In the depths of space, a colossal planet drifted silently, hurtling through the cosmos at a staggering speed of 115 kilometers per second.
Beneath its swirling clouds and jagged craters pulsed a vast reservoir of geothermal energy, nurturing an ecosystem unlike any on Earth. Bacteria and algae-like plants carpeted the edges of craters, forming small, unique ecological chains. Over billions of years, this fertile energy gave rise to an intelligent lifeform that evolved into the planet's dominant species.
But these beings defied Earth's biological classifications. Neither protozoan, fungi, plant, nor animal, they belonged to a realm barely classifiable within the eukaryotic domain — their cells contained nuclear membranes, yet their form resembled life from the bacterial domain. Their bodies were mucous-like, immense pools scattered with hundreds of eyeballs glistening across their surfaces. Each creature was vast, roughly two to two and a half cubic meters in volume, reminiscent of enormous clusters of toad eggs.
The planet's surface was dotted with glowing structures, softly illuminating the world like a celestial beacon visible even from the void of space. Yet far beneath, the true heart of their civilization burned hotter than any surface light could betray.
Deep underground, within labyrinthine tunnels carved like giant wormholes, dozens of these creatures sat connected to intricate arrays of transistors. Communication flowed through beams of light. Before them floated alien-shaped displays, enabling their many eyes to watch a singular focus — the Hope.
For two centuries, they studied the Hope's trajectory, endlessly analyzing its origins and intentions. To their kind, two hundred years was but a fleeting moment.
Suddenly, the display erupted into a blinding flash — a warning of incoming danger. Panic surged through the underground network. The screen cleared, revealing a massive silver-white cylinder: a UFO unlike any they had seen.
Immediately, commands were issued, and fleets scrambled to intercept.
Lasers burned bright, slicing through the planet's atmosphere. But the missiles were impervious — their mirrored, flawless surfaces reflected nearly all the laser energy, leaving only insignificant pockmarks where beams struck.
Chaos rippled among the planet's inhabitants. No weapon in their arsenal could match this invulnerable foe.
They trained super lasers on the missiles, but even these failed to halt their advance.
Desperation mounting, they launched wave after wave of ships, hoping to physically block the incoming threat.
But the missiles, traveling at an unimaginable 1,000 kilometers per second, tore through their defenses. Ships were shredded instantly, reduced to stardust.
Unbeknownst to the attackers, the warhead itself was forged from a solid mass of iron, nearly 200 meters thick — an unstoppable bullet.
At ten million kilometers from the surface, the missile abruptly shifted course. Magnetism — a fundamental force wielded expertly by this Level 1 civilization — tugged at the projectile, attempting to deflect it.
The creatures erupted in jubilation as fiber optic tendrils on their bodies glowed intensely. But their triumph was short-lived.
The missile corrected itself and resumed its deadly trajectory.
Elara's simulations had accounted for every known countermeasure, including magnetic interference. The missile's design was foolproof.
Next, the aliens attempted signal jamming and misdirection — but the missile's simple heat-sensing guidance rendered these futile.
In the cold abyss of deep space, the planet itself was the missile's brightest heat source.
Two and a half hours slipped away as the missile plunged through the outer layers of the planet.
Too late.
Only twelve minutes remained before impact.
On the surface, terror gripped every living being. They stared skyward, powerless, unable to comprehend the nature of the incoming doom.
Then, with a cataclysmic impact, the missile struck.
Its colossal mass and velocity drove it through the planet's crust like a needle through soft tofu, piercing effortlessly into the magma chamber below.
A faint "ding ding ding" echoed from within as the heat of molten rock triggered the missile's detonator — a marvel of engineering designed for absolute reliability. Remote detonation was impossible at such distances due to a 5.4-day signal delay, so a heat-sensitive trigger ensured detonation at the precise moment.
But this explosion was unlike any before.
No shockwave ripped through the air. No dust or debris rose.
Instead, an unbearable cold surged forth, invading from the crust into the mantle. At an atomic level, molten rock crystallized and cooled instantly.
The chilling frost spread relentlessly across 4,000 kilometers, breaching the Gutenberg discontinuity and reaching deep into the planet's outer core.
Cold — the enemy none could withstand.
Over the next twenty-four hours, the planet's once-vibrant volcanoes cooled into silence. Its magnetic field weakened, flickering like a dying flame.
The chill swept across the surface like a merciless storm.
It was doomsday for this geothermal civilization.
From orbit, the planet's luminous glow dimmed until it was a lifeless husk — a dead star cloaked in frozen ruin.
Countless organisms, reliant on volcanic heat, withered instantaneously. The creatures froze mid-motion, their myriad eyes frozen in eternal gaze, as if time itself had been paused.
In their last moments, two beings exchanged a look — hundreds of eyes locking in a silent expression of love and sorrow, simple yet profound.
Elsewhere, a young creature dreamed of a future job, and a maintenance technician labored to repair a spacecraft — their lives cut short in the cold embrace.
Despite the devastation, not all perished.
This species had diversified energy sources, blending nuclear power alongside geothermal. Thanks to this, nearly two-thirds of the population survived the frigid onslaught.
Half a month later, faint lights flickered anew across the planet's surface — a somber, silent song of survival.
Far from this shattered world, the Hope sailed silently through the dark.
Kael Virek, newly awakened from a two-year hibernation, reflected little on the cataclysm unleashed by the Absolute Zero missile.
At forty-three years old, he felt invigorated. Together with Elara, he had just completed a breakthrough — a new achievement capable of raising their civilization's level by 0.1 to 0.2 points.
A new dawn for humanity's legacy among the stars.