Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Clash at Shourong
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Inside the Dark Star Hall battleship, Yunes slammed his helmet down and barked, “Notify all fleet members—prepare for jump to Shourong Star in Ophiuchus!”
The helmet clanged loudly against the alloy command console. Several low-rank warriors exchanged uncertain glances as they watched him storm off, trailing an aura of cold menace.
“Truly worthy of Lord Yunes. Even with auxiliary gear, controlling the Void Serpent across star systems is effortless for him...”
“Rumor has it his mental threshold rivals that of Alliance Commander Gavin Celia. That’s the edge of a high-rank warrior.” Another scooped up the helmet and lowered his voice. “If Marshal Celia really makes a comeback, who’ll come out on top between those two?...”
The door slid shut behind him, muffling the whispers. Yunes stared straight ahead with a face like carved ice, betraying no emotion—yet inside, his heart felt savaged by an invisible claw.
Come out on top?
He and Celia would never settle that score. They were people from two different worlds, impossible to blend—like water and oil, destined never to mix.
He still remembered his first days in Dark Star Hall. That defiant youth lounged on a high platform, casually directing several Dragon Riders to zip through the air before slamming skyward in bursts of brilliant fireworks. Countless apprentices gasped and cheered, craning their necks in awe.
“I’m Celia. What’s your name?”
“I... I’m Yunes.”
In that instant, their palms clasped. No one could have foreseen that centuries later, these two boys would become the martyred Alliance Commander who died for his nation—and the towering figure lording over Dark Star Hall.
History had frozen that moment into a yellowed painting: on one side, young brothers fighting shoulder to shoulder; on the other, bitter foes locked in mortal combat. At the gentle flip of that page, fate’s hand had yanked their lives apart, sending them drifting toward polar opposites of light and darkness.
Yunes strode into the command center and narrowed his eyes, scanning the room. “—Where’s Kaleyan?”
“Lieutenant General Kaleyan heard there was trouble aboard and just took his leave. Said he’d visit another time.” The mid-rank warrior who replied caught the storm brewing on Yunes’s face and asked nervously, “Is something wrong?”
“That old fox went back for reinforcements. Damn Alliance Parliament... scheming to exploit the chaos and reclaim Shourong Star.” Yunes paused, then sneered. “Ignore them. Losing one planet is a minor detail. What matters is killing the Gemini Emperor—and getting Celia under our control.”
He turned toward the door, only to spot Osrode lurking in the shadows of the command center, smirking faintly as he echoed, “—Under our control?”
Yunes ignored him.
“I thought your deal with the Alliance was to hand Celia over to Parliament... Looks like your plans have some dirty little secrets.”
The jump sequence initiated, and the entire battleship shuddered and groaned. Yunes grabbed his safety harness at his seat, not bothering to look back. “You’re overthinking it, Osrode. The Alliance War God’s political value is the real prize we’re after. Parliament needs Celia’s name to rally the Radiant Legion and shatter the Heinrich Dynasty from within. Same for us. As for your sleazy little fantasies...”
He glanced back with a mocking sneer. “The worth Gavin Celia brings is worth a hell of a lot more than being your personal fucktoy. Got it, you moron?”
Osrode’s gaze turned icy. They locked eyes for several seconds before both snorted and looked away.
Outside the battleship, the jump gate flared with a dazzling orb of light. Space warped and linked in a frenzy, sucking the entire Dark Star vessel inside before hurling it into the depths of Ophiuchus.
·
At the same moment, on Shourong Star.
Gavin fixed Heinrich with a stare. “How’d you contact the Imperial Army?”
The street had split into fissures, collapsed buildings piled into small mountains, and debris—branches, leaves, bricks—littered the ground, making it treacherous to stand.
Heinrich’s features were sharp and naturally cold, but a glint of amusement danced in his eyes. “How could I tell you that? We’re enemies, remember?”
“I forgot.” Gavin gave a faint smirk. “So what’s your plan now?”
“What do you think I should do, Celia? By my temper, I ought to haul you back and show you the Empire’s glory... though since you’ve forgotten everything, bragging wouldn’t mean much.” Heinrich paused, savoring the thought. “Still, imagining you living on Empire soil from here on out—that’s something to relish endlessly.”
Gavin shook his head in silence, looking faintly amused.
“You think it’s a pipe dream?” Heinrich smiled. “No, Celia. My terms aren’t unreasonable—because you’ve got nowhere else to go. The Alliance exile government revived you in secret, and now you’re an Omega. There’s clearly a conspiracy you don’t know about. Your old rivals in Dark Star Hall have teamed up with the Alliance, and they’re hunting you across the universe—ruthless maniacs, every one. The galaxy’s powers have carved it all up. Even you can’t conjure a second Celia dynasty. Of the factions out there, only the Empire truly welcomes you.”
“I just want you to make your home on the Empire’s White Heron Star.” Heinrich spoke leisurely. “All you’d need to do is occasionally join me to deliberate state affairs. No need to show your face otherwise. Best of all, we could have a child together... In exchange, you get your Phoenix mech back. How’s that?”
Gavin fell silent for a moment, then replied with faint sarcasm. “Too generous—generous enough to make me feel guilty. Is this how you treat a POW? Feels more like a political refugee.”
The treatment of POWs and refugees was worlds apart. Even the best care for a POW meant not freezing or starving—just barely scraping by. Only a refugee got this bizarre blend of tight surveillance and protection.
Heinrich hadn’t said it outright, but given Empire-Alliance relations, Gavin was indeed a POW—and he’d be one anywhere in the universe now. Worst of all, the Alliance Parliament, Celia’s supposed bedrock support, had revealed hints of conspiracy.
If it were Celia standing there right now, he’d instantly grasp the angles: the Alliance and Dark Star Hall were bottomless pits. The Empire might offer a slim chance. Old enemies knew each other’s hidden weaknesses inside out—easier to handle, easier to plot against step by step.
—But it was Gavin standing there.
For Gavin, personal safety came second. First, he needed to figure out who the hell he was. Know thyself, know thy enemy—win every battle. Right now, he didn’t know his enemies... or even himself. That was suicide.
“So you’re agreeing?” Heinrich asked with feigned confusion. “We could still make it for breakfast in the palace tomorrow morning...”
He extended a hand, but Gavin stepped back half a pace. “What’s on the menu?”
“What do you like?”
Before Gavin could reply, Heinrich mocked, “Fried eggs, fruit, and tea—your unchanging breakfast for eight hundred years. You don’t have likes or dislikes. Just habits.”
Behind him, the Ninth Fleet’s radiant sea of lights closed in, fighters swarming down and reflecting a dazzling web of light in Gavin’s eyes.
Heinrich stepped forward against the glare, reaching for Gavin’s hand.
But in that instant, Gavin retreated another half step. “What if I say no?”
They stood at the boundary of light and shadow, each reflected deep in the other’s eyes. Then they moved as one—
Heinrich lunged. Gavin leaped back, shouting, “Gryphon!”
Gryphon whirred and reshaped into a crimson-gold military saber, slashing fiercely to force Heinrich back several paces. Gavin bit his tongue and spat blood onto the blade; the droplets sank instantly into the five-dimensional alloy.
“Energy at twenty-six percent!” Gryphon roared.
At last, Dragon Rider silhouettes appeared overhead—Dark Star warriors from nearby towns had arrived. The Ninth Fleet’s vanguard was landing across the line; the instant they made contact, fierce firefights erupted, blooming into countless fireworks of brilliant explosions high in the sky.
Air raid sirens wailed over the town. Cannonfire tinted Heinrich’s eyes faintly red. “Got other plans, Celia?”
Gavin replied regretfully, “Sorry—I don’t see much future in the Empire!”
Another barrage thundered overhead. Two Dragon Riders took direct hits from massive energy cannons and plummeted, the shockwave hurling both men forward. In the chaos, Gavin spun and sprinted toward the street’s end. Heinrich gave chase for two steps—then a fighter dove behind him, ejecting a black ring flickering with golden light from its hatch.
Heinrich didn’t even glance at it. “—Bian!”
The black ring shattered and reformed midair, assembling the 3S mech’s head and limbs. The cockpit plunged from the components, slamming to the ground and scooping Heinrich up in an instant!
The mech completed assembly a split-second before the cannonfire hit, flames drenching it from head to toe.
Then the mech giant burst from the inferno, wreathed in blinding radiance—like a sun crashing to earth, bathing half the town in daylight. Screams rose from distant residents, but Heinrich ignored them, striding forward with hand outstretched toward Gavin—
It was insanely risky. A 3S mech was enormous; humans were ants to it—one slip and he’d be crushed.
Gavin whirled without hesitation. “Gryphon! Now!”
No need for a second command. Gryphon deformed and reshaped, transforming into a towering crimson-gold giant the instant Bian’s palm slapped down. With a thunderous boom, the two mechs collided. Gryphon clamped onto Bian’s hand and shoved with savage force!
The raw power staggered Bian half a step back. It countered by drawing its dual blades. “Ninth Fleet—all units, orders—!”
In that moment, the Ninth Fleet’s thousand warships all received the Emperor’s public-channel battle directive:
“Main force: mobilize to capture Gryphon mech. Take the pilot alive!”
“Vanguard squad: exterminate Dark Star Dragon Riders. No surrenders—kill on sight!”
·
In the Ophiuchus system, a black ghost fleet crept silently toward Shourong’s atmosphere.
At the command console, a mid-rank warrior bowed his head as he reported to the officers. “Ninth Fleet has full control of Shourong airspace. Local garrison’s virtually wiped out. Admiral Aaron’s mental link is jammed by the Empire’s heavy disruptor... Our only asset is Void Serpent, buried in the underground arsenal. It can monitor Ninth Fleet movements anytime.”
“Protect the intel source,” Yunes said flatly. “Activate Trident. The moment Ninth Fleet masses, lock on and fire the interstellar nuke.”
The subordinate hurried off.
Yunes turned to Osrode. “Take your people and prep for ground ops. Once the nuke launches, drop in and grab the Alliance Commander. Don’t let him fall into the Emperor’s hands. Succeed, and return immediately—”
Before everyone, his tone was pure command. “Don’t fuck up like last time. Or don’t bother coming back.”
Osrode clenched his jaw but forced a roguish grin. “Hmph...”
Dark Star Hall’s old and new guard had been vying for power for ages. Osrode, the young blood among high-rank warriors, constantly clashed with traditionalist Yunes—but usually fell a move short.
Part of it was Yunes’s favor with the elders. Mostly, it was his own unmatched prowess and status: After Celia’s first defection, Yunes claimed the chief warrior seat and ruled unchallenged for decades—until Celia rejoined as Alliance Commander, upending the power structure.
By the time Yunes and Celia were at each other’s throats, Osrode was just an up-and-comer they barely noticed.
Yunes’s roots in Dark Star Hall—rank, experience, connections—ran deep. Osrode could throw his weight around in private, but openly? He couldn’t defy orders.
Yunes had no patience for more talk. He’d just turned when the screen flashed an incoming comm from the vanguard ship: “Requesting HQ! Requesting HQ! We’ve spotted another fleet ahead—estimated two hundred warships, legion scale!”
Everyone shot to their feet. “Who?”
A two-hundred-ship legion wasn’t massive, but enough for a solid docking battle. The vanguard officer stammered amid static crackle, then the comm frequency shifted:
“Gentlemen, good evening.”
The others hadn’t clocked it yet, but Yunes’s gaze darkened instantly.
“I’m Alliance Radiant Legion acting commander Kaleyan. Pleased to run into you here—” Kaleyan paused, drawling lazily, “Heard there’s been riots in Alliance space. You boys here to sightsee?”
Everyone froze.
Ophiuchus belonged to the Empire on paper, the Alliance in practice. Dark Star Hall had muscled in their garrison anyway—a fact everyone tacitly ignored.
Yunes sneered. “You beat any starving dog to a bone, Kaleyan.”
“Thanks for the compliment—embarrassed now.” Kaleyan replied politely. “Need a hand with anything?”
“...”
Kaleyan had fully inherited the Marshal’s playbook. Yunes stiffened for an instant, then said coldly, “Appreciate the concern. Our garrison’s pinned on Shourong. We’re heading down to pull them out.”
“Our civilians are trapped on Shourong. We’re heading down to boot the Empire’s Ninth Fleet—goals align, so let’s team up. We’ll go first?”
Everyone knew landing first seized ground initiative—but Kaleyan made it sound perfectly natural, casual as chit-chat.
Yunes narrowed his eyes. After a long moment, he gritted out, “You... go first.”
Across the vast cosmos, the Radiant Legion wheeled about in sequence, diving toward Shourong’s atmosphere. Dark Star warriors followed in their wake. The two fleets hurtled one after the other toward the cannonfire-shrouded world.
On the surface, the Empire’s Ninth Fleet was massing fast, gearing up for a final strike on the local garrison.
No one could have foreseen it: the first clash between Empire forces, the exile government, and Dark Star Hall—rushed, unexpected—unfolding just like that.