Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!-Chapter 85: Usurper’s Fear
Within the Astoria’s fleet, there was only a single super-sized Leviathan-class ship present. It was, of course, the flagship where President Anderson Phi Astoria was stationed, overseeing the war proceedings.
"Report! Sectors 5 to 18, 22 to 39, and 37 to 47 have been taken over by the enemy! Encroached zones increased from 5.7% to 9.3%!"
"Battles under Sectors 156 to 1005 have settled, and we’ve won 76% of the skirmishes!"
"Overall damage to our troops is estimated to reach 15% in the next hour! The enemy’s estimated damage has stabilized at 28%, barely increasing!"
Voices echoed across the bridge, throwing reports left and right.
Anderson didn’t need to listen to each voice individually—
After all, their reports were automatically reflected on the Star Map, thanks to the ship’s AI.
Even so, the deep frown on his face only hardened.
The damage they had sustained was far greater than he had anticipated. The Meyers Royal Family’s strength was truly not to be underestimated.
He listened for a moment longer, then finally spoke. "How long until our reinforcements arrive?"
The troops they currently had weren’t even close to the full Astoria military strength. Considering the vast size of their territory, the troops deployed to Astoraxia-001 made up less than 1% of the total force.
But, of course—
No military deploys all its forces at once. Their scattered positioning served a purpose—guarding the various "posts" under the Astoria’s control.
At most, they could redeploy 10% of their total force, which should have been more than enough to crush the Meyers’ fleet without issue.
The only problem was time.
To reach Astoraxia, reinforcements would either have to navigate wormholes or perform long-distance warps. Both options were costly and took time.
Even in the era of interstellar warfare, instant arrival was nothing more than a fantasy.
"Yes!" One of his subordinates snapped to attention, answering quickly. "The earliest reinforcement is set to arrive in 30 minutes—a fleet of 10,000 ships!"
After a brief pause, as if digesting new information, he continued. "But to match the enemy’s numbers, we’ll need to wait at least nine more hours!"
"...This war might be over long before then." Anderson sighed.
King Meyers was rushing, as if he were chasing someone—or being chased by someone.
Either way, his haste had allowed the Meyers forces to secure a significant foothold in the star system in a short time.
But of course, it came at a price.
The Astoria forces had only suffered half as many casualties. Not only that, the Meyers fleet had spread itself too thin, greedily grasping at control over the entire system, as if forming a net to trap something... or someone.
This overextension was both an opportunity and a threat.
Anderson knew they had to strike swiftly—but doing so would mean heavy losses for his troops. His mind, trained to calculate risk and reward, was weighing the delicate balance of profit and loss.
*BEEP!*
A sudden notification flashed on his personal terminal.
His personal terminal’s address was private, given only to a select few—only high-priority messages reached it.
Anderson tapped the screen.
As he read the message, his frown slowly shifted—curling into a smirk.
"Heh... That brat..." He muttered under his breath, before closing the mail.
Then, taking a deep breath, he stood tall. And with absolute conviction, gave his next command.
"Relay my orders! All troops, advance!"
His voice thundered, filled with unshakable confidence.
"We will face the Meyers forces head-on, at the edge of the Solar System—"
With a dramatic pause, as if emphasizing his words—"And we will destroy them!"
At roughly the same moment Anderson regained his smile, in a remote quadrant—well beyond the crowded heart of the Astoraxia-001 Star System—the enemy flagship, Eclipse Sovereign, floated menacingly in the emptiness.
Its black metallic body shone in the light of the far-off star, a silent giant brooding at the periphery of the conflict.
In the large, dimly lit command bridge, there was tension in the air.
*THUD!*
A deep, resonant thump shook the room as King Meyers’ angry fist crashed into the arm of his throne. His chest rose and fell, nostrils flaring like a bull in rage, his golden eyes burning with fury barely restrained.
"You still can’t find them?!"
His low, resonating voice thundered through the room, infused with raw anger and frustration.
His cold, hard eyes swept over the officers sitting in front of various consoles, some of whom were no longer breathing—limbs rigid with their heads rolling on the floor.
Puddles of thick, dark-red blood spreading into the lifeless, metallic floor below them. The heavy smell of death hung in the air. Nobody ventured to make a move.
No one ventured to speak.
The tension was suffocating.
The only sound was the soft thrum of ship operations, the clacking thumps of fingers pressing virtual keyboards—and the convulsive breathing of those who were left.
Even their rigorous military conditioning couldn’t prevent the fear from being written across their face. They had seen with their own eyes what King Meyers’ fury did to the rest—and no one wanted to be the next example.
One trembling officer finally stood up, reporting, his uniform dripping with cold sweat.
"T-The princess’ location’s defenses are more robust than we expected, Your Majesty," he stammered, hesitating over what to say. "We have made several waves of attempts, but we can’t even make the slightest dent in their formation! It’s—"
*CRACK!*
The crunch of breaking bone was heard as King Meyers’ fist snapped shut, his gauntlet groaning in protest. His glare sliced through the officer, who visibly winced under the force of his anger.
"Damn it…!"
The king’s voice fell to a low, venomous growl, his patience hanging by a thread.
Half an hour. It had already been over thirty minutes, and they still hadn’t even confirmed Cassandra’s presence. That was unacceptable.
Time was passing in his hands like sand, and with each passing second, his hold on the situation weakened.
His own blood kin, Cassandra, had awakened her talent too early—far earlier than she was supposed to. That alone was a catastrophic error. He had to kill her immediately, before she realize the full range of her talent.
For since the special abilities observed in the Royal Family were never so simple.
Each royal heir born under the Meyers line had a dominant ability, an obvious power that would first appear. But underlying it was always a secondary, deeper, and more sinister trait, one that would lie dormant until fully understood by its user.
And Cassandra’s external strength—her ability to command and control other people’s minds—was already considerable. If she were to learn the hidden aspect of her power, no one could possibly know what level of devastation she could cause.
But that wasn’t the only reason King Meyers was panicking.
Cassandra was next in line to the throne, even though she was a woman—a testament to her abilities and the grand popularity she had among the Meyers Star System public. She had won their loyalty, their respect, and their trust.
And she even had something far more lethal in her hands.
The Ancient Key.
The Royal Family’s most sacred relic.
A symbol of absolute authority—proof of kingship, the right to rule.
With that relic in her possession, she was able to stand before him in person, staking her claim without even unsheathing a sword. The people would obey her. The council would recognize her. And if their ancestors were present…
They would support her without a moment’s hesitation.
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For in the eyes of history, in the eyes of tradition, she was the rightful heir.
King Meyers’ rule was now over.
He was no longer a defender of the throne. He was the usurper.
His own conscience recognized it, but he refused to utter the truth. His pride, his ambition, his lust for sheer power trumped the burden of his own shame.
And now, his mistake—his failure to kill Cassandra when he had the chance—was spiraling out of control.
Even if she had always been protected in her life, she was no fool.
Having her life threatened would be more than enough to push her over the edge, to rouse her determination. And when that did happen—when she finally choose to fight back—there would be no holding her back.
King Meyers’ hands gripped the armrest, jaw clenched in a hard line.
He had no alternative.
Cassandra needed to perish.
And this time, he would make it happen. No matter the cost.
*THUD!*
Another head struck the cold floor with a dull, lifeless thud—death unceremonious, without as much as a warning.
The headless body fell afterwards, falling forward in jerky spasms, limbs struggling as if still trying to avoid its inescapable destiny. A red geyser burst from the cut neck, showering a spray of thick, dark blood through the air.
The path was obvious—it was going directly for King Meyers.
But just as the initial drop was about to stain the unblemished fabric of his royal attire—
The droplets suspended themselves in mid-air, motionless as if life itself had been halted. For an instant, they hung there, radiating like rubies set against the faint illumination of the room.
Then, abruptly—
*SLASH!* *SLASH!* *SLASH!*
Each droplet was sliced. Again. And again. Countless times, as if an unseen knife had diced them into infinitesimally small pieces. By the time gravity took them back, they were nothing but a fine mist—dissipating harmlessly into the air.
King Meyers didn’t blink.
His eyes stayed fixed forward, unmoving, unaffected by the carnage he caused.
There was only one thing on his mind. Only one person.
"…Cassandra!"
