Chapter 850  Tempting Fate


    Crack!


    Had there been air to carry the sound, that would have been the noise echoing through space. Instead, there was only silence as the fabric of space fractured—a jagged crack forming for the briefest of moments.


    A small, round object emerged, slipping through the gap before it sealed itself shut, leaving no trace of its existence. The only evidence that anything had occurred was the lone sphere, now drifting amid the vastness of space.


    Roughly the size of a football, the sphere remained still for only a moment before it came to life. It scanned its surroundings, finding itself deep within an asteroid field, surrounded by tumbling rocks and frozen comet nuclei.


    Without hesitation, the object accelerated, weaving through the chaotic debris field with ease and with no visible propulsion method. Tiny blue sparks flickered from its surface each time it passed near an asteroid or an icy fragment, scattering briefly before fading into nothingness.


    It was collecting data.


    Its movement formed a widening spiral, a systematic pattern as it mapped and analyzed everything in its view. Minute by minute, hour by hour, it expanded its search, its course resembling a growing web of unseen pathways.


    For a full twenty-four hours, it continued this relentless survey—until suddenly, it froze mid-flight.


    A presence had entered its range.


    A massive ship.


    Its sensors instantly shifted focus, locking onto the colossal vessel that had ventured into the asteroid field.


    Had it been detected?


    The sphere remained still, its advanced systems working rapidly to determine whether the ship’s occupants had noticed its presence—or not, for now, it remained nothing more than another drifting piece of debris.


    The massive ship loomed over the icy expanse, docked to an enormous frozen body spanning hundreds of kilometers. A steady flow of thousands of smaller ships moved around it, ferrying chunks of ice back to the mothership—clear evidence of an active mining operation.


    For over an hour, the sphere observed in silence, tracking every movement. It noted patrol ships scattered throughout the area, their flight paths predictable, and their sensor sweeps.


    Satisfied with its analysis, it began to move.


    Its first target: a patrolling ship stationed nearby.


    The sphere advanced cautiously, stopping one kilometer away, then waited. Ten minutes passed. No reaction.


    And then—it was done.


    Without lingering, without hesitation, the sphere immediately turned and began its departure.


    It retraced its path, weaving back through the asteroid field.


    Approaching the location where it had first entered, it did not slow, did not pause.


    Just as before, a crack in space appeared.


    The sphere dived through without a moment’s hesitation.


    A heartbeat later, the crack sealed itself, vanishing as if it had never been there.


    And with it—all evidence that the sphere had ever existed was erased.


    ..............


    {Welcome back. Let’s hope you brought back valuable data,} Nyx’s voice echoed through the large hall, directed at the returning object that was at the center of it.


    This place was far from Earth—far from any system directly tied to the Empire. It was one of many pre-mapped absolute coordinate zones, chosen to ensure that any wormholes used for reconnaissance missions could not be directly traced back to Earth, the Solar System, or Proxima Centauri.


    Here, the Empire had constructed a large research station, equipped with wormhole-opening technology designed precisely for operations like this.


    Inside a one-to-one replica of the station, deep within the Universal Simulation, Aron observed the incoming data. He wasn’t alone—Nova, Athena, Nyx, John, and a handful of top researchers specializing in this field were with him, all monitoring the aftermath of what had been a high-risk test just moments ago.


    "The fact that it made it back at all justifies everything we''ve done," Aron remarked, his expression unreadable as he processed the implications.


    Nyx, meanwhile, was already receiving the raw data—information that had passed through a safety filter designed to intercept any potential counterintelligence attempts. If the object had been captured and released in an effort to trace it back or had been infiltrated with malware, the filter would scrub it before allowing any direct access.


    For now, the room remained silent. Everyone was waiting.


    Waiting for Nyx to process the data.


    Waiting for her report.


    To say they were eager would be a gross understatement.