Chapter 293: ch 292 The brutal end

The process continued—a second time, a third, a fourth. By the fifth pulse of energy, Thoraz’s soul and consciousness were almost entirely wiped out. He was barely alive, reduced to a mindless, babbling husk.

Seeing the task was done, Zena simply shook her head in disgust.

“I have to give you some respect for being so adamant, even after suffering this much,” Zena said, her voice devoid of any real warmth. “But will it change anything? No. I won’t bother myself much longer with a measly bull in the grand scale of things. I might as well send you on your way.”

She didn’t act immediately. Instead, she waited, watching as a flicker of relief crossed the eyes of the severely injured Minotaur. He was bleeding out, his body broken, and he clearly hoped for a quick end.

“Heh. Thinking your suffering will end easily? Not a chance.”

At her words, Thoraz’s eyes trembled with intense fear, but it was already too late. Zena raised her hand, pointing her open palm toward him. With a casual upward motion, she caused his mangled body to levitate into the air. She held him there, suspended vertically, before slowly beginning to close her palm into a fist.

As her fingers tightened, the invisible force surrounding the Admiral began to shrink. The pressure was immense—enough to crush a normal human or even a Master Rank warrior into a bloody mist instantly. But Zena didn’t finish him quickly. She tightened her grip bit by bit, and the figure of the Minotaur shrunk along with it, his bones snapping into a thousand pieces in a continuous, sickening crunch.

In that final moment, the last spark of life and strength within Thoraz was extinguished. Seeing that he was truly dead, Zena snapped her fingers shut into a tight fist. The remains of the Minotaur collapsed inward, condensing into a small mass of flesh and blood that fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Looking disgusted by the mess, Zena waved her hand once more. A ripple of energy pulsed outward, vaporizing every drop of blood and every remnant of the Admiral. The deck was left spotless, as if he had never existed at all.

Satisfied, she nodded to herself and turned back to survey the quiet command bridge. The cleanup was complete; not a single member of the Minotaur crew remained alive.

“So, our mission is finally over,” she said leisurely. She opened her comms to report her success, knowing she had achieved her ultimate goal: securing the top spot for her team.

Actually, it wasn’t the top spot overall she was after, but simply to remain above Gamma Squad, the team led by Tim. Thinking of this, her sigh turned into a mischievous grin as she began plotting new ways to make things difficult for his team.

However, before she could enjoy her victory, she had to report to Captain David. She knew the man almost certainly had his eyes on every squad and likely already knew they had finished, but protocol was protocol.

She opened her comms tab: Beta Squad to Division Captain.

“Captain to Beta Squad. Speak, Lieutenant,” David’s voice crackled through the channel.

“Captain, we have completed our task,” Zena reported, her voice now professional and sharp. “We have taken the Minotaur command bridge without sustaining any damage to the equipment. It is functioning exactly as it should. We have established full, proper control over the ship.”

“Roger that, Lieutenant. Congratulations on being the second-to-last team to finish; you’ve saved yourself and your squad from quite a few headaches,” David replied. His voice remained steady as he continued, “Hold your position and maintain the ship’s current course while the combat bots clean up and rid the vessel of the remaining Minotaur filth. In the meantime, keep your team prepared for any additional deployment orders. Over and out.”

The comms cut to static before Zena could respond.

Hearing that the combat bots were already at work left her stunned, her mood turning slightly gloomy. Damn it, she thought. Alpha Team was so much faster than us. They must have secured the power generation rooms and established the teleportation channels ages ago if the bots are already moving through the ship!

She was baffled. By all logic, the distance Alpha and even Delta Team had to cover was significantly longer than hers. They should have been slowed down by heaps of Minotaur resistance, forcing them to move with extreme caution. And yet, they had cleared their path with terrifying speed.

I’ll be damned, she muttered to herself. I need to study Alpha Team’s mission reports the second I’m back with the fleet. I want to know exactly how they pulled it off. If I can implement their tactics in the next mission, my team will finally be the aces.

Back at the command center, David was contacted by Tim, who—much like Zena—was reporting the capture of the secondary command bridge. He sounded a bit proud of his success, right up until he was hit with the news that turned him to stone.

“Oh, congratulations, Lieutenant, on being the last team to complete the mission,” David said. His voice carried a dark hint of sympathy. “As a reward, you should prepare yourself for the tantrums of the others. Your days ahead are going to be very uncomfortable, I suspect.”

David actually shivered with an intense chill, imagining the brutal training or “re-education” that likely awaited Tim and his squad. “Over and out, Lieutenant. I hope you survive this!” With that, David cut the connection and moved to communicate with the Eclipse, informing High Command that all missions across the four target ships were a complete success, with only the cleanup remaining.

Meanwhile, Tim stood frozen like a statue. The realization that Zena had claimed the third spot, leaving him in fourth and final place, hit him like a physical blow. He stood there, lifelessly quiet, as a wave of dread washed over him, causing his body to shake visibly.

His squad members, unable to see his expression behind his visor but noticing his long silence and trembling frame, grew concerned. “What happened, Commander? Is there a problem? A change in our mission?”

At the sound of their voices, Tim finally snapped out of his dazed state. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, his voice breaking as he finally spoke.

“We… we were the last team to finish.”

“Wh-what?!”

Several Marines stood speechless, blinking in disbelief. They leaned in, asking again as if they had surely misheard the report. “What did you say, Lieutenant? We didn’t hear you correctly… can you say that again?”

Hearing their questions only fueled Tim’s growing frustration. Every time they asked, it reminded him of the days ahead—the days he would have to face those “three devils” and their relentless tantrums. He knew they wouldn’t stop at just mocking him; they would likely involve others, making his life a living hell.

“Damn it! I said we are the last team to complete our mission!” Tim roared, stomping his foot against the metal deck. “Can’t you hear correctly? Damn it, if any one of you asks me again, I’ll beat the crap out of you!”

The reality finally sank in for the rest of the squad. The bridge was suddenly filled with cries of pure terror.

“NOOOOOO!” one Marine wailed, clutching his helmet. “How is this possible? How?!”

“No, this can’t be happening!” others cried out, their voices echoing through the captured bridge.

“It’s not possible! It’s just not possible!”

The pride of their victory had vanished instantly, replaced by the chilling dread of the “rewards” waiting for them back at the fleet.

While the atmosphere inside the secondary command bridge of the Tarus had turned deathly gloomy, the other three teams were brimming with excitement. The Marines of Alpha, Beta, and Delta squads were already brainstorming creative ways to “repay” Tim and his teammates for their slow performance, their laughter echoing through the comms.

For the Minotaurs, however, the situation was deteriorating at a drastic speed. They had lost all control; for reasons unknown to the common soldier, their High Command had vanished entirely. Panic had set in. Some ships, having been forced to tear through their own allies to escape the formation, were now maneuvering away from the battle line. They intended to rush toward their nearby homeworld to sound the alarm about the invasion.

Meanwhile, most of the other Minotaur vessels were focused solely on survival. They planned to push past the interference field—which currently blocked their FTL drives—and flee the star system the moment they were clear. Among the crews, many were already thinking of abandoning their clans entirely. Having witnessed the overwhelming might of the Void Fleet, they knew this wasn’t a war they could fight; it was a slaughter they could only hope to outrun.

While the Minotaurs had already mentally committed to fleeing, they didn’t make a reckless dash for open space. Instead, they began maneuvering with calculated cowardice. They turned their ships slowly, creeping toward the massive silhouette of the Star Fortress.

Their plan was twofold: first, by moving at a sluggish pace, they hoped to avoid attracting the predatory eyes of the Void Fleet.

A sudden surge in speed would mark them as targets for immediate elimination, wiping away any chance of survival.

Second, they intended to use the Star Fortress itself as a gargantuan physical shield.

By tucking their vessels behind its bulk, they would have a solid cover to safeguard them from incoming fire as they prepared for their final run.

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