Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!-Chapter 143: The Dragon and the Swarm

You can tell a Void Dragon's age by its size.

Although it was my first time witnessing one hatch from an egg, I had already seen Void Dragons of various ages. From those around a hundred years old—each the size of a battleship—to the ancient ones, a few eons old, capable of swallowing entire solar systems whole.

But while their size alone was undeniably a threat, ironically, the larger a Void Dragon was, the less dangerous it became to deal with.

Larger ones expended an immense amount of energy just to move. And since they had physical bodies, they remained bound by the fundamental laws of physics—unable to move any part of themselves faster than the speed of light.

Long story short, the bigger the Void Dragon, the slower it perceives time—millions of times slower than we do.

And right now, there's a Juvenile Void Dragon lurking nearby.

Its size was approximately 0.1 AU across. Not small, not massive either—just large enough to devour a dwarf sun whole without effort. Still, I could say with certainty—it wasn't much of a threat to us, at least not yet.

At this scale, it would take a creature with a singular brain roughly 2,000 hours to register our presence, process it, and take any meaningful action. By then, we'd already be long gone. That was the tragic flaw of being too big.

At the same time, however, we could hardly do anything to it either.

Our turrets couldn't even scratch its skin, let alone pierce the dense, space-hardened scales shielding its body—scales built to survive the ravages of the vacuum and high-energy space storms.

The conclusion was clear. Let sleeping dragons lie.

"Ignore the dragon. Just keep a vigilant eye on its movements. Focus on the alien threats." I instructed Eva firmly.

Although the Juvenile Void Dragon didn't pose an immediate danger, if we somehow found ourselves within its range of action, we'd be obliterated in an instant. It would be like getting slapped with a rogue planet moving at half the speed of light.

Our current, and far more pressing concern, was the host of aliens occupying the nearby space.

From the scan, we counted a thousand entities within just 0.01 AU. Depending on their species, the difficulty of this side quest would vary dramatically.

"Understood. I've boosted the scanners and tried to capture a snapshot of them," Eva announced quickly, bringing up the results on-screen. "Most of them are Kryllos Wretchers. The rest are split between Velk-Nar Leviathans and Shuulwailers."

"I see..." fгeewebnovёl.com

Though I replied in a calm tone, inside, my thoughts were anything but. This wasn't good. We had clearly stumbled into a Hard Mode segment of the DLC.

Kryllos Wretchers were gaunt, grotesque creatures—bone-thin, covered in translucent flesh that revealed twitching, wiry muscle beneath. They could grow up to the size of a cargo truck.

Each possessed an elongated skull that stretched backward, with a vertical maw splitting down the entire length—opening like a Venus flytrap. They had no eyes, yet they were terrifyingly adept at sensing minute electric signals given off by prey.

Most likely, the instant we arrived—with our ships emitting countless electric signals—these things had already noticed us.

Then there were the Velk-Nar Leviathans. As their name implied, they were massive—serpentine beings nearly 2 kilometers long.

Their bodies were adorned with glowing ridges and fins shaped like stained glass cathedral windows. Their radial mouths contained retractable, harpoon-like bones instead of teeth.

They constantly exhaled a luminous mist that glowed in the dark—and were likely the reason our visibility was so limited in this region.

Finally, there were the Shuulwailers—a species of psychic predators.

They took the shape of pale, infant-like humanoids, wrapped in bands of metallic fabric. Their faces were smooth and featureless, resembling the convex reflective mirrors used at road junctions.

They floated silently, emitting ultrasonic songs that could travel effortlessly through dense gas clouds—like the one we were in now—causing hallucinations, memory disruption, and even complete psychological collapse.

The trio of alien species surrounding us, each capable of "seeing" without traditional vision, was an optimal combination for chaos. Clearly, we'd landed right in the Hard Mode area of the DLC content.

But of course, that didn't mean we were helpless.

"Alright then... let's begin the hunt!" I grinned with anticipation. "Connect me to all ships again!"

As I issued the command to Eva, I sprang into action. My fingers danced across the controls, fine-tuning system variables, altering sensor parameters, and rerouting the ship's power distribution into more efficient paths.

"You're patched in!" Eva called out moments later, prompting me to speak into the fleet-wide channel.

"Everyone, activate your radar scans at full output—immediately!"

Radar in space worked differently than on land, sea, or air, where electromagnetic waves and radio signals prevailed. Out here, it relied heavily on something more advanced—quantum-entangled graviton emitters.

They travel forward faster than the speed of light, detecting mass shifts along the path they pass through—delivering almost instantaneous scan results. And with their "return" trip, the accuracy was significantly higher than that of conventional, slower, electromagnetic wave-based radar systems.

Interestingly, these "bullets" of graviton emissions also served as an effective "wall"—a brilliant means of concealing us from being detected by the surrounding alien entities.

To these creatures, a fully powered graviton radar scan would be the sensory equivalent of someone pointing a 100,000-lumen flashlight straight into your face. Sure, you'd know exactly where the light was coming from, but the brightness would overwhelm your senses, blinding you to everything else behind it.

As expected, the effect might briefly disorient the aliens, but not for very long. Just enough time to act—if we were quick.

"To all ships, fire at any approaching creature on my command!" I added without delay. "Absolutely avoid friendly fire, and under no circumstance use gamma-ray-based attacks! They're ineffective anyway!"

I doubt they missed it, but I also quickly transmitted an image of the Void Dragon positioned to our right and issued a stern warning.

"And make sure not to hit this thing—not even by mistake!"

No sooner had I spoken than I pushed all of our ship's shield generators to maximum output—despite their unreliability. Every bit of protection would count, especially since we were severely outnumbered in this encounter.

"Shit!" Eva suddenly cursed, alarmed. "All nearby entities are converging—fast! Count rising within range! We're hitting five-digit numbers now!"

"Well, of course they are."

Gripping the levers, I switched the visor's display from standard visible light to infrared. With this glowing gas cloud enveloping us, relying on natural vision was pointless—we couldn't see a damn thing.

Twisting the control levers, I carefully adjusted the targeting reticles, locking onto the nearest threats as they came closer.

The distance was collapsing fast—closest targets marked at 1,000 kilometers, closing in at a rate of 100 kilometers per second. The tension thickened across all ships, a charged silence hanging in the void, until—

"FIRE!"

At my command, the entire fleet responded.

All turrets, already charged and ready, erupted in unison—releasing a storm of beams both visible and invisible. The raw energy unleashed was so immense it momentarily cleared the thick, glowing gas, parting it as if pushed by an invisible tide.

Within seconds, the first thousand or so aliens were blown to pieces—scorched remains scattering in space. Predictably, only the Kryllos Wretchers were killed instantly.

The Velk-Nar Leviathans and the Shuulwailers weren't necessarily durable—but our weapons were... lackluster. If I had my Range Falcon here, these things would've dropped by the dozens!

"Don't slack off! Keep firing at will!"

Luckily, none of the ships had single-shot turrets, so continuous fire was possible. Lasers rained in every direction. A defensive perimeter, nearly 100 kilometers in radius, formed—an impenetrable sphere where no alien could approach.

Our advantage was clear, and for a moment, we held the upper hand.

But then again… this wouldn't be called "Hard Mode" if things ended that easily.

*SHRIIEEEEEEEK!*

A horrific, bloodcurdling screech reverberated, reaching our ears through internal sensors. The next moment—

"Ugh…!" I groaned, folding forward, clutching my head in sheer pain.

"Fuck…! What the hell is this…?!" Eva cursed beside me, also collapsing over her console.

It felt like a hand had reached into my skull and was prying it open from inside—not just a sensation, but actual pressure pressing at my brain. It was something I had never experienced before.

The source of the attack was unmistakable—definitely a Shuulwailer.

Clenching my teeth and forcing myself through the agony, I grabbed a lever, aimed blindly at an empty section of space—guided by instinct more than data—and pulled the trigger.

The ship's upper turrets responded instantly, gathering power and unleashing a synchronized barrage. Several lasers converged at the coordinates I had targeted. A heartbeat later, another sound echoed—different this time.

*KRYAAAGH!*

And almost simultaneously, the oppressive pressure in my head vanished like it was never there. Eva and I slumped back, gasping for breath, soaked in cold sweat.

"That caught me off-guard," I muttered, wiping the large beads rolling down my forehead.

But we weren't the only ones affected.

That Shuulwailer hadn't targeted just us—it struck the entire fleet. Unlike Eva and me, most of the pirate crews couldn't respond rationally. Their instinctive reaction was to panic—firing wildly, jerking the controls with no clear direction.

"Shields hit! Friendly fire...! I repeat, Friendly Fire!!!" Eva reported sharply.

We stared at the displays, watching the shield values plummet rapidly. At this rate, they'd oversaturate in moments, requiring extensive cooldown time to recover.

Fortunately, the outburst didn't last long.

The ships soon went eerily silent. Those manning the weapons—those responsible for the wild, chaotic firing—had ended up... dead.