Plasma lances scread across the void, hurling themselves toward the frontal line of the Left Battle Division. They were followed by a storm of gauss and railgun fire, thousands of barrels spewing tallic fury into space, their payloads converging like a swarm of blazing teors.
The Minotaur arsenal bared its full weight: heavy laser batteries of every variant—ion, pulse, and plasma—super-heavy laser array systems mounted on their battleships, particle beam cannons, and the dreaded MACs (Massive Acceleration Cannons, the infamous "ship killers").
Added to this were antimatter warheads, nuclear-tipped projectiles, and even experintal star-killer missiles—each weapon system unleashing devastation in successive, rciless waves.
Detonations rippled outward in endless cascades, dozens then hundreds, then thousands overlapping until the void itself burned with light. For a fleeting mont, it was as if a galaxy of newborn stars had blood, only to be snuffed out in fire and ruin.
At the tip of the Left Division's spear formation, the vanguard ships—the BC-911 Strom Lancers, titanic heavy battlecruisers—bore the brunt of the Minotaurs' storm. They did not stand alone: multiple Barracuda-class vessels ford the outer periter of Macron's carefully arranged spearhead, a formation he had personally devised when he split the Left Division from the main fleet under Grand Admiral Kael Thorne's orders.
The collision was apocalyptic. The fortress's secondary cannons struck first, followed by a cascade of Minotaur fire. Explosions rippled across the shields of the Division's vanguard, lighting them like miniature suns in the void. But the lighter escorts behind them remained untouched—for the full force of the barrage was absorbed by the armored wall at the front.
The Strom Lancers endured, not through brute tal alone, but through their advanced defenses. Triple-layer adaptive shielding wrapped each ship in a cocoon of shifting energy fields, absorbing, bending, and dispersing the fury hurled upon them.
The energy drain was astronomical, but the battlecruisers were designed for such punishnt. Their MTX-Ω Dual Core Reactors (Mana-Tech Exchange Core: Oga) funneled not only raw power but ambient mana itself into the shields, easing the strain and allowing the titanic vessels to hold their ground against what should have been annihilation.
To any observer from afar, the vanguard should have been obliterated under such an overwhelming storm of fire. The Minotaurs' barrage was explosive, furious, and rciless—an onslaught worthy of annihilation. On the Strom Lancersand other frontal ships, the crews felt the full weight of that judgnt.
Each impact rippled across their triple-layer shields, the shimring barriers buckling and flaring as wave after wave of concentrated fire slamd into them. The frequency of rippling only grew, each pulse of strain hamring through the decks.
Crew mbers gasped as the void outside their viewports beca a blinding storm of explosions and burning fireballs. Those stationed in the middle and rear ranks of the Left Division could only watch in dread as the entire forward line disappeared from sight, swallowed by incandescent ruin.
Had it not been for their unshakable faith in the technology their ships were built upon—and the reassuring blips of the vanguard still glowing steady on their tactical displays—many would have believed their comrades lost. For all the devastation outside, the reality was undeniable: the shields held. The Minotaur's fury had not even stripped away the first of the three protective layers, though the pressure was imnse.
Still, it shook them. After all, for many in the Division, this was their first true battle. Training simulations, no matter how sophisticated, could not compare to the reality of war—the deafening tremors, the surging power drains, the raw terror of being buried in enemy fire.
It was a trial by fire, and it rattled even the hardened. Which was, in part, the very reason these fleets were deployed against lower-tier star systems before facing stronger foes: to temper their new crews in real combat, to harden them against the shock of the battlefield.
Inside the vanguard, the storm was even more intense. Yet as the minutes ticked by, the truth beca clear—the fire, no matter how overwhelming, was simply not enough. The shields endured. The reactors burned bright. And as calm slowly returned to the crews, their confidence solidified.
"Damn…" one voice finally muttered over the comms, awe lacing the words. "The concentration of that attack—those barrages could have flattened a Paragon-tier cultivator, maybe even soone in the initial stages of World-Building Realm. And yet…" He trailed off, watching the shields shimr defiantly against the onslaught. "And yet it has barely scratched us. Just what kind of monsters built these ships?"
"By the stars… what you said is exactly what I've been thinking," whispered the commanding officer of the Storm Lancer, his voice low but carrying the weight of conviction.
He was Captain Wipers of the Void Fleet Navy. At his side, Ensign Callen gripped the rail of the observation deck until his knuckles turned white. The constant pounding of enemy fire made the command bridge tremble, the ship's shields rippling again and again under the relentless barrage. The transparent blue do flared brighter with each impact, glowing as though on the verge of collapse—yet it did not fall.
Callen's heart pounded in his chest, but not from fear. No, this was sothing different, sothing sharper. Exhilaration. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes locked on the storm outside. "The Minotaurs… they're throwing everything they have at us. Everything. And yet—for all their power—it isn't enough to bring down even a single layer of our shields. Damn, much less scratch our hulls."
His voice trembled with awe. "Those engineers really outdid themselves. These defensive systems… they're even more reliable, even more powerful than I ever expected."
For a mont, silence reigned on the bridge. And then—laughter. Nervous, disbelieving laughter that soon spread across the crew. n and won chuckled shakily, so with relief, others with outright giddy energy. Their confidence in survival had, until now, rested on simulations and theoretical paraters.
They had braced themselves for annihilation. But now, after long seconds of enduring the Minotaurs' most desperate storm of fire, they realized the truth: their ships could withstand it.
The laughter was a release, a way to purge the lingering fear that had threatened to gnaw at their resolve. Bit by bit, the crew began to adapt, settling into the rhythm of real battle. This was only the beginning, and they still had much to prove—but the first wall of terror had been shattered.
Vice-Captain Aria Vey seized that mont. Picking up the comms, she patched her voice through the ship's channels and across the local fleet net. Her words rang with excitent, steadied by a core of iron resolve:
"All ships, hold formation. Shields are solid—no breach, no weakness. Not a single system is compromised. The enemy's fire is nothing against us. Maintain discipline, keep steady, and wait for the Fleet Admiral's command." Her tone hardened, then broke into a fierce, eager grin. "And when that order cos, we'll show them our power. Heh… let them choke on it."
Aboard the Oblivion-class dreadnought White Frost, Macron watched calmly as the storm of fire continued to batter the ships of his vanguard. The Minotaur assault was relentless, a ceaseless bombardnt ant to overwhelm—but the storm lancers held, their triple-layer shields rippling brilliantly under the pressure.
"Looks like you were right, Fleet Admiral," titus remarked, his voice asured, almost casual. "They were more prepared than expected. It seems their weapons have undergone significant upgrades. Many of those systems are far stronger than what our intelligence gathered from the remnants of their defeated fleets." His gaze narrowed on the tactical display, watching the data scroll. "Curious."
One of the senior captains nodded gravely. "There's no real problem, my lord, but… things do not match the reports. Their numbers are lower than anticipated, yet their firepower has suddenly surged. This sudden 'power-up' changes the paraters in ways we did not account for."
"That much is true," kael agreed softly, his eyes still fixed on the vanguard ships weathering the Minotaur barrage. "I have a theory, in fact… Have the other battle fleets and the Grand Admiral been inford of this developnt? If they're not already engaged in battle like us—and they shouldn't be based on my calculation — if then it should prove useful....
And making them aware of it would be helpful for them. Tell them to be prepared and not to rely solely on the information we had from those databanks. Things are at play here, and we don't know when the situation might turn against us if taken lightly ," he said.
Titus nodded and looked toward Sentoiry. She inclined her head as if to show she understood, then closed her eyes for a mont before opening them again and fixing her gaze on Kael.
"I've sent the information to the other Grand Admiral, Master Kael, just as you instructed," she said.
Kael gave a brief nod, then shifted the topic. "Things are about to take a hard turn. Our newly trained elite recruits aren't fully ready for independent deploynts on their own.
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