CHAPTER 236: CH 232 THE FIRST CONTACT AND FEARS OF MINOTAUR ...8

And only now were they revealing their true power—their firepower. It was just as strong, if not stronger, than their so-called unbreakable shields.

Korvus thought grimly, his instincts whispering that the situation was hopeless, that he should accept his death. But he rejected the notion outright. His delusion had reached a point where reality itself no longer felt real to him.

The command deck reeled in chaos, slick with blood. Minotaur officers groaned in agony, their cries filling the half-destroyed chamber. Yet none of it reached Korvus. His ears were deaf to the screams, his mind consumed only with survival. Like an animal facing a predator, he was unwilling to die, his instincts clawing at him to find a way—any way.

His thoughts raced as his gaze swept across the fortress’s status displays. Despite the devastation surrounding it, the star fortress wasn’t nearly as crippled as it appeared. The systems reported it in relatively stable condition—damaged, yes, but with seventy percent of its structure still intact and functional. Most critical systems remained operational, while only non-essential ones had been destroyed. A few vital subsystems had taken damage, but they were still usable.

That was enough. Enough for him to attempt it.

The gamble.

It would require sacrifice—blood and ships alike—to bring it online. But desperate times demanded desperate measures. And Korvus, no matter the cost, was not willing to surrender himself to reality, and to him it was a false reality now.....

To buy the time needed to activate the emergency shielding system, sacrifices had to be made. Only then would he — and at least some of his people — have a chance to survive.

The system was a hidden failsafe—something embedded in the blueprint gifted to them long ago by the Star Empire. And this very system was equipped within the star fortress.

It allowed all twelve auxiliary shield generators to be linked together, combining their energy to form a temporary but vastly stronger six-layered shield. Each layer would be a hundred times stronger than the original defenses.

But it came with a price. The shield could only last for about twelve minutes due to the immense energy drain—and under the fortress’s current damaged condition, perhaps even less.

Still, twelve minutes was more than enough. More than enough for Korvus to seize the only chance he had to escape.

And that was what Korvus was betting everything on — his survival, his fortress, his people.

It was experimental. It was untested. For it to function under these conditions would be nothing short of a miracle.

But in his state of extreme desperation, Korvus was willing to take whatever risk necessary. Even the smallest chance at survival was enough — anything to avoid dying here.

His mind made up, he moved without hesitation. Determination hardened on his bloodied face as he activated the secondary communication channels — the main system had been destroyed along with the fortress’s horns. His voice trembled, unstable, tinged with fear, desperation, and confusion all at once.

"All ships," he barked, "evacuate your warriors into the space fortress immediately. Leave skeleton crews to pilot your vessels. The rest of you — move now. We only have one chance left. Only together can we survive this!"

Shock rippled through the surviving officers on the command deck. Many stared at Korvus in disbelief. His past orders, his plans, his strategies — all had failed one after another, leaving nothing but death in their wake.

And now he was asking for another gamble. None of them knew if this would succeed, or if it would end like the rest. But what choice did they have?

No one argued. No one objected. They accepted it. If Korvus’ plan worked, they might survive. If not... they were dead already.

Onboard the six hundred Minotaur ships, most warriors didn’t even know the details of what had happened in the fortress command deck. All they knew was that their fleet was losing, and now they had new orders. Orders meant survival — perhaps. And that was enough.

Across those six hundred ships, chaos erupted. Minotaur warriors, officers, and crew scrambled in a frenzy, rushing toward hangar bays and escape routes. Not every ship had the transports to evacuate thousands at once, and because of this, panic turned to violence. Fistfights broke out. Some warriors trampled others. Desperation consumed them all.

The lucky and the fast managed to board evacuation shuttles. The small craft roared to life and shot into space, swarming toward the fortress hangar bays, each one stuffed with as many Minotaurs as could fit.

Meanwhile, the Minotaurs’ desperate move had not gone unnoticed by Joshua and the other high-ranking officers.

Aboard the White Frost, Kael laughed — hard. From the first attack to the Minotaurs’ delusions, from their belief that his fleet had weaker firepower to the shattering reality delivered by the spearhead-class main weapons, every step had amused him. And now, even as they clung desperately to survival, he found it hilarious.

But it was starting to get boring.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and Kael still hadn’t finished. Still hadn’t claimed full control.

His laughter finally slowed. He exhaled, voice sharp."I think that’s enough fun. Time to deal with them. It’s not amusing anymore. It’s boring."

He keyed the comms."Macron. End this. I’ve enjoyed the show — now it’s time we give it its ending. Do whatever you need to achieve the complete destruction of the forces ahead of your fleet."

"As you command, Grand Admiral," came Macron’s calm reply. His tone was simple, almost cold. There was no need for anything more. Their opponents were already weak, reduced to desperate gestures. The fun had ended — now came for completely obliteration.

Back aboard his flagship, Macron opened a channel to thirty captains commanding the Storm Lancer-class battle carriers.

"Captains," he said, "our orders are clear. End this battle without wasting more time. The show has reached its finale, and it falls to us to deliver the perfect closing act.

"Your targets are ahead. Prioritize the Minotaur fleet. Destroy them before moving on to the fortress. There are no conditions. You are not required to preserve any ship or safeguard the fortress.

We do not need their information. There is no need for restraint. Unleash your full strength and annihilate them completely."

"Aye, Fleet Admiral," came the chorus of voices — almost thirty captains, Joshua among them.

All secondary weapons, and even most of the primary batteries — excluding only the main cannons — took aim at the Minotaur fleet. Over six hundred ships had formed a giant wall in front of their fortress with there ships acting as building blocks of the gaunt wall , their hangar bays spilling streams of ferries and shuttles as evacuations continued.

Only skeleton crews remained aboard the warships, their sole duty to follow Korvus’ command: buy time for their commander and the rest of their people.

And then, in the midst of that evacuation, the thirty Storm Lancer-class battle carriers opened fire.

The barrage after barrage of attacks roared forth at maximum output. Thousands upon thousands of projectiles and beams filled the void, unleashed by the multitude of weapon batteries—pulse spears, plasma bolts, and specialized kinetic rounds—sweeping across space like a tide of annihilation as they raced toward the Minotaur fleet.

But the Minotaur skeleton crew was not to be left behind. They fired back with every weapon they had. It did not matter to them whether their attacks could achieve anything; they fired simply in the desperate hope of buying more time for their brethren. Their counterfire clashed with the storm unleashed by the Left Division, neutralizing a fraction of it—perhaps a quarter. But the rest struck true.

Nearly three-quarters of the barrage slammed into the shields of the Minotaur fleet, striking almost every ship at once. Their shields crumpled instantly, shattering like brittle glass under a hammer. Nothing could absorb or withstand the overwhelming destructive power of thirty Storm Lancer–class battleships.

Once the shields were gone, the storm fell directly upon their hulls. Explosions erupted in unending waves—BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Thick Minotaur armor buckled under the relentless kinetic rounds, cracking and tearing apart with a screeching KRRAAAANNNGGG-SKREEEEECH before collapsing in on itself and detonating. Crews who had not yet evacuated—or were too slow to escape—died unnaturally, crushed and incinerated as their ships imploded.

Other vessels were torn apart instantly upon contact with pulse and plasma fire, consumed in blinding detonations. Some were reduced to molten wrecks, their very hulls melting under the plasma beams before exploding in catastrophic bursts that took every soul within.

Though a few Minotaur counterattacks broke through the wall of fire, they never reached their targets. The close-range defensive systems of the Storm Lancers shredded them into nothingness.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Barely three minutes had passed before it was over. The Minotaur fleet—every ship in the system—was obliterated. Six hundred vessels were annihilated in that brief span, and with them, hundreds of thousands of Minotaur warriors perished. Most were shredded, burned, or vaporized outright beneath the unstoppable storm of attack unleashed by the Left Division’s battle-carriers.