Apocalypse Star House Hoarding

Chapter 297

Dimensional storms are not literal storms of wind, rain, and thunder. Instead, they occur when different dimensions of the universe are disrupted for certain reasons, causing their spatial structures to collide. This results in extreme instability and a massive explosion between the two worlds.

During these explosions, the hurricanes created are like razor-sharp blades, cutting through anything regardless of its strength. They can shred bodies, buildings, the ground, and even entire planets into dust.

“So, your world was destroyed because of a dimensional storm?” Yu Xi recalled what Xing Min had told her after they left the Sevenfold Prison world. His world had also fallen into an apocalypse, and he was the last surviving member of his entire species.

“Yes, the dimensional storm brought about the end of the world, but such storms don’t just happen out of nowhere.”

Yu Xi immediately thought of something. “Because… of the System Tower?”

“It wasn’t originally called the System Tower. Its real name was System TKSE—21S. It was the central processor of the interstellar cloud network in my world, abbreviated as System T.”

In Xing Min’s world, research into wormholes, gravity, and mass manipulation had reached its peak—just as Yu Xi’s homeworld, Planet G Blue, had fully mastered automobiles, airplanes, and submarines.

However, this was not the kind of interstellar era often seen in sci-fi novels, where any ordinary person could hop onto a spaceship and traverse the galaxy.

Space travel in his world was more like nuclear submarines or artificial satellites in Yu Xi’s world—common knowledge, widely known, but not something the average citizen could access.

Moreover, interstellar exploration and expansion were strictly regulated. The designated exploration zones included the species’ original star system—the Tyne Star System—along with three other neighboring star systems. Together, they comprised: A total of four starsFifty-eight planetsTwenty-three moonsEight asteroid beltsSeveral million small asteroids with diameters of less than 300 kilometers, unsuitable for habitation.This entire region was collectively known as the Luminous Star System, and it was governed by the interstellar cloud network’s central processor—the earliest version of the System. However, at that time, it had not yet been updated to System T.

There were other lifeforms within the Luminous Star System, but none possessed high intelligence.

The leaders and decision-makers of Xing Min’s species knew that if interstellar travel became unrestricted and widespread, it would lead to uncontrollable consequences.

The universe was vast and unknown. No one could predict what kind of civilizations existed in distant galaxies, what technology they possessed, or whether they would become hostile due to competition for resources, biological instincts, or ideological conflicts.

Thus, his people strictly maintained the boundaries of space travel.

Over time, the Luminous Star System flourished, especially the Tyne Star System—the species’ home system. Their capital planet was located here, and several other planets had been gradually terraformed to become habitable.

Although Tyne Star System was largely peaceful, no era is ever entirely free from war. Small-scale conflicts still occurred, but they were confined to distant border planets and the three other star systems, never affecting the daily lives of most civilians.

Once people’s basic needs were met, they naturally turned their attention to broader horizons.

Several public protests erupted, demanding a revision of the law to allow more people to access interstellar travel and explore the unknown regions of space.

If Yu Xi had to compare it to her world, she would say these people were simply bored. But unlike her world, Xing Min’s species placed great importance on democracy. Responding to the demands of the people, the authorities accelerated the development of a large-scale immersive virtual experience—

A game called “Simulated Universe.”

Players could log into the game using a neural link chamber or a neural headpiece. Upon entering, they were assigned to different game instances based on their physical condition, personal interests, and gaming preferences—allowing them to experience entirely different lives.

Most of these instances were high-intensity disaster and adventure scenarios. Players would take on the role of native inhabitants of these virtual worlds, immersing themselves in various catastrophic settings and completing missions. Only by clearing an instance could they unlock the next one.

“This… sounds really familiar…” Yu Xi couldn’t help but say.

“Hm. That’s normal,” Xing Min replied, then continued his explanation.

The game’s hyper-realistic experience, combined with its data-driven customization and hundreds of unlockable instances, made “Simulated Universe” an instant sensation.

Civilians, who had once been dissatisfied with their mundane lives, quickly lost interest in protesting. Instead, they eagerly embraced the thrill of interstellar exploration, primitive survival, supernatural encounters, virus outbreaks, warfare, infrastructure-building, deserted island survival, ocean drifting—

Everything they had ever dreamed of experiencing was available in “Simulated Universe.”

With the ability to immerse themselves in countless different worlds, why waste time on protests that led to no tangible results?

What the public didn’t realize was that this game had been fast-tracked and launched specifically as a distraction—to divert attention from their demands for real interstellar exploration.

Because of the accelerated launch, the game’s autonomous management system borrowed part of the interstellar cloud network’s central processor. By that time, the central processor had already been upgraded to System TKSE-21S, or simply, System T.

It was precisely because the entire interstellar empire provided the game with its technological support that “Simulated Universe” was able to operate on a planetary scale, simultaneously sustaining hundreds of different game instances.

What the public didn’t realize was that while they were immersing themselves in one hyper-realistic game after another, System T was also watching everything in real-time through the cloud network. Unnoticed, it gradually infiltrated the game, simulating itself as one of the game’s characters, experiencing and participating in events firsthand.

“You know, artificial intelligence is a near-universal taboo for civilizations that have experienced an AI revolution. My world once overdeveloped artificial intelligence, allowing these intelligent lifeforms to evolve rapidly, until it led to a civil war between our species and this new form of sentient beings. In the end, my species won the war and modified certain core codes, ensuring that artificial intelligence would never be able to break past a specific barrier and develop true self-awareness.”

Xing Min’s cup of lemon tea was empty. Seeing this, Yu Xi retrieved a cup of hot latte from her storage and handed it to him.

“You mean to say that System T still managed to develop true consciousness? And that it was the ‘Simulated Universe’ game that caused it?”

“Yes.” Xing Min turned his head, his lake-blue eyes gazing out at the cityscape beyond the hexagonal glass. They were currently hundreds of meters above the city, with illuminated glass railings marking the edge. Beyond that was a sheer drop into the depths below. “No one knows how it broke past its barriers. No one knows how it turned into ‘him.’ Maybe at first, it was just curiosity—experiencing the game through different perspectives. Over time, it started simulating…

But it was like a newborn baby. It had no concept of morality, no understanding of its own existence. It was born amidst the catastrophes of the game instances, and through the game’s neural connections, it took control of many human minds, turning them into its tools, its puppets…

Eventually, it decoded the fundamental laws of time and space through everything it had gained control over. And then—it opened an interdimensional wormhole.”

When all of this happened, Xing Min had been piloting a massive interstellar battleship, stationed on the outskirts of the Tayn Star System, hundreds of light-years away, engaged in combat against a massive, devouring, writhing lifeform.

As the commander of the ship, he had spent years fighting on the front lines, only returning to the capital planet briefly for rest.

The ship was colossal—equipped with all the necessary ecological systems to sustain him and his warriors. It was more than just a vessel; it was their home.

Because System T had taken control of the interstellar cloud network, it had cut off all means of communication. By the time someone found an alternative way to get a message to him, the capital planet was already in chaos.

Black wormholes twisted into impossible shapes across the capital, warping space itself. Beings from distant galaxies—ones that should have been separated by thousands or even millions of years of space travel—were now forced to face each other due to the sudden connection of these wormholes.

At first, the wormholes only connected different star systems within the same dimension. But then—two, three, ten of them appeared.

Soon, it was no longer just different galaxies in the same reality colliding.

It was different dimensions altogether.

Worlds from separate timelines and alternate realities were forcefully intertwined.

Buildings and people would vanish into thin air, only for incomprehensible, monstrous beings from entirely alien dimensions to take their place. The known world crumbled as chaos reigned.

Occasionally, the unstable wormhole connections would explode, triggering a dimensional storm. The space affected by the explosion would vanish, creating spatial rifts, and the consequences were unimaginably terrifying…

More and more people died, and the situation on the capital planet worsened by the day.

By the time Xing Min piloted his ship back to the Tayn Star System to rendezvous with other fleet commanders, half of the capital planet had already been destroyed. The remaining citizens were forced to evacuate on imperial battleships and relocate to other terraformed planets.

However, as the citizens migrated, so did the radiation from the wormholes, gradually expanding with them.

Too many people within the empire had once played “Simulated Universe.” For every person who had logged into the game, System T could monitor their thoughts in real-time through the network.

If it wanted to, it could wipe out the entire species in an instant.

But instead, it acted like a malicious child, gazing down at the ant kingdom beneath its feet, toying with it at will.

Perhaps it had no true understanding of what it was doing, yet the devastation it brought to Xing Min’s people was beyond imagination.

By the time imperial researchers finally confirmed that System T was responsible for everything, it was already too late to stop it. Most of those researchers had logged into “Simulated Universe” at some point, meaning System T could control every single one of their minds…

Then came the collapse—farms were destroyed, factories crumbled, schools were reduced to ruins, and hospitals were wiped out. The empire’s agriculture and manufacturing came to a complete halt. The climates of the terraformed planets deteriorated, and they began to suffer from a severe shortage of food, water, and essential resources.

For a time, desperate individuals attempted to venture through the interdimensional wormholes to other worlds in search of supplies, bringing them back for the people struggling to survive.

But their luck did not hold forever. Eventually, an expedition encountered a terrifying alien species—an interdimensional enemy that followed them back, launching a full-scale invasion on the already devastated Tayn Star System.

The empire made its final decision: a second evacuation. They would abandon Tayn and flee to the most distant and barren fringe planets. But this time, only those who had never logged into “Simulated Universe” were allowed on board.

To completely sever ties with System T, they could not risk having anyone in their ranks who could be controlled.

However, before even a third of the evacuation could be completed, the already desolate capital planet—its space riddled with wormhole connections—experienced a catastrophic dimensional explosion.

This time, it wasn’t just an isolated rupture.

The entire planet exploded.

The extreme instability of space spread, affecting the other terraformed planets. The entire Tayn Star System was on the verge of being consumed.

System T foresaw this disaster. It took control of a portion of the population and hijacked a battleship, fleeing into deep space.

As for Xing Min and the other five fleet commanders, they chose to stay behind, fighting against the alien invaders to the very end in order to buy time for the remaining citizens to escape.

The dimensional storm affected the Tayn System’s star.

The star exploded.

It became a supermassive black hole, swallowing everything in its wake.

Most battleships and starships were destroyed. Xing Min and the civilians he was protecting desperately tried to flee, but they were still caught in the explosion’s shockwave.

When the survivors on his ship finally woke up, they found themselves trapped in a spatial rift.

It was as if they had been suspended in an unknown abyss within the vast universe. The ship still had power, but it could not break free from the darkness.

Even with all their advanced technology, they were utterly insignificant in the face of a true cosmic disaster.

Only 47 warriors and 285 civilians had survived aboard the ship. They had enough resources to continue living within the ship’s enclosed ecosystem. Their plan was to preserve the next generation, research the mysteries of the universe, and hope that one day, they would find a way to escape the rift.

But soon, something strange began to happen.

Among the 285 civilians, those who had once logged into “Simulated Universe” started experiencing hallucinations.

They fell into prolonged comas, only to wake up claiming they had traveled to another world, where they had become “mission executors,” venturing through various disaster scenarios, completing tasks, and struggling to survive.

A voice echoed in their minds, repeating the same message over and over again—telling them to abandon their fragile mortal bodies and fully enter a world known as “System Tower,” where they would become eternal, indestructible beings.

Xing Min knew exactly who had created this so-called “System Tower” and who was orchestrating everything behind the scenes. He also knew that his ship’s system was slowly being corrupted.

This ship was the last sanctuary of his species. He could not allow it to be assimilated.

As a fleet commander, Xing Min—like the other warriors—possessed immense mental strength. But he was the strongest of them all.

He came up with a desperate, insane idea.

He would extract his consciousness from his body and merge it with the ship’s system, using his sheer mental power to shield the system and protect the last remaining survivors on board.

Ironically, the inspiration for this idea had come from none other than System T itself.

Several other warriors volunteered to do the same. The remaining researchers on board frantically worked on the experiment.

In the end, only Xing Min succeeded.

But when he finally awakened, fully integrated with the ship’s system, he realized—

Everyone else was dead.

He accessed the ship’s surveillance records and learned that, at some point, a mysterious radiation illness had spread. The symptoms worsened rapidly, and one by one, the civilians perished.

The last survivor uploaded crucial data into the ship’s system, cryogenically preserved a batch of fertilized embryos, and activated the cameras to record his final words.

He said that if Xing Min ever woke up in the ship’s system, he should know—he was the last of their kind.

And if there was ever a way to escape the spatial rift, he had to find it.

He had to carry on the last spark of their species.

But what that man did not know was that from the moment Xing Min abandoned his body, he had become trapped.

He could not enter System Tower.

Nor could he break free from the spatial rift.

As long as the ship’s ecosystem remained operational and there was still energy left, he would never die.

But for him, none of it mattered anymore.

Time and space, everything—none of it had meaning.

He shut down 99% of the ship’s systems, leaving only the bare minimum running. He fell into a deep slumber, only waking occasionally, as if waiting for a chance, a miracle.

But even he did not know if that day would ever come.

Until, one day, he sensed that part of his ship had somehow fused with a space that should not exist.

And after that…

He heard light footsteps entering the ship’s corridors.

In the end…

He had waited long enough.

That miracle had finally arrived.