Aro's strategy of dividing labor within the empire —splitting responsibilities between relentless offense and fully independent defense— laid bare just how solid and deeply rooted the foundations of the Doubled Centennial Empire truly were, despite all the rumors circulating about its supposed fragility due to its relative youth.

Contrary to expectations, the empire did not fracture under pressure. Instead, it demonstrated an unprecedented level of coordination: it defended its territories with iron resolve while simultaneously launching brutal, uncompromising offensives, creating a spectacle the sector had never witnessed before.

Before the eyes of the entire sector, the Millennial Holva Empire was subjected to overwhelming pressure from every conceivable angle. Politically, militarily, and economically, it was pushed to the brink. The situation deteriorated to such an extent that several Centennial Empires stepped forward, offering themselves as mediators in an attempt to halt the conflict before it spiraled any further.

Yet it was Sylas himself who rejected every proposal of compromise. He refused negotiations, dismissed ceasefires, and made it clear that he intended to see the war through to its bitter end.

And what "continuation" meant in Sylas's mind was far from restrained. He chose to personally remain at the forefront of the conflict, becoming the very spearhead of the war—the single force through which the Holva Empire still maintained any form of superiority. At the same time, he pulled his main army back into a defensive posture, determined not to lose any more worlds. He would not allow the fall of cities and planetary foundations painstakingly built by his ancestors over millions of years—assets whose combined value reached into the tens of billions of Pearls.

While his core forces shifted to defense, Silas himself began moving constantly across the battlefield, striking wherever he pleased. He launched sudden, chaotic assaults, destroying planet after planet belonging to the Doubled Centennial Grave Empire. There was no longer any attempt to occupy, govern, or claim territory. Expansion no longer mattered.

He sought only annihilation.

Aro answered this escalation without hesitation. He dismantled the massive Note Gen-4 Armada, dividing it into several smaller, highly mobile squadrons. These squadrons were unleashed upon the ancient core worlds of the Holva Empire, systematically reducing planets that had stood for countless ages to drifting debris and silent ruins.

In less than half a century, what had begun as a calculated political struggle over authority, influence, and balance of power transformed into the bloodiest and most destructive war seen in the last several million years. Entire civilizations vanished. The number of lives lost grew so vast that it ceased to be quantifiable.

Some voices blamed Marshal Aro, arguing that he was the first to cross the line when he adopted such ruthless methods on Planet Draklon. Others pointed their fingers at Sylas, condemning his refusal to end the war even when opportunities for peace arose.

Yet in the end, despite the horror of it all, many across the sector secretly breathed a sigh of relief —some even feeling a grim satisfaction— as they watched two colossal powers bleed each other dry.

Bzzzt—

"Marshal."

"We salute the Marshal!"

"Hm?" Ranther turned toward the heart of his palace as a space portal flared to life. From within it, a single figure emerged and approached him alone—a man bearing two short, thick horns like those of a bull, long hair tied behind his head, and a body shaped like a human's yet carrying the raw, terrifying strength of thunder bull.

Ranther turned fully toward him and opened his arms in a gesture of welcome.

"Marshal Aro. I didn't think you would come personally."

"That bastard has gone far beyond restraint," Aro replied as he strode forward, his wide, luxurious robe flowing heavily behind him until he stopped beside Ranther. "Do you have a plan to stop him?"

"More or less," Ranther answered in a low, controlled voice, returning his gaze to the sky where the distant shockwaves still rippled. "Destroying the defensive arrays will drain most of his power. When he's on the verge of breaking through them, my group and I will emerge to surround him. I won't allow him to escape—not before we leave him with one or two lasting injuries as punishment for daring to attack My Home Planet."

"That approach should work," Aro nodded slowly, then turned to face Ranther more directly. "But it could cost half of you your lives."

"I don't believe so," Ranther replied calmly. "All of us possess the latest batch of soul borrowings from the Five-Star Royal Soul Lady, Morgana. If we deploy every borrowing we have for both soul offense and defense, our losses will be greatly reduced. At worst, we may lose one… perhaps two brothers."

After a brief pause, Ranther looked straight at Aro.

"Do you have another solution in mind?"

"We'll see…" Aro took a deep, steady breath, his chest rising slowly before he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, "Sylaaaas!!"

"…?!" The Guardian froze just before unleashing his next devastating strike. He tilted his head downward in clear surprise, spatial energy rippling around him. "You dare speak my name without titles, you dog?" his voice thundered with killing intent. "I'll slaughter every last one of you!!!"

"Stop acting insane," Aro replied coldly, his tone sharp and unwavering. "You're not fooling anyone. We discovered your followers before they could launch their attacks on the capital of the Abyssal Jellyfish Wing and the capital of the Exile Peacock Wing. One of their teams was relentlessly pursued by a Nexus State squad dispatched from the wings, while the second team was directly bombarded by a fourth-generation Note fleet. One of your guys was killed on the spot, and the rest are currently fleeing eastward toward Planet Dreij-9. And as punishment for this despicable, underhanded move, I will personally destroy Planet Dreij-9, crushing your followers beneath it today!"

"…What?" Sylas's eyes widened violently, shock flashing across his face as he muttered the word under his breath, his composure cracking for the first time.

He maintained intense eye contact with Aro, desperately searching for even the faintest sign of deception or bluff… yet his mind raced in confusion. How did he even learn about those two teams in the first place?!

Whoosh—in the very next moment, Sylas spun around and fled toward the east, ripping open space itself as he departed in a violent spatial tear.

"…" Ranther raised his thick, dark eyebrows in astonishment at how abruptly and simply Silas chose to leave. He then turned his gaze toward Aro. "Was that actually real?"

"It's true that the Shadow Swords are currently occupied in Mid AND Young Sector 101 and are busy expanding into the neighboring sectors," Aro said as he slowly shook his head, "but that doesn't mean they've abandoned us completely. Trying to infiltrate us and play deception and intelligence games on our own ground was nothing short of foolish."

He paused briefly, then continued in a colder tone. "If he had kept destroying the planets where we station our fleets and armies, or the worlds rich in minerals and wealth in order to exhaust us economically and militarily, it would have been a far better strategy for him. Instead, he chose to challenge us in our domain—and a Nexus State paid for that mistake with their life."

"…How far have our losses climbed because of his methods so far?" Ranther asked in a low, heavy voice. "Ten billion? Fifteen billion?" He shook his head slowly. "In the Stray Predators Wing alone, we've lost accumulated foundations valued at more than six billion Pearls." He turned back to Aro once more, his expression firm. "I fully expect to be compensated for these losses."

"…," Aro sighed deeply as he stared toward the distant horizon. "The total losses have already reached tens of billions, my friend. But we can't afford to stop halfway through this path." He rubbed the back of his head in frustration. "I'll attempt to contact His Majesty regarding compensation for the wings. If we don't, we'll lose any chance of securing more wings in the future—everyone will come to fear our repeated wars."

"Hm. If Lord human will to personally compensate us," Ranther said with a wide, confident smile, "then the we will hold nothing back in ensuring this battle ends in his favor."

"By the way, have you heard the latest news?" Aro finally turned to Ranther, a rare look of genuine excitement appearing on his face. "We've obtained our very first World Cataclysm from the fifth path, and the entire operation took only four days! Drok is currently resting in the capital's hospital, receiving both physical and soul care. Every doctor involved agrees that he'll make a full recovery after some proper rest."

"Oh… that will change many things," Ranther said, lifting his eyebrows slowly as realization dawned on him.

"Without question," Aro nodded confidently. "Mr. Shaddad is already adjusting the ten arrays based on the observations he uncovered during the very first experiment. However," he added with certainty, "the fact that the array succeeded even without modifications means we are standing at the threshold of a new era…" His lips curved into a dreamy yet ambitious smile. "An era in which we can create World Cataclysms in numbers the universe has never witnessed before."

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