Not long after, within the Death Star's command center, the already tense atmosphere grew almost suffocating under the weight of successive events.
Dazzling red alerts flickered on the projection screens as battle damage reports rained down like sleet.
"Governor!" The same officer from earlier hurried over to Wilhelm Takin, his voice laced with unmistakable terror as he reported, "Sector 7 of the lower hemisphere at the Battle Station has completely fallen! Sectors 8 and 9 have also been invaded by the enemy! And—wait, there's more—a giant is advancing toward our position! That creature is far larger than the giant Lord Vader faced; by rough estimate, it stands at least over five meters tall! The assault troops and Death Troopers along the route are utterly unable to halt its advance—or rather, our personnel haven't even had a chance to mount a counterattack before being ruthlessly cut down!"
Listening to the report, Wilhelm Takin's face darkened like storm clouds as he fixed his gaze on the battlefield display on the screen, his fingers unconsciously drumming the edge of the control console. The other officers in the command center looked pale, with fine beads of cold sweat forming on their foreheads.
After all, not long ago the Death Star's devastating strike had failed to destroy the enemy flagship—a fact that struck them like a sledgehammer, shattering their confidence and severely denting morale. The Death Star was built and hailed as an invincible superweapon, yet before the enemy it now appeared so feeble.
Soon after, those whom they had pinned their hopes on—the Sith apprentices meant to counter the Astartes—were themselves massacred in mere seconds. What was even more chilling was the ghastly manner in which those apprentices died—skinned and boned, as if some unspeakable, horrific force had obliterated them in the blink of an eye.
A young officer who had witnessed a Sith apprentice's death via surveillance equipment bellowed, "How is this possible?!" His voice trembled, and his eyes and demeanor were filled with disbelief. The young man could not fathom how beings capable of wielding the Force could be so completely crushed in such a short time.
At that moment, Governor Takin swept his gaze over everyone in the command center and spoke in a low, icy tone, "Stay calm! Now is not the time to panic!" Although he himself was deeply agitated, he managed to maintain a facade of composure, his words carrying an unquestionable authority that, nevertheless, did little to completely dispel the fear in everyone's hearts.
On the holographic projection, the silhouette of the so-called "giant" was rapidly approaching the command center. Every step it took made the deck tremble slightly—as if even the Death Star itself shuddered at its approach. Governor Takin's brow furrowed as he stared fixedly at the screen, unable to discern the giant's exact form. His mind raced, pondering every possible countermeasure. If they failed to stop this creature, not only would he and the other high-ranking Imperial officers be captured by the enemy, but this very symbol of Imperial might—the Death Star—could fall into enemy hands. Such an outcome was unacceptable for both him and the entire Galactic Empire.
Yet what troubled Takin most was this: the Death Star, which was supposed to be an invincible superweapon, had its single-reactor devastating strike so easily deflected by the enemy flagship! His thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that scene in the Jedi Holy City, where the Death Star's main cannon reduced the magnificent city to rubble and even altered the geological structure, unleashing cataclysmic destruction. That level of power should have been enough to obliterate any foe daring to challenge the Empire, so why did it appear so powerless before the enemy flagship now? Could it be that the enemy ships' shield power had become so formidable? Or perhaps the problem lay with the Death Star itself? Was this so-called "ultimate weapon" not as invincible as they had imagined?
Anxious, Takin continued to tap the console's edge as if trying to glean an answer from its mechanical rhythm. And once that thought took root, it would not leave his mind. He scanned the faces of the other officers in the command center and saw that they, too, were filled with confusion and fear. Yet Takin remained clearer and even more desperate than the rest. He even began to wonder if this battle might mark the turning point from the Empire's glory to its decline—if even the Death Star could not intimidate the enemy, then what future awaited the Empire?
From Takin's perspective, he could only attribute the enemy flagship's ability to withstand the Death Star's annihilative strike to the nearly impenetrable defense system of an Emperor-class warship. He could never have imagined that hidden within the enemy flagship was a genetic original capable of using psychic energy to "detonate a star." Such an existence, beyond his comprehension, was the very reason the Galactic Empire had repeatedly suffered setbacks in this battle.
Nevertheless, Takin was a seasoned Imperial statesman who had weathered countless storms; his ability to bear pressure far exceeded that of ordinary men. Despite the doubts and unease in his heart, he maintained his calm and rationality. At that moment, Takin again fixed his eyes on the holographic projection and noted that the sea battle erupting in the Scariff sector was still evenly matched. Although the Galactic Empire's fleet had not achieved overwhelming superiority by numbers, it had not shown any obvious signs of defeat either. As long as they could neutralize that approaching "giant"—in other words, the genetic original Curze—the outcome of the battle remained uncertain.
"There's still hope," Takin murmured softly, a determined glint flashing in his eyes. He quickly turned and addressed an officer beside him in a low voice, "Mobilize all available forces and concentrate fire to seal off that giant's advance! At the same time, lock onto the enemy flagship and, when the opportunity arises, order the Battle Station to open full fire to obliterate it in one shot!"
"Yes, Governor!" came the unified reply from the officers, their voices equally resolute.
They immediately sprang into action, their fingers flying over the holographic console as they keyed in commands. The atmosphere in the command center remained orderly—the clattering of buttons, the murmur of communications devices, and the piercing sound of alarms filled the air. Their eyes were fixed on the screens before them as they concentrated on their respective consoles, their hands moving without the slightest hint of slack.
For these men, as long as Governor Takin maintained his composure and did not lose his reason in the face of the crisis, there was still a chance for victory. Takin's calm and decisiveness served as an anchor, temporarily steadying everyone's nerves. Moreover, despite the chaos inside the Death Star, the current state of the sea battle was not entirely clear-cut. The Galactic Empire's fleet was still engaged in fierce combat with the enemy in the Scariff sector, and the outcome remained undecided. More importantly, Imperial vessels were streaming in continuously from nearby sectors, reinforcing the Scariff battle.
As long as they could eliminate the Astartes rampaging within the Death Star and that mysterious "giant" advancing toward the command center, they had a chance to completely reverse the battle and secure final victory.
Of course, the fact that the enemy flagship had withstood the Death Star's single-reactor devastating strike left everyone shocked and uneasy. That moment, like a spike, had been driven deep into each man's heart, making it hard to forget. Yet, deep inside, they still clung to a shred of hope. Perhaps the enemy flagship had merely been fortunate enough to survive one attack; perhaps the Death Star's full-power output was indeed capable of completely destroying it. After all, the true power of the Death Star had never been fully demonstrated in combat.
"As long as the power is fully on, the Death Star's main cannon can destroy any enemy," one officer murmured quietly, as if bolstering his own resolve. His eyes scanned the screen before him and he noted that their fleet was gradually tightening its encirclement, and the enemy's assault appeared to be waning slightly. This development brought him a measure of relief, and his fingers became more resolute on the console.
However, not everyone in the command center could remain calm. One officer responsible for coordinating the Death Star's internal defenses saw his expression shift from tension to sheer terror, and eventually he completely "broke down." His eyes fixed unblinkingly on the screen before him, his entire body trembling uncontrollably as if he could not believe what he was witnessing. The live feed on the screen showed that the figure known as "the giant," Curze, was breaking through one defensive line after another at an astonishing speed.
No matter how many assault troops or Death Troopers tried, none could impede his advance. Curze's silhouette was like a rapidly moving mountain, and wherever he passed, Imperial soldiers were easily crushed like straw. Assault troops and Death Troopers attempted to suppress Curze with a barrage of fire, but their energy weapons proved feeble in the face of his power armor; their attacks could not even penetrate his energy shield. Combat robots swarmed in from all directions, attempting to hold him back with their numerical advantage, while the Death Star's internal defense mechanisms were fully activated—automatic turrets extended from the walls, unleashing dense energy beams like a torrential downpour. Even numerous light mech units attempted to flank him, but their efforts were laughably insignificant, as if their firepower were nothing more than a trivial skirmish.
"Damn it—what kind of monster is this?" one officer cursed under his breath, his voice tinged with undeniable fear. Even through the screen, that giant's gaze seemed to pierce right through, striking directly at his soul and causing his body to tremble uncontrollably.
Then the officer abruptly turned toward Takin, who was seated at the central command console, and shouted, "Governor! The defense array in Sector 12 has collapsed! That giant—he's too fast! We estimate that in three minutes he'll break through the last line of defense and reach our command center!"
As soon as the words fell, a heavy silence blanketed the command center once more.
Three minutes.
Only three minutes? That number echoed in everyone's mind, shattering their last vestige of hope. Their fate—life or death—was now decided by a mere three minutes. What exactly was this "giant" Curze? Is he even a living creature? Or is he some terrifying entity that defies human comprehension? Takin's face revealed a trace of uncontrollable panic. He had never imagined that Curze's speed could be so extreme. Even the numerous defensive lines within the Death Star proved incapable of delaying his advance.
Taking a deep breath, Takin quickly composed himself—every second now was crucial, and there could be no hesitation. "Initiate the self-destruct sequence for this sector," he ordered in a low, cold tone, as if pronouncing a death sentence. His eyes swept over everyone in the command center without the slightest flicker of emotion.
"But, Governor, there are still our soldiers in the area where that giant is!" one officer protested, clearly unable to accept such an order.
"This is an order!" Takin's voice suddenly rose, "For the sake of the Empire's victory, any sacrifice is justified! If the Death Star falls, the entire Galactic Empire will plunge into irredeemable ruin! Don't you understand?!"
A few officers, who cared about their subordinates, exchanged troubled looks, but in the end they quickly obeyed the order. Within seconds, the self-destruct sequence was activated in the sector where Curze was located.
On the monitoring screens, a massive shockwave from the explosion swept through the area like a rampaging beast. Blazing flames shot skyward as thick smoke and dust quickly filled every tunnel and compartment; metal structures warped and twisted under the intense heat, emitting grating sounds of tearing.
Boom. Rumble!
The ensuing shock even reached the command center, causing the entire floor to tremble violently and the lights on the ceiling to flicker erratically.
Shortly thereafter, the monitoring screens went dark or displayed garbled images due to equipment damage and signal loss, leaving only the harsh sound of electrical currents echoing in the air.
Sigh.
In the command center, once most of the officers confirmed via the screens that the sector where Curze had been located had been utterly destroyed by the explosion, they finally exhaled a long, relieved breath. Relief washed over their faces as if a huge boulder had finally been lifted from their shoulders. For those who only cared about self-preservation, as long as that terrifying "giant" was eliminated, their lives, status, power, and wealth could be secured. As for the soldiers sacrificed? They were nothing more than a string of cold numbers.
However, not everyone could feel at ease. A few officers stood aside with somber expressions, their eyes filled with conflicted emotions. They shook their heads and sighed, overcome by an indescribable sorrow. To sacrifice tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of subordinates just for the survival of themselves and their sycophantic colleagues—such a decision was violently clashing with the moral principles they once held dear. In their hearts, loyalty to the Galactic Empire was gradually crumbling. They began to question whether the Empire they once took pride in was truly worth everything they had given.
The Emperor's "religion" and "totalitarian" rule had become ever more terrifying to them. Such ruthless decisions that cost the lives of others were like a razor-sharp blade slowly slicing through their very faith. Yet, before these senior officers could fully vent their emotions and lament their predicament, a shrill report interrupted them: "Governor! That giant is still alive!!"
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