In the transport pod heading directly to the bridge, the Admiral stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as he stared at the briefing information displayed on the wall, while sipping his first cup of coffee for the day.

"The Admiral of the Empire's Fang Fleet reports that the rendezvous time will be delayed, with no specific timeframe confirmed. The entire fleet's fusion reactors have malfunctioned, the cause currently unknown. They won't be able to reignite until the next Dyson Swarm supply cycle at the earliest," I read aloud from the high-priority tachyon communication.

"If there's anything those unreliable maned wolves can be certain about, I'd be grateful," the Admiral sighed without taking his eyes off the wall. "Reply to Marquis Canberra that we'll proceed to the mission location and begin our search. They can join us once they're ready."

"Archduke Siberia sends his morning greetings, and he wishes to..." I was cut off by the White Wolf before I could finish.

"Delete it, and block his communications," the Admiral said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "I should have done that ages ago. You really ought to see the Ten Great Families' communication group; that annoying Husky floods it with 'good morning' videos every single day." The Admiral shook his head and continued reviewing the briefing information on the wall. "I'm certain the Emperor's polite responses are all handled by his secretary," the White Wolf muttered, sliding his fingers across the reports displayed on the wall.

"The Hermes base has confirmed the Dyson Swarm supply progress is ready and awaiting your authorization code to proceed with the energy transfer," I informed the Admiral that this was the final message, just as the transport pod arrived at its destination and the doors slid open.

"Admiral on the bridge," Arthur announced as we reached the large round table at the center of the bridge, but the crew remained focused on their tasks, suggesting that the Admiral truly disliked formalities.

"Captain Leon, status report," the Admiral said, taking a seat to Arthur's right, as the holographic images of the other captains appeared in the remaining empty chairs.

"Preparations are complete; we're ready to proceed at any time," said the one-eyed German shepherd, adjusting his eyepatch. "We will enter the Dyson Swarm supply window in three minutes, with a ten-minute operation window." A projection of the entire fleet and various data appeared in the center of the round table. "More than enough time," Leon concluded, and the other captains gave their green lights to indicate everything was in order.

The Admiral operated his personal terminal and sent the confirmation to Hermes base.

"Confirm all ships have reached their designated positions, energy reception formation complete, and the Emerald is initiating wing deployment," Leon seemed to be gesturing to his bridge crew.

The Emerald, a propulsion ship responsible for receiving energy and distributing it to the other vessels, was equipped with a series of mirror and lens assemblies resembling the wings of some mythical creature, designed to adjust the high-energy lasers transmitted from the Hermes base.

On the projection screen, the propulsion ship unfolded and assembled its massive wings, creating a breathtaking spectacle. The perfect symmetry and numerical beauty of the formation bordered on the sacred.

As the nearby ships opened portions of their armor to reveal receivers, preparing to absorb the energy beams adjusted and transmitted by the power ship, a blue line extended from the table's edge, touching the Emerald, and linking all the ships together.

It's somewhat difficult to imagine the energy collected from the Dyson Swarm around the sun being concentrated at Hermes base and then transmitted as a laser to such a distant location. How blindingly brilliant must that searing, powerful light be when condensed into an energy beam?

Thinking this, I lifted my eyes to the window on the bridge, hoping to witness the spectacle firsthand.

I only saw a portion of the Emerald's mirror assemblies, the darkness of space still vast and unbroken.

"If the observation window didn’t filter out that wavelength, we'd all be blind by now," the Admiral remarked, turning off the microphone and speaking in a voice only we could hear.

Captain Arthur remained unresponsive, and although the Admiral's tone was calm, I still felt a twinge of embarrassment and couldn't help scratching my ear.

At that moment, two red dots appeared on the projection screen, rapidly approaching the fleet from afar.

"Detecting fast-approaching heat signatures. Scanners suggest they're high-energy plasma," the radar officer aboard the cruiser appeared as a hologram on the round table—a Fennec Fox. "Judging by the energy level, it's likely a Delta-class Phantom."

The Admiral grunted, glancing at the countdown for the Dyson Swarm supply window.

"All ships, initiate Level 3 Red Alert. Destroyer squadron, intensify directional radar, find the Phantom mothership," the Admiral ordered, and a faint red light enveloped the bridge. He then tapped the round table twice, retrieving a silver metallic device from an open compartment and placing it on his head.

The device resembled the rib cage of some creature, with flat, disc-like structures at the ends and along portions of the ribs. It seemed to be custom-made for the Admiral, fitting the white wolf's head perfectly. Several discs made contact at his temples and forehead but did not obstruct his eyes.

"We need to make this quick," he said, glancing at the ticking countdown. "Captain Schneider, you're the only battleship with a clear firing path. How long until the axial cannon system is ready?"

"I was just waiting for you to ask," the Doberman's hologram grinned widely.

"Neutron Spear, target the core for direct destruction," the Admiral leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Arthur, the rest is up to you."

"You all heard the Admiral," Captain Arthur said, resting his elbows on the table and placing his chin on his interlocked fingers. "Miller, complete the calculations as quickly as possible. Schneider, fire as soon as conditions permit." Arthur quickly glanced at the Admiral, and both the Fennec Fox and Doberman acknowledged the orders.

Then, an orchestral symphony began to play.

Wait, what’s going on?

Everyone else seemed unfazed, so I tried to maintain my composure, continuing to stand by the Admiral's side. But then I noticed something strange—the flagship seemed to be... vibrating?

Before I could figure out what was happening, something even stranger occurred—the flagship's armor began detaching piece by piece from the hull, floating into space.

Uh, are we disassembling? Isn’t the ship's armor supposed to stay in place?

Just as I had this thought, the entire flagship suddenly shuddered. The movement was subtle and brief, and it seemed that no one else noticed. But I was sure it wasn't just my imagination because I saw the Admiral clench his fist at that exact moment.

Still filled with questions, I watched as more and more pieces of armor drifted past the observation window, moving as if they had a mind of their own, joining the swirling cluster of armor plates hovering not far from the bridge.

I glanced at the tactical projection on the round table and noticed that the central structure of the flagship near the bridge appeared... slimmer.

"Confirmed attack type: high-energy plasma bolt. Estimated impact in fifteen seconds," Miller reported, and a new countdown appeared on the projection.

"Can the point defense system intercept it?" Arthur asked, and the weapons officer aboard the cruiser immediately responded with a negative. "Alright," he sighed. "Switch to ablative armor mode."

The spinning armor plates reconfigured themselves into two circular planes, each with a complex, root-like structure radiating from the back. These strange new structures then flew out of sight from the bridge.

I turned my attention back to the tactical display and saw the planar structures positioning themselves in the plasma's trajectory.

"Direct hit. Vaporizing coolant being expelled," reported the armor officer on the bridge, a Belgian Malinois whose hologram appeared on the projection. "Twenty percent of the outer armor vaporized. Drones are fully operational."

I heard Arthur quietly exhale and relax slightly. Only then did I realize that the Admiral was controlling the drone swarm. The flagship wasn’t just a carrier for fighters—the outer armor itself was composed of a massive number of drones.

"Phantom mothership located. Within the Strider's Neutron Spear kill range," Miller reported, and a red sphere appeared at the edge of the table.

"Adjusting ship angle," Schneider tapped his fingernails lightly on the table. For a moment, the only sound in the entire bridge was the orchestral music. "Fire!" He slammed his fist onto the table, and the projection even captured the spittle flying from the Doberman's mouth.

The bridge fell silent again, every eye fixed on the red sphere.

"Phantom mothership core destroyed. All remaining large Phantoms are retreating," Miller said, wiping his forehead, clearly relieved.

"Captain Leon, please direct me to adjust the drone angles for energy reception," the Admiral suddenly spoke, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Uh... Admiral, please..." Arthur gestured to Leon and shook his head slightly. Leon sighed and finished the sentence, "Please receive the drone configuration data."

"Fischer, confirm the energy laser wavelength with Hermes base" Arthur turned back to the Belgian Malinois who had just spoken. "Switch to reflective armor mode."

I watched on the tactical display as the two previously root-attached circular structures disassembled into their basic units, each forming multiple smaller components. These components then assembled around the massive wings of the power ship, gradually rotating in sync with the Emerald's frequency.

This might sound a bit blasphemous, but the sight of the Emerald with its fully deployed wings, the ships connected below it by blue beams, and the geometric formations created by the drones, was emitting an almost religious aura of sanctity.