Published at 22nd of December 2025 7:16 am

Chapter 1861 Dead end

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"...?"

Hedrick narrowed his brows slightly, staring straight into Orion's eyes, as if trying to read something hidden behind that calm, unreadable expression.

"....."

"........?!?"

When he saw Orion still serious and silent, offering not even the slightest twitch of a smile, Hedrick tilted his head a little, almost in disbelief, as though he were waiting for Orion to burst out laughing and admit it was nothing more than a ridiculous joke.

".......

"Are you insane? Did you catch a fever or something?!" When Hedrick realized Orion was fully, unquestionably serious, he exploded at him with genuine outrage. "Do you honestly think there's even room to consider an offer like this? That any sane ruler could look at it twice?!"

"And why not? You will survive with your followers and your army. Even the transportation-we will cover its cost." Orion spoke with the same unsettling calm, not raising his voice even a little. "You will go to the Middle Sector 102 and live a peaceful life there, away from all this chaos."

"Oh, the Middle Sector 102- right under the nose of the Behemoth of Curses?" Hedrick raised his eyebrows mockingly, spreading his arms slightly. "So this is exile, not a safe-exit offer. It's elegant packaging for house arrest under the Behemoth of Curses, where he can surround us anytime he wishes and crush us without breaking a sweat. And after leaving behind my vault, and everything else I own, we'd be permanently at his mercy. Absolutely wonderful!"

"You are still you, Lord Hedrick. Even without your weapon and your fleets - which you will also leave behind you remain a respectable force on your own. The Behemoth of Curses will not attack you and harm himself and his troops just because he feels like it... simply respect yourself there and live in peace, and everything will be fine." Orion smiled, a soft, diplomatic smile that only made Hedrick angrier.

Hedrick held his gaze on Orion for a long moment. He didn't seem angry anymore; instead, he simply revealed a smile-a calm, almost pitying one. "And what about you, in the Bright Galaxy? After I leave... will you respect yourselves as well?"

"...That is none of your concern." After a few seconds of weighted silence, Lord Orion responded with composure that felt a little too forced. "You just leave, and we will handle our problems ourselves."

"After I leave, what will you do, O miserable one? At least now you all have a common enemy, me." Hedrick lifted his head slightly, as though delivering a final verdict. "The two lions have entered the farm, and the matter is settled... Bowing to external forces always ends badly no matter how long it takes, and the punishment has finally arrived."

Silence.

Lord Hedrick's words fell like a bucket of freezing water poured directly over Orion's head.

He had tried to shut down the topic multiple times after Hedrick's repeated hints since the moment he entered the tent. He had even cut the discussion abruptly and jumped straight to the exile proposal just to escape it. But Hedrick kept circling back to that same point... and it was now painfully clear he wasn't going to let it go.

...A lot had happened over the past fifty years-so much that it reshaped the balance of power entirely.

After the bravery and miraculous power displayed by General Alexandar from the True Beginning Empire, and his overwhelming victory in the southern battles against Marshal Brontor, a rapid chain of events took place like falling dominos.

Brontor retreated to the Young Sector with his fleets, humiliated and desperate, then circled back and re-entered the Middle Sector from the western side to join the Four Armadas of the allies as Armada Number Five.

But what Brontor feared most happened...

After his defeat at the hands of Alexandar -a man known to still be young, a,a man known to be only a Martial Emperor- combined with the catastrophic failure in destroying Virillion, all confidence in him collapsed completely.

He was no longer allowed to represent the alliance... and so his armada was dismantled, stripped piece by piece, and distributed among the other four without hesitation.

Thus, there were now four armadas of the alliance, each consisting of slightly over 300 fleets, meticulously organized and constantly monitored for any signs of weakness or opportunity. As for Brontor himself -a person of Peak Nexus State, whose reputation alone inspired fear and respect, and who had even begun preparations to ascend as a Guardian- he went to serve in Marshal Zaryon's armada, just like the other generals of lesser rank, a humbling yet strategic repositioning.

But this was far from the only shift. General Alexandar, having completed his mission with remarkable precision and unmatched skill, saw no further reason to linger in the southern territories. He took his armada, consisting of approximately 90 Note fleets, and advanced deep into the Cosmic Hammer Starfield, asserting dominance over that treacherous sector as well.

Thus, the war now unfolded as three armadas under Lord Hedrick clashing against four under Lord Zaryon and his coalition of allies, creating a tense and precarious balance of power.

Lord Hedrick possessed an exceptional intelligence network, unparalleled in the universe. The Shadow Swords, combined with the interstellar communication network, provided him with real-time updates, surveillance, and the ability to orchestrate precise maneuvers across vast distances. Meanwhile, the allies commanded numerical superiority -whether in total armadas, fleets, or even the sheer number of Monarchs and Guardians- but quantity alone could not match Hedrick's strategy and foresight.

At this critical point, Lord Hedrick had never been in a more commanding state since the outbreak of the war. Even in the days when he still held his empire intact, he had never attained this level of balance, control, and psychological leverage over both allies and enemies.

And if the first surge of morale wasn't sufficient, Theo appeared at just the right moment, injecting Hedrick with a second reinforcement of 10 billion pearls, advising him that the first boost had been used optimally, and emphasizing that the second batch must remain in his hands to sustain momentum until the war's ultimate conclusion.

With morale soaring to unimaginable heights, and his forces freed from constant concerns over planetary defense or territorial expansion, the three armadas set out with renewed vigor for a new campaign, their resolve as sharp as their weapons, their strategy honed like a masterfully crafted blade. This time, the strategy was elegant yet deadly: escape like a butterfly, sting like a bee! Every movement calculated, every maneuver precise, every feint designed to confuse and outsmart the enemy.

Lord Hedrick issued a decisive command: the interstellar communication network would be employed to maintain the three armadas at a safe distance from their enemies at all times. They were to observe and report, holding back from direct engagement until the perfect moment arose. Then, when conditions aligned flawlessly, Lord Hedrick himself would take the lead of one armada and strike at the enemy armada closest to the battlefield, unleashing overwhelming force.

How was the right moment determined? This was the exclusive responsibility of the Shadow Swords. Their reports identified vulnerabilities-enemy armadas entering fogged regios, unsuspecting units in exposed positions, or opportunities for strategic ambushes at critical points. Hedrick's attacks were calculated with precision, each strike maximizing damage while minimizing risk

to his own forces.

The difference in fleet quality between the sides? Before any major operation, 10 Note fleets were summoned to serve as the beating heart of the attacking armada, the core from which all other maneuvers radiated.

As for the Guardian or the Monarch? Hedrick never shied away from direct confrontation. If anything, he disregarded all but the most formidable opponents-the Behemoths. In every raid, he was the first to charge against the opposing Monarch, engaging their marshals and generals with surgical efficiency, leaving no time for hesitation or regrouping.

Each raid concluded within hours, with one side retreating-usually the allies after their leader was struck, or after suffering the loss of a significant portion

of their fleet.

This back-and-forth phase endured for nearly twenty years, the seven relentless armadas gnawing steadily at the heart of the Cosmic Hammer Starfield. Each armada operated under constant pressure, knowing that even a single hour of pause could expose them to discovery and potential annihilation.

And in the twentieth year?

A new wave of Note fleets arrived, from the fourth Generation this time.

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