Multiple contacts inbound, Admiral,” reported Eclipse.

“Good,” I said, nodding as I watched the battle unfold.

We were exploiting their unpreparedness, hitting them with ruthless, pinpoint firepower. Our heavy weapons tore into their ships. Enemy corvettes, the first targets, dropped one after another—shields shattered instantly under the force of capital-grade guns.

Meanwhile, all seven Oblivion-class dreadnoughts were dismantling enemy battlecarriers like their armor was made of paper. Every twenty seconds, four to eight carriers from their lines were gone—vaporized. Our fleet advanced steadily, tight in formation, pushing toward their front.

As we approached firing range for full suppression, I issued the next wave of commands:

“To the fleet admirals of battle groups two through seven—begin interdiction protocol immediately. Second, third, and fourth battle groups—intercept from the left flank. Fifth, sixth, and seventh—same on the right.”

My voice stayed calm and measured.

“Second group, maintain a perimeter of 1,000 kilometers. Everyone else, double that distance. First battle group—form a semi-circular perimeter. Fourth group will anchor the left edge, seventh the right.”

“Preparing fighter deployment—holding on your word, Admiral,” came the response from the Sixth Fleet admiral.

“Cruisers and frigates—stay tight on the flanks. Prepare for immediate mobilization. You’ll lead the charge in close-range combat. Your targets: enemy destroyers and frigates. Fighters will cover you from enemy interceptors. The fleet will screen you from their main battleships. Close the gap. Break their flanks piece by piece.”

“Yes, Admiral,” came the reply from Argus, commander of the fleet fighter squadrons. “We’re prepped and ready to launch.”

Similar confirmations echoed from captains aboard our corvettes and frigates. Most crews were bio-human hybrids; command remained with human officers aboard the main ships.

“Good,” I said. “Hold the line.”

We were almost at full suppression range. In moments, we’d have total control of the field.

⸻

Meanwhile, back on Minotaur Flagship Taurus Prime

Alarms still rang out. The red lights glared like open wounds across the bridge. High Commander Jarkon stood frozen, surrounded by officers who no longer looked confident—just helpless.

He shook his head, turned to look at the command displays again… and paused.

That one ship—the massive one—wasn’t there anymore.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Still nothing.

“High Admiral… do you see that ship anywhere?” he asked, voice low.

“Huh?” The High Admiral was caught off guard, confused by the question. He turned slowly to look out the viewport. “No… nothing but their main fleet.”

Still uncertain, he checked the navigation and detection systems. No signature. No reading.

“It’s like it was never there,” he muttered.

Jarkon’s eyes narrowed. “An illusion…? A trick? Something engineered by whoever commands that fleet?”

“It might be, sir,” the High Admiral said, uneasily. “Only advanced illusion tech could make us feel it was real. That ship wasn’t just a little bigger—it made us fear. That wasn’t normal.”

“You’re right…” Jarkon muttered. “But we need to focus. Our fleet is being ripped apart.”

The High Admiral’s voice hardened. “Sir, we’ve already lost nearly 2,600 corvettes. Thirty battlecarriers gone. Ten more disabled.”

Jarkon clenched his fists. He turned back to the tactical map. “So they’re targeting our harassers… weakening us while we flail in confusion.”

His voice turned sharp.

“Good,” he growled. “They want to play this game? Let’s answer.”

He stepped forward, commanding the fleet with renewed force.

“All heavy-class battlecruisers, charge ahead!” Jarkon ordered. “Deploy shields to maximum output—defend and protect our corvettes and carrier lines. Now!”

The fleet answered immediately. Across the Minotaur lines, the crews of over 1,000 capital ships responded. Of those, 500 were heavy battlecruisers, enough to blanket their entire fleet under suppressive coverage against the Void Fleet’s devastating firepower.

Engines flared at full burn as all 500 heavy battlecruisers surged forward, forming a living wall of steel and energy. They shielded the vulnerable corvettes and battlecarriers behind them, absorbing punishing volleys from the enemy. Though their shields held—for now—the cost was obvious. Shield integrity was dropping faster than it could be restored.

On every Minotaur battlecruiser, shield operators scrambled. Alarms blared as shield generators overloaded. Teams rotated shield focus from one side of the hull to the other, desperately trying to buy time before the entire system failed. The battlecruisers were holding… but barely.

Meanwhile, on the bridge of Eclipse Wraith, Admiral Ezra watched the Minotaur fleet’s desperate maneuver and smirked.

“You should’ve stayed stunned just a little longer,” he muttered. “I would’ve chewed through your flanks like they were paper.”

He turned to the AI. “Eclipse, damage report. How many have we taken down?”

“Sir, over half of Minotaur’s corvettes have been destroyed. In the last three minutes alone, more than 2,600 corvettes eliminated. Battlecarriers: 40 destroyed, 10 more disabled but still floating under shield lockdown. Unable to finish them before they were withdrawn.”

Ezra stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Good enough. Could’ve been better… but it’s not like we’re done here.”

⸻

Back aboard Taurus Prime

Grand Admiral Jarkon was grim. His order to protect the fleet with a shield wall had worked—for now—but he knew it was temporary. Heavy fire was ripping into their battlecruisers. They wouldn’t last long.

He snapped out more orders.

“All Titan-class heavy battleships and light cruisers—focus fire on the enemy capital ships. Avoid the seven largest ones; Taurus Prime will handle those. Use all main weapons. Bring them down fast.”

He turned sharply to his destroyer commanders.

“Destroyers—split into two groups!150 of you, divert fire onto their line. Hammer them without mercy!The other 1000—charge! Move with the battlecruisers. Draw their fire, hold formation, and tear apart their front line! Disrupt their formation, no matter the cost!

The Minotaur fleet began shifting again, struggling to build their own formation—though they still didn’t realize the situation wasn’t in their favor. They wouldn’t truly grasp it until it was too late.

The Minotaur destroyers surged forward, numbering around 1,150 strong. A thousand of them quickly took up formation, clustering two destroyers around each heavy battlecruiser, forming makeshift shields to absorb some of the Void Fleet’s suppressive fire.

But even with their sacrifice, the strain was obvious. The destroyers groaned under the hammering, shields flashing and buckling.

Still, they pressed the attack. Concentrated fire rained onto the Void Fleet’s frontlines, targeting the Spearhead-class destroyers and Titan-class frigates that spearheaded the assault.

The result? Nothing.

Void Fleet ships, protected by triple-layered shield systems, shrugged off the barrage like it was rain against iron. The Minotaur gunners watched in disbelief as their heaviest salvoes barely caused a ripple across the enemy barriers.

On several Minotaur ships, captains furiously snapped at their weapons officers, demanding better firing solutions, desperate to punch through.

But deep down, doubt was creeping in. Doubt at their own firepower. Doubt that anything they could throw would even matter.

And yet, most of the Minotaur fleet hadn’t fully realized just how bad things were becoming.

Not yet.

⸻

Back aboard the Void Fleet

“Frontal line under fire, sir,” reported Eclipse.

“Report,” I said calmly.

“Sir, the enemy’s wall formation—supported by their destroyers—is firing suppressive shots at our main line. But it’s not a major concern yet. Our shields are handling the pressure, and the load is evenly spread. However, if we truly want to crush the Minotaur fleet, we’ll need to break that line soon.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

Turning to the fleet-wide channel, I gave the next order: “All ships—bring secondary weapons online. Increase pressure on the enemy. Force them to focus their fire on our battleships.”

Then I turned to the next move.

“Corvettes and frigates—your time has come. Form 28 groups. Divide them: 7 groups to the left flank, 7 to the right. The remaining 14 groups will stay in the central perimeter.”

“Each group will consist of 12 corvettes and 8 to 9 frigates—adjust depending on availability. Some groups can carry an extra frigate if needed.”

“Following you will be the light fighter squadrons. They will provide support during your runs.”

I turned to Commander Argus through the comms. “Argus—deploy the fighters accordingly across all 28 groups. Distribute them well.”

“Yes admiral” said argus.

“You know your targets,” I said, voice sharp. “Prioritize the enemy destroyers first. Take them down one by one. If opportunities arise, you are cleared to engage any other enemy ships.”

“Now—GO.”

Across the Void Fleet, the corvettes and frigates began to move.

Each group formed into a forward-narrow quadrilateral formation—two corvettes in front, two at the rear, and three frigates positioned in the center.

Each assault group was split into three sub-formations: four corvettes and two or three frigates per piece, working in tandem.

Following them were 200 light fighters, divided evenly so that each group had fighter support covering their advance.

Behind them came the final punch: heavy fighter squadrons—ten heavy fighters per group—armed with devastating plasma payloads, designed to exploit shield breaches and finish off crippled enemy ships.

This layered assault force surged outward across both flanks of the battlefield.

The impact was immediate.

The Minotaur corvettes and frigates—who had only just begun to feel a moment of relief while exchanging fire with the Void Fleet’s frontlines—were suddenly exposed.

Their cover shattered under the concentrated fire from the Void Fleet’s corvettes and frigates, whose armor and secondary weapons rivaled those of full-sized enemy cruisers.

Shields collapsed under the pressure.

Then, from behind, the heavy fighters unleashed their payloads—massive plasma strikes that ripped enemy ships apart in a series of brutal explosions.

The Minotaurs scrambled, launching their own fighter wings in a desperate counterattack—but they barely got airborne before being intercepted.

The Void Fleet’s light fighters swarmed them, tearing them apart before they could even threaten the assault groups.

The battlefield was beginning to break open—and the Void Fleet was pushing harder with every second.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep