Oblivion's Throne

The broadcast had been carefully orchestrated, down to the millisecond. Every data stream, every projection, every carefully chosen word was designed to strike with the precision of a blade. And now, in its aftermath, the galaxy stood on the precipice of a new order.

The Pythia Initiative was not merely a proclamation—it was a declaration of dominance.

Every independent and government-aligned data hub across the Dominion and the Confederacy lit up with the same figures. 99.4% mutation stability. A number that defied logic, that erased centuries of failed experimentation in a single breath.

For years, the Dominion had boasted of its evolutionary superiority, its mastery over genetics. But the truth had always been concealed behind half-truths and failed experiments. The public had never seen the raw data behind the Dominion's Genesis Strain mutations, never been told that their true success rate never surpassed 32%—and that was only among the highest echelons of their genetic caste. Outside the privileged few, even moderate enhancements had less than a 10% chance of long-term stability.

Now, with the Pythia Initiative unveiling their research, the Dominion's efforts looked crude by comparison. Their monopoly on human evolution was shattered.

And the worst part? They had no response.

It was not just a battle of numbers—it was a battle of undeniable proof.

For centuries, the pursuit of human augmentation had been defined by risk and unpredictability. The Dominion's Genesis Strain was potent, but unstable—only a fraction of subjects survived enhancement without long-term degradation. The Confederacy had dismissed genetic evolution entirely, relying instead on cybernetics and external augmentations.

But the Pythia Initiative had shattered these limitations.

Their breakthrough wasn't just about power—it was about control. Precision. Safety.

A single drop of blood was all it took.