A Tiny War Echoes Across the Dimensions
Around the time the tale of the minuscule war unfolding in a distant solar system—and the people fighting to survive there—spread across every dimension.
People moved to pity by the plight of Dimension 0.1's solar system on the brink of destruction began scouring online forums and streets alike, desperate to find some way to help.
"If you're human, let's start a dimensional petition, for god's sake!"
"The Dimensional Alliance must launch a humanitarian deployment!!"
Not just proper human rights groups—even ordinary citizens with no ties to such causes poured into the streets for marches. This time, their empathy wasn't selective. People couldn't bear the thought of letting a world, no matter how small, inhabited by fellow intelligent beings, just perish.
Their voices began shaking politicians who'd been wary of intervention.
Messages of support for Nanoi's solar system flooded the interdimensional internet, translated via magic from countless intelligent beings across dimensions.
[If they fall, we're next.]
Monsters swarming Nanoi—tiny as bugs to us, yet boasting horrific lethality and durability—were invading in hordes. To Nanoi's people, these cosmic beasts loomed as large as their own stars.
All fear is relative. Viewers across dimensions who watched footage of the cosmic monsters from Dimension 0.1's solar system felt a deep chill of empathy and dread. They realized how these seemingly insignificant specks appeared to Nanoi's living, thinking, feeling inhabitants.
A colossal, physical harbinger of doom. Worse, if Nanoi fell, these dangerous space creatures might spread to other dimensions. The scenario ignited boundless imagination, spurring frantic searches for ways to aid Dimension 0.1.
Governments, corporations, civilians—everyone racked their brains for viable solutions, regardless of affiliation.
But they soon realized the truth.
"It's impossible. We can't intervene in Dimension 0.1's crisis with normal methods."
Dimension 0.1's delicate environment would shatter at the mere touch of outsiders from larger dimensions.
"The tech gap between them and us is centuries wide. Yes, Nanoi holds the superior tech. What the hell have you been listening to all this time, Mr. President?"
Nanoi's inhabitants wore suits or piloted ships that repelled gravitational pull, letting them venture to other dimensions without being yanked around by far larger beings' mass. But the reverse? Ordinary lifeforms or their creations entering Dimension 0.1 was another story.
In Nanoi's solar system, the dimensional gate floating in space exerted gravitational force rivaling a star—proportional to its mass, per universal laws. Nanoi's anti-gravity tech was tailored for their tiny scale; applying it to normal-sized bodies was impossible.
Forcing entry risked disrupting planetary orbits with sheer gravitational might, collapsing cosmic order. That was why politicians hesitated.
Deploy troops to fend off cosmic monsters? Nanoi's solar system crumbles. Do nothing? Every planet housing intelligent life becomes beast fodder.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't—countless lives lost either way. Some extremists even pushed pulsing bombs to wipe out the monsters, dooming Nanoi as "collateral."
Hardliners across dimensions, desperate to halt the invasion at any cost, hired Nanoi actors living elsewhere.
The tearful video, blending Nanoi culture with hastily improvised hand signs, swept the internet like wildfire.
People flipped stances the moment info suited their biases. Claims that the teary actress was no Dimension 0.1 native—but a performer raised elsewhere—were debunked repeatedly, yet ignored.
Having tentatively concluded Nanoi unsavable, the masses cherry-picked what they wanted to see and hear.
Cheap sob-story posts proxied through Nanoi planetary IPs drew mourning replies for "deceased" authors who were very much alive.
Commenters were mostly self-proclaimed empaths. Leading voices? Hardliners dead-set against cosmic monsters reaching their worlds, even if it meant Nanoi's annihilation.
Unaware their words doomed countless lives, they shed guilt with cheap pity, no cost attached.
Calls to shelter Nanoi refugees? Twisted into "opening gates to monsters," buried ruthlessly.
An anonymous tip even claimed witnessing a banker assaulted by a cosmic monster at a thin-dimensional spot on Kikiwai Island—pure ploy by rival factions to sabotage Kim Jian, guD faction darling closing a massive loan at the Dimensional Credit Vault.
Those genuinely trying to save Nanoi despaired against harsh reality.
Humans prioritize self-preservation—nature's law. Intelligence bred inevitable selfishness, they acknowledged.
Public opinion tilted toward dooming Nanoi with the monsters.
Politicians loath to bloody their hands would "reluctantly" authorize pulse bombs, pushed by the mob. Beasts who'd flip switches for polls.
Then preen as if it were agonizing duty borne with resolve.
Amid outrage, folk plugged ears, shut eyes, returned to routine—mix of guilt, pity, smug satisfaction, faint relief. Each harbored varied emotions awaiting Nanoi's end.
Two weeks before the Dimensional Alliance's Permanent Council of Dimensional Reps unveiled pre-arranged results to the public.
It happened.
As masses and pols bickered fate with tongues, Dimension 0.1's elites launched their plan.
The first ad upload had viewers assuming a cool palm-sized robot figurine from the thumbnail. Hit play? Massive misunderstanding.
It was a war machine. The ultimate weapon empowering Nanoi against cosmic horrors.
Colossus Mark 1, trial operations commencing.
Dimensional gate penetration.
Laser-armed drones stood guard at the dimensional gate, blocking monster entry. Nanoi's prototype giant robot aimed to flip the script on Dimension 0.1's space war.
Hey! Viewers across dimensions tuning into Ace Pilot Afro's stream—please smash subscribe, like, and notifications! Join the crowdfunding!!
In the footage, a bushy-browed pilot with a roguish grin shoved his face at the camera, hollering cheerfully. Following the marketer's crowdfunding script, he buried worries for his homeworld.
"Wait for me, Elise. When this war ends, I'll come back. Promise."
Mastering entertainment tropes with full commitment, the ace pilot hardened his gaze at the screen. Off-frame: a photo of his fiancée, wedding imminent.
"Afro, Colossus MK-1, launching!!"
With swelling BGM syncing his heartbeat, Colossus plunged into the void—three times faster than the verdant cosmic monsters.