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Chapter 737  Warning Shots

At the same time they were also surprised by the sheer numbers displayed before them as despite it being lower than them by maginiutes it was still beyond their expectations.

The only one unfazed was Aron, who stared passively at the massive number of enemy forces without a hint of emotion on his face as even if the number on the other side doubled it would still be within his expectation.

"Start sending the broadcast signals," he instructed calmly, aware that this was the only window he had before the chaos began. Once the other side finished analyzing their surroundings and pinpointing allies and enemies, all hell would break loose.

As always, Nova, Aron’s most faithful companion, acted swiftly. She activated the ship\'s communication module, powering it with enough mana to ensure that every entity in the sector would receive Aron\'s broadcast. {You can begin}, she signaled.

Simultaneously, she enabled the translator she had developed by analyzing the brain data of everyone captured from the ship. This translator ensured that the message would be understood in both the Conclave\'s universal language and the species-specific dialects of the various beings present.

"This is Aron Michael, Emperor of the Terran Empire. You are currently in imperial territory. As foreign forces, you are ordered to halt your advancement and cease all attempts of attack, or we will respond with extreme force," Aron declared, his tone firm and concise. He knew that in moments like these, a short and direct warning was more effective. Anything longer might make it seem like he was bluffing or buying time.

The message was broadcast three times, ensuring that anyone with a communication system matching the required specs would hear it at least once. Now, all that remained was to see how the other side would respond to his warning.

Despite waiting for several seconds, the other side gave no response to Aron’s broadcast. It became increasingly clear that they had chosen to ignore his warning entirely. The visible number of imperial ships hovered around two million, a fraction of the other side’s fleet. Meanwhile, the opposing forces, with over a hundred million ships in total, didn’t seem the least bit fazed.

After a minute of tense silence, the enemy fleet began to shift, their ships turning to face the direction of the imperial fleet. It was clear now—they had decided to deal with the "ants" in front of them first. They would eliminate the imperial forces before turning on each other to claim their spoils. The stage was set, and the confrontation seemed inevitable.

"Detonate them," Aron said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion as he watched the enemy fleet continue their maneuvering, showing no intention of responding to his warning. Nôv(el)B\\\\jnn

{Copy that,} Nova replied promptly, immediately setting the plan into motion.

…………….........

In a sector filled with the arriving forces of one particular faction, their ships loomed, weapons primed and ready for a signal to launch a coordinated attack against the native forces. Their focus was solely on the battle ahead, strategizing the best approach for overwhelming their enemy before dealing with one another.

Unnoticed amidst the enormous vessels, a small bubble of space existed, cloaked in invisibility so perfect that even the most advanced sensors wouldn’t have registered its presence. At the heart of this invisible bubble hovered a sleek, black spherical object. For a moment, it remained silent, almost serene, until a faint hum emanated from its core, signaling that it had shifted into operational mode.

With a rush of energy, the object\'s gravity generator and oversized capacitor absorbed enough power to sustain an entire planet for a week—all within seconds.

Then, in an instant, the black sphere collapsed in on itself, disappearing entirely from space.

What followed was an eerie silence—before the consequences of its activation began to unravel.

……………........

“What are the orders?” Kauthar asked, his expression steady, as if the declaration of war barely warranted concern. Judging by the attentive silence of those around him, it was clear he was the highest-ranking officer on the ship. His appearance, nearly identical to Xalthar’s, coupled with his name ending in "thar," confirmed that he belonged to the same race.

“The order is to eliminate the smaller forces in our mini-sector before focusing on the larger enemy fleets, which we will strike in coordination with our allies. Our ship has been tasked with handling the empire\'s forces in our immediate vicinity,” responded the communications officer. While Kauthar commanded this ship, he was still part of a larger command structure, awaiting directives from above.

“Xalthar, you foolish man. You should have contacted your civilization with this news, and we would have done everything to repay you. But now it looks like you’re going to die,” Kauthar remarked, his tone cold and dismissive, showing no concern for his fellow.

“Won’t that break the contract? Won’t we receive punishment if we kill him?” his assistant asked, his tone respectful.

“Currently, we don’t know where he is. His presence among the ships is still speculation, so if he happens to be on one of those ships and dies from our attacks, we can argue it was unintentional. There’s a clause in our agreement that protects us in cases of accidental death,” Kauthar explained, his voice laced with indifference.

“Underst—”

Before his assistant could even finish his acknowledgment, a sudden and overwhelming sensation of impending doom washed over him and everyone on the ship. Goosebumps prickled their skin, and an instinctual fear coursed through them—though there was no time to process the danger. Instantly, their ship was caught in an unimaginable force. It was crushed, stretched, and pulled violently, with both flesh and metal alike reduced to paste, as the vessel—and everything aboard—was dragged into an unknown, unstoppable direction.

…………...............

".........."

Silence reigned on Aron\'s side as he watched the chaos unfold, though the ship he was on hummed with strain, fighting to maintain its position against the gravitational onslaught which has weakened quite a bit due to distance. Tremors rippled through the hull, but Aron remained still, his gaze fixed on the projections before him.

The projections showed light warping, bending unnaturally as if being pulled toward invisible voids. Massive capital ships, along with smaller vessels, crumpled under the immense gravitational forces unleashed by the detonations. It was as if the fabric of space itself had turned hostile, pulling everything into a singularities of destruction. Entire fleets were annihilated, compressed, and stretched beyond recognition, merging into indistinguishable masses within distances of light minute each.

Although the micro black holes existed for only a few fleeting seconds before evaporating due to Hawking radiation, the intense gravitational forces they exerted in such a brief span were devastating. Ships within their immediate vicinity were obliterated, torn apart and reduced to cosmic debris. Even those stationed further away were heavily damaged, their structural integrity compromised by the violent ripple of gravitational waves.

In that brief moment, without a single shot fired by the imperial forces, the invading armadas lost over five percent of their total fleet. The sheer scale of destruction sent a resounding message: this was no ordinary conflict. They faced a force capable of wielding the very fabric of the universe against them, turning space itself into a weapon.

“These are just warning shots. Any movement without reporting back to us will be dealt with immediately. You have thirty seconds to comply,” Aron announced once again, his voice steady and cold. The credibility of his threat weighed heavily, as the destruction just witnessed carried terrifying consequences.

Yet, it was a bluff—one that only he and Nova knew. The micro black holes he had just detonated were the maximum he could deploy without causing irreversible damage to the solar system. The side effects were already immense: portions of the Oort Cloud had been destabilized, with asteroids knocked out of their orbits, now either heading towards the inner solar system or drifting aimlessly into space. It left the empire with an enormous cleanup task, but Aron had deemed it necessary. If he was to strike, it had to be decisive. Mercy was something he granted only to a point—beyond that, sheer force was required.

As the seconds ticked down, Aron kept his gaze locked on the display, showing the aftermath of the black hole detonations. Ships that had been arrogant moments ago now hesitated, their formations disrupted, and fear rippling through their ranks. He knew they would weigh their options carefully now. They had seen what he was capable of, but they had no idea he couldn’t do it again—not without risking the empire itself.

Aron didn’t need them to know that, though. In war, perception was as powerful as any weapon.