Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva-Chapter 1558 - 51: The Ze of the Road

"What is correctness?"

"It is the righteous declaration of the victor."

"Today, we shall write correctness."

One by one, crimson-edged warships sailed into the Hemu Star Domain, the heart of the Western Star Region, a place of sorrow, glory, and destined final battle.

Nearly a hundred thousand warships formed an endless majestic array in the depths of space, stretching across tens of thousands of miles. The edges of the warships were arranged like sharp spearheads, aligned neatly and advancing slowly onward.

The trails left by the high-temperature particles, sprayed in the vast star sea, were incredibly magnificent.

In the wars of the old era, five thousand cavalry would be endlessly unyielding, but in the Interstellar Era, a single main fleet can bring billions of combatants directly onto the battlefield. They would incinerate worlds, shatter the sun, and wherever they went, the borders of civilization advanced accordingly, with the remnants of the Dark Age being ground away step by step.

This is the Rose Federation, the pioneers of the Sixth Era, a bastion of the brilliance of human civilization once again.

To remold the Federation’s order, reclaim past glory, and change this fragmented world, the Federation’s Fifth Fleet stands at the gates, reaching the Hemu Star Domain of the Western Star Region.

On the opposite side is an equally well-prepared magnificent fleet, its gleaming golden ships facing away from the sun, arrayed within the star system, just as endless. Each warship stands silent like a warrior facing the powerful enemy that has traveled a long distance.

They are the guardians of their homeland, unyielding and tenacious warriors, prepared for the sacrifice they might have to make.

The two fleets are separated by a vast distance, staring at each other intently, as if knowing in this final moment they must observe each other well, because they both have an instinctive feeling that no matter the battle’s outcome, they will never again have such an opportunity.

"Perhaps this is the romance of soldiers, witnessing the other’s majestic death and likewise, appreciating the last beauty of this world before one’s own death."

Within the bridge, an officer gazed afar at the gradually approaching array, raising a glass in his hand, his eyes filled with a mix of obsession and determination, before pouring the cold liquid down his throat.

...

In tension and orderliness, the two fleets drew slowly closer, both forming the most perfect of arrays, numerous shields unfurled across the fleet forming a wavy ocean, and then the battleship main guns ignited, heralding the onset of a magnificent barrage.

Under the empowerment of the new ’Red Lotus Weapon Mode,’ the Fifth Fleet’s main cannon fire achieved results in the first round. Bright to the point of being eerily beautiful, deep red particles shot from the Axis Main Cannon of the battleship, unraveled the enemy’s shield at unimaginable speed. Although the shots did not completely hit the enemy battleship due to interference from Cruiser force fields, the dispersed ’Red Flame Particles’ easily dissolved the targeted cruisers and destroyers.

Once the first shot was fired, both fleets’ fighters and mechas surged forth from standby status, transforming into meteors across the sky, rushing towards the enemy formation. Their size was small enough and flexible enough to be difficult for the battleship’s main guns to lock onto, not worth the shot.

Outside the battleships’ areas of mutual bombardment, these fighters and mechas constantly veered at high speed, dodging the barrage of enemy fire, though occasionally, an unfortunate unit would be struck by a cruiser or destroyer, turning into a splendid explosion in the void of space.

Nevertheless, such long-distance targets, being hit was rare. More of the nimble units managed to roam through the middle void, engaging in combat with the enemy’s launched fighters.

Both sides’ fighters and mechas engaged fiercely in a patch of space, with thousands of sparks exploding every second.

"Beep beep beep, enemy aircraft detected, locked by 39 targeting radars, please evade..."

In the cockpit, Yireisen was submerged in orange buffer liquid, an alarming, disconcerting sound resonated in his helmet’s earpiece. His pupils scanned rapidly, observing the swiftly passing enemies and allies in his view.

His consciousness was already linked with the mech’s neural system, and at this moment, he maneuvered the mech as if commanding his own body, dodging various attacks while firing back, shooting down or inflicting glancing blows on enemies in sight.

Compared to fighters, mechas indeed couldn’t match their speed in linear acceleration, but aside from that, mechas had almost all advantages over fighters. They could carry more powerful magic furnaces, sturdier armor, more potent weaponry, and thanks to their neural link mode, in instantaneous engagements, they could react faster, making subtle adjustments that could change the entire outcome.

A mech pilot must at least be Sequence 5 to endure the overwhelming magic power infusion and saturation, and those who were not Sequence 5 or unsuitable for neural linking among the Transcendents could only choose fighters for high-speed space combat. In fact, Transcendents above Sequence 6 had various roles and rarely boarded fighters, thereby wasting their talent and strength.

Burnt orange streams skimmed across the mech’s surface, leaving a half-meter deep charred trench. Yireisen felt a heat in his chest, understanding this marked the mech being damaged. Yet at this moment, he did not instinctively lower his head like an ordinary person would, instead, he propelled the mech, altering its flight path just in time to avoid further exposure to the beams, preventing the chest wound on his mech from expanding.

If he had been a second slower, the armor in front of the mech would have burned through, his cockpit melted and evaporated, with him being cooked alive inside the pilot seat.