“How… how is this possible? How are our ships falling like this?” Zyth stammered. “They are supposed to be able to withstand several attacks even from secondary-level, Quasi-Tier One weapon systems after the ‘generous’ upgrades our allies provided!”

“Is this some kind of illusion?” another Minotaur added, his voice trembling with disbelief. “If not, how could this be happening?”

The others only grunted at this unbelievable observation. How could it be called an illusion? It was as real as it could be. They couldn’t forget that there were Peak World Building Realm experts standing behind them—ten of them, in fact, with two belonging to each of the five Tier One factions.

They didn’t speak of it, however. Some didn’t want to cause more embarrassment for their comrades, while others simply couldn’t process it; their minds were just as chaotic as everyone else’s.

Who are they? Where did they come from, and why are they even attacking us? one Minotaur thought, his fist clenched in rage.

“And how can they possess such might?” another shouted, his voice full of urgency and desperation. “Even with two-to-one odds, there hasn’t been a single casualty on their side despite our full-blown attacks! We have five Tier One factions and their powerful ships charging cycle after cycle, yet there hasn’t been a single loss for them! Just how!?”

He watched, horrified, as another pair of ships in the forward line burst into flames.

Amidst the chaos, only one person remained silent. If Marcus, the Chief General of the Void Fleet’s armed forces, had been there, he would have recognized this Minotaur immediately. After all, he was the exact person the Void Fleet had willingly allowed to flee during the Battle of the Rigid Star System.

This was none other than Jarkon, the former Grand Admiral of the Minotaur Clan’s 7th Light Fleet—once a mighty force.

After his disgraceful defeat—a failure unlike any he had ever faced or wished to face again—he had barely escaped with his life. That first clash had stripped him of his grace, leaving him a broken man who had narrowly fled the grasp of the filthy, yet now terrifying, humans.

He had once been a hero of his clan, his name a constant on the lips of the younger generation. His fleet had been his pride, and the pride of the Minotaur Clan as a whole. But its complete annihilation, coupled with his severe injuries, had left him with a deep-seated fear literally engraved in his bones.

Jarkon had locked himself away in his family estate, refusing to set foot on a ship or take charge of any battle, even when offered the opportunity to lead the 21st Fleet as its Grand Admiral. His grandfather, the second Super Elder of the clan, had secured the position for him, but Jarkon’s trauma was too great. He couldn’t seize the chance to wash away his humiliation and rise again; the shadow of the humans was simply too long.

Things had only begun to change when he heard of the alliance fleet being stationed in the Horn Star System. This was one of the Minotaur Clan’s frontier systems, heavily fortified as a gateway to the border galaxy. It sat on the boundaries of a High Tier-Two power—the Empire of the Orcs. The Orcs were a race even more brutal than the Minotaurs, with an explosive population that made them a constant, looming threat.

All the Orcs sought was slaughter. They were a race many didn’t want to face—not because they were a technically advanced species, as they were actually lower-tiered in that regard, but because of their massive population. One couldn’t help but want to stay away from them, as their tactics always involved overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers.

The coalition fleet that the Minotaur Clan had barely managed to join was largely assembled there, preparing to head toward the still-locked and unstable Holy Region—known as the Soul Region.

The opportunity arose when Jarkon was appointed as a Vice Admiral, leading the Minotaur portion of the fleet in collaboration with the five Tier One powers. At first, Jarkon was unwilling to go. But after considering his grandfather’s assurances regarding safety, he felt he could manage it. After all, what could happen under the protection of five Tier One powers? They had even sent one of their most powerful fleets to the system.

He had accepted the command and headed to the Horn System, thinking his safety was assured and that he wouldn’t have to face the enemy directly. But how could he have known he would encounter an enemy here? And not just any enemy—the same ones that had destroyed his pride, the 7th Light Fleet, in the Rigid Star System!

“How… how is this possible!?” he shrieked like a madman. His trembling hand rose, pointing toward the ships ahead. “How could they come here? And what the hell is up with those numbers? NO! NO! It’s not possible! It’s not possible!”

“No, no! It’s not them… it’s not them! This is an illusion—just an illusion! I need to rest… I need to clear my mind of this illusion!” Jarkon spoke, his eyes rolling wildly as if he were in the throes of a massive panic attack.

He struggled to even turn around; his body refused to listen to him. His mind was flooded with images of the worst event of his life—being trampled by humans who had shattered his bones, legs and hands alike. The phantom pain was so intense that he collapsed to the floor, muttering incoherent gibberish.

The other Minotaurs within the Star Battle Fortress were stunned. They stared at the “dignified” grandson of the Supreme Elder, now behaving like a madman—no, worse than a madman. His words were completely unintelligible.

“What is the Vice Admiral talking about? What’s happening to him?” one Minotaur whispered to the soldier standing beside him. “Is he fine at all? It looks like his mental state is collapsing! What did he see on those ships that made him lose his composure like this?”

The Minotaur beside him was startled by the barrage of questions. Why are you asking me? he thought. How should I know? I’m in the same boat as you! Who am I supposed to ask now that you’ve asked me, damn it…

But aloud, he simply said, “How should I know? But it’s clear the Vice Admiral has some idea about those ships. At least, he’s encountered them before, and they didn’t leave him with any good memories.” He added a serious nod for emphasis.

The first Minotaur looked at him with the same speechless expression that had just been thrown his way. No shit, Sherlock, he thought. I can see that and make sense of it myself! Can’t you tell me something I don’t already know?

Instead, he spoke: “Yeah, I can see that. But when could the Vice Admiral have encountered them? As far as I know, he was the Grand Admiral of the 7th Fleet, and it’s said that fleet recently suffered severe losses at the hands of an unknown enemy. Likely those pieces of shit from the Asura Imperium… could it be…?”

“Likely…” the other Minotaur spoke up, finishing the thought for him. “It wasn’t the Asura people who attacked and ambushed the 7th Light Fleet, dealing them such severe harm. It has to be these people—the ones attacking us right now! The probability is high, judging by the Vice Admiral’s reaction. From the look of it, that defeat was so overwhelming it left him deeply traumatized.”

“It looks like whoever this enemy is, they are definitely formidable,” the first one whispered. “But even then, it doesn’t make sense! How could they be this mighty? Damn it… who are they, and why are they out for us!?”

The reaction of the two soldiers was shared by the Commander of the Minotaur fleet and other high-level officials. Previously, their eyes had been steeled against the unknown enemy, but seeing the breakdown of the young leader from the Clan’s Second Supreme Family left them stunned.

The Commander, however, was more than just stunned—he was frightened. He recalled the words of the Second Supreme Elder before he had left his grandson in the Commander’s care. As an insider with high-level access, the Commander knew several pieces of hidden information. Judging by Jarkon’s behavior, he could guess the truth: it really was them. The human fleet that had destroyed the 7th Light Fleet as if they were nothing.

But how? How could they have expanded so much? How are they so powerful? It didn’t make sense. Is the legacy left behind by the Ancient Race so vast that it allowed a lowly race like the humans to possess such power?

He was skeptical, but shaking his head as he looked at the fallen Jarkon, he broke into a cold sweat. He felt that everything was going horribly wrong. He couldn’t let Jarkon stay in this state, or the boy would destroy himself—and if that happened, the Commander would have to face the wrath of the Supreme Elder.

No… this cannot go on!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep