Chapter 495: Ch
They could maneuver freely without worrying about defending against Republican counterattacks, granting them ample opportunity to pummel the Republican back line from the port quarter all the way across to the starboard quarter.
Their kinetic and energy bombardments ravaged the entire rearguard without interruption, giving the Republicans no room to breathe as the pressure mounted continuously.
Back aboard the Radiant Prime, the fortress structure was still groaning and creaking, but no one paid any mind to it as they had before. Instead, everyone’s focus was locked strictly onto their respective departments.
"Urgent report from the port quarter sector!" a tactical logistics officer shouted, his voice strained and cracking under the immense pressure as he read the incoming dispatch. "The port quarter defense platforms are collapsing at an accelerating rate! They are burning through replacement defense towers so fast that we soon won’t have enough replacements left to deploy, and they’re already scrambling to make do with whatever replacements remain!"
He swallowed hard and continued, "The star fortress in that sector is urgently requesting immediate support and asking for authorization to deploy battlecruisers to help distribute and absob enemy attack and help in maintaining the shielding there !
Grand Marshal Kalen did not respond immediately, letting the bridge fall into a brief, heavy silence. If anyone were to look closely at him, they would have noticed his eyes were unfocused before regaining their clarity for a fleeting moment.
"No need. Tell them to hold as is. If our losses truly reach the point where we have no additional defense towers left to rotate and fill the gaps, only then will the perimeter formation tighten," he spoke in a completely flat tone. "Let them compress the laager by fifteen to twenty-five percent maximum, scaled to their losses and the breaches.
As for the immediate need for shield generators, have the chief engineer dispatch a detachment of his personnel to provide support. Instruct him to keep the shields operational for as long as possible while repairing whatever can be salvaged.
Order the admirals in those sectors to do whatever it takes to hold the line. Anything can happen, but the laager must hold until the time is right."
With that, the firmness in his eyes lost its color once more, turning pure white. Kalen had exerted every shred of focus he could muster; now, he was dragged back into the tempest within his sea of consciousness.
Inside, two souls clashed ruthlessly, hurling attack after attack. One moment the Dark Soul seized the advantage; the next, the White Kalen pushed him back.
At times, the Dark Soul recoiled in agony, only for Kalen to writhe in pain a breath later.
They had reached a bitter stalemate, each maintaining partial control over the physical body in a conflicting tug-of-war that left neither capable of focusing on the reality outside.
"Give it up, boy!" the Dark Soul snarled coldly. "I’ll give you credit for playing me so thoroughly and scheming to such lengths. But that is all! A few cultivation techniques won’t overturn the gap between us. You might hold a slight edge in minor realms, but that is the extent of it." A proud sneer curled across the dark entity’s face as he continued.
"My foundation was laid with absolute solidity—something you cannot hope to match, especially not against my methods. Yield now. Return to where you belong, cultivate, and learn some more before daring to challenge me again."
"Hahaha! You talk too much, you old fossil," the White Kalen retorted with a laugh.
Then, the smile vanished, replaced by cold resolve. "You may possess a deeper foundation and countless methods at your disposal, but raw strength is still superior. You might struggle now, but soon that won’t even be an option."
Kalen raised his hand, unleashing a surge of white thunder that blasted straight toward the Dark Soul.
The entity defended frantically, neutralizing the incoming strike with trembling hands before hissing, "Hmph! Then so be it, boy. I didn’t want it to come to this, but if death is what you seek, death is what you shall receive!"
With that, the two resumed their brutal war, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding in the physical realm.
Meanwhile, receiving the orders, the logistics officer barked over the comm channels, relaying commands across the armada and throughout the laager.
As time wore on without reinforcements, the defense towers within the formation were pulverized, erupting in flashes of multicolored light under the blistering barrage raining down upon them. Soon, there were no replacement towers left to seal the breach.
The admirals commanding from the nine medium-class fortresses could only grit their teeth in frustration, helplessly ordering the laager to contract.
With this compression, the space inside the perimeter shrank drastically. Over two hundred thousand warships drew dangerously close to one another, condensing into a dense phalanx. The vast buffer zones between hulls vanished.
Super-battleships, battleships, and battlecruisers were now separated by a mere few hundred meters to a kilometer at most. Their overlapping energy shields began to scrape and spark against one another in near-constant friction.
Standard maneuvers had become impossible. Evasive action was entirely out of the question; the fleet could do nothing more than push straight ahead.
Veering even slightly off course risked catastrophic collisions across the entire line. The armada was balanced on a razor’s edge.
Every captain knew that if an enemy strike punched through—or if hostile starfighters slipped into the dense formation—pure chaos would erupt.
The risk of devastating chain-reaction collisions climbed by the second.
Yet the orders came from the highest authority, leaving them with no choice but to push forward and pray their worst fears would not materialize.
Thirty agonizing minutes passed. The Republican armada continued to endure the relentless, punishing onslaught of the human forces, pressing ahead through sheer grit until the crews in the rear lines grew completely numb to the destruction around them.
It was becoming increasingly difficult for the crews to keep their emotions in check. The only relief for the Republicans—stretching from the port-quarter to the starboard-quarter laager—was that the ferocity of the human fleet’s rear assault had decreased significantly over the last twenty minutes.
Even though the humans were still launching strikes, the volume and rate of fire had dropped sharply, granting the battered ships precious breathing room.
Crew members still scrambled frantically across scorched decks to conduct emergency repairs, but the suffocating pressure bearing down on them had begun to ease.
They knew this lull was merely the prelude to something far more severe, but for now, it was enough.
Just then, a sharp chime rang across the command bridge of the Radiant Prime fortress.
"Target acquisition confirmed! Half a light-year ahead, sharp!" the chief fire-control officer yelled, his voice cutting through the bridge as red markers steadily blinked onto the tactical display.
The announcement seized the attention of every officer present. A swirl of conflicting emotions flashed across their faces—exhaustion foremost, swiftly overtaken by the profound relief of finally cornering their prey.
Their spirits had been drained dry over the past few hours; enduring continuous, one-sided bombardment without the ability to retaliate had severely shaken their morale.
The chief weapons officer pressed on: "The enemy fleet has nearly crossed into direct optical and sensor engagement range! Primary battery arrays, secondary weapons, and missile silos have all achieved hard lock on the lead formation of thirty-six hundred human vessels!"
Deep within the sea of consciousness, as if sensing the commotion in the physical world, the Dark Soul and the White Kalen abruptly halted their duel. Poised bare inches from striking each other, they pulled back and created distance.
"Let’s pause this fight for now," White Kalen said, his breathing ragged. "We don’t know how long our battle will drag on, and the enemy is right at our doorstep. If we keep tearing each other apart like this, our physical body will be obliterated before we even realize it."
"Indeed," the Dark Soul agreed, nodding with an air of faux benevolence. "How about you grant me full control of the body to crush this human fleet first? Once the battle is won, we can settle our score in private. What do you say?"
"Heh, you wish," White Kalen mocked. "Why don’t you step aside and let me handle it?"
"Hmph," the Dark Soul grunted. "Give up those pipe dreams, boy. We both know who is better suited to command at this juncture. It would do us both well if you stepped aside. I have led armadas for centuries and understand the art of war better than you could in seven lifetimes."
White Kalen flushed with irritation upon hearing this, but he quickly retorted, "You seem to forget that our memories are shared! I possess your experience as well, so why don’t you let me take charge of the situation? It would serve us both just as well!"
"Boy, possessing memories doesn’t grant you an innate understanding of the art of war—something forged through centuries of command that you clearly lack.