"The most insidious lies are those woven with threads of truth and desperation."

The air in the Krill bio-labs hung thick with blood and the acrid scent of burnt flesh. Thousands of slaves, captured from countless worlds, had perished in agonizing mutations, their screams echoing off the reinforced walls.

These were the "gruesome experiments," the price of the Krill Empire's insatiable ambition. Psionic power, a force that defied their crude technological understanding, a gift that only a few rare beings could attain through lifetimes of spiritual mastery and arduous evolution, was their ultimate prize. They sought to weaponize it, to mass-produce it, to bend it to their cruel will.

Through these endless, unethical trials, where life was merely a disposable variable, the Krill scientists, reptilian and cold, had stumbled upon a horrifying truth. Certain beings, even those with only faint traces of psionic energy, possessed unique, crystalline cells within their blood. These cells, when isolated, amplified, and injected into a host, could transfer psionic energy throughout the system, effectively granting psionic abilities to those otherwise incapable. It was a breakthrough, but a chaotic one, often ending in grotesque, agonizing death.

Driven by a morbid curiosity, and seeing a potential tool of unimaginable power, the lead Krill scientist, a gaunt, scarred reptilian named Dr. Xy'laris, had approached Mainu. "Lord Dragon," Khar'Van had hissed, his voice oozing false reverence, "to truly understand the chaotic nature of your magnificent power, to better stabilize the precious egg, we require a single drop of your essence. For study, of course. To ensure the child's safe hatching." Mainu, desperate, his vast mind clouded by paternal love, had agreed, offering a single, shimmering drop of crimson blood.

The experiment, when injected into their own elite soldiers, proved successful and utterly chaotic as expected. The Krill labs became a hell of screams. Warriors, once proud and disciplined, writhed on sterile tables. Their bodies swelled, muscles tearing, bones twisting. Some had flesh growing out of their eye sockets, twisting their faces into grotesque masks of agony, their sight replaced by raw, exposed nerves. Others sprouted extra arms, or had limbs that ended in mouths filled with jagged fangs, snapping at the air. The chaos was too much; the raw power of Mainu's blood interfered with genetic codes, rewriting them at its will, creating abominations that even the cold Krill scientists struggled to contain.

"The chaos is too great!" Khar'Van shrieked, watching a mutated soldier tear through its reinforced cage. "The genetic rewrite is too aggressive! We need a counter-agent! Something to stabilize the interference!"

That was when they secretly captured a native human, a psionic sensitive from the Maharlika Kingdom, a young woman named Alana, brimming with natural, uncorrupted psionic energy. Her screams were muffled by thick, sound-dampening walls as they extracted her blood, a vibrant, life-giving fluid. Their hypothesis: if Mainu's chaos corrupted, then perhaps the purity of psionic energy could balance it.

The new experiment was a horrifying success. Subjects, once mutated into writhing abominations, after ingesting Alana's blood, either orally or intravenously, slowly returned to their original lizard-humanoid state. The horrific growths receded, the extra limbs retracted, the fanged mouths on their bodies vanished.

But they were changed. They now possessed much more powerful and, crucially, controlled psionic energy. They had found out that Mainu's chaos energy interfered with genetic codes in a body and rewrote it to its will, but for some reason, a human blood stabilized that chaotic interference, channeling it, refining it, making it a weapon they could control.

This was the true prize for the Krill. A method to create an army of psionically enhanced super-soldiers, loyal and terrifying. And since their goal was to keep Mainu for as long as possible, fixing his child would finish the contract quickly, and that was something they didn't want to happen. Mainu, a being of immense power, was a far more valuable asset as a bound supplier of his blood and a protector than a free, grieving father.

Thus, the Krill Emperor, Khar'Vhan, a being of chilling cunning and a master of manipulation, summoned Mainu. His throne room, usually a place of cold, calculated power, now pulsed with a carefully orchestrated aura of benevolent concern. "Lord Mainu," Khar'Vhan purred, his voice like grinding stone, "we have made a breakthrough. A miracle, thanks to your invaluable essence."

He relayed to Mainu a mixed truth, a half-truth and lie. "Your blood, Lord Dragon, is indeed chaotic. It requires a unique counter-agent to stabilize its raw power. We have discovered that the unique psionic properties within human blood can indeed stabilize your chaotic blood nature—this is the truth. It is a perfect balance for your magnificent power."

Mainu's vast eyes gleamed with hope. "My child… it can be cured?"

Khar'Vhan allowed a slow, predatory smile to spread across his reptilian face. "Indeed, Lord Dragon. But there is a… logistical challenge. To fix your only child, to bring it out of its dormant, imbalanced state, to ensure its full, healthy birth, we would need a ton of human blood. Not just a few drops, but the entire human race's worth, a continuous, vast supply, for the solution to be potent enough." That was the devastating lie, whispered with the conviction of truth.

Terralia, listening from her sanctuary, felt a cold dread seize her heart. The Krill's words, though cloaked in scientific phrases, were clear. Her humans, the very race she had sworn to protect, were to be enslaved, bled dry. This violated her sacred oath as their guardian. It was a betrayal she could not accept, yet could not prevent, bound by Mainu's desperate contract. Her light flickered with agony.

For the Krills, the technical truth to cure the dragon egg was simple. The egg would only need to be bathed in a small pool of Mainu's own blood mixed with an equal amount of human blood. This would create a stable solution that would finally allow the chaotic energy within the egg to balance, allowing the child to hatch.

That same solution, once perfected, would also make their army a ton stronger than any other race, their psionically enhanced soldiers becoming unstoppable, their bodies capable of channeling raw chaos with controlled precision. Thus, conquering the galactic quadrant would be within their grasp, and with Mainu as their unknowing puppet, a living weapon bound by false promises, even an entire galactic federation of races teamed up against them would be impossible.

And what other way to seal Mainu's fate, to ensure his eternal servitude, than telling him a new, more profound lie? "Furthermore, Lord Dragon," Khar'Vhan continued, his voice resonating with false gravity, "to ensure the child's continued stability, and your own ability to approach it without harming it with your chaotic essence, you and your child would need to be constantly injected with this solution. For hundreds of thousands of years. For many millennia, a lifelong dependency." He paused, letting the weight of the pronouncement sink in. "And for that, we would need the human civilization as our own farm, a living, breathing reservoir of blood, a continuous supply for generations. A small price, Lord Dragon, for the life of your child, and the peace of your family." This lie, so carefully constructed, would keep their empire's dominance secure for countless generations to come.

Mainu, even as an ancient, powerful dragon, was already naive, his judgment completely clouded by his paternal blindness and desperate hope to cure his child. He looked at the Krill Emperor, his vast eyes filled with a desperate, all-consuming love. His child would come first. Always. His own freedom, the fate of a species he barely knew, meant nothing compared to the life within that egg.

Thus he agreed, his voice a low rumble of acceptance, sealing the contract in his own blood, a pact that would bind him, and humanity, to a horrifying fate.

But Terralia, the ancient guardian, and the human transcendents, would not let Earth fall so easily. Figures like Zeus, Ra, Odin, Osiris, Buddha, Isis, Hela, Ares, Thor, Horus, Anubis, Amun, Seth, Hades—and countless other powerful transcendants, stood in his way.

These transcendents are what modern times called as gods. These were the humans that, through spiritual mastery, sheer will, and often, the subtle, guiding influence of Terralia's light, had transcended humanity, breaking the limits of human physiology and achieving powers beyond mortal comprehension. Their bodies transformed, glowing with intricate, ancient marks, symbols of their awakened potential, their connection to the very fabric of reality.

Among them was the most powerful transcendent, a human hybrid bathed in pure light named Yahweh, whose presence alone could calm cosmic storms and inspire entire armies to impossible feats. These "gods" themselves defended the Solar System, gaining fame throughout the sector by helping other races against various threats, making Earth and Mars a hub of intergalactic diplomacy and commerce. Their influence spread, creating a fragile network of alliances, a beacon of hope in a dark galaxy.

But Mainu had the Krills, and their vast army of slave races, outnumbering the human transcendents and their few allies by a terrifying margin. The other races, once eager for alliance, now recoiled in fear.

The Krills were notorious for their ruthless use of biological weapons on other worlds, their Harvester ships capable of wiping out entire homeworlds, reducing vibrant civilizations to dust by using genetically engineered hive insects and plague. The threat of their genetic mastery, their engineered plagues, was too great. No one would risk their own extinction for a distant species. Thus, humanity would only fight for themselves, isolated, facing an overwhelming tide of Krill and their unwilling slave armies.

The battle had begun. The first Human-Krill War, a conflict born of deception, desperation, and the clash of cosmic powers, ignited the Solar System, painting the void with the fire of a desperation and struggle.

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