Published at 7th of February 2026 7:38 am

Chapter 1976 Snake's head

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In the space of Mid Sector 99-

Guardian Silas stood silently, arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed on a not-so-distant planet. He didn't blink, didn't fidget; he simply watched, patient and unyielding, as though time itself bent to his will.

Decades had passed since the war erupted between his empire, the Millennial Holfa Empire, and the Double Centennial Grave Empire. Decades since his homeworld-the cradle of his people, the core of their civilization-was utterly destroyed. Decades since the planets he had meticulously refined, both atmospherically and terrestrially, were overrun, razed, or stripped bare.

Decades had passed since the first signs of the Millennial Holfa Empire's end began to appear.

At first, Silas had not given the war much thought. With the covert support flowing to him, and the limited-but potent-upper-tier power that the Double Centennial Grave Empire wielded, he had assumed that victory was inevitable, just a matter of time.

But time, he learned, did not favor certainty.

Marshal Aro pressed forward relentlessly.

No matter how many critical planets Silas attacked, Aro reinforced others with unmatched efficiency.

No matter how many resource-rich worlds Silas obliterated, Aro advanced on new planets belonging to the Holfa Empire, as if he had an endless supply of troops and firepower.

So Guardian Silas escalated his own strategy-destroying the most vital regions of his remaining planets, denying Aro any possible advantage. Each act was a calculated self-destruction, a desperate measure that made all who heard of it shake their heads in disbelief. All who knew of his actions mourned him-not just for his boldness, but for what remained of his sanity. And Aro made certain that every power in the sector knew of this drastic measure... as a warning and

a statement.

Aro's response to this scorched-earth policy was ruthless and absolute. He obliterated three Holfa planets completely. Each had been refined and protected by Nexus States from Silas's own family. One perished entirely, and two were gravely injured, forced to withdraw from the war permanently. This was no ordinary war. It was a war defined by constant, mutual devastation -a war where only those with the longest endurance and deepest reserves of wealth, arms, and strategy could hope to survive. The usual reliance on annual planetary tribute had ceased almost entirely for both sides, thanks to the complete severing of supply lines, leaving the war to favor only those with unyielding logistical power.

And ironically, it was the empire that had existed for mere centuries-the young, ambitious Double Centennial Grave Empire-that proved to have the longer breath, outlasting its older adversary.

The forces of the Double Centennial Grave Empire slowed, spreading thin across the stars. Nexus States attacked their positions almost daily, and all their wings faltered in providing reinforcements or advancing. The fear of Silas and his allies was palpable, visible even to their most distant observers. Yet, despite decades of conflict, they still clung to their title: the Double Centennial Empire. By contrast, the Holfa Empire had fallen from its millennial glory, reduced to overseeing only 500 planets.

Silas's fury was nearly tangible; his eye had been shattered in battle, his rage spilling over to his closest followers. They launched a relentless series of fierce, almost suicidal assaults. Desperation guided every strike, making the situation of the Double Centennial Grave Empire worsen day by day.

Support arrived in unprecedented quantities: Pearls, enchantments, and mystical reinforcements that bolstered their progress. Slowly, the empire's army began to recover, regaining strength bit by bit.

Then, ten years ago, an unexpected turn of events changed everything.

It was as if the heavens themselves had showered gold and treasures upon the Double Centennial Grave Empire. Suddenly, every wing surrendered its blue armors and weapons to Marshal Aro, who used them to expand the empire's main army. Unrealistic, unprecedented quantities of legendary weapons were purchased from across the universe. Millions of new soldiers were armed and trained. Vast fleets, stabilizers, and battle systems were acquired with lightning speed.

Within just three short years of that decisive maneuver, a new and overwhelming offensive was unleashed against the Millennial Holfa Empire, an onslaught that consumed everything in its path, leaving nothing untouched. No matter how frenzied Silas's counterattacks became, no matter how many planets he obliterated with unimaginable force, the relentless march of the enemy could not be halted. Entire systems fell one by one, their populations fleeing or perishing, their cities reduced to ash.

Within only a few more years, the once-mighty army of the Holfa Empire had eroded almost to the point of total annihilation. There was no one left capable of defending what remained of their homeworlds, and every planet, even the ones fortified and refined to the peak of technological and military perfection, fell, one after the other, to the crushing advance. The empire was a shadow of its former glory, its pride and power broken.

Finally, Silas, alongside the Nexus States loyal to him, resorted to the forbidden measure, a move so drastic that it was whispered about in fear across the sector. They employed planetary displacement equipment, hurling the capital planet and the meticulously refined worlds of their empire into random regions of the sector in a humiliating, almost reckless display of power. Then, hidden in the shadows, they watched as everything else collapsed around them-entire fleets, infrastructure, and cities falling into ruin, a systematic eradication of what remained.

With this, the Double Centennial Grave Empire's victory was effectively and formally declared. The empire now controlled nearly 3,000 planets, an unprecedented expansion and a monumental feat that caused every inhabitant in the sector-and even those in neighboring sectors-to hold their breath, fearful of what was to come. The victory was historic, yet chilling, as it demonstrated not only brute force but meticulous planning, patience, and ruthless strategy.

However, Marshal Aro was far from satisfied. He did not allow himself a single celebration. He immediately deployed miniature fleets, specialized for pursuit and reconnaissance, to locate any remaining planets that had eluded capture. He also announced a staggering bounty worth hundreds of millions of Pearls, promising enormous rewards to anyone who could provide information leading to the discovery of these remaining worlds.

The bounty caused a ripple through the sector, compelling both lawful forces and shadow factions to seek out the hidden planets for their own gain, effectively placing the entire sector at the service of Aro's growing ambitions. Within just a few months, the locations of four more planets were discovered. Note-4 fleets descended upon them with devastating precision, reducing entire worlds to rubble. The planets' refiners-those who had spent years perfecting them-were either killed outright or left so gravely wounded that they would never participate in war again.

This display of overwhelming force caused every remaining Nexus State loyal to Silas to tremble in fear. Silas alone commanded third-grade planetary displacement equipment, giving him the unique capability to relocate the capital planet he had refined with relative ease. None of the others had this power; they possessed only first or second-grade displacement technology. The implication was terrifying: any attemt by them to resist would result in absolute annihilation.

And indeed... another planet was discovered. On that very day, preparations were underway to destroy it utterly, erasing it from existence.

Silas continued to stare at the planet before him, unmoving, a silent predator assessing his prey. Around it, Note-4 fighters swarmed, descending in carefully orchestrated formations. Fleet after fleet descended, strategically positioning themselves for maximum impact. This was the gathering point for the Armada designated to annihilate the planet belonging to Silas's cousin and closest commander, the very heart of his family's remaining power.

He observed the planet with cold calculation. It had no ancient array to aid its defense, no mystical or technological warding to interfere with his plans. Whoosh-in that instant, a figure appeared beside Silas, materializing silently. "We have confirmed intelligence," the Nexus State whispered, his voice low and tense, "Marshal Aro has landed on the planet alone. He is now preparing to personally command the Armada. He has taken the bait."

"Begin the siege," Silas said simply, his voice steady yet dripping with lethal intent. "Today, we will sever the snake's head-or should I say... the bull's head?" His words were deliberate, mocking, yet filled with a promise of death. "...Your Majesty, I must admit my unease. I feel Marshal Aro is plotting something" the Nexus State murmured, uncertainty creeping into his tone.

"You said he arrived on the planet, correct?" Silas asked, lifting his head slightly,

eyes narrowing.

The Nexus State nodded firmly. "Without a doubt, my lord."

"Then he is already counted among the dead," Silas said, his eyes glittering with

cold, unyielding malice. "Without ancient arrays to aid him... I want to see what trivial tricks he might conjure to stop me."

He turned back to the undeveloped planet below, his gaze heavy with hatred, lips moving as he muttered to himself,

"Do you think you succeeded in drawing the snake from its burrow by hunting our personal planets and obliterating them? Very well, child... very well. I'm here now. Let us see if you are prepared for the bite of a snake whose back is pressed firmly against the wall. Let us see whether your courage matches your audacity, and whether your skill can survive when faced with the inevitability

of death."

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