Editing Tytania:Volume 4 Chapter 4 (section)

=== II ===
The Uraniborg fleet, which had ended up sailing alongside the twenty thousand ships of the Ariabert-Jouslain Alliance, was not governed by tension alone.

Some wondered what they were even doing when they were all members of Tytania, while others even dared to hope for a full-scale collision.

Zarlisch’s former subordinates preferred powerful command, simple and clear orders, and aggressive attacks. Rather, they believed that such was the very nature of combat. To lead them and make them fight with their lives on the line, one required a charisma that could rival Zarlisch’s.

Fan Hyulick possessed plenty of charisma; he certainly ought to have. Although the circumstances of the battle had been quite irregular, it was Hyulick who had caused the death of Zarlisch, the man hailed as a “ruthless general”. In that case, he should have been capable of commanding Zarlisch’s former subordinates even more effectively than Zarlisch himself. Yet, it was only natural for the human heart that the greater the devotion felt toward Zarlisch, the stronger the resentment and estrangement felt toward Hyulick became. They felt as though their very lives as warriors they had spent fighting and surviving alongside Zarlisch were being denied.

Because he understood this far too well, Hyulick hesitated to issue orders with a firm hand.

“You are quite unprepared at this late stage, aren’t you?” remarked Doctor Lee with sarcasm.

“I never once said I was prepared, you know. Or that I would become a leader of the anti-Tytania forces.”

“Rest assured, I have never heard you say it.”

“I am just saying that the media loves that sort of thing.”

“Well, that is the nature of the media. They manufacture heroes, only to drag them through the mud. Ever since the era before interplanetary flight, they have repeated this cycle without ever tiring of it.”

Doctor Lee adopted the tone of a lecturer.

“It is terrifying to criticise Tytania, while on the other hand no matter how much one slanders Fan Hyulick, there is no fear of retaliation. In order to survive, the media’s strategy is to choose opponents they can defeat before attacking. Amusingly enough, this is quite similar to military strategy.”

“I don’t find that amusing at all.”

Hyulick had maintained a sullen expression for so long that he could feel a dull, aching fatigue around his cheeks and brows. It was the price he paid for persisting with such an uncharacteristic look.

“There are even those who say Hyulick is an eternal rebel…”

Even Miranda had begun to chime in.

“It seems that’s not quite right. Eternal fugitive suits him much better.”

“Hmph. Run when winning, run when losing? It seems life is nothing more than an act of fleeing.”

A flash of light raced across the screen, silencing everyone.

The massive hull of the Ariabert-Jouslain Allied Fleet’s capital ship showered the defensive screens with dazzling sparks. Ahead of it, an orange fireball swelled, turned white, and burst apart, letting out a scream that tore through the silent world.

“Which side fired first!?”

“We don’t have time to be worrying about that!”

Neither commander had issued an order to fire. It was less an accidental commencement of hostilities than something else entirely.

Fireballs exploded. They did not erupt as single spheres but in sequences of five, ten, and more, glittering brilliantly as if they were a necklace of precious gems; it was a sight that made one forget that each single fireball represented the loss of hundreds or even thousands of lives.

Ariabert’s spindle formation did not waver in the slightest. The outermost edge of the fleet, numbering some twenty thousand vessels of various sizes, appeared to be a mobile and impenetrable wall.

“It is a formation focused on defence.”

Seraphine Coopers overheard Hyulick’s murmur and glanced back and forth between his face and the screen.

“They have lined up heavy ships with high defensive capabilities along the outermost layer of the formation. It is a structure designed to protect the high-mobility, fast-attack ships from incoming fire.”

“Can we not break through that wall with sheer firepower?”

“It would be difficult. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“Even if we did break through, it might lead to even worse consequences.”

An imp named “bad premonition” was clawing at Hyulick’s heart.

There was no way to demand cooperation or an assessment of the battlefield, but Zarlisch’s former subordinates, especially the officers of captain rank, should have been brave and well-versed in actual combat.

Having readily abandoned the tactic of group formation, Fan Hyulick took hold of the microphone.

“All ships, restrain your fire. In the event of an enemy attack…”

Hyulick’s grim face was sharply divided into light and shadow. From the wall of the enemy’s massive vessels, hundreds, even thousands, of spears of light thrust forth, racing through the void to assault the forces of Uraniborg. The storm of energy struck the great ships, erupting in a blinding brilliance; as it enveloped the smaller vessels, they were transformed into fireballs and scattered, utterly unable to resist.

The distant reaches of space remained silent, cloaked in eternal darkness, while the nearby cosmos had become a garden of raging energy, shimmering with iridescent light.

“Hyulick, has my intuition failed me? Over a hundred ships were destroyed all at once just now.”

Seraphine countered Doctor Lee’s cold remark:

“That was just the beginning! Fan defeated Duke Ariabert, and he did it twice!”

“That is a matter of the past. By using the past tense, you’ve confirmed it yourself, Sera.”

“……!”

Averting his gaze from the speechless Seraphine, Doctor Lee looked towards the back of Hyulick’s head. The target of his character analysis was restless. He was frantically scratching his carrot-coloured hair and shrugging his shoulders. He was also probably uncrossing and recrossing his legs too.

Doctor Lee attempted to peer into Hyulick’s mind as if performing a psychological X-ray. He surmised that Hyulick was likely thinking: ''maximum gain for minimum loss.''

Far beyond the screen Hyulick was glaring at, amidst the intensifying gunfire, Jouslain had barely managed to maintain a direct channel with Ariabert.

“Do you think Hyulick will resort to some sort of trickery?”

“No…”

Ariabert shook his head.

“Even if he were to use trickery, timing is everything. If he misses his window, it will either fail to materialise or prove counter-productive. Besides, this time, it is doubtful how seriously that man even intends to fight.”

“I see.”

Jouslain believed Ariabert’s analysis to be correct. In a sense, perhaps no one knew Fan Hyulick as intimately as Ariabert did.

At present, Ariabert held an overwhelmingly advantageous position against his sworn enemy. If he were driven by a desire for vengeance, he would likely attempt to crush them with the full strength of his twenty thousand vessels. Yet, Ariabert refused to yield to that temptation, remaining dedicated to a cold and calculated deployment of his forces. There was no one who did not know the ''Golden Sheep'' as Ariabert’s flagship. Energy waves arriving from Uraniborg forces were beginning to concentrate.

An explosion of light erupted close by, and an ominous glow occupied the screen. It was a magic of light that made the faces of the living appear like the dead, and the faces of the dead appear like ghosts. Seated in his command chair with his arms and legs crossed, Ariabert watched the screen with an unmoving posture. As long as he maintained that appearance, there was no agitation on the bridge of the ''Golden Sheep'', and naturally, such a lack of disturbance could not possibly spread to the rest of the army.

“Is the ''Austra'' safe?”

Ariabert even had the composure to pose such a question to the communications officer. Upon receiving the reply, “Completely undamaged”, he nodded as if it were only to be expected. He then issued a new command.

“Fire a second volley!”

Once again, more than a hundred flashes and fireballs occupied the screen. This time, more than ten spears of light pierced a single large vessel of the Uraniborg fleet, tearing through its thick defences. Amidst the erupting brilliance, dust seemed to swirl, mingled with the fragments of the shattered hull.

On the bridge of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'', Radmoth moved.

A crew member of the ''Honest Old Man Junior'' who had been at the communications station was suddenly grabbed by the collar and dragged down. After shoving the crewman aside, Radmoth seized the microphone and roared:

“I am Baron Radmoth Tytania. From this moment forth, I shall take command of the entire army!”

His unilateral declaration raced through the communication circuits of every ship.