"Damn it, I knew those despicable government troops had some scheme up their sleeves," a weathered middle-aged man growled, slamming his fist against the alloy wall of the ship's command room. Instantly, a dent appeared on the high-strength alloy wall, which could normally withstand a 400mm Gauss cannon blast.
In the command room, aside from a few crew members busily operating controls, three individuals stood at the center, staring at the images displayed on the screen.
If one were in space at that moment, it would be clear that this 800-meter-long battleship, along with its accompanying fleet of over thirty slightly smaller vessels, was completely surrounded. Nearly a hundred enemy ships had formed layers of encirclement, blocking all possible escape routes in every direction.
Inside the command room, aside from the eldest man, the others wore expressions of panic and fear.
"This time, we were too successful. We easily destroyed three of the government's small supply bases. I thought it was just good luck... but it turned out to be a trap," the old man said slowly, his eyes shifting from the star map to the nervously working soldiers around him. A hint of regret flickered across his face. "If I hadn't been so greedy for success, we wouldn't have fallen for such a crude scheme. Alas, it's a pity that you brave soldiers have to die here with this old man."
"Lord Earl! We still have our mecha pilots!"
The old man shook his head and sighed, "Deploying mecha in this situation would be futile. It would only hasten the death of our young men. Look at the insignias on those enemy ships. Our opponent is none other than the 'Cunning Fox' Sanchiras. I've heard he's not only an exceptional fleet commander but has also broken through to the eighth level in martial arts. In mecha combat, none of us stand a chance against him."
"'Cunning Fox' Sanchiras? Seems like a formidable opponent," several advisors muttered, their brows furrowing as they recalled the rumors about Sanchiras.
"Lord Trensor, the enemy is hailing us. Should we respond?" a soldier operating the communication equipment turned and asked.
The old man, Trensor, chuckled disdainfully, "Looks like the government forces want to take us alive..." His deep gaze swept over the people in the room as he continued, "You all know there's no chance of us getting out of this alive. Even if we surrender to the government, the fate of our former comrades makes it clear that surrender is not an option."
The weathered middle-aged man declared loudly, "Lord Earl, for the glory of the empire, we will not surrender."
"That's right, my lord. We will not tarnish the empire's honor!" the surrounding advisors and soldiers shouted in unison, their faces filled with determination and a willingness to face death. In their expressions, Trensor seemed to see a radiant, sacred light.
"Good children... you're all good children. I am proud of you," Trensor's eyes moistened. These people had practically grown up before his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel attached to them. Watching them march to their deaths was unbearable. But in this situation, with the enemy encircling them on all sides, what chance of escape was there?
Recalling the young boy he had selected before boarding the ship—a mere sixteen-year-old—Trensor thought, "He too will have to die here with me. With such rigorous training, if he could survive, he might have grown into a great general for the Restoration Army."
With this thought, Trensor's expression hardened, returning to its usual sternness. He barked, "Since there's no way out, let us face death with dignity. Perhaps there's still a glimmer of hope!"
"Yes, my lord!" the soldiers responded in unison, immediately entering a state of heightened readiness for battle.
"Then let us fight!"
At Trensor's command, the small fleet at the center of the encirclement suddenly formed into an arrowhead formation, the most effective formation for a breakthrough. Leading the charge was the fleet's flagship, the Thunderclap.
Perhaps it was the spirit of facing death without fear, or perhaps it was the allure of that slim chance of survival, but the fleet erupted with an overwhelming momentum. All ships pushed their engines to 120% capacity, sacrificing engine longevity for speeds far exceeding those of ordinary vessels.
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The government fleet, surrounding them, had never anticipated that this Restoration Army fleet, trapped in such a tight encirclement, would still have the courage to fight.
"For the glory of the empire! For the great empress! Charge!"
Though this small fleet unleashed an unprecedented level of combat power in its final moments, it was more like a last flicker of light before death—a final brilliance.
The difference in numbers could not be bridged by courage alone.
Ten minutes later, most of the fleet's ships had been reduced to space debris. The remaining three vessels, including the flagship Thunderclap, were severely damaged and barely holding together. However, their final burst of strength had taken a toll on the government forces. Nearly a third of the government fleet had been destroyed in their relentless charge.
The loss of ships was bearable, but what drove the government commander to madness was that, despite such a tight encirclement, the Thunderclap and the two other ships had actually broken through!
After more than a week of meticulous planning, sacrificing three supply bases, and mobilizing nearly a thousand local fleet ships to chase and intercept, they had finally managed to corner this fleet. If something went wrong now, the iron-fisted President Zagu would not hesitate to send them all to the gallows.
"Full speed ahead! We must eradicate these vermin!"
"Captain, the Delavie has been destroyed..."
"So, only our Thunderclap remains?"
"Wasn't the Delavie just behind us? How could it be destroyed so quickly?"
"It seems they stayed behind to cover the Thunderclap's escape. They were heroes..."
"But I heard the enemy commander is someone named Sanchiras. He's quite famous."
"What? The 'Cunning Fox' Sanchiras? That's an eighth-level warrior!"
Listening to the chatter in the squad channel, Yun Yi couldn't help but feel a wave of panic. Though he had been ordered to stay put, fully armed and ready in his mecha, the thick alloy shell of the machine offered him no sense of security.
This wasn't his fault. In fact, at that moment, no one believed they would make it out alive.
They just didn't say it out loud.
"Sanchiras... I'd really like to face you in combat, even if I'm no match for you..."
A violent tremor shook the ship, and Yun Yi's pale hands gripped the mecha's control panel tightly. The Red Mane III mecha he piloted wasn't the latest model, but its shock absorption capabilities were decent. Feeling such intense vibrations meant the Thunderclap had suffered a severe hit.
Despite the overwhelming fear, Yun Yi didn't panic. Instead, under the extreme pressure, he remained remarkably calm.
He knew that panic wouldn't help him. In most situations, panic was nothing but a hindrance.
Yun Yi was a mecha infantryman, part of the 302nd Squadron of the Third Fleet of the Zhao Song Empire Restoration Army, assigned to the third mecha squadron of the flagship. At sixteen years old, he had lost his parents and relatives in a coup that shook the star system eight years ago. After becoming an orphan, he was taken in by the Restoration Army and gradually trained into a mecha infantryman.
This mission was his first time on the battlefield.
When he had been selected, he had been thrilled to board the ship. But he never imagined that his first battle would end in such a devastating blow...
Perhaps he would soon be reunited with his parents and sister.
Through the mecha's internal network, Yun Yi could clearly see the dozens of government ships hot on the Thunderclap's tail, charging menacingly toward them.
The Thunderclap, its engines pushed to the limit, was on the verge of breaking down at any moment.
Suddenly, Yun Yi's eyes widened as he stared at the mecha's internal screen.
Two planets he had never seen before appeared in the center of the display.
"How can there be planets here?" the squad channel buzzed with surprised exclamations. This wasn't surprising, as most of the planets controlled by the government—formerly part of the Zhao Song Empire—were located in the southwestern edge of the star map. The Thunderclap had chosen to break through toward an unexplored region of the star system.
Yet, these two planets, relatively close to other known planets, had remained undiscovered until now. It was nothing short of a miracle.
The two planets floated quietly in space, isolated and alone. One was a massive star, a fiery red sphere radiating endless light and heat, resembling a giant fireball. The other was a planet orbiting it, its surface a dull yellow, seemingly uninhabitable.
Just as Yun Yi was observing the two planets, a violent tremor shook the ship. Data from the mecha indicated that the Thunderclap's main engine had completely failed.
Now, the Thunderclap could only rely on its four maneuvering engines and inertia to maintain its dwindling speed.
"Land on that planet and fight them on the ground!"
The thought suddenly popped into Yun Yi's mind. This was the only way to make use of the mecha infantry. Of course, he wasn't the only one with this idea. The entire mecha squad's communication network was filled with shouts demanding a ground battle. Everyone knew that staying inside the ship while being pursued by nearly a hundred enemy vessels was the most dangerous option.
It was only natural for mecha infantry to think this way, and it seemed the ship's commander had the same idea. After all, with the main engine gone, this was their last resort.
Before entering the enemy's firing range, the Thunderclap activated all its maneuvering engines, using the momentum from its high-speed flight to head straight for the yellow planet...