Those lights flickered across his face, casting his profile in alternating light and shadow.
His brows were tightly knit.
Almost twisted into a permanent knot.
In his heart, he couldn't help but curse.
Not at the Federation.
But at this damned war.
He lowered his head, glancing at the numbers on the tactical screen.
The figures made his chest tighten.
Battle Casualty Statistics
Ares Fleet: Losses - 18,700 ships
Pandora Fleet: Losses - 16,200 ships
Total: 34,900 ships
Thirty-four thousand nine hundred ships.
All in just over an hour.
In the distance, the Federation Fleet's formation continued to press forward.
Two hundred thousand ships.
Blanketing the sky.
General Slate murmured, his voice almost inaudible.
"At this rate..."
"I'm afraid in less than four hours..."
"We'll all be finished..."
Bridge of the Battleship Ares.
Time flowed slowly.
Four hours.
Felt like four centuries.
Slate stood before the command console, staring motionlessly at the tactical screen.
From the original 150,000 starships
Only 20,000 remained.
He slowly raised his head, looking out through the viewport.
The airspace once filled with 200,000 Federation warships was still densely packed.
But the Imperial Fleet's formation had become pitifully sparse.
Twenty thousand remaining ships were desperately converging toward the warp point.
Over the past four hours, they had fought tooth and nail to send 35,000 ships out.
Tearing a gap through the Federation's encirclement with blood and fire.
Adding the 10,000 ships that warped away in the first two waves.
A total of 45,000 starships had escaped.
Slate closed his eyes.
Forty-five thousand.
Sounded like a lot.
But what percentage was that of their full strength?
Two hundred thousand.
Forty-five thousand, less than thirty percent.
Not even thirty percent.
He opened his eyes.
Those eyes held only an indescribable weariness.
Thirty percent.
Better than being annihilated.
The communication screen lit up.
General Thatcher's face appeared on it.
That weary face was similarly etched with the complex emotions of surviving a catastrophe.
He looked at Slate without speaking.
Slate also remained silent.
They stared at each other through the screen for a second.
Then.
Thatcher gave a slight nod.
Slate nodded in return.
No words were needed.
They both understood what the other was thinking.
It was time to go.
If they didn't leave now, they wouldn't get another chance.
...
Two minutes later.
The Ares and Pandora's Kiss simultaneously turned their bows.
The two flagships, one after another, led 5,000 Imperial warships toward the direction of the AEWL-849 Jump Point.
Behind them, the remaining 15,000 Imperial ships slowly began to deploy into a defensive formation.
They had only one mission.
Hold back the Federation Fleet.
Every second counted.
Every minute mattered.
To allow the two flagships and their 5,000 allied starships to warp away safely.
As for themselves.
Whether they could escape with their lives depended on luck.
Bridge of the Ares.
Slate stood before the communication screen.
Displayed side by side on the screen were the faces of the commanders leading the rearguard fleet.
Some young, some older.
Every face bore the same expression: resolve.
Slate looked at them, silent for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"Best of luck to you all."
He paused before continuing.
"The Empire will remember you forever."
His gaze swept across each face.
"I'll be waiting for you..."
"...at Jump Point Z-78."
With that,
he raised his right hand.
And gave a solemn military salute.
On the other end of the screen, the commanders returned the salute in unison.
The communication cut off.
The screen went dark.
Slate lowered his hand.
He turned and looked out the viewport.
In the distance, the fifteen thousand remaining warships had already engaged the Federation Fleet.
The glow of artillery fire flickered in the darkness.
Explosive fireballs bloomed one after another.
Ship after ship was turning into wreckage.
He withdrew his gaze.
And looked ahead.
The AEWL-849 Jump Point was drawing closer and closer.
He murmured a single sentence.
So softly that only he could hear it.
"Forgive me..."
The Jump Point's light swallowed the Ares.
Both flagships, along with five thousand Imperial warships, vanished.
On the other side.
Bridge of the Battleship Xiaoyao.
Jiang Yubai stared at the tactical screen, his face ashen.
On the screen, those five thousand Imperial warships had just completed their warp.
Blue light still shimmered in the void, but their forms had already disappeared into the transition channel.
They had escaped.
Right in front of him, they had escaped.
Jiang Yubai's chest heaved violently.
He whirled around and barked into the fleet-wide channel, his voice exploding across the bridge.
"Charge!"
His finger stabbed viciously toward the remaining fifteen thousand Imperial warships.
"If you let these fifteen thousand ships get away..."
He paused, then shouted, enunciating each word.
"...you can all prepare to write ten-thousand-word self-criticisms at the debriefing!"
The bridge fell silent for a second.
Then the Federation Fleet moved.
Two hundred thousand starships accelerated simultaneously.
The sight was like a moving continent of steel, bearing down on the fifteen thousand Imperial warships with an aura that promised to crush everything in its path.
The Destroyers were the first to plunge into the enemy formation.
Like sharp blades, they thrust deep into the Imperial Fleet's loose formation.
Beams, missiles, torpedoes.
All weapons fired at once.
The outermost Imperial Cruisers, caught off guard, were pierced simultaneously by seven or eight beams.
Shields shattered, hulls exploded, and sympathetic detonations erupted where those ships had been.
Then the second, the third, the fourth.
Fifteen thousand against two hundred thousand.
A mantis trying to stop a chariot.
No phrase could be more fitting.
The Imperial warships resisted desperately.
Their artillery fire didn't cease, fighter craft were still launching, captains were still roaring "Hold! Hold! Hold!"
But it was useless.
The disparity in numbers was too great, the gap in firepower too vast.
An Imperial Battleship was targeted by the concentrated fire of three Federation Battleships at once.
Its shields flickered wildly, energy readings plummeting.
The captain ordered, "Hard to Port! Evade!"
But before it could turn, the shields failed.
Immediately after, twelve beams struck its hull simultaneously.
The Battleship broke in half.
The forward section, carried by inertia, surged forward another three thousand kilometers before exploding.
The aft section disintegrated into debris on the spot.
An Imperial Cruiser attempted a breakout, but the moment it surged from the array, it was surrounded by over thirty Federation Destroyers.
Like sharks that had caught the scent of blood, they swarmed in from all directions.
That cruiser held out for less than three minutes under the siege.
Then it exploded with a thunderous roar.
Twenty minutes later.
All fifteen thousand Imperial warships had been wiped out.
Jump Point Z-78.
The five thousand Imperial warships that had managed to escape had just completed their warp.
What awaited them was a nightmare more terrifying than the battlefield.
Because all the previous batches of Imperial warships that had warped here had turned into wreckage at this very spot.
Jump Point Z-78 was almost completely filled with the wreckage of warships.