Legacy of the Void Fleet

He raised a hand, intent on grabbing Jarkon by the hair to mark his complete dominance.

The shield flared in protest, halting him.

Jarkon sneered through gritted teeth. "You lowlife… You can't reach me," he spat, trying to sound confident.

Maruc didn't reply.

He simply hummed—and in his hand, red energy bloomed, wrapping around his fingers like flame. Not ordinary energy—the energy of Desotye.

He reached forward again.

This time, the shield flickered, not in resistance but in surrender—devoured outright by the destructive force of Maruc's aura.

His hand closed around Jarkon's hair.

"Impossible…" Jarkon muttered, stunned.

"What's impossible, huh? Nothing is impossible in front of absolute and true power," Maruc whispered coldly. "But you... you're the one who's been blind, spouting rubbish."

And then—with brutal force—he slammed Jarkon's face into the cold, unforgiving metal floor of Tarrus Prime.

Jarkon now slammed hard against the ground, his already battered and worn body groaning under the fresh wave of pain the impact caused.

And yet, despite the agony, Jarkon still managed to sneer."Hah... you... a lowly human... speak of absolute power? You... hah... speak of true strength? Of power that's not even yours?"He spat blood, his lips curling in mockery. "You dare... call borrowed power absolute?"

Maruc, unimpressed by Jarkon's illogical defiance, grabbed him by the hair with a bit too much force. In a single, brutal motion, he smashed Jarkon's face into the cold, unforgiving floor of Tarrus Prime once more.This time, the sheer force of the blow caused the reinforced metal floor to crack and bend inward under the impact.

Jarkon screamed, unable to hold back the searing pain.

"Delusion," Maruc said slowly, his voice calm, almost cold. "You call this borrowed power?"He leaned in closer, his gaze like ice. "Do you really believe a 'borrowed' power and strength could break you like this? Destroy your fleet like it was nothing?"

"And if so... this strength you speak of... what about your entire clan, huh?" Maruc's voice remained steady, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "What is that, then? Didn't your clan rise to where it is now because of borrowed power? Didn't you just survive now because of that shield—another borrowed power, one neither you nor your clan could ever create?"He pressed Jarkon's face harder into the warped floor. "What of it?"

Jarkon, now driven mad with pain and blinding rage, roared, his voice cracking.

"We... are different from you! We are superior to you—a lowly human from a lowly, pathetic race!"

Blood dripping from his mouth, his fury knew no bounds. "Us wielding such overwhelming power... is completely different from you!"

He coughed violently but kept shouting. "Unlike you, we fought for power like that... we earned it!"

Fought for? Earned it?" Maruc scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just say it—you and your race, running for your lives, were lucky enough to stumble upon the legacy of the Feathered Ones."

He tightened his grip on Jarkon's head, forcing him to face the cracked, bloodstained floor.

"Leeching off that legacy is what brought you where you are today."Maruc leaned in, his words like venom. "A race with no real history, no true roots... and yet you have the gall to call us humans 'lowly'?"

He sneered. "And yet... here you are. Broken. Beaten. Beneath the very human you mock."His tone turned colder, deadlier. "So tell me, Jarkon... what does that make you?"

"And before you tell me anything," Maruc interrupted, his voice cold and disinterested. "Let me make something clear. What you've faced here is nothing more than a fraction of the Void Fleet's true strength."

He looked down at Jarkon with disdain. "What you've fought isn't even a real threat. You're not worth the effort for us to unleash our true power against."

And with that, Maruc raised his hand and clenched his fist.

Instantly, an overwhelming gravitational force descended upon Jarkon. The already half-destroyed command room of Tarrus Prime groaned under the sudden, crushing pressure. The reinforced metal walls bent and twisted as if they were made of fragile glass.

Cracks echoed through the room—not just from the structure, but from Jarkon's own bones giving way under the unbearable strain. His body, broken and battered, was now being crushed relentlessly, forcing him to scream in agony.

But Maruc wasn't doing this out of anger.No, he had no desire to hear more of Jarkon's delusional, self-serving monologues or the hollow pride of a man clinging to a fantasy.This... was simply his parting gift.

All this time, Maruc knew Jarkon had been preparing his escape.The bastard had a hidden teleportation talisman on him.

Maruc only knew because, moments before, while he was preparing to break through that ridiculous green shield of Jarkon's, he had received a private transmission from Kallus—still aboard the Obliterator, observing the entire battle.

"General," Kallus had said with his usual detached tone, "that Minotaur, Jarkon... he has a teleportation talisman on him. He intends to use it."

Maruc had caught something in Kallus' voice and asked, "What are your intentions, Imperial Commander?"

"Oh, nothing extraordinary, really," Kallus replied calmly. "If he wants to run... let him. You don't have to stop him."

Maruc had frowned. "Won't that cause us problems later?"

"Problems?" Kallus chuckled softly. "Problems will come regardless, General. Even if we kill him here, others will come. But if he escapes, broken, humiliated... clinging to the lie he built in his mind that our power is 'borrowed'—that will work to our advantage."

"I see..." Maruc had murmured."

Indeed," Kallus confirmed. "And while you're at it... do maim him a little for daring to call you 'lowly, it would be amusing, to say the least, when he reached the destination that Teleportation Talisman took him to—broken, mangled, and destroyed... and that would only pour oil on the fire for us."

That was why Maruc smiled now as he crushed Jarkon.

That was why he didn't kill him outright.

He wanted him to live.

Broken.

Humbled.

Defeated.

"Let the fool run away with his lies. It will only make the fall of the Minotaur Clan—and anyone foolish enough to side with them—all the sweeter"

Meanwhile—Jarkon screamed in silence.

The pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt—agony at a level that shattered thought, stripped identity, and left only raw, burning existence. His body convulsed. Bones cracked. Veins pulsed with molten fire.

And still, he endured it.

Not because he lacked escape. In his trembling hand, he clutched a teleportation talisman, ancient and powerful. He could've activated it long ago.

But he didn't.

Because he needed answers.

Jarkon had come to believe that these humans—this so-called void fleet—had reached their terrifying heights of power not through evolution at least not natural, but through discovery. of the ancient but powerful legacy in the forbidden zone. A power not their own. And Jarkon wanted to know what else they had unearthed… what secrets they were still hiding. He needed that knowledge to prepare for revenge.

Because he needed answers.

Jarkon had come to believe that these humans—this so-called void fleet—had reached their terrifying heights of power not through evolution at least not natural, but through discovery. of the ancient but powerful legacy in the forbidden zone. A power not their own. And Jarkon wanted to know what else they had unearthed… what secrets they were still hiding. He needed that knowledge to prepare for revenge.

His revenge.

But the humans gave him nothing.

No answers. No slip-ups. Only more pain.

Now, the agony had pushed him to the edge. The world around him blurred.

The walls of Taurus Prime, along with the remnants of his fleet, now appeared to him as blurred shadows—dark and distorted, as if he was trapped at the edge of a dying beam of light, where darkness was beginning to swallow him whole.

He couldn't take it anymore.

With the last sliver of mana left in his ruined body, he poured it into the talisman. It flared dimly—barely enough to break the barrier—but enough to tear a hole in space.

But before he could vanish, he looked straight into the eyes of the human—Marcus."You lowly creature... I'll remember this humiliation you put me through. I will return, and when I do, I'll have your head stripped of this borrowed power that was never yours to begin with. Wait for the hell I will unleash upon you and your kind... just as you did to mine."

Jarkon vanished in a flash of warped light, leaving behind only the scent of scorched air and the echoes of his torment.

Meanwhile, back at the Eclipse Warth, where all seven fleet admirals had gathered, they were watching the 'interrogation of Jarkon' and all the nonsense he had spouted before his eventual escape.

However, his last words weren't received with anger or fury as one might expect—instead, what lingered in the room was a cold, quiet disgust at the sheer audacity he had shown when he said them.