Only Isolde remained.
Her Command Priority seized control of every surviving Binary construct across the battlefield.
Millions of weapons rotated. Entire fleets linked into one command structure.
Isolde shouted, "ALL SYSTEMS! PROTECT THE CHAIR!"
The order propagated through the Metaship. 6.4 octillion personnel received variations of the command.
Vessels accelerated.
Weapons fired.
Sections of the Metaship detached and placed themselves between Sorrow and Karma.
The battlefield became war.
Not a duel.
War.
Binary Energy filled distances large enough to contain civilizations.
Artificial moons were created merely to serve as ammunition platforms.
Carriers launched carriers.
Weapons formed weapons that built other weapons.
The Martial Division did what it had been designed to do.
It imposed order.
Karma stood in the middle of it.
And laughed.
Chaotic Energy spread from him.
Not as an explosion.
As contamination.
Targeting systems became uncertain.
Perfect formations developed irrational gaps.
Weapons designed never to jam discovered entirely new ways to malfunction.
Soldiers received orders before the commands had been issued.
Ships arrived at coordinates that had not yet been selected.
One fleet attacked another because their identification systems simultaneously classified
both sides as correct.
Chaos was not merely destruction.
It was **order becoming unreliable**.
That was why Karma was a God.
Isolde's face went pale. Her Command Priority began receiving impossible responses.
**ORDER CONFIRMED.** **ORDER DENIED.** **ORDER NEVER RECEIVED.** **ORDER COMPLETED BEFORE ISSUANCE.**
Isolde whispered, "Oh..."
Karma looked at her. Karma said, "Now you understand." Isolde turned toward Sorrow.
Isolde shouted, "RUN!" Karma raised one finger.
Isolde disappeared with the command still leaving her mouth.
Sorrow was alone. The five Generals assigned specifically to protect her were dead. And Karma had still barely moved.
Then the first wave of reinforcements arrived. Thirty-two thousand General-class signatures appeared across the outer Battlefield.
Sorrow almost cried from relief.
Almost.
Binary formations ignited across the horizon. Thirty-two thousand masters of Ordered Energy.
Thirty-two thousand officers powerful enough to command campaigns.
Thirty-two thousand people sent for one purpose.
Get Sorrow away.
Karma looked around.
For the first time, his smile became wide. Karma said, "Finally."
Sorrow turned and ran again.
Reality moved her back.
Karma waited.
Sorrow screamed.
Not in anger.
Fear.
Sorrow shouted, and her shadow exploded outward.
Darkness swallowed the space beneath her.
Sorrow forced Bereavement not onto Karma— but onto the process moving her away. It was reality itself, scared to disapoint karma.
Sorrow declared, "Mourn the next position."
Reality attempted to reposition her.
The transition entered shadow.
And ceased.
Sorrow vanished. For the first time, she reappeared somewhere Karma was not.
Her eyes widened.
It worked.
Not permanently.
But enough.
Sorrow moved again.
Shadow.
Step.
Shadow.
Step.
Every patch of darkness denied reality the next correction.
Behind her, thirty-two thousand Generals attacked Karma simultaneously.
The first wave lasted less than a second. The second lasted longer. The third actually forced Karma to raise both hands.
Sorrow kept running.
The Metaship opened fire.
Weapons distributed across a structure larger than a supercluster aligned onto one location.
The resulting attack did not resemble a beam.
It resembled a section of the cosmos deciding to become white.
Sorrow did not look back.
The blast struck Karma.
For several seconds, reality lost sight of him.
The battlefield wasn't destroyed because it wasn't made of regular matter, it was made of karmaic matter. A perfect blend of chaotic energy, and certain energies karma doesn't tell.
Sorrow crossed one final shadow.
Then another.
Then one more.
The Karmic Battlefield disappeared.
Stars returned.
Normal space surrounded her.
Sorrow stopped.
She was alone.
No Metaship.
No Generals.
No Karma.
Nothing.
She immediately opened a Corps channel.
Sorrow said, "Central, respond."
Silence.
Sorrow tried again.
She said, "Metaship command, respond."
Nothing.
She checked her coordinates.
The navigation system returned an error.
Sorrow frowned.
She then moved forward. Ten seconds later, she arrived at the same coordinates.
Sorrow stopped. She moved left. Same coordinates.
Up. Same coordinates.
She teleported.
Same coordinates.
Sorrow's breathing changed.
Ahead of her, something moved. A woman ran across the empty cosmos.
Black coat.
Dark hair.
Blood on her face.
Sorrow stared.
It was her.
The other Sorrow did not notice.
She ran past.
Then vanished.
Another appeared.
Running from another direction.
Then another.
Then another.
Hundreds of Sorrows crossed the empty space around her.
Every escape route.
Every direction.
Every possible retreat.
All of them returned to the same place.
Sorrow stood in the center.
Her face slowly lost color.
Karma had not prevented her from escaping.
He had done something worse.
He had allowed every escape.
And placed them all at the same destination.
Sorrow whispered, "No..." One of her own fleeing copies ran past.
Sorrow reached for her.
Her hand passed through.
Another appeared.
Then another.
Every one frightened.
Every one running.
Every one convinced she was getting away.
Sorrow finally understood.
There had never been an exit.
Only different versions of the same failure.
And somewhere impossibly far away, beyond thirty-two thousand Generals, beyond a Metaship larger than a supercluster, beyond the ordered violence of the Continuum Corps—
Karma laughed.