Legacy of the Void Fleet

For a moment, he turned pale, as if every drop of blood had been drained from his body.

His bulging eyes reflected disbelief as he tried to steady himself, bracing against his console for support. Trembling, choking on his own voice, he finally managed to speak while staring at the enemy fleet:

”This... this cannot be... this is impossible... impossible...”

Hearing their commander’s broken words, many of his crew, who were already on the brink of madness, turned to look at him. And when they saw Korvus himself—shaken to the core, pale and unsteady—they turned even paler than him, their despair deepening.

MThen Zork, the friend of Toro, broke the silence. His voice was low, almost hoarse, as he stared at the radar and the holographic display showing the enemy fleet—untouched, their hulls flawless, an unbroken bluish shield enveloping them. ”There’s... there’s no damage... nothing at all ... not one of their ships is down. H-how... how can this be?”

His words struck like a blade. Others gulped, their throats dry, as despair surged through them stronger than ever. The same thought plagued every mind: If the enemy survived their full-blown assault without a scratch... if they stand completely unscathed... then how could they themselves possibly hope to survive? How could they ever harm such a fleet?A rare few still clung to denial, delusion creeping into their voices. ”M-maybe... maybe they just have strong defensive technology... maybe their offensive power isn’t as great... maybe we can still survive this...”

But they were immediately shouted down. ”How—how can you possibly reach such a conclusion? There’s no proof of that!

And even if it were true, do you dare believe we could withstand an onslaught of over two thousand ship and then there other that make it reach ten thousand ships, more than four hundred battleships, and even more battle-carriers?

We don’t have a chance! We’re dead! Done for—all of us are finished!”

Those words, bitter and hopeless, began to course through the command bridge, infecting every heart and mind like poison.

”Shut up!” Korvus roared, finally breaking free from his despair. His voice thundered across the command bridge, silencing many—but not all. A few still muttered under their breath, repeating the same lines: We’re dead... done for... there’s no hope...

As if he could no longer bear their words, driven by both rage and fear, Korvus snapped. He unleashed two energy beams from his gauntlet, cutting down several of his own crew on the spot. The sight of it stunned the rest into silence. Those who had been speaking froze in horror, and within seconds the command bridge fell quiet.

Yet the fear did not vanish. It lingered in their eyes—raw, unshaken and undeniable . For to them, their future had already turned dark, with no hope of light ever returning.

Korvus stood there, chest heaving, gasping for air as though even breathing had become a struggle. His body trembled as his mind tried to wrestle control back from panic. And then, a calm mechanical voice cut through the tension:

[Secondary life support system activated.]

”Oh... no wonder it was getting hard to breathe,” Korvus thought grimly, exhaling in bitter realization before snapping his focus back to the holo-table.

The projection showed the enemy fleet—still in their flawless formation, unmoving, suspended in the void. Their silent presence was like a blade pressed to his throat, reminding him that the full might of Minotaur firepower had amounted to nothing. His lips trembled as he muttered, low but loud enough for many to hear:

”They... they must’ve suffered internal damage. They’re hiding it. Otherwise, why aren’t they moving? Look—their frontline ships, the energy readings, they’re dropping lower and lower...”

His reasoning had a thread of truth, but not a soul on the bridge believed him. Even if the enemy’s forward line had sustained hidden damage—an absurd hope in itself—what of the rest of the formation? What of the fleets positioned further back? And what of the last fleet, advancing relentlessly toward their inhabited planets? Could they be ignored? The answer was clear to all Minotaur: no.

Then suddenly, cutting through the suffocating despair, one officer—one of the rare few who had not yet broken—shouted in desperation, his voice cracking but urgent:

”Command! Command! There’s a spike—energy spike—on the enemy frontline battlecruisers! Up front!”

”Say what?” Korvus snapped, stiffening as he processed the officer’s words. His eyes widened.

”Damn those things—” he began, but another voice cut him off.

”They’re gearing up to attack us, Command!” someone shouted, fear dripping from every syllable.

”It’s their weapons!” another Minotaur blurted, his voice trembling with dread. ”They’re charging—charging to fire!”

Alarm and panic thickened in the air.

Korvus turned sharply toward them, rage flashing in his eyes as if ready to lash out at the disrespect—but before he could, the voice of the operator screamed through the bridge:

”Siiiirrrr! INCOMIIIIING!”

Back within the Left Division Fleet of the White Frost, Kael sat comfortably, watching the intercepted feeds from Minotaur systems—hacked long ago, though not completely. Enough of their grid was compromised to grant him access, and what he saw filled him with cruel amusement.

He leaned back, laughing uncontrollably at the sight of the broken Minotaur commander. ”Did you hear that, Titus? Hah! He actually thinks we’ve taken internal damage! Hahaha! Go on—confirm it for him! Hahaha!”

Titus covered his mouth, trying to contain his laughter, though the rest of the crew was no better. Unlike their Grand Admiral, they struggled to hold composure.

On the flagship, Admiral Macron watched the same footage. His face twisted with suppressed laughter, and at last he couldn’t hold it anymore.

He chuckled and then spoke over the comm to Kael: ”Commander, shall we give them a little show? Their commander has already lost his wits—why not help him along? Perhaps one shot to make him believe his own fantasy, and then another to shatter it completely. What do you say?”

Still laughing, Kael waved his hand. ”Do it. Let’s have ourselves a good show.”

”Roger that,” Macron replied with a smile before closing the channel.

Switching comms, he gave the order: ”Joshua, fire a first volley using the secondary weapons. Target: the space fortress shield. But don’t go all out—keep it below full power. We don’t want to collapse their shield with the first strike.”

Macron’s lips curled into a grin. ”Then, immediately follow up with the Nova-class superweapon—this time at one hundred percent. And don’t hit the center. Aim for one side of the fortress. Chip it away. That will be enough.”

On the other side of the channel, Joshua’s eyes widened. At first, he had been thrilled—it was his honor to fire the first attack. But Macron’s request left him stunned. This is insane... Still, he straightened his back. The Grand Admiral’s will was absolute.

”Yes, Admiral. I’ll carry out your command,” Joshua said firmly.

”Good,” Macron replied with a satisfied nod. ”Then do it.”

Back on the Minotaur flagship—

Korvus’s eyes locked onto the holographic table, and his blood ran cold as the readings spiked. The operator’s warning still rang in his ears. His body shook, and then he howled like a mad beast:

”BRACE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

Back aboard Joshua’s ship, the Argunot, he issued the order:

”Focus our weapons — mainly the gauss cannons and the dual turbo-lasers — on the Minotaur Clan’s star fortress. Downgrade the chargers and switch to blunt mode.”

Blunt mode was much like a sword without an edge: the weapons would discharge their power across a wide area, losing all penetrative force. With the already reduced output, this ensured that the combined fire of fifty-six weapons would only chip away at the fortress shields instead of tearing them down completely.

”Aye, Captain,” the weapons officer replied.

In moments, the great weapons — the ventral and dorsal mounts, the gauss cannons, and the dual turbos — pivoted toward the fortress. Though it was directly ahead, they adjusted their angles to maximize output while spreading the damage across different points of the shield.

Even at reduced strength, concentrated fire in a single spot might collapse the defenses entirely, so dispersal was critical.

All of this was executed in but a second.

”Sire, we are ready to fire,” reported one of the officers.

Joshua didn’t look back. ”Then fire in the hole.”

A moment later, the ship thundered.

BOOM. BOOM.

The gauss cannons fired in sequence with the dual turbos, not in a single volley but in three staggered rounds, each separated by fourteen milliseconds and a sighing pause of two seconds.

And as the kinetic shells of the gauss cannons and the energy-formed sheets of the dual turbo-lasers cut through space at light speed — 9yes, I know, not possible for kinetic rounds, but this is my world, and imagination has no limits, so let’s say Void Fleet tech had reached that level, if not sub-light speed)— they slammed into the perimeter of the Minotaur Clan’s fortress shield.

The impacts landed with a resounding force, like a thousand drops of rain striking in unison.