Curze's psychic sense, like invisible tendrils, quickly pierced into the depths of everyone's inner being. Fear, despair, anger, regret—and even a trace of determination—flooded into his mind. As his gaze swept over every face, it seemed as though he could see through their eyes and glimpse the secrets buried in their souls. He saw the arrogance and greed these officers once possessed, witnessed the despicable acts they committed in pursuit of power and status. Yet he also saw, hidden deep within some of them, a remnant of conscience and morality—a faint light flickering in the endless darkness.
Curze's brow furrowed slightly; it appeared that not every one of these men was irredeemable. At least a few still had a worthiness that might be absorbed into the main universe's Empire. Their abilities and experiences might play an important role in future governance.
Though in his heart Curze longed to strike terror and awe into the Galactic Empire with the most ruthless, extreme measures, he also understood that sometimes one must know when to stop. After all, the main universe's Empire needed enough officers to manage the newly integrated forces and territories. And those officers who proved their worth could be of great use.
His gaze again swept over the surviving personnel in the command center, and in a low, imposing voice he said, "Your inner lives are even more interesting than I had imagined."
No sooner had his words fallen than—
Thud—sizzle—!!
The sound of human bodies being violently pulled and torn echoed instantly throughout the command center, like a gruesome symphony from hell. Curze's figure moved so fast through the crowd that no one present could react in time to understand what had just occurred. With each swing of his power claws, a scene of blood and gore followed. In less than the blink of an eye, the metal floor was littered with chunks of flesh, shreds, and blood, along with dismembered bodies that no longer resembled human forms.
Nearly ninety percent of the officers were slaughtered single-handedly by Curze; under the force of his blows, their bodies proved as fragile as paper, limbs and torsos flung about and blood spurting everywhere. The once-high-ranking officers now appeared like the oppressed lower classes, easily crushed with no chance of resistance. The remaining ten percent of officers, including the one who had mustered the courage to fire at Curze, were now utterly incapacitated on the ground.
They could not understand what this genetic original intended. Was this carnage merely for amusement? And why spare these few? Curze offered no explanation and cared little to provide one. To him, these men were simply tools for the service of the main universe's Empire, useful for enhancing the efficiency of unified warfare.
He opened the communications channel and, in a deep voice, stated, "You may now proceed to take full control of the Death Star." Then Curze closed his helmet and stood motionless in the command center, his figure like a cold, unyielding statue.
The surviving officers exchanged glances, unsure of what to do next. Their hearts were filled with fear and confusion, yet they knew they must not make any sudden moves. Curze's presence loomed over them like a sword hanging by a thread, ready to fall at any moment and obliterate them completely.
For several minutes the entire command center remained frozen in deathly silence, the thick stench of blood mingling with other foul odors so overpowering that fear itself seemed almost tangible. Every surviving officer's gaze was fixed on Curze's icy form; they barely dared to breathe, for fear that the giant might suddenly strike again.
Then, the oppressive silence was broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. Leading the charge were personnel from the Investigation Department, headed by Ryan, David, and Lucy. They swiftly entered the command center through the triangular gap that Curze had cut with his claws. Lucy, without hesitation, made her way straight to Governor Takin's dedicated control console. Her prosthetic arm quickly interfaced with the core control system; her fingers flew over the keyboard, and her eyes flickered with a soft light as her expression remained focused and calm, as if the surrounding carnage and chaos were of no concern to her.
"Access complete," Lucy announced in a calm, concise tone, as if declaring an ordinary task.
Yet that simple statement meant that the ultimate weapon of the Galactic Empire—the Death Star, built at enormous cost in heart, effort, and even enormous debt—had now been successfully hacked by one "little" investigator, and all its controls had been seized.
The surviving officers in the command center stared in disbelief at the scene, a complex mixture of emotions welling up inside them. Even if they remained in a state of shock, they knew in that moment that the fate of the Galactic Empire had been irrevocably changed, and they were nothing more than specks of dust in the midst of this colossal war.
Meanwhile, the fierce battle in the Scariff sector continued to unfold silently.
Boom. Rumble—!!
Whoosh—whoosh—!!
Explosive flashes and energy beams intertwined in the dark void, forming a dazzling display of deadly fireworks. Each explosion sent fragments of warships and fighters scattering; metal shards drifted in the void like countless cold stars. Soon, these remnants were drawn by Scariff's gravity toward the surface, streaking through the atmosphere as fleeting meteors before ultimately turning to ash in the searing heat. Countless remnants of warships floated in low orbit—some still exploding, others utterly silent. Fighter debris and broken armor plates clashed silently as metal ground against metal. Even many corpses drifted in the weightless void; their bodies stiff and unyielding in zero gravity, occasionally colliding with speeding fighters and disintegrating into dust.
Although the Blood Raven fleet's size was less than one-tenth that of the Galactic Empire's, its combat power far exceeded that of its foes. The Blood Raven warships delivered precise and lethal fire, and every coordinated volley brought about the destruction of an Imperial warship. The maneuverability and tactical coordination of their fighters further left the Imperial fleet struggling to keep pace. Of course, the Blood Raven side also suffered significant losses. Many unmanned fighters went missing, and several Phantom fighters and White-Leged Falcons were shot down, along with numerous frigates and destroyers sustaining various degrees of damage. Yet compared to the losses on the Galactic Empire side, these were nearly negligible.
The Galactic Empire's fleet, under the relentless assault of the Blood Raven forces, steadily retreated. Their formations were utterly broken, and morale plummeted to rock bottom. Even their numerical superiority could not compensate for the vast disparity in tactics and combat strength. The overwhelming electronic jamming deployed by the Blood Raven fleet almost paralyzed the Empire's communications and fire control systems. The Imperial warships could not execute precise strikes, often having to rely on traditional visual range estimation to deliver any effective fire. Such outdated tactics appeared clumsy and ineffectual under the pressure of the Blood Raven fleet. Though the Empire's warships fired fiercely, their inability to lock onto targets meant many shots missed, as if a group of blind "one-eyed giants" were randomly swinging their clubs in the dark.
Worsening matters, the Blood Raven fleet continued to execute jump operations against the Empire's main vessels—those Star Destroyers. The Blood Raven warriors moved like phantoms across the battlefield, forcibly boarding enemy ships with their assault craft. Their tactics were precise and lethal; with each jump, another Star Destroyer fell. As more Star Destroyers were captured by the Blood Raven, the Galactic Empire's collapse became ever more apparent. Combined with the fall of the Death Star, the Empire's fleet was thrown into complete chaos. Without unified command from the highest level, the fleet descended into disarray, with many captains opting for self-preservation by ordering their vessels to jump to hyperspace, fleeing the swirling vortex that Scariff had become.
Their retreat may have saved lives, but it also utterly shattered the last vestiges of cohesion in the Imperial fleet.
Yet there were still many Imperial vessels that had not received updated orders; they continued to follow the directives of the late Governor Wilhelm Takin and rushed to Scariff to provide support. When these fleets arrived at the battlefield, they found the situation utterly out of control. Their arrival not only failed to reverse the tide but only deepened the chaos. For the Blood Raven fleet, this disorder was exactly the scene they had hoped to see. The more the enemy faltered, the more glory and honor they could claim. Every enemy ship destroyed, every Star Destroyer captured, brought them closer to victory. Their assault continued like a sharp knife, piercing straight into the heart of the Galactic Empire's fleet. The Blood Raven banner soared high amid the blaze on the Scariff battlefield, proclaiming that victory was near. Meanwhile, the Galactic Empire's fleet gradually crumbled in this silent massacre, as if a flock of lambs awaited their final fate.
Whoosh—whoosh!
At that moment, in a region at least 300,000 kilometers away from Scariff, a series of brilliant flashes signaled the end of hyperspace travel. Three squadrons of X-wing fighters from the Rebel Alliance's Yavin IV base leapt out of hyperspace and arrived in this war-torn sector. However, the sight before them left these X-wing pilots utterly stunned. Although they were elite within the Alliance, most of their engagements had been small-scale guerrilla skirmishes; they had never experienced such massive, head-on combat. The Alliance's tactics had always been to hit and run, and lacking heavy or super-heavy capital ships, they were completely incapable of engaging the Galactic Empire in a direct confrontation. Even if they poured all their forces into one battle, victory would come at the cost of irreparable losses, effectively forcing them to bow out of the contest for dominance. Meanwhile, the Galactic Empire could almost effortlessly maintain its rule.
At that moment, the X-wing pilots scanned the battlefield with conflicted emotions. They saw that the Galactic Empire—with its overwhelming scale, resources, and manpower—was being pressed down by a relatively "small" fleet. What shocked them even more was that the legendary ultimate weapon, the Death Star, was now quietly hovering within Scariff's gravitational domain. Its surface was riddled with scars and cracks, like a fortress on the brink of collapse. Could it be that the force claiming to represent the "Human Empire," a force in contact with Cassian, possessed such formidable strength? That they could not only defeat a superior force with fewer numbers…but actually hold the advantage?
This scene completely upended the pilots' previous assumptions. They had thought the Human Empire was merely a force with a strong attitude and slightly superior individual combat capability, but they had not anticipated that their military power would be so "otherworldly" and able to fight with fewer numbers—and even suppress the Death Star, the ultimate weapon.
Such overwhelming superiority did not fill the pilots with joy; instead, it instilled in them a deep sense of fear and worry. Their mission was twofold: to assist in opposing the Galactic Empire and to gather more intelligence about the Human Empire. After all, the Rebel Alliance knew very little about the Human Empire. But the current battlefield made it clear that the Human Empire's strength was far more terrifying than they had imagined. If the Galactic Empire were to fall, would the galaxy then be dominated by another absolute power?
Faced with these questions, the X-wing pilots had little choice but to set aside their doubts and focus on their immediate support and strike missions. One major, taking a deep breath, opened the communications channel in an attempt to contact the Blood Raven fleet:
"This is the Rebel Alliance! We are about to join the battle—request enemy and friendly identification markers."
A burst of harsh static first filled the channel.
But the noise quickly subsided, replaced by a low, metallic reply:
"This is the flagship of the Blood Raven Company, All-Knowing Mystery. Enemy and friendly IDs have been updated. To our Rebel Alliance friends, please focus your fire on the enemy Titanium fighter formations and avoid direct engagement with enemy capital ships to prevent collateral damage. Lastly, welcome to our forces. Over and out."
Then the channel was briefly cut off.
The pilots paid little mind to the tone; they quickly adjusted their tactics and locked onto the enemy Titanium fighter formations.
The X-wing engines emitted a low, constant hum, vibrations coursing through each cockpit.
Their wings spread out like a flock of hunting falcons, joining the fight with swift precision.
Whoosh—whoosh—!!
High-power energy beams erupted, instantly neutralizing many of the unsuspecting Titanium fighters.
Although the numbers of the three squadrons had little decisive impact on the overall battle, the effect on Imperial morale was profound.
Especially since the electronic jamming by the Blood Raven fleet ensured that once in the Scariff sector, Imperial forces lost contact with the outside world. Seeing enemy reinforcements arrive only deepened the feeling among Imperial soldiers that they had been abandoned by their superiors.
Coupled with the continuing casualties and mounting losses, more and more capital ships began to choose retreat, until Scariff was completely lost to the Human Empire.
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Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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