Intergalactic conquest with an AI
Chapter 70: Lurking in the shadows.

With a thunderous command, every capital ship in the fleet unleashed a barrage of firepower. The main cannons roared, lighting up the void as they hammered the Khryssari ships, tearing through small and medium vessels like paper.

The hive queen watched with a twisted grin. "So, these pests think they can scare me with their little toys," she sneered. "They may wipe out the weaklings, but I won't sit idly by and be humiliated."

She raised a long, clawed finger, pointing directly at the enemy fleet. "Destroy them. All of them. My pets feast on their fear."

The allied fleet kept up their relentless assault, firing as fast as their main cannons could recharge. From the looks of it, they had the upper hand in the skirmish. But there was an old saying among those who fought the hive: underestimate them, and you're as good as dead.

"Officer, any reports from our ships?" Voss asked, his voice steady but with a hint of tension. He barely turned as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the chaos beyond the viewport.

The communications officer looked up, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "Sir, some of our ships report strange impacts. They can't detect anything on sensors, so they're assuming it's debris, but it doesn't add up."

"Interesting," Voss murmured. "Keep me updated on anything unusual." He folded his hands behind his back, watching as the battle unfolded, his eyes narrowing.

Meanwhile, deep within the allied fleet, something far more sinister was stirring.

In the darkened corridors of a midsize ship, the hum of machinery was the only sound, interrupted only by the occasional sputter as the guns outside fell silent, waiting for resupply. No one noticed, no one cared. After all, shortages were common in these battles.

But down in a cramped maintenance shaft, a lone technician cowered, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He was covered in blood, not all of it his own, and his hands shook as he tried to erease any sound.

He had wedged himself into a tiny compartment, a space meant for technicians repairing cables, but now it served as his hiding spot from something far worse than enemy fire.

Outside, in the dimly lit hallway, a heavy, dragging sound grew louder, punctuated by low, menacing growls. Each footstep thudded against the metal floor, and the technician's heart pounded in time with the echo. He held his breath, desperate not to make a sound.

But fate can be cruel.

With a slight metallic clink, one of his tools slipped from his belt, a screwdriver falling and clattering loudly on the metallic floor. The sound was deafening in the silence, and his blood ran cold.

"No, no, please, no," he whispered, crawling further inside into the vent, but there was nowhere left to go. His panicked breaths quickened, turning into shallow gasps as a shadow fell across the compartment.

Three long, slick tentacles snaked into the vent, wrapping around his legs with cold, unyielding strength. He let out a scream, pure terror ripping through him as he was dragged out into the open.

"H-Help!" His voice was raw, filled with primal fear, but there was no one left to hear him.

As he was pulled free, he came face-to-face with the nightmare.

It was a towering figure, standing nearly two meters tall, with an elongated skull and no eyes, just a smooth, reflective black exoskeleton. Its mouth was a twisted maw filled with jagged, needle-like teeth, dripping with a thick green slime that hissed as it hit the floor.

The creature's body seemed built for death, its limbs stretched into writhing tentacles perfectly suited for moving through the shadows of space.

This was a Khryssari Void Crawler, the stuff of legend and fear, an elite soldier bred to infiltrate and destroy.

With a guttural roar, the creature lunged, its jaws snapping shut around the technician's torso, cutting him clean in half. His screams were abruptly silenced, replaced by the sickening crunch of bone and flesh as the creature began to feed, savoring the taste of its latest victim.

And somewhere, in the darkness of the ship, more Void Crawlers stirred, creeping through the silent corridors, hunting down the last of the crew, one by one. The ship was theirs now, another silent grave drifting through the endless night.

And this ship wasn't alone. Across the vast reaches of the battlefield, countless other vessels shared the same horrific fate, their crews dying in silence, helpless against the creeping terror. There was no glory here, no honor to be salvaged, only raw, unfiltered fear.

By the time anyone in command realized the extent of the carnage, it would likely be far too late.

Meanwhile, on the planet's surface, the ground battle was reaching its climax. Rex had finally managed to regroup with his troops, but they were battered, barely holding together.

Out of the four hover tanks they'd started with, only one remained, and inside it was Carlos, slumped and bleeding, too wounded to stand, let alone fight.

Meanwhile, Rex, thanks to Cleo's relentless patchwork healing, was in slightly better shape, though he wasn't even half healed; his injuries stitched together just well enough to keep him standing.

And as they emerged from the canyon, they were greeted by a sight straight out of a nightmare.

The entire horizon was crawling with Khryssari. Hundreds of thousands of bug swarm troops had converged on the battlefield, an endless tide of insectoid bodies moving with ruthless precision.

Despite the combined firepower of the allied forces, it barely seemed to dent the relentless horde. What the allies held in firepower, the Khryssari made up for in sheer overwhelming numbers, and they weren't mindless beasts either.

Throughout the battlefield, gaping holes had opened in the ground, and from these dark pits, wave upon wave of Khryssari warriors poured out, ambushing the allied ground units and dragging them into brutal hand-to-hand combat.

The Khryssari warriors were ferocious in melee, towering beasts with razor-sharp claws and brutal strength, far beyond what any ordinary allied soldier could hope to match. Rex could see how the lines were crumbling, the soldiers around him falling back in desperate attempts to avoid being overrun.

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He took a moment, just a moment, to look back at his troops, gathered in a loose defensive formation. Their faces were drawn, pale, eyes wide with terror as they looked to him for any scrap of hope.

He could feel the weight of their fear, their desperation, all of it pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. But what could he do? Here he stood, no enhancements, no AI whispering in his ear with tactical advice, no overdrive mode to turn him into a god on the battlefield. Just a man, a soldier, standing tall at two and a half meters, facing a tide of death.

Rex clenched his fists, feeling the bruises and cuts throbbing along his arms. He knew there was no safe place left on this cursed planet, no fallback point where they could regroup and plan. There was only the swarm, closing in like a nightmare given flesh.

For the first time, Rex truly felt the weight of the responsibility he bore. It had always been there, lingering at the edge of his mind, but before, he'd shouldered it with ease, his enhanced powers making it feel almost trivial.

Now, stripped of his strength, just a regular man, the burden pressed down on him with a crushing force.

Ys, who had been standing close by, sensed the shift in him. Their bond was deeper than words, and she could feel the strain he was under. Without hesitation, she stepped closer, gently taking his bruised, calloused hand in hers.

"Rex," she murmured, her voice laced with concern, "if this is too much for you, I could call my aunt. She could get us off this planet and take us somewhere safe. She and my mother have a close bond, so she would help us."

She meant it as an offer of compassion, a lifeline. But to Rex, it was something entirely else. He looked into her eyes, and a small, weary smile broke across his face as he let out a dry laugh.

"Ha... yeah, I guess that's true," he said, his voice low and reflective. "This really is something bigger than me. Just some desk slave trying to live the life of a hero. What a joke, huh?" He glanced at his battered troops, each one looking to him with trust and hope.

And finally, his gaze returned to Ys, her face filled with worry.

"Don't worry, Ys," he said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I'm pretty sure you didn't fall in love with someone as pathetic as I'm acting right now, right?" He forced a smile, determined not to let her see his fear.

His hand moved to her head, ruffling her hair gently. "I'll show your aunt and everyone else just how amazing the man you chose really is."

As he spoke, his eyes gleamed with a fierce golden light, the same glow they held when he'd once entered overdrive mode. It was impossible since he couldn't access that power now, not without Cleo. But for that moment, the fire within him reignited, refusing to be extinguished.

He turned to his troops, raising his voice so they could all hear him over the distant roar of battle.

"Listen up, everyone! Hell is right in front of us!" he shouted, his voice ringing out with a strength that belied his injuries. "We're exhausted; we're bleeding, and I'm no exception! But there are hundreds of soldiers down there, just like us, clinging to life, fighting with everything they've got!"

His gaze swept over his men and women, and he could see the exhaustion in their eyes, the fear, but also the flickers of determination sparking to life.