Legacy of the Void Fleet

Back to the Regal Star System.

The reason my fleet and I were so eager was simple—our final preparations were complete. We were fully geared, locked in, and ready for the battle that’s about to begin.

Yeah, you heard that right.

We’re the ones starting it.

Now, let me clear something up—why the Minotaurs? Why are they our first target?

You might assume it’s just because they were trying to take the Forbidden Zone—or the Locked Zone, whatever I named it. And you’d be partly right. That was one of the reasons.

But that’s not the only one. Let’s put it like that — but that’s not the only reason, there’s another one...

The bigger reason is their pride.

The Minotaur are proud—too proud.

That pride? Yeah, it’s become a real problem.

It’s the reason that, when the time came, I couldn’t—and wouldn’t—be able to take control of them. I couldn’t make them subordinates of mine, of the Void Fleet, or even of the Void Empire. And I couldn’t even recruit them in my alliance. And forget about bringing them into the alliance. Not that I needed them—let’s be honest—but sure, they could’ve added some value.

But knowing their race, knowing their values—especially that inflated pride—they were never going to submit. That pride would always stand in the way. It wasn’t just a trait. It was a wall.

And I don’t negotiate with walls.

That left only one option: crush them.

The only way they’ll understand… is by being utterly crushed at their own game—war. So I’ll give them just that. A lesson they won’t be able to ignore.

Overwhelming their fleet, completely and without mercy. They were trying to gain control of my sector, the Forbidden Region, the space where Earth lies—my home. That’s my backyard, and I don’t share it.

So no, this isn’t random. I’m targeting the Minotaur’s first because they’re the most stubborn, the hardest to control. Harder than the Genomes, even harder than the Asura.

The Genomes? They’ll fall in line.

The Asura? I’ll decide how to handle them when the time comes.

But the Minotaur’s? Their 7th Light Fleet is our sole objective right now.

Total destruction.

But simply destroying their fleet won’t be enough to shatter their arrogance and pride.

Which is why I won’t stop there.

Instead, I’ll begin advancing into the inner territories of the Minotaur Domain, system by system. Every star in my path will be scorched. Every resistance they try to mount will be crushed relentlessly. And only when they’ve tried again and again to destroy me, only to fail again and again, only then will they finally realize just how helpless they truly are in front of me and my small yet powerfull fleet, will they be forced to bend the knee.

Now, some might ask—why not just obliterate them outright? Wouldn’t that be easier?

And honestly, yeah. I agree with that logic. It would be easier. It has its own short-term benefits.

But that’s just it—short term.

The Minotaur’s, for all their pride, are a race built for war. They are warmongers by nature—war machines in flesh. And if used properly, they could become one of the most valuable weapons in my arsenal.

They possess a unique trait—a special class that most of them awaken. The Berserker. And believe me, it’s no joke. That class alone makes them monsters on the battlefield.

So no, I won’t completely annihilate them. Because if I break them just enough—strip them of their pride while leaving their strength intact—they’ll become something far more useful:

A weapon for me.

A force that will serve the Void Empire—not because they chose to, but because they were conquered.

There’s definitely more to all this than I’m saying right now. But at the core, that’s the plan.

I am going to conquer the Minotaurs. That part’s certain. But there’s something I haven’t mentioned yet.

If you haven’t forgotten, I’ve got a system—my integrated logging system. The Golden Finger, as some of you know it. Through that, I receive rewards—abilities, upgrades, tools. And not long ago, I got something big.

I won’t get into the full details, but the essence of it? It’s an ability that ensures complete loyalty. Anyone who joins me—whether it’s my fleet now, or the future subjects of the Void Empire—will become fully devoted to me and the empire. Mind, body, and soul. Their loyalty won’t falter.

So yeah, the Minotaurs? They won’t be exempt from that. That ability is part of why I’m not planning to completely annihilate them. Why waste valuable manpower and potential when I could break their pride, conquer them, and then gain an army of berserker-class warriors fully loyal to me?

Think about it—why would I harm myself by causing unnecessary bloodshed? I don’t need to wipe out entire stars just to make a point.

Sure, some would call for complete annihilation. Wipe out an entire star system to make a point. But me? I only spill as much blood as necessary.

For I’m not just trying to win a battle. I’m building an empire.

And sometimes, conquering with precision is far more dangerous than mindless destruction

But they are more rewarding too, right?!

Whether that ability turns out to be a blessing or not… we’ll see soon enough.

For now, I’m in no rush. And I don’t need to be.

I stopped thinking about it, shook my head slightly, and turned toward the virtual window floating in front of me.

Out there, beyond the reinforced glass and streaming data overlays, was my fleet.

More than a thousand ships—the Void Fleet in its full glory—arrayed across the black expanse of space like a legion of titans. And among them, something new stood out. A recent addition. One I’ve been mentioning for quite a while.

And now, finally, it’s time I show you why.

That ship—the one at the heart of it all—wasn’t just any vessel. It was massive, towering over the rest of the fleet like a sovereign among knights. Only the Obliterator-class surpassed it in sheer weight and firepower. But this one had something different. Presence. Command. Identity.

It was a Dreadnought-class battleship.

Designation: DB-491 Oblivion.

Class: Dreadnought-Class Battleship

Dimension:

Length: 8,400 meters

Width: 2,600 meters

Height: 1,400 meters

The core purpose of the DB-Oblivion is simple:

Dominate the battlefield.

It’s a frontline siege dreadnought—built from the ground up to serve as the centerpiece of large-scale fleet engagements. Not just a warship, but a symbol. A fortress among cruisers. A titan among destroyers.

Designed to act as the flagship, it also doubles as heavy fire support, bringing overwhelming firepower wherever it’s needed. In any engagement, Oblivion is the hammer that breaks formations, the anchor around which entire battle groups align.

And despite its sheer size and firepower?

It doesn’t sacrifice speed.

Thanks to its powerful dreadnought-grade propulsion system, the Oblivion moves with purpose—its engines powered by twin-core reactors fused with an antimatter-based generator. That blend pushes the ship into a class of its own. Stable, relentless, and untouchable.

Its weaponry is just as terrifying.

Equipped with vestige-class long-range artillery, the Oblivion can engage targets across multiple sectors, punching holes in enemy lines before they even realize it’s there. Every barrage is like a declaration of dominance—loud, precise, and absolute.

The Oblivion wasn’t just muscle—it had a mind of its own.

It came equipped with a Tier-Omega class AI, designated Helios. Or, as we call it more simply, a Divine-grade command AI.

Helios wasn’t just powerful. It was formidable. With computational capacity rivaling planetary networks, it could oversee every system onboard the Oblivion in real time—engineering, weapons, shields, life support, even crew performance metrics.

But its true strength lay in battlefield strategy.

Helios could analyze engagements in milliseconds, adjust tactics mid-fight, and even optimize entire fleet formations. In full-scale battles, it could remotely link with allied ships—taking temporary control of their core systems if needed—and execute fleet-wide commands with pinpoint precision.

That meant one thing:

When I, Kallus—the Fleet Admiral and Imperial Commander—issued an order, Helios made sure it happened. Fast. Clean. Flawless.

Even across a hundred ships.

Its coordination with other ship-core AIs was seamless—no delay, no drift. Just perfect, synchronized action. In a battle where moments decide outcomes, that’s the edge that wins wars.

As for defense?

The Oblivion was reinforced with a triple-layered shield system, each layer staggered to counter different weapon types. Plasma. Kinetic. Energy. Each shield was backed by extended-range sensor arrays and advanced energy redistribution systems, making it nearly untouchable in a straight-up brawl.

In every way that mattered, Helios wasn’t just running the ship.

It was the ship.

When it came to armament, the DB-Oblivion didn’t hold back.

It wasn’t just a ship—it was a floating arsenal designed for one thing:

Total domination.

Here’s what it brought to the field:

• x2 SE-238 Obliterator-Class Particle Railguns

Each stretching over 1500 meters, these were the crown jewels of Oblivion’s arsenal. Capable of firing hyper-dense particle slugs at relativistic speeds, they could punch through dreadnought-class armor like paper. One direct hit could tear a capital ship clean in half. These weren’t just weapons—they were warnings.

• x40 Capital-Grade UARD Heavy Turbo Plasma Cannons

Spread across the port and starboard arrays, these mid-to-long-range plasma batteries provided rapid, continuous fire. Ideal for saturating enemy defenses and chewing through escort formations.

• x20 Dreadcore-Class Mass Driver Cannons Super-heavy kinetic weapons.

These monsters fired hyper-coiled slugs the size of gunships—turning enemy dreadnoughts into twisted metal and plasma clouds. When they fired, even enemy sensors would momentarily blackout.

• x24 Planet-Cracker Plasma Siege Cannons (Ventral-mounted)

The name says it all. Positioned along the belly of the ship, these were meant for full planetary bombardment or total annihilation of entrenched capital structures. The plasma payloads were designed to melt through reinforced planetary bunkers—or vaporize city-sized capital ships if needed.

And these were just primary batteries and not all.