CHAPTER 24: CH-24 THAT’S OUR ALLY, DAMMIT!”

Saint Maximus remained at the farthest edge of the retreating formation—the last wall between the Hive and the human fleet.

His ace swordsman mecha, now battle-scarred and glowing dimly, stood guard as thousands of allied mechas fell back. Despite having long broken his physical limits, despite his willpower hanging by a thread, Maximus held the line.

His once-mighty kilometer-wide domain had shrunk to a trembling 400 meters, flickering and unstable. Yet, it still served as a secondary barrier, augmenting the mecha’s shielding system and keeping the enemy at bay. The energy link fed from the fleet’s auxiliary reactors allowed him to barely remain operational.

Saint Maximus, panting within the cockpit, clenched his teeth and forced his body to keep moving.

His sword danced through the void, each swing unleashing a crescent slash of energy that tore through insectoid warships. Some slashes cleaved entire mother ships in half, others neutralized incoming projectiles with surgical precision. Yet he knew... he couldn’t hold forever.

Then came Saint Emma—her artillery mecha remained in the rear, raining devastation with synchronized precision. Her main and auxiliary cannons obliterated any Hive units attempting to swarm Maximus.

"Thanks for the cover fire," Maximus said over comms, his voice ragged.

Emma’s cheerful voice replied, "No worries, that’s my order, remember?"

He chuckled weakly. "Yeah... it is."

Seconds later, the last wave of forward mechs had successfully docked back into the battle carriers—Saint Maximus being the final one to pull back. But before he moved, he chose to unleash one last strike.

His swordsman mech rose upright in space. The towering weapon in its hands—a 30-meter energy-forged blade—glowed with an unstable brilliance.

Saint Maximus raised it high.

"For humanity..."With a roar, he channeled every last scrap of willpower into the blade. The void around him cracked with pressure.Then—

He slashed.

A monstrous arc of sword energy—radiating pure willpower—cut across the stars. Reality seemed to ripple around it. The energy wave erased more than 50 insectoid mother ships, instantly slicing through space and ship alike.

But just before it could reach the central Hive Mothership, the energy faded.

Inside the cockpit, Maximus collapsed, murmuring weakly,"Still... not enough... to reach the Hive Mind. Guess I’ll leave the rest to the giant..."

His ace mecha, completely drained of energy, shut down in space.

Fleet Admiral Kevin, watching it all unfold, narrowed his eyes, then immediately ordered,"Bring him in! Tractor beam—now!"

The command was acknowledged, and Maximus was safely retrieved.

With the retreat successful, Kevin turned back to William’s hologram, speaking with urgency:"Mr. William, I’ve upheld my part. My mechas have withdrawn. Please—uphold your word now. Our fleet can’t take another hit. Our last line of defense is gone."

William nodded calmly.

"Don’t worry, Admiral. I won’t go back on my word."

Aboard the Ragnarok Ascendant, William turned to Ascendancy, his AI.

"Engage the instant warp system. I want us positioned between Admiral Kevin’s fleet and the insectoid swarm. Activate our transcendent-grade shields—they should easily absorb the insectoid bombardment."

Ascendancy replied in her elegant voice, "Confirmed. Initiating warp positioning and full shield deployment. Preparing all point-defense lasers and kinetic turrets for suppression bombardment."

William added with a cold calm, "Once in position, unleash full-scale bombardment. I want every T-4 and T-5 ship caught in our net to be shredded. And..."

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"Have all 58 of our secondary quad heavy ion cannons charged and ready."

Ascendancy blinked—processing. "Master William... deploying all 58 of the quad ion cannons? That would completely annihilate the enemy motherships in a single barrage. It’s excessive. Unnecessary."

Instead of William, Elsa answered with a mischievous smile, folding her arms.

"Oh, Ascendancy... for all your intelligence, you still miss these little details."She leaned closer."The reason William’s doing this... is simple. This is a demonstration."

"A display of absolute power."

William smirked as Elsa continued.

"By overwhelming the enemy with raw firepower—casually, at that—we’ll show the human Federation just how far beneath us they stand. They’ll realize we aren’t just allies—they’re the ones who need us."

She tapped her temple.

"Once they understand our level of technology and power, they’ll be eager to welcome us in. No resistance. No suspicion. Because to them, we’ll become the path to survival... and more importantly..."

William added, his tone low and deliberate,"...their only hope to evolve—and survive in this galaxy."

He turned his gaze toward the void beyond the viewscreen, where the insectoid swarm churned restlessly.

"The truth is, Admiral Kevin’s fleet isn’t the only thing at stake. The entire human Federation is being slowly suppressed... chipped away, bit by bit, cycle by cycle. And the higher-ups in their central command—they know it. Even if they don’t admit it aloud."

He exhaled softly.

"As things stand, their destruction is all but certain. Not immediate, no. Perhaps not for another century... maybe two at most. But the end will come. And this fleet—watching the might of Ragnarok firsthand—will deliver that warning in a way no report or political memo ever could. Their most powerful institutions will see it too."

Elsa nodded. "After all, being granted the title of Fleet Admiral in the Federation isn’t just ceremonial—it’s a position of massive political weight."

William continued, "Exactly. That’s why we’re showing just enough of our power. Not everything Ragnarok is capable of—no. That would inspire fear, even resistance. But just enough strength... to paint a picture."

He clenched a fist behind his back.

"A picture that tells them: there is a path forward. A higher level. And we are that path."

A pause followed.

Then William’s voice darkened, tinged with memories.

"I know human nature. I’ve seen it too many times," he muttered, recalling the faces of Empress Tarra, the Crown Prince, and the First Princess of the Federation. "Their ambition and greed... it’s always evolving, even as their species stands on the edge of extinction. And I’ve seen it before—at their lowest point, some of the most powerful humans will choose to destroy the very thing that could save them..."

His eyes narrowed.

"...because it threatens their rule."

William’s gaze darkened, though his voice remained calm.

"And that... is exactly what I want to avoid."

He looked down, not in hesitation, but as if measuring the future from an unfathomable height.

"Not because I can’t handle them—after all, I am eternal...But because I don’t want to deal with the hassle of it. Not yet.First, we need unrestricted entry into the Federation. Once that’s secure, I’ll begin laying down my own foundations. Our power will rise quietly—until we move without opposition."

He turned to face the great holographic star-map again, this time with purpose etched into every word.

"We’re not here to conquer, Ascendancy.We’re here to pave a new path.And now that I’ve seen humanity’s potential—even if they’re fractured and desperate—I know they can be part of that journey.So let’s make this entry clean, not chaotic. There’s already enough chaos out there."

He stepped back and waved off the topic.

"That’s all for now. We’ll talk details later."

Then, sharply—

"Ascendancy, prepare our support action."

Ascendancy had remained quiet, absorbing William’s words not just as data—but as layered emotion, strategy, and calculation. Being sentient, she parsed far more than orders—she understood meaning. With a brief pause and a mechanical blink, she said:

"Understood, Master William. Activating Instantaneous Warp System. Countdown: 3... 2... 1..."

With a pulse of reality-warping energy, the Ragnarok vanished from its prior location.

And reappeared directly between the Federation fleet and the incoming insectoid swarm.

Its hull absorbed not only the swarm’s devastating fire—but even several volleys of friendly fire from the Pegasus-class battleships behind it.

But it didn’t even flinch.

Aboard the Pegasus-class Flagship, Fleet Admiral Kevin gripped the rail as his ship rocked violently under continuous fire. One officer shouted:

"Shields down to 11%, Admiral!"

Kevin grimaced and turned to issue a transmission to William—demanding to know why no support had been deployed yet. After all, barely a minute had passed since the mecha forces had retreated. His mouth opened—but before he could speak, another urgent voice rang out from Navigation:

"SIR! The vessel Ragnarok—it’s... it’s disappeared from its current coordinates!"

"SIR! The vessel Ragnarok—it’s... it’s disappeared from its current coordinates!"

Kevin’s heart sank.

Had he been tricked? Lied to in the name of "help"?

But then—another shout, breathless:

"SIR!! Correction! The Ragnarok just reappeared directly ahead—right between us and the swarm! It’s... it’s absorbing ALL incoming fire!"

Kevin staggered back.

"What?!"

He rushed to the observation window. His vice admiral cursed under his breath:

"Some of our own shots hit them too... but... the shields... they’re just standing there."

A second vice admiral narrowed his eyes, staring at the readings.

"Those shields aren’t even flickering. What the hell kind of tech are we looking at?"

Kevin, suddenly flaring with urgency, slammed the console comm:

"ALL FLEET UNITS—CEASE FIRE! Do not engage the Ragnarok! I repeat, do NOT engage! That’s our ally, dammit!"