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Devour Vol 2 Ch 25: The Chase Through Hyper Space!
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 17:10:05 +0000 UTCThe Neralians were a proud race, their tall, silver-scaled bodies and sharp, luminous eyes marking them as one of the more advanced species in their corner of the galaxy. For centuries they had carved safe lanes through hyperspace, mapping currents and folds as carefully as sailors once mapped oceans. But all of that meant nothing now.
Their ship tore through hyperspace, streaks of blue and white light stretching endlessly in every direction, yet not a soul aboard felt comforted by the familiar glow. Panic filled the corridors, echoing down steel halls as soldiers barked reports and technicians scrambled across glowing consoles. The air hummed with a nervous energy that no engine could drown out.
At the bridge, the High Marshal gripped the railing tightly, his claws digging faint scratches into the polished alloy. His name was Veyran, a seasoned commander who had stared down warlords and storms alike—but nothing in his long life compared to what they had just seen.
"Report!" Veyran's voice cut sharp through the chaos.
A young soldier with her scales still pale from youth snapped her head up from a console. Her chest heaved, but her voice stayed steady. "High Marshal, no sign of the Devourer. For the time being... she's not spotted us."
For the time being. The words offered no comfort.
Veyran's jaw tightened. His eyes darted to the display in front of him, glowing with hyperspace currents that twisted and bent as if something massive had waded into the stream. "How in the abyss did this happen?" he muttered. His voice was low, but the bridge was so tense that every officer heard it. "We were running daily routes, securing trade lanes for the homeworld. And now—" He stopped, his throat closing around the truth. Now they were running for their lives.
And worse—if they led her back to their planet... if she followed them into Neralian space... it would be the end of their people.
"High Marshal!" a voice cried out, breaking the taut silence.
Veyran snapped his head around. Another soldier, this one seated at the navigation panel, stared wide-eyed at her readings. The sirens overhead blared suddenly to life, red light flooding the bridge and bathing every scaled face in crimson.
"What is it!?" Veyran barked.
"Hyperspace is—" the soldier's voice cracked, then steadied with a mix of fear and disbelief. "Hyperspace is tearing itself apart!"
The words struck the room like a blade. Gasps filled the chamber. Every officer turned toward the central viewing screen.
And then—silence.
The swirling blue-white light of hyperspace rippled unnaturally, like fabric being tugged at from outside. The currents twisted, bent, and then—split.
Massive fingers tore through the glowing streams of energy, rending open hyperspace itself like a child ripping paper. Each digit glistened with skin darker than night, tipped with nails that caught and refracted the distorted light. And then, through the ragged tear, a face pushed through.
Her face.
The Darkness Devourer's features filled the screen, so immense the cameras could not contain her. Her glowing purple eyes burned like suns as she peered inside, her gaze rolling over their ship as if she could see straight through steel and shadows.
The bridge trembled. The walls hummed with vibrations, not from their engines—but from the sound. A roar, so feminine and furious it cracked across every corner of hyperspace, rattling the bones of the crew.
The Devourer pressed forward, her colossal body forcing itself into the narrow currents. Space itself bent against her, crumpling like foil around the enormity of her form.
"We need to go, sir!" the young soldier cried, her scales paling with terror.
Veyran's breath caught in his chest. His people looked to him, their luminous eyes wide, waiting for orders. He looked back at the screen, at that impossible, burning gaze that promised only one thing—pain. She was angry, and she would take her fury out on all of them.
"Helmsman," Veyran growled, his voice a thunderclap against the panicked silence. "Engage the Veythar thrusters. Full burn. Now!"
"Aye, High Marshal!"
The ship shuddered as deep within its core, the Veythar drives awoke. Energy conduits lit up like veins of fire, streaks of white and gold racing along the length of the vessel. Plasma wings unfolded from the hull, thrumming with raw power as hyperspace currents wrapped violently around them.
The Neralian cruiser howled forward, tearing through the collapsing folds of hyperspace like a blade ripping water apart. Engines screamed. Lights flickered. Bodies trembled against the strain.
Behind them, her roar chased them still.
And Veyran knew—it didn't matter how far they ran. A goddess had seen them. And she was coming.
***
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The Darkness Devourer pressed her body further into the collapsing currents of hyperspace, purple light flickering in her eyes like burning storms. Normally, the chase would thrill her—mortals screaming as they ran, the taste of their terror filling the void. That was her joy. Her hunger.
But not this time.
Not when the blood of her sister had been spilt.
Her jaw clenched as she moved, every ripple of her massive form straining against the thin fabric of hyperspace. The weight of her fury bent the streams of light and folded them inward, leaving a wake of distorted gravity. She cared nothing for the elegance of the hunt now. If these little mortals knew what had happened—if they had even seen—then they couldn't be allowed to scatter back to their worlds.
They needed to be captured.
Her hand stretched forward, long fingers slicing through the warp currents. She reached for the closest ship, her glowing nails dragging lines of fire through hyperspace itself. The vessel twisted desperately, its engines screaming in tiny bursts of blue. Too slow.
Her fingertip brushed its hull.
The result was immediate—metal shrieked as the ship spun violently, flames erupting across its body as sparks tore free like blood from a wound. It tumbled end over end, leaving a spiral of burning fragments behind it.
"Dammit," she whispered, the sound rolling like thunder through the warped space. Her lips tightened. She hadn't wanted that. She needed them alive.
Her eyes narrowed, glowing brighter as she fixed her gaze on the surviving ships. They were pushing themselves to their limits, engines burning hotter than their frames were ever designed for. And then—suddenly—the light around them bent, collapsed inward, and vanished.
Her pupils widened.
They had jumped.
The Devourer leaned forward, pressing her colossal form harder against the fragile seam of hyperspace. With a sound like glass fracturing, she ripped through the boundary and followed them out.
Her body erupted into realspace with a shudder that sent shockwaves racing across the void. She straightened, her immense form blotting out the stars around her, eyes locking on the fleeing signatures.
And then—she stopped.
Because she was no longer staring at a handful of ships.
All around her, stretching for thousands of kilometers, were fleets. Dozens of Neralian cruisers, battleships, and carriers, their hulls glowing with the cold silver of their kind. Formations tightened like the jaws of a trap, weapons igniting in synchronized waves.
Her purple eyes widened, reflecting the countless lights of their arsenal.
They had been waiting.
And for the first time in ages, she felt the faintest flicker of surprise.
