In the next five seconds, silence gripped the Conclave forces as they struggled to process what had just occurred. The concept of a black hole was sothing they had only studied from afar, a distant cosmic phenonon at the center of the galaxy, safely observed but never experienced. Now, faced with the unimaginable reality of being caught in its devastating force, panic set in. The terror was overwhelming—horror-inducing, will-breaking, and utterly impossible to combat.
Ten seconds later, the urgency hit them. With only fifteen seconds left to respond or face another round of annihilation, chaos erupted. Frenzied shouting filled the air as soldiers and commanders alike scread for their leaders to surrender. Discipline, rank, and years of training were forgotten in the face of imminent death, as the overwhelming fear of being obliterated consud them.
They were prepared to sacrifice their lives for their civilization, their organization, or any cause they believed in—but only if their deaths had aning. Dying without purpose was foolish, and they knew it. In the midst of the chaos, as panic spread across the fleet, that thought echoed in the minds of many. They hadn't co this far just to be obliterated without reason.
Amid the turmoil, a few factions managed to maintain enough composure for their leaders to communicate. These more organized groups quickly realized that their carefully laid plans had crumbled. In a scramble for damage control, they sought a path toward the least destructive outco, knowing they were facing a force that had already shattered their expectations.
……….
While the various groups were either panicking or deliberating on how to minimize damage, maintaining a cautious distance, one faction seed oblivious to the transmission—or perhaps, they simply chose to ignore it. They advanced steadily, undeterred by the warnings. Without hesitation, their ships launched a barrage of missiles, each accelerating to ten percent of light speed upon leaving the vessels.
Through mana vision, it beca clear that a spell accompanied the missile barrage, boosting their speed even further. Hundreds of thousands of missiles hurtled through space, their velocity ensuring they would reach their targets within re minutes, despite the vast distance separating them from the imperial fleet.
Not stopping there, the defiant faction transmitted a ssage to all forces within the Conclave:
"Their threats are hollow. They can’t repeat what they’ve done without causing irreversible damage to themselves. They’ve done this because they know we outnumber them fifty to one and can’t win in a direct battle. So, they’ve used their entire stockpile of weapons of mass destruction to scare us into surrender and break our pride. But we will not yield, even if every last one of you decides to cower. We stand firm, and even if we face them alone, we are more than enough to handle this situation."
The announcent radiated with unmistakable pride and defiance, as if daring anyone listening to doubt their resolve.
Anyone who heard the announcent understood that the other side was not bluffing at all. The Valthorin race was renowned for their unyielding pride and all-encompassing sense of honor. Their culture revolved around a concept known as "Kairos," which translates to "The Eternal Fla of Pride."
This belief dictated that a Valthorin’s worth was asured by how they upheld their pride in every aspect of life. It was deed better to die with dignity than to live in disgrace, and any affront to a Valthorin’s pride demanded a response—whether through combat, diplomacy, or cunning.
Within the Conclave, no one considered the Valthorin a weak race; they consistently ranked among the top ten civilizations. This reputation stemd from their pride-driven society, which produced both warriors and scholars dedicated to excelling in their respective fields. Each individual aspired to climb the hierarchy and enhance their honor.
As a result, the Valthorin excelled in every discipline, and were also obsessed with their reputation which they would go to great lengths to maintain it, including assassination, sabotage, or forming temporary alliances with other races.
However, they would never act dishonorably against their own kind. Because while individual pride was paramount, the Valthorin were fiercely loyal to their people and empire. They believed that the success and survival of their race were intrinsically linked to their own pride, fostering a collective ntality of superiority.
As a result, when such a group sent out an announcent, it signified that they were backing it with their pride—a value they held more precious than life itself. This made their words carry imnse weight, indicating a near certainty in what they were proclaiming.
As a result of that announcent, many of the forces present regained their composure, allowing them to see the broader picture that had eluded them in the chaos following the previous catastrophic event. Recognizing the truth in the Valthorin’s declaration, they found a renewed sense of purpose. Emboldened by their collective frustration and the desire to avenge their earlier losses, each faction began launching their missiles and deploying every long-range weapon at their disposal. A wave of counterattacks surged through the ranks, as the forces united in a shared determination to retaliate against the enemy.
……………
“The Valthorin, a good race to have under our empire,” Aron remarked, observing the unfolding situation with a sense of calm.
{If you can achieve annexing them, they will be the perfect asset for the empire and the expansion plan,} Nova replied, her voice steady. She understood that they were well-prepared to handle the majority of the initial wave of attacks without significant issues.
“Though I need to gather more information about their Pride Nexus and Honor Blades. If I can replicate those, it would make our plans much more effective and easier to implent,” Aron mused, recalling the snippets of information they had collected from captured crew mbers of Xalthar’s ship.
The Pride Nexus, he rembered, was a vast network of interconnected minds among the Valthorin elite. It allowed them to share thoughts, strategies, and mories, significantly enhancing their decision-making abilities. However, access was limited to those who had proven their worth aning it might have even more capabilities than known by the rest of the Conclave.
In contrast, the Honor Blades were personal weapon —or any object created from specific materials— crafted upon coming of age. Each blade contained an imprint of its wielder's soul, forming a unique bond that rendered it utterly useless to anyone else. For the owner, it served as an irreplaceable symbol of pride and identity, a testant to their character and accomplishnts.
“But first, let’s focus on the current situation before getting lost in thoughts about the future and risking a mistake in the present,” he said, his gaze fixed on the incoming attacks as they finally entered a range that allowed for an effective response.
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