The Fall of the Overseer
Of course, that didn't mean the attackers were without superhumans or specialized ships of their own.
FWOOOOOOM!!
Crackle-sizzle…
There was the Nibelung-class Shield Generator Ship, unfurling a barrier powerful enough to casually shrug off Pashtura's full-power focused particle beam. And the Jourdain-class Behemoth Assault Ram, whose frontal armor was thicker than a battleship's — built to tank everything thrown at it and simply ram straight through.
KRAAAAAANG!!
There was the Megalodon-class Annihilation Ship, fitted with specialized ordnance powerful enough to deal meaningful damage to a fortress's outer armor plating — at the cost of its own armor being so abysmal that it always sailed surrounded by a swarm of meatshield escorts.
Specialized ships even Icarus didn't possess were revealing themselves one after another, steadily pressing against the forces defending Avalon Fortress.
But a combat fleet of five hundred battleships, twenty-five hundred heavy cruisers, and twenty-five thousand destroyers was proving far more formidable than expected. On top of that, the remaining mercenary companies and surviving security fleets were still in the fight. Then there was Icarus's main force, plus the newly updated Base Mercenary Companies, and finally ships presumed to be Faction Expeditionary Forces slowly crawling out from inside the fortress.
Even with a numerical advantage, the thought forming unbidden in every player's head was the same: So that's how the third-ranked solo player took a stronghold by himself.
Of course, it wasn't as if they hadn't watched Icarus's Avalon siege. But there was a world of difference between skimming a video or a write-up and experiencing the pressure firsthand. Certain tactics, in particular, left them genuinely speechless.
Icarus had jammed one Kraken into each of the fortress's open spaceport gates, then poked just their heads out — firing fighters, missiles, and organic ship cannons from inside like living bunkers. From the Walpurgis Alliance clans' perspective, it was enough to make them want to tear their hair out.
Turtleing is always the answer. (1)
Of course, no amount of Kraken-bunker turtle play could solve the fundamental problem: absolute force disparity. Even if the enemy had brought only player ships, the situation would have been dire — and some of them were dragging their own mercenaries along for the ride.
BOOM!
"Combat Fleet 33's loss rate has exceeded thirty percent!"
"Commander!"
"Contact Aquarius. Have Avalonia reinforce Fleet 33."
"Combat Fleet 48's defensive line has been breached! Enemy light ship squadrons are heading for the carriers and the Hresvelgr!"
"Commit the three remaining mercenary companies nearby. And call the mercenary dispatch office — tell them to put up additional companies for hire right now, one million minerals and three hundred thousand rare resources."
"Understood!"
Even with nearly thirty thousand combat ships deployed, the opposing players had survived this den of chaos called the Central District for a reason. They were dismantling the NPC fleets — which had no superhuman buffs — with ruthless efficiency.
While I scraped together combat fleets and remaining ships to hold the line, I hired roughly two hundred more mercenary companies and threw them into a reverse war of attrition, grinding out resistance however I could.
"Urgh, my resources…"
"You have to be alive to spend resources in the first place, don't you? Perhaps consider it an investment?"
"When you put it that way, I can somehow live with this!"
In the process, the resources I'd been stockpiling for the Tannhäuser raid had already burned through several million. The original plan to clear Tannhäuser was going to be pushed back at least a month… but as Jessica said, I had to survive here first before I could raid anything. So I gritted my teeth and kept throwing resources at the problem.
But just as friend and foe began to tangle near the fortress and the battle threatened to devolve into pure chaos, a piece of devastating news slammed into me — and the entire base.
And that news was…
KRAAAAAANG!
"Kyaaaaah!"
"Wh-what happened?!"
"Commander! The Overseer has been hit by enemy battleship fire! The ship has taken critical damage!"
"!!!"
The Overseer. The first SSS-grade ship I'd obtained after being possessed into this world — a bombardment-type heavy cruiser. For nearly a full year since acquiring it, it had served as our fleet's longest-standing flagship, earning the moniker of the unsinkable ship. Even in this battle, it had been rampaging alongside Pashtura, pouring out firepower on par with battleship-grade bombardment…
"Damage report."
"Confirmed! The upper section caught in the barrage — main gun turrets and bridge are both completely destroyed!"
"…Tsk."
"This is the Overseer. Further combat operations are no longer possible."
The state of the Overseer, revealed through frantic communications and reports, was nothing short of a ship one step from being scuttled. The sleek upper bow of its elegant hull had melted like magma and was flowing downward. The relatively sturdy main gun turrets had fared little better — the Overseer's signature elongated barrels were half-vaporized, the remaining half drooping like soft taffy onto the already-molten upper armor plating.
The bridge structure behind them had at least retained its shape, thanks to the upper main turrets absorbing the barrage. But "retained its shape" was all it had done. The command sections that hadn't been shielded were simply gone — erased. Small explosions were already cascading across the hull, the entire ship looking dangerously unstable.
I immediately ordered Pashtura and the crew aboard to evacuate, and prepared to send resource mining ships to the site.
"The Overseer is finished, Pashtura! Get out of there now!"
"Yes, Commander!"
But even as Pashtura and the Overseer's operators scrambled to escape on my orders…
"Beam signatures detected forward!"
"Allied destroyer screen failed! Impact on the Overseer incoming!"
"Ah, you sons of bitches."
Judging by their trajectories, the particle beams hadn't been aimed deliberately — just a few stray shots that casually punched through the gaps between ships and slammed into the Overseer's still-intact lower hull, right in the middle of the evacuation.
For a ship already in critical condition, that attack was a death sentence.
The main gun turret struck by the particle beam couldn't contain the backflowing energy and detonated. That explosion then reached the Overseer's power core, already pushed past its overload threshold.
Hit even in its lower section, the Overseer lasted less than a minute before—
Rrrrrumble… rumble-rumble… KRAAAAAAAAAANG!!
"Th-the Overseer has been sunk! The Overseer is completely destroyed!"
"Kyaaaaaaah!"
For nearly two years, the Overseer had stubbornly served as the backbone of our fleet. And so, with a life full of hard-won glory, our Overseer ended its long career as a ship — forever becoming one more speck of dust among the stars.