Hedrick was positioned firmly at the front, while Fargus and his ninety-fleet armada stood strategically at the other side of the battlefield, forming a formidable line of support if needed.

But that wasn't the full picture — there was something else, something simultaneously bizarre and almost laughably ridiculous…

At the farthest edge of the coalition army's right flank, ten enemy fleets stood completely isolated, alone against the vast expanse of the battlefield.

That small armada, composed of only ten fleets, had appeared a mere two months ago. And instead of moving to stand beside Hedrick or integrating with Marshal Fargus' forces, the audacious commander of that armada had the sheer arrogance to stage a mock blockade on the right flank, pretending as if he carried any real weight or could enforce a siege on his own.

The sight of them was both strange and pitiful — almost laughable in its futility.

The battlefield could now be visualized as a fierce lion in the center, encircled and trapped from both front and rear by two massive wolves… while a tiny, defiant mouse on the side continued to jump provocatively, trying desperately to be noticed!

Naturally, nobody paid them the slightest attention. If they wanted to remain isolated and die when combat erupted, nobody would stop them… they were simply ignored entirely.

For the past two months, no battles had taken place, and the small armada had simply drifted there. But everyone knew — if a battle were to break out, they would be the first to be crushed. This was merely to allow the coalition armadas full freedom to maneuver freely on the right and left flanks as they wished, without interference.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Lord Hedrick." Skorvian returned his gaze directly into Hedrick's eyes. "Stacking your forces in this manner, and standing here yourself for three years… don't you realize that you're casting the actual battlefield into the abyss? Especially when we know exactly what happened to your Marshal Tharn!"

…At this precise moment, a massive confrontation was supposed to be underway: sixteen hundred fleets led by Monarch Zarion against two hundred eighty fleets, divided between Marshal Livia and Marshal Tharn.

Zarion had already crushed more than a quarter of the starfield, annihilated hundreds of planets, and purged hundreds more. His advance was steady, relentless, and methodical.

Yet Livia's and Tharne's forces did not allow him even a moment of respite. They denied him the chance to advance freely, forcing him to constantly adjust.

It was said that they possessed highly advanced communication devices that allowed them to appear at a point, strike a specific target, and then vanish instantly before being surrounded. They became like ethereal specters — striking from the flanks and rear, repeatedly targeting the joints and weak points of the massive army whenever it tried to regroup.

The number of casualties on either side was not enormous, but the effectiveness of their hit-and-run strategy significantly slowed Zarion's progress toward his inevitable goal, preventing him from completing his objectives as swiftly as expected.

As for what had happened to Marshal Tharne… he had been struck by an extraordinarily powerful soul curse during his battle against a Marshal from the cursed Behemoth Galaxy. Since that encounter, he had not appeared personally on the battlefield again. That was all the information anyone had about him.

At this very moment, no one knew who was leading his forces — or even whether he was still alive.

"This is my war, and I will conduct it exactly as I see fit." Hedrick tilted his head slightly to the side. "Now that you have arrived, what do you intend to do? Will you sit quietly with your brothers as a polite guest, as they have done for the past three years? Or…" Hedrick's eyes glimmered with a sharp, predatory light, "…do you want to taste the difference between a Monarch and a Guardian?"

"Unfortunately, I did not come to play the role of a guest anywhere… I came to be the one in command of this place." Skorvian lifted his chin with a deliberate, unyielding confidence.

Then he gestured for Brontor to step back.

Whoosh Brontor nodded immediately and flew back toward the mothership he had exited from, making strange, deliberate hand signals along the entire path.

Skorvian, however, kept his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Hedrick. "…Come then. Let me test the true strength of a Monarch!"

"As… you wish!!" Hedrick drew his massive arm back, and in the same instant, released it with flawless precision.

WOOOM

A colossal palm, fused with the Minor Crumbling Law, surged forward toward Skorvian with unstoppable force.

"Not that easily!" Skorvian's tail lashed forward violently. A dense, dark, oppressive energy radiated from the tip of his stinger as it shot straight toward the center of Hedrick's incoming palm.

The moment it made contact, the stinger punched a small, precise hole through the enormous palm and began analyzing and breaking it down, as if some corrosive acid had been embedded in its tip.

But—

BAAANG!

The immense palm continued forward relentlessly and struck Skorvian directly in the chest. "Ghhhk!!" He was hurled backward like a cannonball, crashing through the void with tremendous force.

"Fiiiiiiiiire!!"

Bam Bam Bam

It was as if Brontor had been waiting for this exact, long-anticipated moment. The instant Lord Skorvian moved away from the scene, he immediately commanded a full-scale, synchronized volley of fire.

The three hundred fleets, made up of hundreds of thousands of warships of all classes and sizes, unleashed their heavy and light cannons simultaneously, each one perfectly aimed at Hedrick! The sheer coordination of the barrage created a wall of destruction hurtling across the void.

BOOOOOOOOOOM

As every single shot converged at a precise point, the very fabric of space trembled violently, rippling with the impact. Dust, energy trails, and fragments from smaller strikes scattered across the battlefield like a storm of sparks.

Brontor's eyes widened to their limits as he tried to take in the devastating scene. He wanted to witness firsthand whether the strategy he had meticulously arranged with Lord Skorvian would succeed — to see whether Hedrick, even as a Monarch, would survive the onslaught, or if his body would be torn apart and scattered across the expanse of space.

Even a Monarch was not easily capable of surviving a strike of this magnitude!!

But of course, it wouldn't be that simple—

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire!!!"

Bam Bam Bam

Fargus roared in a furious, earth-shaking bellow, signaling his own attack in righteous retaliation for the ambush his lord had suffered.

Nearly ninety fleets opened fire at once, striking at the exposed rear of the coalition armada with precise coordination. Their cannons unleashed a torrent of destruction aimed at the flanks and vulnerable points, creating chaos and confusion.

Even though the coalition armada had stationed multiple protective fleets to defend the rear, the simultaneous, unified assault made it practically impossible to counter every attack.

Rrrr BAAANG

Hundreds of small warships from the coalition armada erupted instantly in blinding explosions, while sections of the larger vessels were ripped apart. Debris and shattered fragments spread wildly in all directions, turning the battlefield into a chaotic storm of wreckage.

"Damn it!!" Brontor growled, realizing that at least one full armada had just been obliterated in a single strike. Yet he did not flinch, nor did he panic — he had anticipated such losses would occur in a battle of this magnitude.

Without hesitation, he opened all communication channels and issued precise, decisive orders:

"All fleets, split formation immediately! Spread to the right, left, up, and down — then advance toward the rear! Encircle those scoundrels! Today, we finish them once and for all!"

"Understood." Tssshh

"Noted." Tssshh

…. A wide, victorious grin spread across Brontor's massive face, radiating confidence and anticipation.

Even if Lord Hedrick somehow survived, he would be severely injured from this initial strike, and Lord Skorvian would take care of the rest. Now, they had only one remaining offensive advantage — a three-to-one superiority over Fargus and his forces… finally, the crushing, humiliating silence that had plagued them for years would come to an end today.

And then he would return… return to personally eliminate that cursed Crimson soldier once and for all!!

But suddenly—

BOOOOOOOM

A massive, thunderous explosion, accompanied by a subtle but powerful shudder in the very fabric of space, snapped Brontor out of his daydream. His mind raced.

"What is happening?"

"Marshal! It's the right flank! Something is happening there — on the right flank!!"

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