A 300 ter mature Space Octopus could not withstand the firepower of over twenty main cannons.
Despite curling its most durable tentacles in front of its body to serve as a shield, a single volley left it riddled with over a dozen gaping wounds, each over a ter wide. Among them, seven or eight shots completely pierced through its body.
However, a weakness of energy beam weapons beca apparent at this mont.
The beams’ high penetration ant they transferred very little kinetic energy to the target upon impact.
As a result, while the mature Space Octopus was severely injured, its montum remained almost unaffected as it barreled toward the Daqi warships.
“Switch to burst energy mode!” Prince Diallo ordered urgently. Burst energy mode traded penetration for explosive force, making it more effective at halting an advancing target.
Diallo had a gut feeling. Though this mature form seed unimpressive, the swarm would not have launched it without good reason—it must have so unique abilities.
Unfortunately, the main cannons required ti to recharge, and the mature form, propelled by the gastructure, was closing the distance at high speed. Before the second volley in burst mode could fire, the Space Octopus was already upon them.
Its tightly curled tentacles suddenly unfurled. Though many were mangled or missing, the remaining ones flailed wildly, exuding a ferocious energy.
From the nozzle on its underside, blue electric arcs flickered as its plasma propulsion organ fired at full power. However, instead of accelerating, it was using the propulsion to decelerate.
Even so, the output of the mature form’s propulsion organ was no match for the gastructure that had launched it. Overloaded, it still slamd into the rear of a 1,600-ter-class standard warship at an alarming speed.
The massive impact instantly knocked out one of the warship’s main thrusters, causing the vessel to lurch violently. Inside, Daqi crew mbers stumbled and fell.
The hard landing wasn’t kind to the Space Octopus either. Already battered from the earlier barrage, parts of its body were pulverized into unrecognizable mush. However, thanks to its soft, cartilage-based anatomy, much of the force was absorbed.
Despite its grievous injuries, the mature form clung stubbornly to the warship. Its back split open, revealing a gaping cavity from which nurous smaller creatures began pouring out.
These were smaller mature bodies and larval bodies, ranging in size from 100 ters to as little as 7 or 8 ters. Upon erging, they dispersed rapidly, attacking various sections of the warship.
“Activate the laser defense array and close-in defense cannons!” Diallo ordered swiftly, fully aware of the threat these creatures posed.
Hidden hatches on the warship opened, deploying laser turrets and close-in defense cannons. The latter were fairly standard, but the compact, ship-mounted laser turrets were particularly eye-catching.
The Rikens, who had been observing the spectacle, watched with envy. They had always believed that possessing such technology would enable them to counter the swarm’s electromagnetic railguns and achieve victory. However, seeing the Daqi—equipped with repulsion fields and laser turrets—being driven to desperation by the swarm shattered those illusions.
Countless small energy beams streaked across the void, interwoven with red laser threads that slashed in all directions, creating a dazzling light show. The visual effects were spectacular, and the atmosphere was intense.
However, the effectiveness of the Daqi’s close-in defense systems left much to be desired.
The energy beams fired by the close-in defense cannons were too small in caliber to effectively damage the swarm’s bio-armor, which was bolstered with resistance-enhancing buffs.
Against larval bodies, they proved sowhat effective, but against mature Space Octopuses, the beams could only create small bloody craters on their surface—re superficial wounds for such creatures.
anwhile, the effectiveness of the miniaturized laser emitters was even more disappointing. Ever since the Rikens developed laser weapons, Luo Wen had implented a minor upgrade to the swarm’s bio-armor.
Back during Luo Wen’s exploits on the Genesis Planet, he had a signature skill that earned him both fa and the ire of countless native creatures—Optical Camouflage.
This ability functioned by utilizing nanoscale crystal particles embedded in the armor to reflect light identical to the surrounding environnt, effectively allowing the user to blend in seamlessly.
Since lasers, at their core, are concentrated beams of light, they were inherently countered by this chanism. Luo Wen’s upgrade involved thickening the nanoscale crystal particle layer within the bio-armor, enabling it to endure higher-power laser attacks.
Beyond this enhancent, no other changes were made, so the update qualified as a minor version upgrade.
This nanoscale crystal layer created a reflective surface when exposed to laser strikes, achieving a reflectivity of over 95%. Against large-scale ground-based laser emplacents, the residual 5% of light energy converted into heat might still scorch through a mature form’s crystal-layer defense. However, the diminutive power of the ship-mounted laser emitters was simply insufficient.
This led to a surreal scene witnessed by the Rikens and others on the observation screens. A thin red laser beam locked onto an 80-ter-class mature Space Octopus. Despite the beam traveling at near-light speed, leaving the target no ti to evade, the result was anticlimactic. Other than a faint blackened scorch mark on the octopus’s bio-armor, there was no discernible damage.
“Damn it! Another undocunted ability!” Prince Diallo cursed once more. Such uncharacteristic outbursts were rare for the third prince, who had been rigorously trained in noble etiquette since childhood.
Frustrated, Diallo ran his hands through his hair, pulling out several strands in the process. A nagging suspicion crept into his mind, had he unwittingly offended soone influential? Was this a deliberate setup?
In his view, the Suzerain had always been unfathomably powerful. Yet, the intelligence they provided was riddled with critical oversights.
It seed implausible that such a young and seemingly peculiar interstellar civilization could so thoroughly conceal its capabilities from the Suzerain’s scrutiny.
The more he thought about it, the more deliberate targeting seed like the likelier explanation.
But there was no ti to dwell on such thoughts. Outside, the Space Octopuses were wreaking havoc with reckless abandon.
Although the spacefaring age had rendered lee combat seemingly obsolete, especially in the face of massive firepower, the swarm’s unique biology—and the eccentric preferences of a certain Overlord—ensured that close-quarters combat not only endured but had been upgraded several tis. It simply hadn’t found a fitting stage for its display—until now.
The stage was set, and Luo-style Combat Techniques were making a grand return.
A close-in defense cannon swiveled, pouring out a torrent of firepower. Its rapid-fire chanism unleashed a dense rain of light, saturating the void as it targeted a Space Octopus. Each unit boasted 164 mini-barrels, capable of firing tens of thousands of rounds per minute.
But just as the barrage reached its peak, a tentacle suddenly extended from the cannon’s blind spot, wrapping around its base. Another tentacle followed, coiling tightly and locking the cannon’s rotation chanism, rendering it unable to counterattack.
The octopus then anchored itself to the ship with additional tentacles. Using its entire body, it exerted imnse force. Blue electric arcs crackled along its appendages, while its plasma propulsion organ expelled streams of energy for added torque.
Luo-style Combat Technique: Pulling the Radish!
Under the imnse strain, the close-in defense cannon’s support struts gave way, snapping apart.
With its power supply and circuitry severed, the cannon dimd. Its once-blazing barrels, glowing red-hot, gradually cooled and faded back to a lifeless black.
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