144: Virtual happiness

Unlike the overwhelming displays of thousands of warships in the past, this task force consisted of only six warships.

Yet, no one dared to underestimate these six steel creations.

At the core of the formation was the Eternal Silence, a newly commissioned Titan-class flagship representing the pinnacle of Faleim Civilization's conventional warship technology.

Its hull was an astonishing 300 kilometers long, rendered in a matte black that absorbed all detection beams and light, as if it were forged from the deepest darkness in the universe.

Unlike the elegant, flowing lines of previous falam warships, this Titan was filled with an angular, violent aesthetic, its heavy neutron-element armor layered like the scales of a giant dragon.

At its bow was a massive acceleration rail running along the central axis of the hull, housing Faleim Civilization's ultimate conventional weapon—the Annihilation Beam.

The principle of this weapon was extremely simple and brutal: using the Titan's reactor, which rivaled a black hole singularity, to supply power, it forced a continuous annihilation reaction between massive amounts of antimatter and matter under the constraints of spatial technology, focusing the resulting high-energy gamma-ray bursts and particle streams into a beam to be fired forward.

A single Annihilation Beam was enough to pierce a planet the size of Earth; if used against energy entities, this purely destructive energy was the perfect weapon.

On the back of the Titan, where the carrier hangar should have been, stood a silver-gray spire several kilometers high.

That was a specially made wide-area anti-psionic interference obelisk; once activated, it would become a black hole for The Void Realm energy, forcibly tearing open an absolute "magic-free zone" in the material universe.

The five battleships surrounding the Titan were heavy firepower platforms called Sciences End-class. They had removed all hangars and unnecessary habitation modules, cramming every inch of space with Neutron Emitters and Phase Disintegration Beam generators. Their mission was singular: to serve as distractors and fire-magnets after the avatar of that indescribable god descended, buying time for the Titan's main cannon to charge.

"Operation plan confirmed."

Back in the Central Council hall, Lei Wen looked at the simulation on the screen and nodded.

The plan was outrageously simple, with no flashy tactical maneuvering.

Step one: The task force would use the Jump Drive to ignore spatial distance and jump directly to the edge of the gravity well of the Angel Empire's capital system, the Celestial Throne.

Step two: One battleship would break away from the formation, use its sub-light speed engines to penetrate the orbit of the Cradle Star, and conduct a precision strike on the ritual site where the anchoring contract was detected—commonly known as "orbital bombardment"—to physically sever the anchor point of the contract.

Step three: The Titan flagship would activate the anti-psionic jammer, pushing power to the red line, cutting off the entire system's connection to The Void Realm as if pulling a power plug.

Step four: Based on the Central AI's calculation of the combat effectiveness of psionic avatars encountered in the old universe, when that angry psionic avatar stepped out of The Void Realm to vent its fury on the material world, the five battleships would be responsible for containment, and the Titan flagship would use the Annihilation Beam to give it a chilling blow to send it back home. If one shot wasn't enough, two would suffice. The AI's most conservative prediction did not believe a psionic avatar could withstand three hits from the Annihilation Beam, unless that avatar came from the End of the Cycle.

"This is the optimal solution," Price commented. "Although simple, for an existence maintained by idealistic power, pure physical destruction is often the most effective exorcism ritual."

"Fleet assembly complete, supply loading at 12%, expected to depart in three standard weeks," Talon reported.

"Very good." Lei Wen looked at the black Titan, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes.

God-slaying.

In Earth's mythology, this was the ultimate feat of a hero, but in the interstellar era, it was merely a slightly tricky special military operation.

...

However, compared to the tense, murderous atmosphere of preparation on the Faleim side, the situation on the redemption, which was traveling through the warp lane toward the imperial capital dozens of light-years away, was becoming increasingly bizarre.

Major General Trier stood on the wide bridge of the redemption, his brow furrowed, his face so dark it seemed water could drip from it.

The state of the Angel officers around him caused this Faleim soldier to feel a strong sense of physical discomfort.

They had become a bit too carefree.

The helmsman at the console was humming an unknown tune while tapping the control panel nonchalantly, even placing a cup of bubbling drink next to him. The officer in charge of radar monitoring had simply propped his feet up on the table, excitedly discussing the plot of a virtual game from last night with the communicator next to him, completely ignoring the abnormal data occasionally popping up on the screen.

A strange sense of relaxation permeated the entire bridge.

"Is this the influence of the instrument of desire?" Trier looked at this scene coldly. "It is not just satisfaction, but corruption. It is eroding the ambition of living beings, turning them into pigs who only know how to enjoy the moment... The worst part is that even so, their efficiency has not decreased, but actually increased."

What gave Trier the biggest headache was the nominal commander of this fleet, Her Highness Amira Radiance, who had sworn to save the empire.

Trier turned around and strode toward the recreational room located in the living area.

Along the way, the corridor was cluttered with miscellaneous items—trash the crew couldn't be bothered to clean up. Several Angel soldiers were gathered together gambling, their wings drooping loosely behind them, feathers disheveled and lusterless, and there were even a few guys dead drunk lying in the middle of the corridor, snoring loudly.

Was this a desperate force going to serve the king and save the country? This was practically a vacation ship hosting a luxury round-the-universe cruise party!

"Damn it." Trier cursed under his breath. "If this continues, the fleet will fall apart before reaching the imperial capital."

In fact, the fleet had already begun to fall apart.

During this long voyage, the remnants of Raphael's forces that had originally followed the redemption, that escort formation of over two hundred warships, had already suffered serious personnel attrition.

Not deserters, but lost.

Yes, lost.

The captains and Navigators of those warships, addicted to some inexplicable sense of happiness, had actually forgotten to calibrate their headings during Warp Drive, or simply felt that "going to that star system to see the scenery would be nice," and then left the formation without authorization.

Currently, three frigates and one cruiser had inexplicably disappeared into the sea of stars, drifting off to who knows where, and the remaining warships showed no reaction to the disappearance of their companions, as if it were a trivial matter.

Trier even suspected that if the main brain of the redemption hadn't been taken over by a Faleim AI, this capital ship would have already crashed into some star system.

He arrived at the door of the recreational room; the door was closed, but he had top-level clearance.

As the identification passed, the door slid open.

A rich smell mixed with various spices and sweets rushed at him, causing Trier to wrinkle his nose.

The room was dimly lit, with only the brilliant light from the holographic projection screen flickering.

In the center of the room stood a fully immersive virtual game pod, its lid open, with Amira Radiance lying inside.

Her platinum battle armor, which had always been wiped spotless, was thrown casually in the corner. She was wearing only a loose silk nightgown, her signature long golden hair spread out in a mess, with a dreamy, silly smile on her face.

Although her eyes were open, her pupils were unfocused, clearly her consciousness was immersed in the virtual world.

"Can you not feed on the road... A, you are all people, help... Why does this person always think about changing lanes... Can I still lose with four twos and two kings..."

She mumbled incoherently, with a trace of crystalline saliva even hanging from the corner of her mouth.

Was this the 17th Princess of the Angel Empire, the commander of the Divine Grace Fleet, the Valkyrie who once drew her sword and roared in front of Faleim warships?

Trier felt a sense of absurdity.

"Wake up!"

He strode forward, without any gentleness, directly reaching out to cut off the power to the game pod and rudely unplugging the brainwave patch attached to her head.

"Ah—"

With the sudden collapse of the virtual world, Amira let out a scream, and her whole body jerked up from the pod.

"Who? Who dares to shut down my game! I was about to..."

She opened her eyes angrily, fury at being disturbed from her beautiful dream burning in her golden pupils, and the three pairs of wings behind her exploded instinctively, psionic fluctuations rippling through the room.

But when she saw the cold Faleim Major General standing in front of her, her momentum instantly withered.

"Tri... General Trier?" Amira rubbed her eyes somewhat blankly, seemingly unable to fully distinguish reality from the virtual, "How did you get in? Is there something wrong? If there is no urgent matter, can you go out first? My game..."

"Game?"

Trier sneered, grabbed a cup of cold water from the table next to him, and poured it unceremoniously onto Amira's face.

"Pfft—"

Cold water droplets slid down Amira's exquisite face, finally bringing a bit of clarity to her muddled brain.

"What are you doing?" Amira wiped her face and asked angrily.

"I'm helping you wash your face, and by the way, helping you wash your brain." Trier looked down at her.

"Look at yourself now, Amira Radiance, do you still remember who you are?"

"Of course I remember! I am the commander of the Divine Grace Fleet, the Princess of the Empire!" Amira retorted, feeling somewhat guilty.

"Princess? Hmph." Trier pointed to the battle armor in the corner, "A princess who is too lazy to even wear her battle armor and hides in the virtual world all day? A commander who lets her fleet get lost in space without caring at all?"

"Do you know? Just a moment ago, a ship from your fourth escort squadron crashed directly into the atmosphere of a gas giant because the Navigator 'didn't want to correct the course,' and all two hundred people on board were gone without even sending a distress signal."

"And you, their supreme commander, were giggling for the victory of a game at that time."

These words were like a heavy hammer, smashing hard into Amira's heart.

"What? Crashed?" Amira's face turned pale instantly, "How could this happen... I... I was just..."

"You just felt tired and wanted to rest? You just felt that the current feeling was very comfortable and didn't want to think about those annoying things?" Trier's voice precisely dissected her inner thoughts like a demon's whisper.

"This is the method of the instrument of desire, Your Highness."

Trier turned on the room's lights, and the dazzling white light made Amira subconsciously block her eyes.

"It won't kill you, it will only let you rot in happiness."

"It gives you false satisfaction, makes you feel that everything is fine, makes you feel that struggle and sacrifice are superfluous. It is devouring your will, turning you into a walking corpse that only knows how to pursue dopamine secretion."

"You think you are playing a game? No, you are being played."

Amira was stunned.

She lowered her head, looking at her hands, which had become somewhat pale and weak, and recalled her state during this period.

Yes, she had changed.

She no longer worried about her father's safety, no longer hated the Iof People, and even the survival of the empire had become blurred in her mind.

She just wanted to stay in this comfortable room, immersed in that infinitely beautiful virtual world, where there was no war, no death, only eternal happiness.

"What... happened?" she muttered to herself, and fear finally crept back into her heart.

"Your empire signed a contract with a Void god, and your current state is the Price of the contract."

Trier took a small silver device out of his pocket and threw it into Amira's arms.

"What is this?"

"Portable neural blocking field generator." Trier explained, "This is a little gadget we developed for psionic interference. Wear it, and it will release a special frequency. Although it will make you feel like your head is splitting, it can temporarily block the sense of happiness from The Void Realm, allowing you to regain the most basic survival instinct and crisis awareness as a living being."

Amira looked at the device in her hand and hesitated for a moment.

That feeling of being wrapped in happiness was too wonderful, just like returning to the womb, making her instinctively resist being sober.

But she looked up and saw Trier's cold eyes, which stung her last bit of dignity.

"I am Amira, I am... a warrior who has received the Seraphim Medal!"

She gritted her teeth, pressed the device against her temple, and pressed the start button.

Buzz—

A sharp pain instantly pierced her brain, as if countless red-hot steel needles had been stuck into her brain matter.

"Ahhh!!"

Amira let out a shrill scream, rolling on the ground in pain, cold sweat instantly soaking her nightgown.

As the false sense of happiness receded like a tide, the long-suppressed anxiety, fear, anger, and sense of responsibility rushed back into her consciousness like a volcanic eruption.

She remembered her imprisoned father, the slaughtered clansmen, and the soldiers who died in space because of her negligence.

Pain.

Endless pain.

This pain was so real, so sober.

A few minutes later, Amira stopped rolling.

She gasped for air and stood up shakily from the ground.

Although her face was as pale as paper and her body was still trembling slightly, the sharpness and light that had once been in her golden eyes had finally returned.

"How does it feel?" Trier asked coldly.

"It hurts..." Amira said hoarsely, "But I am very clear-headed."

She glanced at the battle armor in the corner, a flash of disgust in her eyes—disgust for the self that had just fallen.

"I want to take a shower and put on my armor."

She looked up and met Trier's eyes directly.

"Thank you, General Trier, although your methods were very rough, you saved me once."

"I don't need thanks, I just need a qualified observation subject, not a burden." Trier turned and walked toward the door.

"Our task force will depart in three weeks, targeting the ritual site on your home planet."

"Before that, I hope you can reorganize your fleet. I don't expect you to be of any help, but at least don't crash into a star again."

"Also," he paused at the door, "that blocker can be mass-produced. In a while, a transport ship will jump here and send more blockers to us."

"Although the process will be painful, if you want to survive, you must learn to endure the pain of sobriety."

After speaking, he strode out of the room.

Amira stood in place, clutching the blocker in her hand, her knuckles turning white.

"Endure the pain..."

She took a deep breath, and her eyes became firm again.