Above all, the warning the Duke of the Star Empire had left him with weighed heavily on Zyth’s mind. His senses told him that sothing imnsely terrible was about to happen.
But before he had any ti to think further, the pilot’s voice cracked over the intercom.
"Commander! We have an ergency! An incoming ssage from the fleet... and... and the sensors—"
"Our sensors are detecting a huge gravitational pull along with spatial distortions ahead... and..." The pilot’s voice cracked again as he hesitated to finish what he was about to say.
Zyth’s eyes had already narrowed upon hearing about the ergency ssage. Now, with the ntion of gravitational pull and spatial distortions ahead, his thoughts froze.
Ahead? Does that not an...
He quickly turned and looked forward into space, where the massive fleet of almost — if not more than — five thousand ships of different classifications stood in formation.
But at that very mont, the stationary ships suddenly began to accelerate forward. And then, as if they had been swallowed by sothing, or pulled into another dinsion, one by one they disappeared from sight.
Within just a few minutes, before his eyes — before Jarkon’s eyes, before Mimosa’s eyes — the fleet completely vanished, as if it had never existed there at all.
Zyth’s expression had long since turned grim as he watched the entire Star fleet abandon the system. Now he rembered the hesitation in his pilot’s voice. Now he understood why the man had struggled to speak.
He couldn’t help but sneer lightly, almost laughing at the bitter irony. So this is how it feels... to be on the receiving end. When the ally you relied on most chooses to run away the mont the situation turns unfavorable.
"So they left the star system... jumping into hyperspace, huh," he spoke the words aloud, letting the others hear. It didn’t matter if they had already guessed it; the reality needed to be nad.
Then, Flexie’s parting words clicked in his mind: "We are outgunned and outnumbered by an enemy we know nothing about... we have chosen to withdraw, regroup, and replan."
Earlier, Zyth had been confused, caught off guard by a possibility he thought was nonexistent. To him, the strength of a Tier One faction was so unimaginable and mighty that no Tier Two power like his clan could ever hope to rival it. He had believed that those with such strength would never flee a battlefield—especially not against an unknown, bleak power that might look strong but could easily be weak.
That reality was now shattered, crushed by the "mighty" factions themselves. "So even Tier One powers have their monts of weakness," Zyth muttered lancholy. "Even they know the concept of fear, huh?"
He felt the crushing weight of his situation, but his mind struggled to accept it.
Imagine a chicken being told that it isn’t really a chicken, but a phoenix whose bloodline has simply been locked away. And when that bloodline awakens, it will beco a mighty being, feared and revered by all.
Even if the chicken believes it, accepting it would be difficult. From birth until now, it has known only one reality. It has lived like a chicken, thought like a chicken, felt like a chicken. That has been its truth. To suddenly be told that everything it understood about itself was incomplete or wrong would shake its sense of identity.
The sa could be said for a boy raised in a middle-class family. He grows up aware of his surroundings, shaped by them. He understands limits, routines, expectations. Then one day he learns that he was actually born into a wealthy family and was intentionally raised this way to instill a certain mindset.
Even if the explanation makes sense, how can he imdiately adapt? His habits, beliefs, and emotional grounding were built in a different world. Coping with that shift would not be simple.
It was the sa for Zyth and his companions. They all felt it. They had lived one reality for so long that discovering another truth about themselves did not instantly transform them. Belief can co quickly. Acceptance takes ti.
Zyth pulled himself out of deep contemplation—or rather, it wasn’t him, but his senses that were constantly tingling with danger. This was tied to his unique ability (or in terms of the Void Fleet, a "skill") that he was born with.
It was an ability that always remained with him, a core part of the strength that made him what he was today, for it granted him the power to sense and avoid danger before it could even strike.
Because of this ability, there were instances of survival too nurous to rember; he only recalled the numbers. A few, however, stood out. He rembered the last war against the Genos Empire, where he survived a hidden attack from their elite fleet.
He managed an escape, saving his own fleet before countering to eat a chunk of the Genos’ elite numbers and battle strength, forcing them to retreat. That war had happened barely three decades ago.
Another was a conflict that could be called the "Battle of Existence" for their race. It was fought against the Great Orc race, a major dominating power in the region. They had barely survived even to hold onto their defenses.
At one point, he was at a huge disadvantage, but because of his unique ability’s tily warning, he made a quick escape, pulling back all his fleet and personnel. He narrowly avoided a massive, planned ambush, escaping calamity. He repeated this tactic again and again, successfully taking advantage of the chaos to bite off chunks of the Greater Orc race’s combat strength.
And now, that ability of his was tingling again—with even greater intensity than it ever had before, warning him of a new danger approaching. It was so potent that it pulled him out of his extre state of confusion. He had never wanted to enter that state; upon confronting certain truths, he felt the world he once knew wasn’t real at all, but a kind of fairytale. He had been about to fall into a ntal void from which few could ever recover.
He was thankful for the warning, but he did not know where this feeling of danger was coming from—only that it was at an unprecedented, extre level.
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