The Tumorafi Mining Zone was no longer calm.
Silver-purple nebulae churned under the thrust of starships, flickering like fire about to ignite. The entire starfield seemed to shiver in anticipation.
The Allied Forces’ main fleets had fully assembled, spanning across star systems, surging from the depths of the void like a silver tidal wave. Under the command of Milton Collins, they held strict formation at the nebula’s edge.
Bugfolk, orcs, merfolk, Silvers—battle banners of every race fluttered in zero gravity, like burning spirits of war.
Outside the fleets, tens of thousands of mechs hovered in perfect order. Each mech bore the insignia of its race and radiated lethal intent, bristling with readiness.
The Allied fleet was divided into nine zones, each led by a different race. Heavily armored capital ships formed an inner iron wall; mid-tier layers deployed cruisers and spirit-guided artillery, balancing mobility and firepower; the outermost ring consisted of tens of thousands of dual- and triple-pilot interstellar mechs, waves upon waves pushing the vanguard forward with relentless determination.
Milton stood on the bridge of the flagship, violet eyes deep as the galaxy, fixed on the void ahead.
From the gaping rift—like the gates of hell—countless alien creatures poured forth, obscuring starlight.
Their forms were twisted, corrosive, chaotic, yet moved with a single, terrible purpose.
Amid the chaos, four colossal monstrosities loomed—E01 through E04.
Mountains in size, their forms grotesque, embodiments of annihilation and the end of order.
E01 was a writhing mass of spikes and slime, like a deep-sea abomination; E02 bore wings and claws, a hybrid of insect, beast, and metal; E03 floated motionless, its body radiating breeding cores surrounded by malignant energy; E04 stood silently, warping space itself, impossible to behold directly.
This was no ordinary battle—it was a gamble for the survival of civilization itself.
Milton’s voice cut through the comm system, low and commanding: “All units, prepare to engage. This is our final line of defense. Hold it, and the future endures.”
Starship turrets rotated, mech reactors ignited, and thousands of points of light shimmered like stars, coalescing into lethal intent aimed at the void.
In the flagship’s tactical command room, holographic battle maps and star charts intersected midair. Milton’s gaze remained steady as he issued orders.
Gu Qing stood silently beside him, blue hair tied back, deep-colored battle cloak draped, eyes sharp as blades, fixed on the restless cosmic abyss.
A small silver light orb floated up to Gu Qing’s shoulder. The Heavenly Dao spirit whispered nervously, “Uh… uh… uh… why are those monsters moving toward Tumorafi Star?”
Gu Qing turned toward the nebula bathed in the red glow of war. His tone was calm but firm: “Remember the core of the mining zone we scouted before?”
The orb blinked brightly, “Y-yes! That place full of spiritual energy!”
“Exactly,” Gu Qing nodded, eyes darkening. “If they consume it, they destroy our only means to counteract the malignant energy. This war isn’t about conquest—it’s about extinction.”
The orb trembled violently, spinning anxiously: “No, no, no! That place absolutely cannot fall! Without it, our hope… it’s over!”
Gu Qing pressed gently against the light orb, soothing: “Stay calm. We will win.”
Stars sparkled. Fleets lit up with weapon orders, drums of war ready to strike. Gu Qing’s gaze already pierced the dark core like a blade.
Boom—!
The edge of the battle zone trembled violently, a tremendous roar splitting the vacuum. Heads of creatures of every shape emerged from the rift.
Some lunged with fangs bared, dark purple malignant energy swirling over sinewy muscles, veins bulging. Their obsidian claws struck the air, freezing space momentarily and shredding energy shields as if they were paper.
Some hovered in orbit, tattered wing membranes vibrating like insects, mouthparts screeching. The sonic waves combined with psychic emanations, causing soldiers to stagger.
Others resembled enormous bloated leeches, scarlet sensory pores dotting their skin. They latched onto hulls, corroding energy fields, siphoning power as sustenance.
This was the first wave of mid- and small-scale strike units, evolved from malignant energy constructs—vast in number, yet orderly, like a chaotic army poised to devour the cosmos.
“Enemy contact confirmed! Red Level One alert—stand by!”
The Allied command ships blared alarms. Milton remained at the operations station, voice cold and precise.
Dozens of capital ships and mech formations adjusted instantly, flowing like precise interstellar machinery to intercept the vanguard.
“First wave fire—engage!”
Ships glimmered with faint golden sigils. Beams erupted from their bow cannons.
Booms rolled across the void, energy streams mixed with cultivation runes and elemental forces, crashing into the monsters like fragments of a star river.
A flying demon lunged at the line, pierced by golden lightning runes before it could reach them, exploding into malignant black mist.
Elsewhere, a heavy mech swung its polearm, soul-calming sigils igniting with pale blue light, cleaving through the bodies of three aberrations.
These tactical systems, designed personally by Gu Qing and Milton, integrated spirit control, sigils, and alchemical fire into interstellar combat modules, specifically countering malignant energy and psychic contamination.
“Interference waves activated. Spiritual field stabilization modules online. Perimeter lockdown complete.”
“Sigil cannon reloads complete—ready for chain fire!”
The battlefield spread like a colossal cosmic map, light clashing with black mist. The first full confrontation had begun, fire and blood igniting across space.
Meanwhile, Ais sat in his mech cockpit, hands gripping the controls, gaze steady and determined.
Through countless battles, he had learned calm judgment and composed reaction.
He inhaled deeply. The mech thrummed beneath him, yet his heartbeat remained steady.
Because he knew—as long as he followed Gu Qing and Milton—they would emerge victorious.
Suddenly, the comm channel erupted:
“Holy… so many monsters! I can’t even see the end!”
“God help me, I just hope I survive this…”
Someone laughed nervously:
“What’s there to fear? With those two here, I’m fine! War God and Military God together—who can stop them?”
“Exactly! With them, I’d stake my life!”
Orc soldiers cheered loudly.
Voices from all races converged into a wave of unwavering faith.
Their hope rested entirely on these two godlike figures.
On the battlefield, everyone knew—so long as Lan Dai and Milton were present, defeat was impossible.
Then someone exclaimed:
“Wow! These weapons are completely different! I just fired, and the energy-absorbing monster exploded into black mist instantly—didn’t even resist!”
“Really?! Before, we’d spend ages and barely scratch them!”
“These are the new enhanced weapons! Don’t know the full principle, but apparently all starships and mechs were upgraded for this war, designed under Commander Milton—insane!”
“Hmph, now this is a real battlefield for orcs!”
“This is the first time I’ve seen monsters die this fast!”
“With firepower like this, what’s there to fear? Follow me! Tear them apart!”
The soldiers’ suppressed tension gradually erupted into euphoria, their morale fully ignited by the new weaponry.
Beams of energy tore through the darkness, inscribed with flickering sigils, slicing through the waves of monsters.
Ais stared at the comm display, a surge of burning determination swelling within him.
This trust, this hope, was why he would fight to the death. He knew that someday, he too would become such a presence.