"...." Theo smiled silently, saying nothing at all.

How could he possibly explain to Hedric what was really happening? How could he describe the absurd brilliance behind the operation of the Shadow Swords? They waited in complete silence, hidden in the emptiness between stars, until the enemy fleets passed close to a planet. Then, using the Coordinate Detection Device, they would identify the mother ship's precise transition point. Immediately afterward, they activated the new generation of the Instant Transmission Array, allowing them to infiltrate directly into that mother ship itself—swiftly, quietly, like shadows folding into deeper darkness.

Once inside, they gathered intelligence, sabotaged systems without leaving traces, and then, when the timing was right, they simply vanished—jumping out to another planet along the route.

Even the information about Marshal Borentor's absence had come from whispers overheard by spies among ordinary soldiers aboard those very fleets.

This form of deep infiltration and intelligence warfare was utterly unprecedented. It was a technique so secret, so dangerous, that it could never, ever be leaked. Not even within the Shadow Swords themselves. Only a handful knew about the new array's existence, and each of them had sworn an oath far stricter, far more binding than that of any ordinary member.

The new model of the instant transmission array operated using Fifth-Stage major space law, and its technology remained among the most classified secrets of the organization. No one outside their circle even suspected it existed. Even the older version was still considered highly restricted—whenever the enemy caught a glimpse of it, that glimpse was meant to be the last thing they ever saw.

"...Sometimes you truly get on my nerves, Theo." Hedric muttered with irritation burning in his voice. That faint smile of Theo's felt like mockery, a mirror reflecting his frustration. He sighed, nodded a few times, then shifted his focus back toward the holographic platform. "Fine, fine… let's continue. You said around 300 fleets are moving from the south?"

"Correct," Theo replied without emotion, his voice calm as the vacuum of space. "They should reach the middle belt within two months at most. Judging by their current trajectory, it's clear they're heading toward the southern edge of this starfield."

"The southern part of the starfield where I have no defenses whatsoever? That one?" Hedric's face twisted into a furious half-smile.

The war had raged for months in the western front of the starfield, where a massive confrontation between 1,600 fleets and 270 defending ones was tearing the heavens apart. Hedric's side survived only thanks to the Shadow Blades' covert actions and their intimate knowledge of the starfield's hidden strongholds.

If 300 new fleets were to strike from the south—where no defenses were deployed, no reinforcements prepared—wouldn't that mean they'd have a clear, direct path toward Planet Shathar?

They couldn't be dismissed as retreating remnants or disorganized forces. Three hundred complete fleets—a colossal armada—outnumbering Hedric's entire active military presence!

"Yes, that's the one," Theo nodded with the same cold detachment. "There's a strong possibility the assault on Verilion was merely a distraction—meant to draw your attention westward so they could circle around and strike from behind. Whether or not Verilion fell, they were always going to turn south eventually."

The Crumbled Dreams Empire controlled the southeastern quadrant of the 101st Middle Sector. Any southern flanking maneuver would have been impossible without first breaching the Young Belt. And if they tried looping from above, they would have run into Marshals Tharn and Livia—both leading rapid-strike operations.

No, their plan had been to strike Verilion first—a move that would devastate morale. Destroy Verilion, crush Marshal Fargus and the hundred fleets stationed there, and then pivot south to hit Hedric from behind. A perfect strategy…

If only they had accounted for two unpredictable factors:

the sudden intervention of the Crimson Forces,

and the awakening of the Young Space Beast.

"...What are we supposed to do with them?" Hedric finally asked, his voice rough and subdued, as though the words themselves were being dragged out of him by force. It was a question he hated—no, feared—to utter. The ruler of an empire that had lasted millions of years, the sovereign who once dictated the fates of sectors and stars, was now seeking counsel from a young man barely a fraction of his age.

Yet despite the sting to his pride, there was no one else to turn to. If those enemy fleets truly reached from the south and launched their offensive, what would await them was not a setback, but an absolute catastrophe.

"We should stop worrying about that front for now…" Theo spoke quietly, his tone carrying both calm and weight, as he raised a single finger and pointed toward another cluster of glowing lights further across the holographic star map. "…and instead, we should see how you'll deal with that one."

"...." Hedric's expression twisted instantly, his jaw tightening until faint cracks appeared along the energy lines that marked his cheekbones. He had deliberately avoided glancing in that direction; even thinking about it filled him with discomfort. But that exact region—the one Theo now indicated—was the reason he had summoned the young strategist here in the first place.

At the far western horizon of the map, a storm of radiant lights pulsed and shifted, dense enough to resemble a living sea of stars. The sheer number of them rivaled the allied fleets of Zaryon's coalition, perhaps even exceeding them. And worse—they were advancing, slowly and deliberately, toward the rear of the western front. Toward Zaryon himself.

If those points had represented reinforcements—friendly forces coming to strike the enemy from behind—Hedric would have rejoiced beyond measure. That would have meant salvation, victory, the beginning of a turning tide. But the truth was crueler. Deep down, in the pit of his cosmic intuition, he already knew what they were. They were not allies. They were executioners.

"Those are…?" Hedric's voice trembled as he raised a finger toward the luminous swarm.

"A unified army from Zavros the Savage Galaxy and Darvion the Cursed Galaxy," Theo answered firmly, his tone like a blade sliding free from its sheath. "Each has dispatched a full Swarm of five hundred fleets, and every formation is led personally by a Monarch and a Guardian."

Crack! The sound of grinding metal echoed through the command chamber as Hedric's hands clenched. Then—BAM!—he slammed his fist against the glowing edge of the platform, sending a ripple of light across the map.

"Has the universe gone completely mad?! Have the Behemoth Galaxies forgotten the very meaning of their own names?!"

Under normal cosmic order, such great galaxies never moved their military powers directly. The most they would do was provide materials, logistics, talismans, complex arrays, Pearls of Power—things that preserved their image of supremacy and restraint. For a Behemoth Galaxy to raise its own banners and march into war personally was considered a humiliation beyond words, a stain upon its divine prestige.

And now—two galaxies were doing so simultaneously?!

Each dispatching not just high fleets, but Monarchs and Guardians—their most exalted champions?

"After years of inactivity along the borders of the 101st Middle Sector, everything has shifted," Theo continued, his voice steady but laced with grim certainty. "Even now, preparations are underway for a dual declaration of war from both galaxies. Once it's announced—through the Soul Society, the Galactic Councils, and every major cosmic channel—they'll officially invade the 101st Middle Sector… with you as their target."

He paused briefly, then added with disdain, "The declaration accuses you of 'attacking peaceful men' from the Cursed Galaxy—claiming they were harmless envoys and that you've become a demonic threat to universal order. They intend to frame this invasion as an act of justice, a purification. They'll even call upon the Stellar Academies to join their crusade against you. Of course, it's nothing but a hollow show of legitimacy. No academy will ever actually respond. It's a theatrical excuse—just a veil of false righteousness to justify their aggression."

"'Peaceful men'?!" Hedric's voice erupted with fury, resonating like a thunderclap. "Are they referring to that so-called Marshal and the dozens of war fleets who've spent endless days feeding our enemies with curses and enchantments?!"

He slammed his palm on the table once more—BAM!—and this time the strike left a visible fracture across the star map's holographic base. His energy flared in waves that rippled through the chamber, shaking every light around him.

"Do they even know what shame is?!" he roared.

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