The Dyson-Ring was a marvel of Tier-9 engineering, but Kane was about to force it into a Rank 10 evolution.
Vance landed his Singularity-Plate boots on the gold surface of the ring, the impact cracking the refined alloy. Behind him, a swarm of a thousand Void-Guard engineers—men and women whose bodies were now fused with Void-Steel and Emerald Rot—began to dismantle the primary solar-collectors.
"You heard the man!" Vance roared, his voice amplified by the ship-sized speakers on his shoulders. "We aren't catching light today! We're making a 'No-Go' zone! I want the Void-Steel Fabricators plugged directly into the sun's coronal loops!"
Doc hovered above the ring, her Plague-Core Staff trailing a cloud of emerald mist that acted as a biological sealant for the ship's repairs. "Vance, be careful. If the 'Void-Venom' hits the sun's core too fast, it'll trigger a premature supernova. We need to thread the needle."
Back on the Revenant, Kane stood at the center of the bridge. He wasn't sitting in his throne. He was standing in a circle of floating Aeon-Staff fragments. He reached into his soul-space and pulled out the "Echo" of the Machine-World (Lot-12C).
"Unit-Alpha," Kane whispered. "Give me the Logic-Virus."
The girl of glass and copper appeared beside him. "If you do this, Kane, the Sol System will be cut off from the rest of the universe. No one can get out. No one can get in. You will be a King of a sealed tomb."
"It's not a tomb," Kane said, his eyes turning into solid silver mirrors. "It's a Cradle. My people need time to grow. They need to master the Hunger before we take the fight to the Inner Rim."
Kane slammed his hands into the bridge's main console. The Void-Sovereign energy surged through the ship, through the Dyson-Ring, and directly into the sun.