CHAPTER 21: CH-21 BUT I AM YOUR REINFORCEMENT, ALRIGHT? TRUST ME

"Be that as it may," continued William, "I mean, yeah—the insectoid race could become a threat at some point. But as someone (Elsa) just said, they pose no danger to those who are truly strong, and I agree with that. Also, if humanity continues to grow the way it is, it will always stay ahead of the insectoids in terms of development and power."

He paused for a moment, then added, "One more thing that got me curious: both humans and insectoids are seen as invaders by this universe. The only real difference? The insectoids came from outside the universe... while humans originated from the Milky Way within it."

Elsa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Surprising, isn’t it? That they managed to reach here. It couldn’t have been anything but blind luck. I mean... what are the chances a wormhole just happens to connect their home galaxy to this one—and that they have the ability to cross it?"

Ascendancy’s voice chimed in smoothly, "Indeed. But look at the result: humanity has lost access to the wormhole. They’re cut off from their home galaxy, isolated from reinforcements... and hunted by nearly every native species in this one."

She paused before adding, "And yet... they’ve survived. Thanks to their wits, technological superiority, and especially... those ’god-class’ mech pilots. They’re something else entirely."

William nodded, slowly. "That... they are."

Elsa smirked slightly, leaning back. "I’m beginning to think this galaxy might get interesting after all."

William leaned forward in his command seat, eyes narrowing at the real-time data floating in holographic streams before him. "Yeah... it’s indeed impressive," he muttered, almost to himself. "From what we’re seeing, this galaxy might actually be worth our time. Worthy of being the foundation for something... new."

His gaze lingered on the tactical display showcasing the human fleet’s desperate stand—flanked by insectoid monstrosities, overwhelmed but still fighting. "And don’t even get me started on those mechas," he added, a flicker of interest in his voice. "Those so-called ’god pilots’... It’s a cultivation system, isn’t it? Crude, sure—but unmistakably one."

He was about to launch into a deeper analysis—probably something far too inappropriate given the situation—when Elsa cut him off with a firm slap to his shoulder.

"Hey," she said sharply, her voice carrying a mix of teasing and warning. "Save the rambling for later, alright? We’ve got humans to save first."

William blinked, then coughed and offered a sheepish grin. "Right, right... I get it."

His expression hardened as his eyes turned back toward the starfield. The tide was turning. The humans were giving ground. Ships were being torn apart. Even their elite pilots were beginning to falter under the relentless pressure of the insectoid swarm.

He sighed. "They can’t hold out much longer. If I wait a few more moments, there won’t be anything left to rescue—just more corpses feeding the Hive."

Then he spoke aloud, his voice calm but resolute.

"Ascendancy. Drop our stealth."

Elsa’s eyes flicked to him, then out toward the endless blackness beyond the command bridge. She didn’t argue.

William continued, "Let both sides—especially the humans—see that something else just stepped onto the field. Something neither of them expected."

A moment of silence.

Then Ascendancy responded, her voice smooth, artificial, and unwavering.

"Understood, Master. Preparing to deactivate stealth protocols and broadcast signal."

A soft hum pulsed through the Ragnarok’s hull. The command center dimmed, lights flickering blue as the quantum-cloaking field unraveled.

[Disengaging stealth systems in 3... 2... 1...]

The Ragnarok shimmered—flickering into visible space like a phantom given form, vast and ancient, bristling with technology the galaxy had never seen.

Ascendancy spoke again."Stealth deactivated. We are now visible to all forces within the region."

William exhaled slowly, rising from his seat.

"Let’s see how they react... this should be interesting to watch."

Elsa smirked as she leaned back, arms crossed."As it should be. Seeing a vessel like the Ragnarok suddenly appear on their detection systems... it should surprise the entire human fleet."

Meanwhile, aboard the largest vessel in the Human Fleet...

Within one of the most heavily fortified ships in the human research fleet, a behemoth of steel and energy drifted forward under heavy engagement protocols. It was humanity’s mightiest warship deployed in this region—a Pegasus-class dual interstellar battleship, designed for extended campaigns in deep space. Capable of acting as both a strategic command ship and front-line juggernaut, it was a symbol of humanity’s apex naval engineering.

Measuring 4.8 kilometers in length, 1.2 kilometers in width, and nearly 800 meters in height, the vessel was armed to the teeth.

Primary Armaments:

6 × Traidend-class Hypermass Heavy Turbo-Laser Cannons(Spinal-mounted, long-range weapons capable of cracking planetary crusts)

16 × T5 Antimatter Heavy-Class Energy Cannons(Broadside-mounted, core shipkillers)

24 × Quad-Linked Particle Annihilation Turrets(Mid- to short-range, rated #60 on defense-grade scale)

Secondary Systems:

25 × Siegebreaker Ion Cannons(Shield suppression and hull disruption)

160 × Auto-point Plasma Flak Cannons(Anti-fighter and close-range defense)

40 × Sregi Missile Tubes(Capable of launching a variety of T5-grade warheads: EMP, buster torpedoes, antimatter, etc.)

The ship’s vast hangar could deploy approximately 140 T5-class mechas, spanning multiple combat roles.

Inside its towering command deck—currently acting as the war room—stood high-ranking officials of the Federation Fleet: admirals, generals, and strategic captains. Leading them was Fleet Admiral Kevin Marks, a seasoned commander of considerable renown. His tactical brilliance and calm presence had steered the fleet through harrowing encounters, keeping losses to a minimum despite overwhelming odds.

But even he was feeling the strain.

Mentally worn down by continuous command and the pressure of protecting not just his fleet, but the knowledge and future of the Federation, Kevin was preparing to issue new orders—to reconfigure the formation, collapse the breach in their lines, and stabilize the front.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a series of three sharp alarm bells rang across the bridge.

He stopped.

Brows furrowing, he glanced at the holographic war map table. No losses had been reported. No significant enemy surge had triggered an internal alert. So... what the hell was the alarm about?

Turning to his Vice Admiral, he asked, "What are those alarms for?"

The Vice Admiral shared his confusion, quickly tapping into the bridge comms. He reached the detection station one level below.

"Status report. What triggered that alert?"

A young officer’s voice came back, tight and focused.

"Sir... Pegasus detection systems have registered the presence of a new entity near the battlefield. A single ship. Unknown class. It... appeared suddenly."

The Vice Admiral blinked. "Are you sure? Could it be a false signature? A cloak glitch from the insectoids?"

"No, sir. Multiple sensors confirm it. It’s not a glitch. This is a real, massive ship—and it wasn’t there a moment ago."

Before the Vice Admiral could respond, Admiral Kevin, who had heard every word, stepped forward and locked eyes with his subordinate.

"Put the ship feed on the holo map. Now."

And indeed, it was surprising—shocking, even—to find a vessel of such immense size, especially one clearly built for war. From its silhouette alone, and the early data pinged by their scanners, it was evident that this was no ordinary ship. It radiated power and purpose.

The subordinate, now given a direct order, did exactly as expected—he obeyed without hesitation. With a swift tap on the console, the battlefield holomap flickered, recalibrated, and zoomed out slightly to offer a broader tactical view.

And then they saw it.

On the western fringe of the battlefield—just outside the outer perimeter of the Federation fleet—a single vessel had appeared.

One vessel.

But calling it a mere "ship" felt like an insult.

It was colossal.

Not simply in scale, but in presence.

At first, the command crew said nothing. They just stared.

The size was staggering—estimated between 14 to 15 kilometers in length. Yet it wasn’t the size alone that held their breath—it was the design. Sleek, sharp-edged, and angular, shaped like a massive wedge-dagger forged from darkness and precision. Its hull shimmered faintly, shifting between matte black and ghostly white, etched with silver lines that pulsed like the veins of some slumbering god-machine.

No visible designation. No IFF tags. No known human architecture.

Yet it didn’t resemble any insectoid vessel either.

Nor of any enemy race that they or their whole federation had encountered.

For all their advances, even the Federation’s greatest dreadnoughts lacked this aesthetic—the deadly beauty of deliberate perfection. There was an intelligence to the way this ship was built, a kind of confidence etched into its armor plating.

A whisper moved across the bridge.

"What... is that?"

Another officer murmured, "Sir... that isn’t one of ours."

A second voice followed, low and uneasy, "They’re not our reinforcements..."

If William had heard that, he would’ve just rolled his eyes and said,"Yeah, yeah... I know—I’m not part of your precious Federation. But I am your reinforcement, alright? Trust me."

Admiral Kevin Marks stared silently at the hovering projection. His mind was already racing, parsing possibility after possibility. This was no rogue Federation ship. No experimental fleet unit. He would’ve known.

And the insectoids? No chance—they didn’t build like this. They couldn’t.

Then—

Another alert pinged.