CHAPTER 200: CH 196 DESPERATE

The four of them nodded to each other, then turned toward the Star Emperor and said in unison:

"We will take our leave now, Star Emperor. Please notify us if any problems arise in the Holy Region. We’ll do what we can to assist—as our fleets hurry toward you."

The Star Emperor gave a faint smile.

"I will, if anything requiring your attention comes up."

They nodded once more, then cut off communication from their side. Their holographic figures disappeared from the Star Emperor’s secure chamber.

The Star Emperor sighed, looking as if he were worn out—and in truth, he was. Not from the discussion itself, but from the effort of maintaining his composure. He had to keep his instincts in check and act normal in front of them. The situation was far worse than he had admitted, and it was taking a toll. Those four were perceptive—painfully so.

Still, he thought, they didn’t suspect a thing.

In fact, they believed it was their own fault that his Imperial fleet had arrived first, leading to a situation that served no one’s interests.

He let out a quiet chuckle.

And not one of them used that guilt to push for compensation. It’s as if they forgot all about it.

But he knew better. They hadn’t forgotten. They had simply accepted the blame—acknowledging that pressuring his empire to deploy first, to "test the waters," had backfired. The complications that followed were now his to manage, and because of that, they had held back. Otherwise, these people—leeches, the lot of them—would never have passed up a chance to bleed him for more.

Still, things had played out in his favor. He wouldn’t have to offer them anything extra.

Defending the Holme Region with such a small fleet would be tricky, yes—but not impossible. Duke Flexy should be able to handle it.

"I’ll have him informed within minutes," the Star Emperor muttered.

With that, he opened a direct channel to Duke Flexy. The duke answered immediately, kneeling down the moment the connection stabilized.

"What is it you require of me, Your Majesty?" he asked in a subdued tone.

He had realized he had spoken too freely during their last conversation. He’d revealed too much—too quickly. The trust he’d earned was now uncertain, and he knew the Emperor would treat him with greater caution moving forward. His nature, after all, was that of a double-edged sword—sharp, useful, but dangerous.

The Star Emperor nodded silently, thinking to himself: At least he knows what’s good for him—for now. Still, just because he’s playing submissive doesn’t mean I’ll let my guard down.

He began speaking, outlining the situation and briefing the duke on the relevant parts of his conversation with the four alliance leaders.

Finally, he said, "Proceed with your plan. Establish a complete blockade around the access points to the star region. No one gets near. If anyone approaches the perimeter, eliminate them. No warnings."

He paused before adding, "It is critical to maintain total secrecy for the next twelve days. If we’re unlucky, it’ll be tough—but not impossible."

Duke Flexy’s eyes lit up as the plan sank in. It was simple, sharp—and undeniably brilliant. And beyond the elegance of the strategy, what impressed him even more was how the Star Emperor had managed to pull the alliance into place despite the high-risk nature of the operation. The Emperor hadn’t explained how, and Flexy didn’t dare ask. Still, his mind buzzed with theories.

At the same time, he felt a flicker of disappointment. The previous plan—the one that would have crushed a few noble houses he personally wanted out of the way—was clearly scrapped. This new direction made that ambition unlikely.

Even so, Flexy showed none of his frustration. He kept his face as submissive as when the call began, hiding every trace of disappointment. He wouldn’t give the Emperor a reason to doubt him further. Not now. Not yet.

After all, Duke Flexy didn’t want to be replaced—not now. It was unlikely, sure, but what about afterward? Once the Holy Region was under their control, the Emperor might very well strip away the rewards he expected to receive. The possibility lingered in his mind like a shadow.

So yes, he had fears. And he intended to keep them from coming true. That meant burying his curiosity and disappointment deep inside, out of sight—even from himself.

He followed the Emperor’s orders to the letter, offering no resistance.

"I’ll do as you wish, Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head. "I won’t deviate from your plan. You have my word."

"Good, Duke," the Star Emperor replied. "It should unfold exactly as we’ve set. Now go. Begin your preparations—if you haven’t already."

He paused, then added, "For logistics, try sourcing materials from the Minotaurs and the smaller powers in that region. Use them to build whatever the fleet needs—through construction ships. Spare parts, support systems, anything. It should be more than doable."

"That’s exactly what I had in mind as well, Emperor," Flexy replied smoothly. "Everything is already underway, though some minor adjustments will be made based on your instructions. Nothing that would disrupt the core of the plan."

"Very well. You may leave now," said the Star Emperor, waving a hand dismissively.

Duke Flexy vanished without another word, obeying the order without hesitation.

Meanwhile, the four allied powers had begun large-scale preparations. Though much had already been set in motion before, the Emperor’s new plan forced a strategic overhaul. Entire systems had to be reworked. Schedules, deployments, supply chains—everything had to be adjusted.

Across the secret bases of the four powers, the operation kicked into overdrive. The scale of activity was enormous, requiring both robotic labor and actual manpower. These hidden facilities became hives of movement and coordination. Equipment, weapons, and supplies were being sorted, loaded, and secured onto massive cargo shuttles. These shuttles then launched, slipping away from watchful eyes and sensor arrays, weaving discreetly through authorized transport corridors to reach the designated warships hidden throughout their own territories.

These operations weren’t just happening in one place—they were unfolding across dozens of sectors, simultaneously. And not just in reaction to the meeting—some preparations had clearly begun earlier.

Two days passed.

Then, all four powers launched their fleets.

Each fleet consisted of roughly 5,000 ships—specialized vessels that complemented each other in formation. Each fleet was divided into 40 battle groups, with separate routes but a shared final destination.

In total, nearly 20,000 ships, divided into 160 independent strike groups, moved through space with surgical precision. The sheer scale created an overwhelming amount of noise, impossible to ignore—especially for the Ghouse, who were monitoring every move of these four powers.

And when the deployments began, the Ghouse—and anyone else watching—were caught off guard. The movements seemed random, chaotic, and scattered across too many fronts. For a brief moment, they couldn’t tell what was happening... or why.

At first, the observers—and their think tanks—were stunned. For a brief moment, silence followed the initial shock. Then came the first wave of theories.

They speculated that the four powers—the Dark Elven Empire, the Mountain Dwarf Clans, the Forger’s Guild, and the Alchemy Association—had formed some sort of alliance. A sudden partnership, perhaps, forged under pressure or hidden negotiations. The synchronized fleet movements seemed to support this idea.

Some initially believed that conflict might erupt between the powers. Old rivalries and tensions made that possibility tempting to consider. But the idea quickly collapsed under scrutiny.

Each of the factions was powerful, especially the Guild and the Association. No one in their right mind—certainly not the Dark Elves or even the Dwarves—would risk direct confrontation with them. Not unless they were suicidal. And the scale of the deployments didn’t match a full-blown war effort either. It was too large to ignore, but too scattered for immediate warfare. That theory was discarded.

But then, something changed.

After several hours of tracking the 160 individual battle groups, the truth began to take shape—and it only deepened the confusion.

Each group was heading in a different direction.

There was no convergence, no shared rally point, no coordinated formation. The fleets were fanning out—strategically, purposefully—but independently. If they continued on their current paths, none of them would even cross each other’s route.

This triggered a second wave of uncertainty among the analysts.

Why scatter like this? What was the purpose? What had they found?

And more importantly: if this was a joint mission, why not move together, where mutual support was guaranteed?

No answer came. Only more questions. The watchers guessed, recalculated, and guessed again. But the motives behind the movements remained hidden—deliberately so.

And that unsettled them more than anything else.

And it wasn’t just the think tanks who were uncertain.

The backers behind them—and even some, if not all, of the Tier-One superstate leaders—were confused and unsettled by the sudden moves of the Forger Guild and the Alchemy Association.

These weren’t minor players.

These were giants, each with influence stretching across multiple galaxies. When they moved, it meant something.