Legacy of the Void Fleet

[Author's Note – Understanding the Quantum Foam Drive (QFD):

Let me take a moment to explain something that might confuse some readers: why does FTL travel in the story seem to get faster over time?

In the beginning of the novel, the ship took nearly 12 hours to cover just 7 light-years, but now it can travel 22–25 light-years in only 2.4 hours. This isn't a mistake—it's because of the different FTL modules used.

Earlier, the ship was using a basic form of FTL. But now, it's equipped with something far more advanced: the Quantum Foam Drive, or QFD for short.

So, how does the QFD work?

The idea is inspired by a real scientific theory from the 1950s by physicist John Wheeler. He proposed the existence of quantum foam—a chaotic, turbulent layer beneath normal space where spacetime is extremely unstable and full of micro-wormholes.

The QFD lets a ship drop below normal space and enter this chaotic layer. By carefully navigating the foam, ships can take shortcuts—like sliding through the cracks of reality—achieving near-instant travel across massive distances.

In short, it's like using a hidden, faster road that only becomes accessible with the right tech. So don't worry—your sense of space and time isn't broken. The tech just got way better.]

.....

A few moments earlier… aboard the Obliterator, during Void Fleet transit.

Nearly two hours had passed since we entered FTL through the Quantum Foam Drive.

Thousands of ships, our entire armada, traveling as one—unseen, undetected, and heading straight for the Rigid Star System.

Inside the command chamber of the Obliterator, I was receiving a final briefing. In a few short minutes, we would exit FTL—and appear directly in front of the Minotaur 7th Fleet.

When the briefing concluded, I turned to Admiral Ezra.

"It's up to you now, Admiral. How you conduct this battle… I will not intervene. As I told you before, I will not act—not until you've brought the Minotaur armada to its knees."

"This is your command. Your battle. Whether it's an overwhelming victory or a quiet execution, we shall see."

Ezra stood firm, nodding. "Thank you for your trust, Imperial Commander. I will use all in my power to make this a decisive win."

I nodded in approval, stroking my chin in thought. "I may give a slight… push at the start. Not because you need it—but because a little shock can make a great opening. The battlefield belongs to you from there on."

My voice was calm, steady, and confident. I knew what we were bringing into that system and the psychological pressure Obliterator alone would place on them.

"Good. Go now, Admiral. Prepare your battle groups. We'll exit the drive in minutes."

With nothing more said, Admiral Ezra and the six other battle group commanders vanished from the command room, teleporting to their respective flagships—each one an Oblivion-class dreadnought:

• Eclipse Wraith (1st Battle Group)

• The Ashen Crown (2nd)

• Olivarra (3rd)

• Void Requiem (4th)

• Final Echo (5th)

• Doom bringer (6th)

• Celestial Mandate (7th)

These names held meaning for they were more than just mere titles and names, they had a purpose, though not for this battle perhaps, but certainly for the future, we will see what these purposes are and I speak of.

These names were also a legacy in making.

I wasn't so much interrupted as I was gently pulled back—snapped out of my realm of thought by her soft voice, her presence as composed and quietly intense as ever.

"Kallus," she said softly.

"Yes, Empress?" I asked, my gaze meeting hers. She gave a small nod before speaking.

"We are one minute away from re-entry into real space. Do you have any final adjustments? Or is there anything that needs to be prepared?"

I tapped my armrest once, thoughtfully, before shaking my head.

"No. Proceed as planned. But one thing…"

"Have Obliterator reveal itself just long enough to place pressure, a psychological one. Let them feel us—let their confidence break under our presence."

"Then… once we've made enough of a psychological impact on the Minotaur fleet. withdraw us. Let us fade into the battlefield's shadow, and let its absence linger like a phantom. We'll let Admiral Ezra and the fleet complete the work."

The Empress gave a sharp nod, already seeing the play before I finished explaining it.

You don't want them dead—not yet. You want to break their will, their pride… just enough. Let the sheer presence of the Obliterant crush them with the weight of reality, so they truly understand the gravity of what they face. Let them see us as despair incarnate—appearing only as illusions, shadows of doom—so they fight with a desperation born of fear. And in doing so, we simulate just enough pressure on our own fleet to truly test the capabilities of our admirals and crew.

"Exactly," I said. "I already know what Tyler can do. Now I want to see if the rest can live up to the names they once held. The lives they were reborn from."

The Empress's smile was faint, but satisfied.

"Then let the Obliterator be the god that walks away… just as the slaughter begins."

"Good," I replied. "Then proceed."

⸻

The countdown began.

10… 9… 8…

3… 2… 1—

"Exiting Quantum Foam Drive," the Empress announced.

A slight vibration passed through the ship.

And space tore open.

A glowing rupture split through the fabric of the Rigid Star System.

From within it, a dark membrane pushed through—massive, liquid-black, and pulsing. And then—

The Void Fleet emerged.

Like ghosts from myth, they came into real space in perfect formation. Thousands of ships—an arrowhead of annihilation.

The spearhead destroyers. The titan-class frigates. The heavy battlecruisers. The Oblivion-class dreadnoughts.

And above them all—briefly, terrifyingly—the silhouette of the Obliterator.

A shadow that shouldn't exist. A ship that made space bend around it.

But I'm not talking about scale. This wasn't about sheer size or firepower. No. That alone wouldn't shake a race like the Minoru—war-born, brutal, hardened by centuries of blood and flame.

A massive ship? They'd faced those. Even respected them. But they wouldn't fear one. Not just for its guns.

Except… this was different.

The Obliterator wasn't feared because it was big—it was feared because it distorted reality itself. Its presence bent more than just light and gravity. It warped the air of certainty, the ground of thought. Even the 40% of their crew who had evolved mentally—trained, hardened, psychologically strong—they felt it. They sensed something was wrong just by being near it.

That's what made it dangerous.

Not just a weapon. Not just a warship.

A ship with functions I didn't fully understand—even as its master. Not even the Empress knew. Some systems were locked behind conditions I hadn't yet met. That's a truth for another time.

What mattered now was this: Obliterator wasn't simply a ship.

It was built by something—someone—whose power stood supreme over every known form of existence. A being whose concept of creation was so far beyond us, even simplicity felt terrifying.

And that truth? It wasn't fiction.

It was a fact.

The Minotaur looked into the storm.

And the storm looked back.

Admiral Ezra – POV

The void rippled—and then, in a flash, the fleet tore back into real space.

We were in. Deep into the central zone of the Rigid star system.

Immediately, warning icons bloomed across the tactical display—Minoru signatures. Close. Not close enough for immediate impact, but well within the range of our long-range batteries.

They hadn't expected us. That much was obvious to me just by looking at their so-called formation—if it could even be called one. Their ships were scattered, barely holding any shape. Positioning was all wrong. They weren't ready for anything.

Not for us.

That was perfect for me—I could exploit their unpreparedness and hit their fleet hard, thinning their numbers before they even realized what was happening. I didn't wait a second.

"Open fleet-wide comms," I ordered calmly.

The channel pinged live.

"All main battleships and heavy cruisers—fire long-range weapons now," I said, voice steady but sharp enough to cut through any hesitation. "They're not ready. Don't waste this window. Hit the Minotaur fleet hard—deal real damage while it's easy."

And he got it—confirmation came in from the vice admirals and rear admirals commanding the battleships and battlecruisers, all in unison.

The sounds of weapons arming echoed across the fleet. Even the Oblivion-class dreadnoughts were reconfiguring their primary weapons. Before the first shots were fired, I added one more order:

"No need to hit their command ships yet. Focus on their flanks—cripple their corners. Harassers and corvettes are the priority. Thin their numbers fast. Triage ships and destroyers—hit them just enough to keep them locked in defense, unable to divert power anywhere else. Leave their main force to the dreadnoughts. Oblivion will handle them.

"Weapons are locked, sir," said the AI of Eclipse Wraith—Eclipse for short. "We are ready to fire."

I nodded at the confirmation, eyes locked on the Minotaur fleet, still reacting too slowly.

"It's time," I said. Then, with calm force: "Fire."

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The sound of weapons firing thundered across space as the Void Fleet's main battleships unleashed everything they had. The stars lit up with the fury of our opening salvo.

This was it.