The Starzhou let out a deathly metallic shriek as it plowed through dark matter turbulence, and tension gripped everyone on board.

The fleet’s destination was a floating starfield deep in space known as Starzhou.

It drifted with genesis particles left over from the dawn of creation—particles that could restructure matter, reverse entropy, and hold the key to the survival of civilization.

Though called a fleet, it consisted of only seven people. Yet they carried a heavy mandate, bearing the hopes of the entire Solar System as they ventured into this off-limits region beyond known space.

Reality proved far more complex than any simulation.

There were no planets here, only countless stellar fragments torn apart by gravitational collapse, floating in a graveyard stretching dozens of light-years across.

Chaotic gravitational fields brought constant peril; the slightest deviation from the course would reduce the ship to dust in an instant.

Early on, Lao Lu was hit by a sudden spatial storm during an extravehicular survey. His face contorted violently, and moments later, only half his body drifted in the vacuum.

We forced down our terror and pressed on.

Near the core of Starzhou, the signal grew stronger. Pale golden light flowed around us, and the genesis particles blazed with an almost painful beauty.

Just as we locked onto the particles’ coordinates, a dimensional collapse struck without warning.

Space folded like a crumpled canvas. The ship’s deck warped and splintered, and the comms channel erupted in harsh static.

Engineer Akai tried to stabilize the engines, only to be swallowed by collapsing spacetime. Dr. Su Rui, while sealing the isolation hatch, was crushed in a spatial rift before she could even scream.

Panic spread through the crew. Some fell into depression; others snapped, attempting to seize the particles by force—only to be vaporized by their immense energy.

One by one, my crewmates vanished. Of the seven-member team, only I remained. Grief weighed on me, but it was overshadowed by an obsessive will to survive.

The ship was falling apart, and oxygen was running critically low. Fortunately, I had managed to capture the genesis particles, barely holding on when I’d nearly given up.

In my panic, my fingers brushed against a cold piece of metal etched with strange patterns.

Then it hit me: it looked like a spacetime cipher.

I decoded the markings while searching for an escape route, finally locating a spacetime rift.

I programmed the coordinates, entered the cipher, and used the residual energy of the genesis particles as power.

Trembling, I flipped the switch.

Behind me, the Starzhou disintegrated completely. A burst of light blazed ten times brighter than the sun, searing my skin.

The spacetime gate slowly opened, past and future overlapping, death and rebirth intertwining.

The escape pod drifted like a lone boat, tossed in the raging waves of spacetime, on the verge of being torn apart into fundamental particles at any moment.

After an untold stretch of time, the pod broke through an atmosphere and crashed into a desolate landscape.

I had made it back alive.