Published at 16th of December 2025 8:21 am

Chapter 1834 Change of aim

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"...Who is responsible for this massacre?!" Richard roared the moment he stepped into the command chamber, his voice echoing so violently that even the reinforced walls seemed to tremble under its weight.

Seeing one hundred and twenty thousand loyal soldiers slaughtered in such a horrific way-like helpless ants waiting for their turn to die, stripped of dignity, of purpose, of even the chance to resist-made the blood boil fiercely in his

veins.

For a moment, he nearly forgot everything he had ever learned, almost letting rage and despair seize full control of him, threatening to push him into a state where reason simply ceased to exist.

But the instant he entered the bridge, stepping into the heart of the command center, that rage faded at once, leaving only the crushing weight of frustration and bitter helplessness. Everyone inside was already staring at the scene with furious eyes and hearts twisted in agony; their emotional state wasn't much better than his, and some looked seconds away from breaking down entirely. "Your Highness, we apologize for putting you in this situation." Alexander bowed slightly, though his fists were visibly shaking. "Brontor's behavior has always been like that of a drunkard-unpredictable, reckless, and utterly shameless."

"... You don't need to bow to me. They were your soldiers-your loss." Richard lowered his voice noticeably, the heaviness in his tone spreading through the room, then stepped closer to stand beside the others. "But what exactly happened all of a sudden? What pushed things this far?"

"This was the largest city under Alliance control," Alexander began explaining, breathing heavily as though each word carried its own burden. "Losing it means the end of their occupation over the entire southern strip. Because of that, they gathered all their elite forces around it and strengthened their defenses to the absolute limit."

He paused, then continued with a grim voice. "But your personal arrival, Your Highness, changed everything. You destroyed the portal and trapped their army, which essentially ended the battle. Any attempt from them to salvage the situation would have only created an even greater disaster, one they were completely unprepared to contain."

"...So he decided to take away all our ground forces as some form of punishment-perhaps just to vent his rage? It doesn't matter. He did it. He managed to break through the planetary blockade we established and attacked everyone directly, friend and foe alike."

"But to attack his own forces as well? Has he lost his mind?" Richard hadn't forgotten that alongside the 120,000 they lost, the Alliance forces had lost several hundred thousand too-an insane, pointless waste of life.

"What else could he have done for them?" Victoria spoke with anger and barely restrained contempt in her tone. "If he spared the Alliance troops and only tried to kill ours, we would have rained bombardments on them from above and wiped them out anyway. Brontor knew that his intervention would push us to break engagement protocol too, so he decided to kill them with his own hands to display his fury-or whatever deranged idea he was thinking. In his twisted mind, this was probably the 'cleanest' outcome."

"Damn it..." another general clenched both fists so tightly it looked as if he meant to crush them into dust. "If we had just a few ships of the Supremacy Note of the 4th Gen here, we could have drowned that bastard in a pool of his own piss!! At least then he'd think twice before pulling such filth!"

Unfortunately, every fleet assigned to Lord Hedrick's war in the 101st Middle Sector belonged to the older generation. The strongest shot a Supremacy Note-2 mothership could fire was equal to a mid-level World Cataclysm. So even if all fifteen ships surrounding the planet fired simultaneously right now... Brontor would survive with only moderate injuries, barely inconvenienced despite the destruction they would unleash.

But if even a handful of Supremacy Note-4Gen vessels were present, Brontor would never have dared commit such a filthy move, not with the knowledge that a single volley for the entire Armada could end him.

"All the new 4th generation Note Fleets went to Marshal Aro. They say he's preparing to launch a war against a Millennial Empire, and the conflict might expand to include three Millennial Empires." Alexander shook his head slowly. "Honestly, he deserves all the support he's getting. And it wouldn't be surprising if we're ordered to send reinforcements his way soon. The scale of the war he's preparing for is on an entirely different level, plus... They are the hosts.""

"..." Everyone fell silent, their breaths caught in their throats. They had witnessed with their own eyes and without the need for any explanation - what it truly meant for a Millennial Planetary Empire to reveal its full presence in the Middle Sector. Lord Hedrick had demonstrated, with overwhelming clarity, what a single Millennial Planetary Empire was capable of doing when it chose to act without restraint.

For Aro to make such a decision... only two possibilities existed: either he had been cornered into an impossibly dire situation with no other options left, or the sheer weight of authority and responsibility had finally burned through whatever remained of the rational cells in his mind.

In both scenarios, one truth remained: the coming period would be painfully harsh, almost suffocatingly so, for the 99th Middle Sector.

"Hm? What is that clown doing now?" one of the generals muttered, pointing toward the main screen in disbelief.

Marshal Brontor was on the screen. He was pointing upward-directly at the vessels of the True Beginning Empire-shouting hysterically with contorted, furious expressions. He gestured aggressively in every direction, waving his arms like a man who had lost all sense, then dragged his finger slowly across his throat as if issuing a dramatic challenge.

"I think he's trying to threaten us..."

"Should we activate the audio feed?"

"Hehe, no need for that. Honestly, he looks far more tolerable when we can't hear his voice."

"Heh~" Alexander leaned his forehead into his hand, letting out a long breath. "I genuinely feel ashamed that I lost this many soldiers in front of that buffoon. If even one warrior among us possessed power comparable to his, we wouldn't have been forced to witness such a humiliating spectacle."

"I sincerely hope someone from Jura manages to achieve the breakthrough His Majesty commanded. The situation is far too disgraceful."

"It won't happen anytime soon... not with their current pace."

"..." Richard kept watching the screen for several long seconds before turning toward Alexander. "Why are we still stationed in the planet's orbit? Shouldn't we be withdrawing by now? Our ground forces were completely wiped out."

"We'll remain here until he finishes throwing his little tantrum and leaves," Alexander answered with composed certainty. "After that, we'll dispatch recovery teams to retrieve the bodies of our fallen men so they can receive a proper burial. We'll also reclaim our armor units and any equipment that hasn't

been entirely ruined."

"Will he allow that?" Richard's brows tihtened. "He doesn't exactly look like the considerate or cooperative type."

"It has nothing to do with kindness. This is a long-standing military tradition- one that must be honored. Even a filthy scum like him is obligated to follow it." Alexander replied firmly. "There are four hundred thousand of his own troops that also need burial and armor extraction. If he tries to interfere with the standard post-battle procedures, we'll bombard the planet with artillery until nothing remains. He would lose just as much as us-possibly even more. Don't worry, he'll leave."

And indeed... Brontor continued waving, threatening, and screaming for a full ten minutes-every gesture theatrically exaggerated-yet no one bothered to listen to a single sound. Then, in a dramatic display, he smashed the ground with both fists and launched himself into space the same way he had appeared. "All right, everyone, move quickly," Alexander said as he clapped his hands a few times. "We need to clean up everything within two days at the absolute

maximum."

"Understood!" Several officers in the bridge saluted sharply and hurried out of

the chamber.

Within minutes, the hangar doors of the Supremacy Note ships opened, releasing a vast number of transport vessels packed with soldiers dressed in pristine white. Once they stabilized on the planet's surface, the troops immediately began the laborious and grim process of gathering the bodies- right in full view of Alexander and those standing beside him.

He nodded once he was assured that the operation was progressing steadily, then waved gently as the screens dimmed. His gaze returned to the star map spread out below him. "All right then... now let's discuss our next step." He pointed at a red-glowing marker. "Here lies a Guardian, accompanied by an armada of two hundred and fifty fleets. We are going to strike him."

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