I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse

Chapter 1893: Hye Is Putting on a Show!

Furthermore, this was the first time Hye had publicly donned the title of ”Human Race Emperor.” He was well aware that his name sounded alien and insignificant to the ears of these established powers.

However, Hye also knew that the most effective introduction in the universe wasnʼt written in ink, but in fire. It was a showcase of absolute, unyielding might. This was why he refused to let the momentum stall.

He kept his fleet burning forward at full thrust, mercilessly crushing every single intercepting force they encountered, regardless of their banner or lineage.

Soon enough, the entire sector was jolted wide awake. The realisation dawned that time was a depleting resource. Many commanders, seeing the ”unexplained” and ”weird” methods Hyeʼs warriors used—tearing through hulls like ghosts and reaping souls—decided that resistance was a form of suicide. They began to transmit signals of neutrality or surrender.

Yet, as is the nature of the universe, a few stubborn, foolish holdouts remained. Their arrogance was rooted in a dangerously flawed logic: If we have never heard of this man, then he is a nobody. If he is a nobody, he is unworthy of our fear.

They didnʼt just underestimate Hye; they actively blinded themselves to the truth. They didnʼt bother to investigate his origins or track his trajectory from the previous sectors.

Even the battle recordings he had shared were dismissed as fabrications—expensive cinematic fakes designed to scare the weak-minded.

They huddled together in their command centres, convincing one another that their combined numbers would eventually drown this ”upstart emperor” in a sea of cannon fire.

Hye watched their movements on the tactical display, his expression one of patient, predatory calm. He waited. He deliberately allowed these arrogant remnants to gather and lump their forces together.

He watched as they formed a grandiose, bloated fleet composed of over one hundred different minor fleets and independent mercenary bands. It was a massive, glittering wall of metal that filled the star-field.

Only when they were fully assembled did Hye speak, his voice projected across every open frequency in the sector.

”To those of you who are foolish enough to believe that numbers can compensate for a lack of soul... to those of you who think your history justifies your existence...” Hye paused, his eyes cold. ”I have only this to say: You are worth nothing to me. DIE!”

”He is totally immersed in the role!” Olana exclaimed, watching the live feeds from the flagshipʼs bridge. She was inwardly surprised by his theatricality. She had assumed he would be more efficient, perhaps picking off the opposing fleets one by one before they could ever hope to synchronise.

Instead, she saw that he had deliberately held his forces back. He had granted his enemies every second they needed to group up, to bolster their courage, and to present a unified front. Now, he was moving his own fleet—which looked significantly dwarfed by the sheer mass of the enemy coalition—directly into the heart of the storm.

Despite the disparity in size, Olana felt no anxiety. She had zero doubt that Hye would emerge victorious. In fact, her only regret was that she hadnʼt established a sector-wide betting service before the shooting started; she would have wagered her entire personal wealth on his absolute, one-sided triumph without a second thought.

While the enemy was busy screaming battle cries over the comms, Hyeʼs fleet was methodically rearranging its lines. He ordered the outer universe ships to the exterior layers, locking them into a tight, interlocking formation. They worked in perfect harmony to project a grand defensive shield—a barrier forged from technologies and laws that the local forces couldnʼt even begin to comprehend.

To ensure this shield remained impenetrable under the coming barrage, Hye made a tactical adjustment. He shifted the personnel within those vanguard ships, replacing the standard crews with warriors possessing the highest cultivation bases in his army.

He needed their raw energy to stabilise the hulls. Meanwhile, he kept his Soulers and Reapers hidden on the secondary transport ships, waiting for the moment of maximum impact.

As the two armadas closed the distance, the battle began with a deafening roar of energy. Hye didnʼt even watch the initial exchange from the bridge. Instead, he took his personal, high-speed vessel and began a casual ”cleaning” of the previous battlegrounds his fleet had left in its wake.

With an efficiency that bordered on the macabre, he moved through the debris fields. He collected the bones of fallen experts, harvested the inventories of destroyed flagships, and gathered the empty hulls of scuttled vessels.

He didnʼt even spare a glance at his new gains; he knew this was just the appetiser. The real feast was currently happening behind him.

In the distance, the enemy coalition opened fire in a frantic, feverish manner. It was a desperate volley, as if they knew instinctively that they would never get a second chance to attack.

Thousands of ships discharged their main batteries simultaneously, a blinding torrent of light and heat that seemed to swallow Hyeʼs smaller fleet whole.

Yet, when the light faded, the shield held. Not a single ship had been breached.

”Itʼs a good thing I shifted those warriors with the stronger cultivation bases,” Hye noted, glancing back at the massive, concentrated energy readings. He felt a brief flash of relief. Had he stuck with the original roster for those ships, the sheer kinetic force of such a desperate, combined strike might have actually caused a few leaks in the formation.

The enemy fleet fell into a heavy, stunned silence. The ”nobody” they had mocked had just taken their absolute best shot and hadnʼt even flinched. The inactivity lasted for several long, agonising minutes as the coalition commanders tried to process the zero-casualty report on Hyeʼs side.

Hye didnʼt give them a moment longer. He sent a silent thought-command through the mental link.

From the dark, cold spots surrounding the enemyʼs flanks—units that had been drifting in silent-run mode while the coalition was busy gathering—the hidden Soulers and Reapers finally acted. They descended upon the rear of the panicked fleet like shadows coming to life, and the real massacre began.