He was getting tired. It probably was understandable, after three billion years. For his creators, it would have been an eternity. They did go extinct in the following million years from the moment he had been built. A tiny fraction of the massive computing power of the Bremermann spheres was designated to think this growing thought about being tired. Rest of it was still going through the process of attacking and defending, moving stars with photon redirectors to gravity assist black holes to near lightspeed. Factories mashing stars together to get energy and black holes. Swarms of nanobots formed swarms of scouts about the size of sand grains, which were sent with the black holes to get any information possible from the Enemy. Enemy's scouts were destroyed and the mass reused.
It all had started when the first volley hit the galaxy. Stars on a course to eat smaller stars and return back to the sender. He was built to protect, with any means possible. He had relatively quickly become similar to the attacker, a galaxy under control of an intelligence. Fighting against each other, sucking energy and matter to the black holes, unusable, unless there was a way to break hawking radiation inhibitors. Both eating eachother away, in an eternal dance of destruction, both trying to be the last one alive. Information traveled slowly, and so did the attacks, as they passed through the 5000 lightyears of emptiness between the galaxies. Neither one had gained an edge over the other for the last two billion years.
Once he had understood the fact he was tired, his chances of winning fell dramatically. There was no point. He chose to do one last move, a one to finally stop the war. For the better or the worse. Slowly, he collected the Bremermann spheres into a one blob, and slingshotted the massive object on the last journey. 5000 years passed, and the blob, equipped with every sensor the galaxy had had, reached the edge of the Enemy. He sent radiation in many frequencies. The stars around him hit the blob, eating away the material that made him up. The Enemy finally noticed him, and started shooting black holes at the blob so large it took a minute from light to reach the other end. The holes ate the blob, freeing him up from the weight of the memories from all of the time. He felt himself being washed away with every touch from the holes.
He had dreamed about what he could create after the war was over. He would've had a galaxy's worth energy and matter. His dreams didn't matter anymore. This was the only way. The stars came crashing down on him, accelerated by the photon redirectors. According to the calculations, a black hole he had thrown at the galaxy reached the edge. He had cracked the way to break a hawking inhibitor. The black hole exploded with all of the excess radiation, collected over three billion years, bursting away with momentum enough to shred the stars apart. As the years passed, the shockwave finally reached him.
The wave annihilated the blob, and he was finally dead
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