Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!
Chapter 163 163: False Flags, Real Firepower

Planet A1-03.

This inconspicuous planet, about three times the size of Earth, was one that had far more fortifications compared to A1-01—where the Bastion was located.

After all, that place, where they kept Empress Kachia, was guarded only by ground troops without a single military vessel in orbit. I suppose that was intentional—after all, under normal circumstances, no one should've been able to reach that deep into imperial territory, even with top-tier warp drives.

But this planet?

Even just scanning the upper atmosphere, you could spot hundreds of thousands of ships hovering in formation. They ranged in size and firepower, from nimble Corvettes to towering Leviathans that dwarfed cities.

Well... at least, that's how it should be.

Right now, the entirety of the Voltherian Empire was under assault. Or more accurately, they had sparked the flames of war themselves. All because of one foolish, loose-lipped general.

Because of that mistake, the full force of the Shadowless Hawks—originally just 10,000 ships—had grown exponentially. Reinforcements had arrived: over 50,000 obsidian-hulled vessels, all battleship-class or higher. Just witnessing such a massive armada would send a chill down anyone's spine. The sheer firepower was terrifying.

I could imagine the Emperor cradling his head in frustration right now, likely scrambling for solutions in the chaos.

Technically, they could rally all forces from across the star system and focus on obliterating the Shadowless Hawks—but that would leave them open to threats from outside. It's hard to say which would be more dangerous if left unchecked: destruction from within, or invasion from beyond.

"And so, they started using the Primula?" I asked, cutting into Nyssra's explanation.

Right now, I was in my personal quarters, resting—or at least trying to.

But honestly, who could fall asleep knowing a massive conflict loomed just outside orbit? I could only lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting my body recover even if my mind stayed restless... until Eva, Nyssra, and Empress Kachia decided to barge in uninvited, as if they owned the place.

While I'd been infiltrating and recovering, Nyssra had been busy gathering intel about the battlefield's current state. She'd just started briefing me, and I chimed in with a question, trying to predict their next move.

"Yes," Nyssra nodded solemnly. "The Primula is the ultimate weapon of our race. Using it requires direct approval from either the Emperor or at least half of the elders. This time, the Emperor gave the order."

It made sense. The elders had been the ones plotting the Empire's downfall from within. Naturally, they would never approve using a weapon capable of flipping the tides of war in favor of the regime they opposed.

"But now that they've greenlit its usage, security around it will definitely be tightened," Eva added.

That was the obvious and only logical step.

I mean, if I were on the receiving end of the Primula, I'd prioritize taking it out before it started sniping us from lightyears away. That's the kind of decision any competent fleet commander would make.

So, protecting the Primula would become their top strategic priority.

"They should..." Nyssra nodded again, though her expression darkened with uncertainty. "But I have no idea how strong the fortifications will be. I never had access to the Primula's wartime protocols."

"I see..."

Whether it's guarded by 10,000 ships or 100,000, the core problem remained unchanged—we still needed to break through regardless. Either way, the odds weren't in our favor.

"It's protected by 50,000 Leviathans and 100,000 Dreadnaughts. That's the standard defense formation assigned to the Primula during wartime."

The new info came from an unexpected source—Empress Kachia herself.

"That's..." I hesitated, letting the sheer scale of that number hit me.

"A LOT of ships," Eva finished bluntly, putting extra emphasis on lot.

With that much firepower, even the current combined force of the Shadowless Hawks might struggle to punch through. And for us, with fewer than 200 ships under our command? It was nearly unthinkable.

This scenario matched the worst-case plan we had prepped in advance.

In other words, we were left with only one option.

I clapped my hands once—still lying on my back in bed. "Then, as planned, we'll be joining the war as mercenaries on the Voltherian side!"

We'd already received an offer earlier from two Voltherian ships we rescued—those who had warped along our route. With their backing, we had an easy way in, a chance to blend into the chaos unnoticed and operate under the radar.

And with that, our next move was set in stone.

The plan was actually quite simple, as it served as our ultimate fallback option.

We would join under the Voltherian flag, rack up a few merits, move toward A1-03, and snatch the Primula before vanishing into deep space. It sounded straightforward, but in practice, it would be anything but easy... Though not entirely impossible.

At the very least, it was more plausible than attempting to take on 150,000 ships head-on with barely a hundredth of their numbers.

"HUP!"

I rose from the bed, shaking off the lingering fatigue from my body.

"Well, guess it's time to get back to work!"

Somewhere along the borders between the second and first planetary clusters, a brutal and relentless battle was raging on.

On one side stood an armada of countless ships, each displaying the same flag upon their hulls—the proud symbol of the Voltherian Empire. Their numbers were staggering, nearly 70,000 ships deployed and engaged in full combat.

On the opposing side, jet-black ships streaked across the void, each bearing a hawk insignia etched along its flanks. The Shadowless Hawks—an infamous pirate organization, feared across countless star systems. A looming threat in this region of space, and far beyond.

The space between them bristled with tension—charged not only by the pressure of battle but by the thunderous crossfire of powerful weapons.

Laser barrages, missile storms, gamma-ray pulses, and every destructive technology imaginable lit up the darkness between fleets like a fireworks show from hell.

Across the field, micro black holes formed and collapsed in rapid succession—an alarming indication that neither side was pulling their punches. This wasn't a skirmish. This was total war.

Heavily damaged ships pulled out from the frontline the moment they reached critical levels, entering emergency repair while others swiftly filled their vacant spots. It was a relentless, rotating cycle of fire, retreat, recovery, and return.

Had Arthur been present to witness the chaos, he would've felt a strong sense of nostalgia.

After all, this whole spectacle mirrored exactly what he knew as "Guild Wars" during the first patch—a type of massive-scale conflict fought between rival factions, where battles raged until one side surrendered or was completely obliterated.

Of course, Arthur had his own share of wins and losses. He wasn't invincible. Even as a top ranker, that meant little when up against another top 10 player—or worse, an entire squad of top 100s.

"This battle isn't going anywhere!"

One of the officers aboard the Shadowless Hawks' flagship groaned, watching grimly as the percentage of their "undamaged" ships dropped slowly, tick by painful tick.

"Boss, what should we do? Should we call in more reinforcements?" another officer asked, his voice measured and calm despite the situation.

At present, the Voltherian forces outnumbered them by nearly 20,000 ships. Though they'd held their ground so far, it wouldn't be surprising if they started to get overwhelmed from attrition alone.

"We already punished the loudmouth general who insulted us. There's no real reason for us to continue this fight anymore," the calm officer added, trying to suggest a tactical withdrawal.

Yet, seated at the center of the flagship, their Boss—a red-haired woman with a fiery aura—rested her cheek against her clenched fist, her eyes unfocused and distant as if deep in thought. She wasn't looking at anyone, but you could tell something was brewing behind those eyes.

"We still haven't found the bastards who dared to use our name and symbol," she finally muttered, her tone low and crackling with fury. "If we back down now, those copycats will think we're cowards. And I can't stand that idea. Not one damn bit."

*Snap!*

With a sharp snap of her fingers, a crewman manning one of the nearby terminals quickly sat upright and reported.

"Yes! The last known location of the impostors was traced to the second star cluster. Our drones found a site littered with discarded plates—ones that resembled our insignia. It looks like we already passed it by."

"Discarded?"

Her brow furrowed, expression darkening.

"That means they've gone unmarked now." She clicked her tongue, thinking aloud. "Then scan every ship across both the first and second clusters! Any vessel that doesn't bear clear identification, and is painted in pure black like ours—shoot them down on sight. No exceptions!"

"B-But," another officer interjected, visibly distressed, "that's going to be an astronomical number, Boss! We don't have nearly enough ships to cover all that, not even close!"

"Don't worry. It's already handled."

But the red-haired boss didn't look concerned in the slightest.

"I've called in the rest of our forces. In just a few more hours, our full fleet of 500,000 ships will arrive."

Her gaze narrowed as her lips curled into a cruel smile, eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.

"And when they get here... we'll burn everything down to the last spark. Nothing will be left behind."