Legacy of the Void Fleet

”Wh—what?!”

The Red Empress nearly stumbled where she stood.

”You...” She parted her lips to rebuke him, but the words died in her throat. Processing what he had just said, she couldn’t actually fault his logic. In fact, it was a terrifying truth. Still, something about his attitude felt outrageously absurd, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Defeated, she could only shoot him an exasperated glare.

Kallus merely chuckled, brushing off her glare with an easy grin.

”Hehehe. Deploy the stellar gravitational field—seal this entire star system completely.”

”Understood,” the Red Empress replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Along the ventral hull of the Obliterator, several armored hatches slid open. A cluster of metallic spherical probes ejected into the void, vanishing from their coordinates in the span of a few seconds.

Not long after, an imperceptible, translucent membrane began to manifest along the outer perimeter of the entire star system, warping the edge of the void until only a single structural aperture remained open.

Opening her eyes, the Red Empress gave a slight nod. ”It’s done. The stellar gravitational field has fully enveloped the perimeter of the star system.”

”Mm.” Kallus nodded thoughtfully. ”Transmit these coordinates back home and have them dispatch a recovery fleet for comprehensive salvage operations. Since multiple hyper-space routes converge directly through this sector, it will serve nicely as a natural buffer zone between our territory and theirs—an ideal forward border stronghold.”

”Understood,” the Empress agreed smoothly, choosing not to poke holes in his abrupt strategic leap. For her, whatever Kallus commanded was law, provided it wasn’t completely unhinged. While slightly impulsive, it’s certainly not a bad move, she reasoned internally.

”Excellent. Then let’s keep moving,” Kallus said with a satisfied grin.

With a silent directive, he engaged the Obliterator’s transcendent FTL drive. A dark, pitch-black shroud wrapped around the warship’s obsidian frame as it accelerated instantaneously. Within a microsecond, the titan slipped into hyperspace, vanishing without a trace.

Behind them, the final aperture in the gravitational boundary snapped shut, sealing the perimeter and plunging the tomb-like star system into absolute, eternal silence.

Star Empire, Central Star System. Capital World: Stellar Prime. Imperial Palace, Imperial Council Chamber.

The atmosphere in the grand hall had reached a boiling point. Marquis Grey stood locked in a fierce confrontation against the Star Emperor, relentlessly pressuring him to summon the Divine Beast and submit himself to its ancient judgment. The Star Emperor remained seated, his eyes fixed on Marquis Grey with an inscrutable, unfathomable expression.

”The Divine Beast’s intervention is n—”

Before the Emperor could finish, a chaotic uproar erupted outside the council chamber.

BANG!

The massive, reinforced council doors were violently thrown open, crashing against the interior walls with thunderous force.

Four figures rushed through the entrance. Three of them were clad head-to-toe in ornate bronze-gold armor that left only their stone-faced expressions visible—officers of the elite Royal Guard. Flanking them was a high-ranking messenger encased in crimson-gold exo-armor.

The four hurried down the central aisle toward the dais and dropped swiftly to one knee.

”Your Imperial Majesty! Urgent dispatch received from the Strato Star System—sent by Grand Commander Dier of the Brutal Blood Grand Fleet just moments before all communications went dead!”

With those words, the crimson-gold armored messenger engaged his gauntlet projector. A holographic transmission sprang into the center of the hall.

The recording revealed the terrifying arrival of the Obliterator within the Strato Star System. Across the feed, the warship’s obsidian hull ignited with blinding radiance as it unleashed an apocalyptic volley. In an instant, the fleet’s vanguard and both flanks erupted into cataclysmic miniature suns, incinerating thousands of warships in the blink of an eye.

Right there, the visual feed violently cut out into static.

”Grand Commander Dier left very few words,” the messenger reported, his voice tight. ”He stated that they detected an unknown human vessel’s spatial signature upon its arrival, but before they could verify its identity, an attack was launched. That transmission was the last data packet received. As for what transpired after... we do not know. All comm channels have gone dark. We can reach neither Commander Dier nor a single surviving vessel of the Brutal Blood Grand Fleet.”

”Wh-WHAT?!”

Dozens of high nobles shot to their feet across the tiered council seats, their faces draining of all color. The ones reacting with the sheerest horror were the lords whose feudal territories bordered the Strato Star System—staring at the dead projection, paralyzed by the sheer nightmare unfolding at their doorsteps.

”Wh-what is that ship? How can it be so... so terrifyingly powerful?!” Duke Mervyn stammered, naked terror bleeding into his voice as cold sweat already began beading across his forehead.

Hushed, frantic murmurs swept through the council chamber like wildfire. Yet amid the growing dread, a subtle divide tore through the room. Several nobles breathed silent sighs of relief—Marquis Grey among them, alongside nearly every prominent member of the loyalist faction. Not a single one of their hereditary estates or feudal territories bordered that devastated sector.

In stark contrast, the nobles belonging to the Emperor’s faction turned deathly pale.

The Strato Star System was not merely an isolated border post; it was the strategic heartland of the Emperor’s power base. Spanning the Empire’s northern territories—a critical gateway connecting directly to the borders of the Bright Moon Republic and the neighboring Hegemony—this entire corridor was ruled by lords fiercely loyal to the throne.

With only a few rare exceptions, the most influential, wealthy, and militarily formidable pillars of the Emperor’s faction held their estates directly in the path of this encroaching nightmare.

While expressions shifted wildly across the hall, the Star Emperor’s lips twitched slightly.

”So, it has begun,” he uttered softly under his breath.

Though spoken in little more than a whisper, the figures gathered within the chamber were exceptionally powerful beings. Most had attained the Starlight Realm at the very least, while a select few stood at the Quasi-Star Law Realm, and an elite handful had even stepped into the Initial Star Law Realm. Every sharp ear in the hall caught his words clearly.

Dozens of heads snapped toward the throne, sudden realization dawning upon them.

This was the true crisis this emergency council had been summoned to address from the very beginning. Yet, rather than laying the cards on the table, the Emperor had spent the opening hours indulging his own private agenda and political maneuvers before addressing the impending catastrophe.

Members of the loyalist faction couldn’t help but scowl deeply. With an existential terror already knocking at their gates, instead of mobilizing defenses and preparing for the worst, the throne had dragged them into petty power plays.

A sharp wave of dissatisfaction rippled through the chamber. It wasn’t just confined to the loyalist opposition—deep resentment began to brew among the neutral bloc, the corporate consortiums, the academic institutes, the Merchant Alliance, and the Mercenary Guild representatives alike.

The Emperor’s faction, however, had no room for resentment—only stark, suffocating fear. If anything, their backing of the Emperor grew far more desperate and unconditional than before. Their ancestral domains and family seats sat squarely at the top of the enemy’s hit list.

Witnessing that single warship’s monstrous firepower—not to mention the inevitable invasion armadas that would follow in its wake—they shuddered to imagine the absolute ruin awaiting their private forces, territories, and bloodlines.

They knew with bitter clarity that without sweeping imperial mobilization and heavy support from the entire realm, their domains would be wiped from existence. Driven by sheer self-preservation, their predatory gazes darted across the chamber, fixing onto the aloof nobles whose distant territories were currently safe from harm. They needed those fleets, those resources, and those legions thrown into the meat grinder to shoulder the burden and blunt their own devastating losses.

Observing the volatile shift in the chamber’s air, the Star Emperor’s brow furrowed in bitter displeasure. He could feel the reins slipping from his grip, the political dynamics rapidly spiraling out of control.

Yet, with the crisis escalating at such breakneck speed, he knew all too well that now was not the time to force through his personal agenda.

”Silence, all of you!”

The Star Emperor’s voice boomed across the chamber. Simultaneously, he unleashed the unrestricted aura of his Peak Star Law Realm cultivation. The suffocating, celestial pressure crashed down like an anvil, instantly crushing the rising mutters and petrifying every soul in the grand hall into dead silence.

”You have all heard the intelligence,” the Emperor began, his tone severe and cold. ”The enemy is advancing far faster than our strategic models projected. They are already standing at our very doorstep, and our northern line has taken a devastating blow. The Brutal Blood Grand Fleet has gone dark. We must face the bitter truth—they have fallen, utterly annihilated by that singular human monstrosity. The footage speaks for itself; our foe commands an overwhelming technological and destructive superiority.”

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, meeting the uneasy gazes of the lords.