"You think their target might be..."
He didn't finish.
But Stanford knew what he meant.
"The Stargate."
Stanford said it for him.
Those two words echoed on the bridge, like two cold iron blocks hitting the floor.
Alden's expression shifted.
"A mother-class fleet..."
He murmured, as if trying to convince himself.
"At most an enhanced mother-class fleet, less than four hundred warships..."
"Attacking a Stargate guarded by a Joint Fleet?"
He shook his head.
"Isn't that suicide?"
Stanford was silent for a few seconds.
Then he slowly spoke, his voice carrying a complex tone.
"Based on the intelligence from the destruction of the Demon Claw Fleet, the enemy is most likely an enhanced mother-class fleet."
He paused, then continued.
"There's also a very small chance it could be a Duke-class Fleet."
"But whichever it is..."
His gaze remained fixed on the depths of that starry expanse.
"For them to attack the Stargate with their strength is, in theory, a death wish."
"In theory."
He repeated those three words, his tone carrying an indescribable flavor.
Alden fell silent.
He understood what Stanford meant.
Theory is theory.
But from the moment that fleet appeared until now, everything they had done challenged theory.
Attacking transport ships—theoretically impossible to penetrate the Empire's defensive line.
Launching a surprise attack on the Abuja Ring—theoretically impossible to breach the defense of that Prairie Fire Fortress Cannon.
Yet they had accomplished it all.
Every single time.
So what about attacking the Stargate?
Alden didn't dare think further.
He took a deep breath and turned to Stanford.
"Commander, what do we do now?"
He paused, then presented two options.
"Do we use this warp point to warp directly back?"
"Or do we proceed back slowly as originally planned?"
Stanford didn't answer immediately.
He rubbed his bald head again, his hand moving back and forth a few times.
Then he smiled.
The smile was faint, carrying that characteristic Stanford-esque, carefree air.
"Warp directly."
Alden was taken aback.
"But the jump coordinates are near the Stargate. If there's a battle going on there..."
Stanford waved his hand, cutting him off.
"If those Federation lunatics are really attacking the Stargate, do you think they could penetrate deep into a core internal region like B-380?"
He paused, his tone taking on a veteran's particular cunning.
"If we return early, we might even be able to claim some military merit."
Alden opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found there was nothing to say.
He turned and gave the order to the communications officer.
"Entire fleet, prepare for warp."
"Lock onto the B-380 jump point near the Stargate. Charge to maximum power."
The communications officer stood at attention.
"Yes!"
The order was quickly relayed.
The Angel Fleet's over three thousand warships began adjusting their positions. The hum of the warp engines gradually intensified.
Outside the viewports, the floating wreckage flickered in the glow of the engine exhaust flames, as if silently narrating something.
Stanford stood before the observation window, looking at that wreckage, silent for a few seconds.
Then he murmured.
"Federation fleet..."
"Don't die too quickly."
"I'm still waiting to go back and earn some merit."
B-380 Jump Point.
Blue warp light erupted in the void as over three thousand warships of the Angel Fleet emerged like phantoms from the abyss, slowly revealing their massive silhouettes.
Major General Stanford stood on the Bridge of the Holy Light, gazing through the observation window at the viewport outside.
Then he froze.
Outside the window was not a Stargate, not a battlefield, not anything he recognized.
It was a pure, absolute blackness.
No starlight, no wreckage, no faint glow from distant stars.
Only a suffocating, all-consuming darkness.
Stanford's pupils contracted sharply.
"This…"
Before he could finish his sentence, every sensor screen on the Bridge exploded simultaneously.
Not blacked out.
Literally exploded.
Shards of glass scattered in all directions, sparks of electricity burst from every control console, and the piercing alarm sound was cut off before it could even begin—because the alarm system itself was destroyed in the same instant.
Stanford instinctively raised his arm to shield his face.
Then he felt it.
His body was growing lighter.
No, not lighter.
It was being stretched.
He saw Alden beside him, his familiar face elongating in a bizarre manner, his features pulled into a blurred line.
He tried to reach out, only to find his own arm stretching as well, his fingers extending farther and farther like strands of dough.
Outside the viewport, those massive warships.
One after another, they were stretched by an invisible force.
The bow and stern extended infinitely in opposite directions, the middle of the hull growing thinner and thinner until it became a line so fine it was almost invisible.
Then.
They vanished.
Those lines disappeared completely into the darkness.
Along with the thousands of officers and crew on board.
Stanford opened his mouth, trying to shout something.
But no sound came out.
Because his throat was being stretched too.
Then, darkness swallowed everything.
He didn't know how much time had passed.
Stanford sensed a glimmer of light.
The light pierced through his eyelids, stinging his eyes painfully.
He struggled to open his Eyes.
Outside the viewport.
A massive blue-white Star hung in the void like a colossal lightbulb.
Its light was blinding, intense, with an unfamiliar, never-before-seen hue.
Stanford stared blankly at the Star for a long time.
Then he abruptly sat up.
He was still on the Bridge.
The Holy Light was still intact.
He looked down at his hands.
They were normal again.
He glanced at the surrounding equipment—the shattered screens were now intact, though all were black, displaying no data.
A groan came from the floor nearby.
Major General Alden was clutching his head, struggling to get up.
"Com… Commander…"
His voice was hoarse beyond recognition.
"We… what happened to us…"
Stanford shook his head and helped him up.
"Get up first."
He looked around.
"Where are the others?"
On the Bridge, officers and operators were gradually waking up.
Some leaned against control consoles to stand, others sat on the floor gasping for breath, while a few stared blankly at the unfamiliar Star outside the viewport, motionless.
After a chaotic round of confirmations, everyone was awake.
But no one remembered what had just happened.
Only the memory remained.
Of that darkness.
That feeling of being stretched.
And then, arriving here.
Alden took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
He walked over to a control console that was still somewhat functional and began retrieving data.
A few seconds later, his expression changed.
"Commander..."
His voice trembled.
"The navigation system... cannot determine the coordinates."
Stanford's brow furrowed into a deep knot.
Alden continued.
"The stellar map database... has no matching data."
He looked up, gazing out the viewport at the blue-white star.
"This star..."
"It has no record in the system."
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