CHAPTER 226: CH 222 BATTLE -3

"See? The proof is right here," said the Minotaur lounging with his legs sprawled across the console, tusks twitching lazily. His name was Toro, and he wore his boredom like a second skin. "Our clanmates aren’t exactly thrilled about the situation our race is stuck in."

"You won’t believe this," Toro continued, his grin widening. "Just yesterday, I went over to the Brontar star."

"That’s a bit far, isn’t it?" replied Zork, the Minotaur who had started the conversation, his claws still drumming idly against the console.

"Well, yes—but you know as well as I do, only there can you find the good things worth enjoying." Toro’s smile turned sly, carrying unspoken meanings, before he waved the thought aside and leaned forward, shifting the topic back. "Anyway, let me finish. Word’s been going around—though I can’t say how serious it is. I heard it in the red-light district of Brontar’s capital city.

The talk is that many factions—mid-sized to small ones—are thinking of revolting against the Elder Council. They’re tired of being nothing but dogs, barking and snapping at the orders of others." He shrugged, as if dismissing his own words. "Personally, I think it’s just rumors."

Zork tilted his head. "Might be rumors... but still, not impossible. Maybe not on the scale you’re describing, but something like that? Yeah, it could happen."

The two continued their idle debate, their voices filling the command deck where silence and vigilance should have reigned. Neither paid much attention to the consoles in front of them, their duties forgotten.

Then, after a few more moments, Toro finally glanced back at the detection screen in front of him. The device was similar to an old sonar, painting a picture of nearby space through pulses and returns.

And there—across the radar cross-section—several red dots suddenly appeared.

Toro froze for a heartbeat, stunned. Then he let out a low chuckle, brushing off the sight. "Hah. Looks like another band of pirates has shown up, looking for trouble again."

Zork glanced at his own radar screen, brows furrowing as he noticed the same cluster of red dots. "Strange... they know they can’t do anything to us with the fortress here, and yet they still keep attacking again and again. Sometimes I wonder—are pirates really that foolish? Though..." he leaned closer, "it looks like they’ve brought more numbers this time."

But his casual analysis faltered mid-sentence. His words broke off as his eyes fixed sharply on the display. The numbers were climbing—fast. Red dots multiplied across the radar in waves, not in scattered trickles.

Toro, too, had gone still. Gone was his lazy arrogance, gone the easy laugh. His tusks twitched nervously as he stared at the swelling formations on the scanner. His voice, normally dripping with mockery, rose in disbelief."How... how could pirates have such a massive fleet? When did they become this strong? This numerous?"

A dreadful possibility clawed into his thoughts. "Were all those previous raids just... feints? Probing attacks to test our defenses?" He shook his head violently. "No. No, that’s impossible—"

But the radar didn’t lie. The signatures were vast, spreading, organized into three distinct groups that moved with purpose. One of those groups was already on direct course toward the fortress.

Toro’s mind raced. His implanted galvanic quantum chip flared, processing readings faster than any natural brain could. In mere seconds, it parsed energy outputs, ship mass signatures, and scale calibrations. The results hit him harder than any physical blow.

His body began to tremble uncontrollably, tusks grinding as cold dread consumed him. Finally, the fear broke free from his chest in a strangled shout."No—NO!" His voice cracked, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone on the command deck. "Impossible! This is impossible! How can this be? How can this be?"

The chatter died instantly. Operators froze. Zork stared, wide-eyed, his own confidence evaporating as Toro’s terror spread like wildfire across the room.

"T... ten—ten thousand different signatures..." Toro stammered, his voice cracking as his claws dug into the console so hard the reinforced surface nearly cracked beneath the pressure. His tusks trembled as he gasped for breath."And they’re all... strong," he whispered—then shouted, his voice breaking into a terrified refrain. "Strong... strong! They’re ALL strong!"

Before anyone could even process his words, the entire Star Fortress shuddered as its lighting shifted. The dull glow of routine duty vanished, replaced by a pulsing, blood-red wash that bathed the deck in ominous light. Sirens howled across every level of the fortress, drowning out chatter, cutting through stone and steel alike.

Even the five to six hundred ships stationed outside in their defensive "bow" formation with Dreadnought at the centre of the formation received the alarms. The transmission screamed into their comms, a signal triggered not by any officer, but by the fortress AI itself—an automatic override that engaged when the operators failed to react quickly enough.

On the command deck, chaos erupted. The blaring alarms rattled the ears of every Minotaur present, their discipline snapping like dry twigs under the storm of panic.

Then a thunderous voice cut through the fear.

"Shut your mouth, Toro!" bellowed a towering figure, his tusks sharp, his glare even sharper. "Or I’ll shut it for you. Instead of doing your duty, you squeal like a frightened rabbit. You shame our blood, you shame our race!"

The voice belonged to Korvus of the Blood Family

, the commanding officer of all Minotaur forces in the system. His words lashed like a whip, freezing the chatter into silence.

Toro forced himself still, trembling but cowed. Yet the fear in his eyes did not vanish. His voice, though lower, still shook as he pointed at the tactical displays now glowing across the room. "How... how do you expect me to stay calm?" His tusks clicked in dread. "Look at them! Look at those ships—look at their signatures!"

His words echoed across the deck, reaching every ear. "We’re dead. Doomed... if those ships are our enemies, then there’s no escape."

The silence that followed was heavier than the alarms. His muttered words carried farther than he knew—seeding dread into the hearts of every operator on the deck..

Korvus Blood felt the weight of fear gnawing at his own chest. He too knew the truth—that this was bad, very bad—but he also knew that if panic consumed the command deck, their last chance of survival would vanish before the enemy even fired a shot. He could not allow it. Not now. Not ever.

With a roar that shook the chamber, Korvus surged forward. In a blur of motion, he seized Toro by the horns and slammed his face against the cold metal floor. Bone cracked, blood splattered, and the Minotaur howled in pain, his skull spared from shattering only because Korvus had chosen restraint.

Korvus’s voice boomed, drowning out alarms and fear alike: "Do not listen to this fool’s cowardice! His blood may buy him protection from death, but it does not shield him from punishment. He will not infect you with his weakness."

He glared across the command deck, tusks bared, crimson flecks staining his claws. "Focus on me! It is not yet decided that we will lose. Numbers do not decide battles. Ships do not decide battles. We command a Star Fortress—our fortress! With its power, we can break any enemy, no matter how numerous."

His voice grew sharper, cutting like a blade. "Or have you all forgotten? This fortress carries the latest upgrades—gifts from the Star Empire’s own technology. You’ve seen the tests. You know its strength. Even weakened, our defenses are still strong enough to crush whatever unknown enemy dares approach!"

Korvus raised his bloodied fist high, his roar echoing through the deck. "Hold fast! Fight with discipline, or you are already dead!"

As Korvus finished his furious declaration, he ground his heel into the already unconscious Toro, pressing him into the floor. Blood pooled beneath the broken Minotaur’s face as Korvus seethed in his thoughts.

Damn this piece of filth. If you can’t do your duty, then don’t—but why poison the hearts of others with terror before the battle even begins? Were it not for the family shielding you, I would have painted this deck with your skull, your brains scattered into dust and blood fragments.

He spat on Toro’s limp body before finally exhaling, forcing himself to calm. The storm in his chest settled, and with his roar still echoing in their ears, the others on the command deck began to steady as well. Confidence crept back into their spines.

Some spoke hesitantly at first, their voices uncertain."C-commander... perhaps you are right. Our fortress... it is stronger now."

But their doubts were quickly drowned by others whose voices rose louder, fueled by Korvus’s raw conviction."Yes—indeed, the commander is right! The fortress has never been stronger.""This is no threat... this could be an opportunity for us all!""Exactly—if we crush them here, the glory will be ours!"

Murmurs of fear were replaced with a wave of hardened resolve.

And they were not entirely wrong. Barely twenty galactic days ago, after reaching out to the Star Empire about the so-called holy region, the Minotaur Clan had received a set of "gifts."