, but to thrive, reigned over by Ridd and Geiss’s descendants.
As The Empress vowed, the grave-world on which she faced the false god became a shrine. The prison of the black tower was revered as a monument to the 8th Suiza, and the mausoleums littered across the iron planet became the subject of countless expeditions and researches. The mysteries of their makers were gradually unravelled, and from these efforts emerged the tale of a race who had not died out, but transcended to new planes of existence. Eventually it was proclaimed a Holy World, and the crater where The Empress had leapt forth to challenge Nynke was a place of pilgrimage.
Most sacred of all however, was the sun at the heart of this system. In spite of all expectations, it continued to burn far longer than its natural life-span. In time, rumors began, claiming that the two Goddesses still duelled within it, and their battle kept the star alive. Those whispers in turn became a movement, then a cult, then a religion, and then myth and legend, and then were forgotten. Eventually, the only reminder of those legends was the name appended on navigational charts to that blue-white sun: The Royal Star.
Eons passed, civilisations rose and fell. Wars and disasters and dark ages occasionally set back the clock of progress, but the eternal drive to grow and explore drove the sentients of the universe ever-onward. As The Empress suspected, her genes had an interesting effect on the galaxies’ populations. With enough generations and recombinations, new Gods and Goddesses arose in startling numbers, to govern over a changed universe. Species cross-bred and evolved in unexpected ways, mingling with the new pantheons until all sentient life had achieved the status of the demi-divine. In time, the path of the ancient Builders was rediscovered, and many began to follow their example, leaving this universe for other realms, especially as entropy wore on, and the universe ticked ever-closer to its appointed heat-death.
Stars ceased to form, Solar systems collapsed, sending their planets flying out along never-ending voyages into deep space. Except for one system, far out in the faded and dim remnants of the Tannhauser Arm, where the Royal Star continued to shine brightly...
The battle continued. Everything beyond the star’s gravity well passed in a blur to the two goddesses, who were entirely oblivious to the universe beyond their struggle. They fought their way back and forth through the nuclear core of the star, firing blasts of energy which were deflected by one another or bent around by the immense forces at play in this crucible of solar fire.
Beyond the battle, trillions of years had passed, and distant galaxies began to recede and wink out as reality ran ever onwards. Within the Royal Star, years and hours had run like paint, and the Empress found herself even more infuriated by Nynke's antics, especially her never-ending laughter. Nothing dominated her mind more right now than the desire to silence it, permanently. She attacked Nynke again and quickly found that her blows had no effect, and in her anger she struck harder. The laws of physics were violated again and again at her will, all in a desperate attempt to destroy Nynke, but the pink, latex goddess just laughed and dodged and evaded.
Then, something ticked over. Their efforts had kept the Royal Star alive far longer than any other star in the universe. Again and again it had tried to implode, but the quantum conflict within reignited its heart. Now though, the last vestiges of its fuel were spent. For the past million years it had limped along like a car with a stuttering engine, teetering on the verge of instability, but the centre could no longer hold.
And the next time The Empress body-slammed herself against Nynke, the balance shifted. The shockwave extinguished the final ergs of nuclear fusion, and the Royal Star finally died.
It did so to spectacular effect, blasting forth in the last great supernova the Universe would ever see. Carried on that brilliant shockwave were the raw elements that had accumulated in its core, and two human figures.
The Empress barely even registered the blast, in fact it only served to irritate her further. But as she was thrown clear she senses swept out, and in a second perceived just how much time had passed.
Several Hundred Quadrillion Years. Everything she had known and fought for was gone. The universe was dead, the stars extinguished, no life remaining on the cold planets that now drifted aimlessly through space. Even those remnants were slowly dissolving away, their very matter succumbing to the slow entropy of proton decay.
Everyone had abandoned shift, left for new universes. The only lives that remained was herself, and Nynke…
“NYNKE!” She screamed, a howl of pain and rage and loss, of the heartbreak of a mother-goddess that had suddenly lost all her children. In a furious sweep of her arms she gathered all the superheated elements ejected from the star into her bare hands, and poured them over her opponent, trying to douse Nynke in hellfire.
“Hehe! Looks like we’re all alone now!” Nynke giggled and danced her way out of the barrage, even licking at the flames with her bare tongue as she did. Snarling, the Empress collapsed all those elements back into a solid sphere, one she hurled at Nynke, who just inhaled and gobbled the entire thing up. “There’s no point in fighting, so how about you pucker up and give me a nice big kiss.”
“A kiss?! You cost me EVERYTHING!”
Both voluptuous titans kept fighting, blasting through the vast emptiness of the universe at speeds so fast that they might have been mistaken for splendid twin comets, were any civilisations left alive to witness them. Careless, unplanned blasts shattered rouge planets into rubble, which the two mighty beings then used as ammo in this endless, escalating fight.
In her pain, the Empress started hurling faded dwarf stars at Nynke, but eventually even those decayed suns burned away, as did all the dust and rubble of the former planets, for the last proton had evaporated, leaving the universe devoid of matter.
All that remained were the two goddesses, and endless black holes. Like The Empress and Nynke these cosmic cyclones also did battle, pulling themselves into one another, combining into supermassive entities. It was once such black hole that triggered the endgame. Carried past it in the throes of their fight, both Goddess found its immense gravitation force impeding even their empowered swings and punches, and decided to erase the thing out of existence.
A quick inhalation later, and they had divided the supermassive hole between them, sucked up like two girlfriends sharing a sundae. And then Nynke and The Empress kept on inhaling, each trying to swallow the other, just like the black holes that littered the remnants of Creation. Slowly they drew closer to one other, mere millimeters at the time, never beating the other, but with each passing second drawing more and more mass from further black holes into their own immense gravitational fields.
The universe collapsed around them, the echoes of everything that ever was sucked into their bellies. And then suddenly there was nothing but themselves, and the void. Pure nothingness, no light or dark or sound, no matter, nothing more to absorb. Nothing more to fight for, or live for.
And at long last, their battle finally stopped.
Panting and weary, the Empress looked all around, up and down. She peered out further, in a fruitless attempt to find at least something… a trace of a dying world, some dust adrift in the colorless void. Yet to her sadness, the Universe was completely gone. She caressed the weird conceptual abnormality that snow now floated in, and wept at the magnitude of her loss. Her wish for vengeance and destruction had carried her past the end of everything, and it seemed in this void of non-existence that only her broken heart remained.
"How could I...I thought I would never stoop so low. Never put a meaningless vendetta before my loving subjects, but I abandoned them… became as small-minded as that god I mocked earlier for his ignorance. Was that yesterday, or quadrillions of years ago… I don’t know anymore..." She was talking to herself, for there was no one left around to hear her words.
Except Nynke. In this new wasteland of nothingness, her gaudy pink ensemble was even more noticeable. “Aww… there, there.” Gracefully she floated to the Empress's side, her breasts standing proud in the void. Against the neverending whiteness, it was impossible to not appreciate her obvious beauty. "Don’t go crying over this. Everything else might have disappeared up the asscrack of reality, but we’ve still got one another." Her usual smile persisted on her flawless face, but there was now something almost tender about it. With a little less of her usual daring, she placed her delicate hand over the Empress's own.
"Look at us." Nynke continued. "Our beauty is now the only thing left in existence. Without any grubby reality to drag us down, that makes this a paradise! And we’ve got it all to ourselves..."
The Empress let out a tired sigh but she did not move Nynke's hand away, neither did she protest when her gorgeous rival pulled her into a comforting hug. Instead she reciprocated, clutching Nynke and burying herself in the squeaky latex of her expansive chest. For the first time, the Empress could allow herself the freedom to truly appreciate Nynke’s divine scent, and the beautiful perfection of her body, tightly packed into that obscenely sexy suit. Nynke's breasts seemed to rub against her own with almost electric energy, and she felt her nipples grow hard. In that instant, she wished more than anything for more attention from the other goddess. After all, nothing in the world mattered anymore. All that remained was Nynke...warm and stunning Nynke.
“Nynke…” She opened her mouth, and asked the question she had held onto all this eons. “Are you still open to a ‘playdate’, as you put it?”
Nynke looked down and smirked. "I always knew you liked me." Her own nipples were proudly poking through her latex, and now she lifted up her tits to grind them against the Empress's powerful bosom. The other woman moaned in arousal, softly and regally, as she had many times in the past, usually in the presence of Aelira, Shyenne, or any other of her pretty councillors and concubines… but this felt better, so much softer and richer. Was this what it was like to make love to another true Goddess, to her equal?
More, she wanted more. Needed it! Reaching towards she grabbed Nynke's beautiful hips and squeezed them, feeling the scamp’s body gladly respond to her touch.
"Now admit it... you’ve always desired me, haven't you?" Nynke muttered in a playful tone, as if she could never have enough fun teasing The Empress.
"You were too feisty for my taste, too dangerous...especially when I had so many responsibilities...but I cannot deny you any longer." The Empress moaned, grabbing Nynke's face and kissing her deeply. The other responded quickly, eagerly, catching the Empress's tongue with her own, dancing about it, teasing its very tip with quick gentle movements, while her massive breasts continued to rub and grind against the goddess's diamond-hard nipples.
"My body calls for you, Nynke." She whispered huskily. “Service your Empress.”
“Yes, Majesty…” Nynke responded, and hastily undressed her former rival. Slowly she unbuttoned the Empress's blouse and peeled it off her shoulders, finally letting her enormous breasts out to play. Pure perfection. She sucked one of those porcelain-pink nipples into her mouth, causing the beautiful Queen of the Once-Universe to moan even louder.
Even in her unending ecstasy, the Empress retained her habits as a benevolent queen, and she could not accept Nynke's actions without a proper show of thanks. Within seconds her fingers grabbed each of Nynke's latex-wrapped nipples, pulling them out and rolling them between her soft fingertips.
"Ahh, fuuuuuuck! The tales of your divine passion didn’t do you justice." The super soldier moaned, switching her attention from the woman's right breast to her left. At the same time, one of her hands managed to work its way into the Empress's sealed leather pants, while the other was vigorously rubbing Nynke’s own pussy through the tight embrace of the shiny pink fabric covering her body.
Naturally, this did not escape the attention of the former Empress; catching Nynke's wrist, she guided that hand away from her lower parts, before gracefully bending over. Her perfect ass made more than a pleasant display for the other woman, as the Empress gently pushed Nynke down into the soft emptiness of the void, and spread the mavericks powerful legs with a gentle smile.
"Let me show you the passion so many others have experienced...all the love I shared among my most favoured subjects can now be all yours, Nynke. The passion that sired all of my children, and filled my servants with joy."
Nynke did not protest. Her usual smug impression in place, she lay back and enjoyed the skillful hands of the other goddess. That smugness faded a little when those naughty hands went to work on her breasts, and Nynke’s perfect pink lips began to emit mewling little melodies.
The Empress definitely appreciated those sounds, so much more pleasing to listen to than the deliciously infuriating tones of Nynke’s usual voice. The sweet notes of her arousal, combined with the warm scent of her activated pheromones were absolutely impossible to resist. The Empress moaned herself, forming a harmony with Nynke, and her super-strength made quick work of unfastening Nynke's squeaking latex suit, exposing her dripping wet pussy. So pretty, and perfect, and hers. All to herself...
And Nynke was wet, oh yes. Her perfect skin was glistening just as much as the shiny suit that had previously clad her, and the warm liquid seeping from between her legs had a wonderful pearlescent sheen. The Empress could not help but be entranced by such a tantalising sightm, and suddenly she was suckling onto Nynke's sweet juices, causing the other goddess to arch her back in delight. The Empress’s tongue ran all over the soft folds of Nynke’s pussy, and discovered she tasted incredible...better than any concubine she ever had, or could have, and probably better than anyone could have ever tasted.
Nynke continued to moan and pant, eagerily offering more of herself to the Empress's probing lips and tongue. Her hands now wandered across the elder goddess's ivory locks, and she bit her plump pink lips in ecstasy. "Mmm, you’re doing so gooooood...I always wondered what that experienced mouth of yours would feel like."
The Empress answered by sucking Nynke's clit into her mouth, forcing the super-soldier to surrender to her own rising pleasing, coaxing even more lewd noises from her. Then suddenly, Nynke reversed their positions, sliding out of the Empress’s grasp to embrace her lover from behind, one hand wrapped around those gorgeous tits, the other’s fingers playfully teasing the entrance of her exposed womanhood. Excited and aroused, The Empress squirmed at the sensation of Nynke's quick, playful hands playing against her sensitive body...touching, rubbing...and one agile finger exploring up into her pussy, reaching the deepest throne of her femininity. She started to scream in ecstasy, filling the emptiness of the void with the music of their lovemaking. Nynke did not stop, sliding more and more fingers inside of her Empress, stretching out those pink, sensitive walls, forcing her lover to gasp for air that wasn't there.
"So good… you are so good Nynke!" The Empress moaned again and again, praising the super soldier and begging her to go harder. She could feel something squeaking behind her and soon it was not a finger but a giant latex dick that was spreading the sensitive walls of her vagina open.
“Do you like this, my slutty Empress…” The blonde goddess began to thrust harder and harder into her. “If you do, then beg for more.”
"Please Nynke...more!" The Empress exhaled, her whole body twitching from the sensual assault. "I cannot have enough of you!"
“If my good little Empress commands…” Nynke purred, biting on the curve of The Empress’s collarbone as she began to pump harder. The Empress’s tits were now bouncing around with the motion of the blonde powerhouse, now burying her sparkly pink cock even deeper within her lover’s depths. The Empress could feel her own pleasure mounting, and a heavy warmth developing in her breasts. Before long, her pleasure began to manifest as creamy droplets of milk, dripping and spurting from her nipples.
“Oh!” Nynke gasped in approval. “I didn’t know you could do that!” She wetted her fingers with the rich liquid and sampled it. “So fucking good, you really are a queen!” The divine ambrosia seemed to energise her even further, and chuckling in delight she continued to work her hard latex cock deeper into the Empress's vagina. "It was so worth chasing you all these years...just for this moment...AH!"
Her smug smile disappeared, and she moaned loudly in symphony with the Empress, who had just come hard, the tight walls of her pussy clenched hard around Nynke's perfect latex cock. Pushed to peaks of climax she had never known before, Nynke collapsed back into the blinding vacuum of reality. She huffed like a bitch, in need of a quick pause.
“Now, it’s my turn.” The Empress however did not permit Nynke long to catch her breath, and within moments she was raring to go, smirking proudly. "I can certainly go further than this..." Eyes filled with passion, she traced a hand down to her own pussy, and with a few gentle touches coaxed forth her own massive cock.
“It’s so big…” Nynke could only lick her lips, hungry for what would come next.
"Bigger than yours..." The Empress smiled wickedly, slowly stroking herself, panting in delight as it rose proud and firm, standing at full mast between her legs once more."Better in every way you could imagine..."
Before Nynke could react, the Empress pressed them both close, their erect dicks brushing each other’s thighs as she grabbed Nynke’s beautiful breasts once again "I’ve denied myself the pleasure of feeling these for so long...but no longer!" Squeezing them between her hands, the Empress then shoved her impressive girth right up between the creamy peaks, enveloping it in their marshmallowy goodness. It felt so good, to amazing...impossible to express in words, for there was too much to express, the greatest pleasure in the world was to be lost in these divine boobs. The plush softness driving her crazy, the Empress began to passionately titfuck Nynke’s breasts, her former rival’s moans only serving to further encourage her.
Nynke screamed and groaned in delight, one hand furiously stroking her own sensitive latex dick for all it was worth, until the Empress finally came, covering Nynke’s own boobs with thick, ropey cum. She would not let go for several hours, keeping her cock planted in between Nynke's tits, coming again and again until her companion’s beautiful body was covered in her godly semen.
Nynke did not protest, did not have the ability to even consider protesting. She was enjoying this process with all her soul, and her own pink cock was throbbing with arousal… She did not mind in the slightest when the Empress turned her around, took hold of her doggy-style and buried her whole length inside of Nynke’s vagina. In fact, Nynke met this change of pace with great excitement, impatiently arching her back and orgasming each time she was getting drilled again, before the Empress finally relaxed and allowed them rest.
"My beautiful Empress..." Nynke whispered before grabbing her lover's hips and impaling her back upon her own thick latex dick… “No one said you could stop.”
“Ah, yes! Lady Nynke!”
Their passion seemed to have no end. Just as they had found for cosmic eons, now they spent decades doing nothing else other than fucking and loving one other, filling the emptiness of the Universe with their moans. They switched places over and over, tireless and magnificent, exchanging reins of control, dominance and submission. With no one left to worship them but themselves, they went at it with the devotion of true believers. And besides cum and milk and lust and love, they exchanged experiences, wisdom, knowledge and perspective, a telepathic give and take as profound and erotic as all the physical pleasures.
With every passing year their bond grew ever stronger, and gradually they came to understand that they were always destined for each other. Yin and Yang, Order and Chaos, perfectly balanced and united. Their past conflicts, their rivalry, we now all distant memories from a past that didn't matter anymore, a sweet adventure which led to their true happiness, beyond the end of time, and heralding the start of another saga.
"You will produce a child from me." The Empress calmly said one day, looking into the infinite depths of the colourless void, the two of them holding one another close after yet another insane round of sex. "A beautiful daughter, to start the new universe..."
"I know." Nynke answered tenderly, one of her hands drifting down to stroke her belly and lower parts, both overflowing with the Empress's cum. "I can feel her forming inside of me...a beautiful young Goddess, mightier than any known to the universe that came before."
“I feel her too.” The Empress nodded, resting her head on Nynke's warm, welcoming shoulder. "Possessing power unmatched by the two of us combined...our greatest pride and joy, the daughter who will become mother to a new creation." She turned her face to look into the infinite depths of Nynke's golden eyes and softly whispered a heartfelt oath. "I love you, Nynke."
"I love you too, Thalsa."
Thalsa...the Empress blinked. No, she was no longer ‘The Empress’, not any more. She had long ago forgotten her birth name, but now Nynke had given her a new one. And with that, the final ties to her former empire were severed. Thoughts of duty and decorum could be set aside, and she could just be, be herself, be Thalsa again, with her gorgeous wife at her side and the prospect of their future daughter, to love and cherish into a new universe.
It was the greatest gift she could have asked for.