Chapter 297 – Be’lakor: Huh? Is This Tskamelo? Where’s My Fleet?!

Webway.

The Dreamweaver shimmered faintly with starlight, a vision half-real, half-phantom.

This was the Savior's personal flagship, leading the vast fleet that followed behind.

It was the First Fleet of the Savior.

A force composed of 150 large warships armed with relic-class weaponry, surrounded by numerous escort squadrons.

Like a titanic steel dragon surging through space, it radiated overwhelming might.

On the bridge of the Dreamweaver—

Eden sighed, visibly troubled. "I wonder if Shaheem and the others can hold off Be'lakor's assault…"

Before the First Fleet had even departed, he had received reports from the front lines.

Be'lakor had boldly issued a public threat, declaring his intent to destroy the planet where Shaheem was stationed.

It was a brazen display of confidence and intimidation.

Even with all his fleets, Eden would never dare announce his attack like that beforehand.

It meant Be'lakor's fleet was large and strong enough to obliterate any main force with impunity.

Only then could he speak so arrogantly.

"…Looks like I've underestimated Be'lakor's danger. This war just got riskier."

Eden grew wary.

At the same time, he began reflecting: "I've been too optimistic. Too blindly confident. I've underestimated Chaos—this mindset is dangerous. One mistake and I'll end up sinking without a trace!"

Be'lakor was an ancient daemon, chosen by all four Chaos Gods, and had existed for tens of thousands of years.

The power amassed over such time was not to be underestimated.

Theoretically, his rank surpassed even that of the greater Chaos Daemons—perhaps even Abaddon the Despoiler.

Assuming the worst-case scenario—

Be'lakor, the first human to ascend into daemonhood, might already have secured the backing of other Chaos factions—and could even summon elite forces blessed by the Four Gods.

That would mean Eden, the Devourer, would be facing an entire web of powerful enemies… alone.

A chilling thought emerged—

Be'lakor may have already set a trap, a massive net of destruction, laid out with the backing of Chaos powers—

Waiting for him, the Devourer, to step right into it.

And be annihilated.

The very idea sent a cold shiver down Eden's spine. It felt like defeat was looming.

In the war between mankind and Chaos, treachery and trickery abounded—and behind it all lurked the Lord of Change, always scheming.

Even the Emperor of Mankind himself could be undone by a single misstep.

It was just too dangerous.

Still, Eden felt a sliver of relief—at least he hadn't lost himself to arrogance. He was aware now.

The situation in Charalton had changed drastically.

He needed to call upon more forces to deal with the new threat.

The crisis was real.

Eden issued a new decree, summoning more forces—not just from his core territories, but from over a hundred subordinate civilizations across the Dark Side.

After the decree went out—

Those forces responded to the call of the great Savior and began mobilizing.

Once fully gathered, they would travel through the Webway to Charalton and reinforce the front lines.

According to the Department of War's calculations—

Under the Savior's full mobilization, they could deploy nearly a thousand large warships into the war. The ground forces were simply uncountable.

Upon seeing this data, Eden exhaled with slight relief:

"This should help turn the tide… but I still can't afford to relax."

After all, Chaos's fleets were even more numerous—some possessing planet-killer weapons. Abaddon's own Blackstone Fortress was enough to obliterate entire worlds.

Of course, unless it was a total war, they wouldn't throw everything in just yet.

Eden had made his decision:

If the war turned against him, he would use the Mechanical Forum to summon Forge Worlds—invoking Webby's name to bring aid to Charalton.

But doing so came with serious risks—it could expose the Webway entrance.

And draw the gaze of Chaos.

It might even disrupt various affairs of the Imperium.

So unless necessary, it had to be avoided.

Once the decree was handled—

Eden directed the Dreamweaver to break away from the First Fleet and head toward Tskamelo.

That way, he could reach the front lines first and support the defenders there.

As for the First Fleet—it remained under Admiral Kaes's command. Eden's departure wouldn't affect their operations.

Hopefully… there's still time.

...

Tskamelo.

Queen's Fortress.

With the support of the Savior Titans, the defense of the fortress had finally ended.

But what followed was deeper fear and anxiety.

Be'lakor had foretold the planet's destruction. The blood-red countdown hovering in the sky clutched at the hearts of Tskamelo's people like a death knell.

The grinning corpses and whispering voices only reinforced the sense of doom.

The twenty deployed Titans no longer had time to retreat.

They spread out around the fortress, activating layers of void shields in preparation for the incoming attack.

Of course, Titan defenses weren't invincible—

These void shields could only withstand a few orbital bombardments.

If they lost air superiority, destruction was inevitable.

On the fortress balcony—

"Mr. Shaheem, the countdown is almost up…"

The young queen stared at the crimson numbers in the sky, her heart ready to burst.

Tskamelo had suffered too much. Just after repelling the Chaos monsters, now they faced a full fleet assault.

The pressure was overwhelming. She was on the verge of collapse.

If not for the Savior—

She would have broken already.

Thankfully, the Savior hadn't abandoned their world.

"Don't worry. Our fleet has set up defenses, and more reinforcements are on the way."

Shaheem reassured her.

Using his scope, he surveyed the void above.

The vanguard fleet had formed a defensive line, ready to block Be'lakor's assault.

Suddenly, the queen cried out: "The… the countdown's over!"

As the crimson numbers vanished, fading Chaos energies whispered cryptic incantations.

It was like a funeral dirge for the planet.

At that same moment—

Tskamelo's citizens looked to the sky, filled with dread.

Though they could see nothing, they prayed silently—wishing the demonic fleet wouldn't bring destruction.

In orbit—

The vanguard fleet received the alert.

The worst part? Their reinforcements hadn't arrived yet.

The commanders tensed, expanding their sensors to maximum range, awaiting the enemy.

A few seconds after the countdown vanished—

Zzzt—

Space rippled.

A fleet emerged from the Warp, arriving in Tskamelo's orbit.

The commanders' hearts tightened—until they recognized the ships.

One of their expected reinforcements had arrived—

The Savior's Fourth Fleet.

Their arrival brought nearly fifty more capital ships and their escorts.

With such reinforcements, the defenders could finally breathe easier.

Yet—

The Chaos fleet Be'lakor had prophesied…

Never appeared.

Still, the commanders dared not let their guard down.

More time passed.

Again, the void rippled.

Commander Volradi's Third Fleet exited the Warp, reaching the predetermined battleground.

"Praise the Savior… I didn't miss the defense of Tskamelo."

Volradi looked out over the still-silent void and slumped into his chair with relief.

The stress of consecutive Warp jumps and mental strain had worn him out.

He took a moment to recover, then injected a stimulant to refresh his focus.

Then, Volradi linked up with the other commanders and held a brief war meeting.

They divided defense zones and deployed scout ships across nearby sectors—

To scan the system and its fringes.

But as the scans expanded—

There was still no sign of the enemy.

Be'lakor's fleet was as elusive as a ghost.

Tension built further—

Until the Dreamweaver arrived.

Only then did the pressure ease.

Because it meant the Savior himself had come.

And no enemy could stand against him.

After arriving, Eden quickly connected with the commanders to review the situation.

Then, he addressed the entire fleet—

Boosting morale.

After all, this was their first time facing such a formidable enemy in a large-scale war.

Everyone was uneasy.

This was the weakness of their domain. But after this trial, they would grow stronger.

Still, Eden remained concerned about Be'lakor's vanishing fleet.

Had they gotten lost?

Or were they hiding, waiting to strike?

There wasn't enough intel to be sure.

But scout ships had already been dispatched—

They'd have answers soon enough.

Later—

Eden boarded a lander and descended to Queen's Fortress.

On the square outside—

Everyone waited nervously for the Savior's arrival.

The queen stood beside Shaheem, looking skyward.

The Knights of the Freeblade Order stood behind them, awaiting the legendary man.

Hiss—

The lander's ramp lowered.

A massive, five-meter-tall figure stepped out, walking forward.

"Shaheem…"

Eden's raspy voice sounded heavy, his presence overwhelming.

He opened his arms slightly and approached.

"Uncle Eden!"

Shaheem, having wandered for years, couldn't contain his emotion. He rushed to embrace him.

"Well done. You've grown sturdier."

Eden gave the young man a brief hug—

After all, he had watched this kid grow up.

Through countless trials, this heir of the Gawendi family had gained many scars and now carried the bearing of a wandering merchant-lord. (TL: Let's go with Gawendi, it sounds better.)

Then Eden looked toward the queen and the people behind her—

But their eyes held confusion, and even fear.

The queen herself seemed overwhelmed, like a fan watching her idol fall from grace.

Eden realized what was wrong—

His Devourer armor was too fearsome.

If the people hadn't known who he was, they'd probably have fled in terror.

So Eden removed his terrifying helmet, revealing flowing black hair and a face both handsome and divine.

He smiled gently at the queen.

"Your Majesty, do not fear. I wear such intimidating armor only to battle abominations…"

The young queen, upon seeing his true face, almost couldn't contain her awe.

"Savior… you are so…"

She blushed and quickly bowed. "My Lord, on behalf of Tskamelo, we welcome you with the highest honors!"

The crowd followed her lead—

Bowing to the Savior who had rescued them.

Eden then turned to the Freeblade Knights.

"You are all valiant warriors. The spirit of the Freeblade will be remembered."

After learning about their brave deeds and struggles, he gifted them a batch of Redeemer-pattern Knight suits.

These suits were far more powerful than their current wargear—and would replace their broken mechs.

He also offered maintenance support to repair their damaged Knights.

The Freeblades were immensely grateful.

Having lost their homeworlds, maintaining their suits had become nearly impossible.

But now—

They could continue fighting in the war to defend Charalton and avenge their homes.

Afterward—

Eden turned to the injured, hungry, and exhausted people.

He had already learned the fortress was nearly out of supplies.

So he raised his voice, rallying the crowd:

"Warriors of Tskamelo! You have endured great hardship. Your courage has defended this world, protected your homes…"

But then he caught himself—

Wait, wasn't I going into another value-building monologue? The queen's right there—this isn't my territory… yet.

Old habit.

Even if he meant to make it a vassal state, he'd need a formal agreement first.

Eden coughed awkwardly and glanced at the queen—who was starry-eyed and still listening.

"Ahem. Anyway, I've brought emergency supplies to ease your troubles."

He pointed to the sky.

A massive two-kilometer-long transport ship was descending into the atmosphere.

The hungry, wounded people erupted in cheers.

So much emotional value—and practical help—who wouldn't worship such a Savior?

The ship held vast stores of food and medicine—enough to sustain Queen's Fortress for a long time.

That night—

At Eden's suggestion, they lit campfires during the lull in battle.

After days of high stress, the people needed rest.

They needed nourishment.

More importantly, they needed emotional healing.

Eden could tell—

Many were at the brink of collapse, running on sheer willpower.

That was how Chaos found its way in.

Rest and warmth would help prevent corruption.

By the firelight—

Tskamelo's soldiers drank sweet vita-juice, ate wholegrain bread, and savored juicy Skeglow Beast steaks.

Especially those steaks—

These genetically enhanced, T-Rex-like creatures provided meat that tasted just like premium beef.

It was a delicacy the people of Tskamelo had never enjoyed.

Bathed in the Savior's radiance—

Their faces lit up with joy and peace.

Such moments were rare in the hellscape of the galaxy.

Even in orbit—

The ships remained on alert—

But the logistics crews treated the soldiers to hearty meals as well.

Meanwhile—deep within Charalton.

Corevax.

Beneath the planet's crust, dark machinery surged more violently than ever.

The ground quaked.

The blackstone constructs began to crack the veil between realspace and the Warp.

This world was shifting ever closer to Chaos.

Be'lakor, having completed part of his great plan, returned to the throne at the top of his fortress.

By now, the countdown he set had long passed.

He finally turned his gaze to Tskamelo.

Be'lakor sneered:

"Perhaps by now, the Devourer's fleet has been crushed—scattered dust in the void—and Tskamelo shattered by relentless bombardment…"

He grew curious and used the remnants of Chaos energy he left behind to spy on the planet.

He wanted to witness the wreckage.

He only regretted that he couldn't see the Devourer's furious expression firsthand.

But then—

The vision came through.

And Be'lakor froze.

The people were not panicking. They were laughing. Dancing by firelight. Eating steaks.

WHAT???

Be'lakor was stunned.

What… what was going on?

This is Tskamelo?

Where's my fleet?

Where the hell is my main fleet?!

Panic rising, Be'lakor tried contacting his dispatched armada—

But no reply.

A terrible premonition settled over him.

Eventually, tracing the last thread of Warp connection—

He found the Chaos fleet commander he had personally blessed.

What met his gaze—

Was a frozen corpse drifting in space.

And floating with it—

An endless field of wreckage.

Shattered hulls, melted metal—

The fleet had been utterly destroyed.

Be'lakor began trembling.

Then shame. Then rage.

He had swaggered about, made bold declarations of doom…

Only for his fleet to be annihilated before reaching the battlefield.

He didn't even want to imagine how the Devourer would mock him.

It was a humiliation of a lifetime.

"DEVOURER!!!"

From his throne, Be'lakor roared in madness—

His power ripped through the fortress and black clouds above.

His outburst of chaotic energy tore into the warp ritual circle linked to Tskamelo.

...

Tskamelo.

Queen's Fortress, Outer Defense Line.

Eden was patrolling the perimeter.

His psychic senses had picked up on traces of a Chaos ritual array nearby—

He went to investigate.

These sigils were dangerous.

If activated, they could summon daemonic forces or unleash catastrophe.

"Not good!"

Just as Eden approached to destroy the array—

A wave of terrifying Warp energy surged from it.

He instantly channeled his psychic might to counter it.

As their powers clashed—

Eden saw a vision of a howling, massive, terrifying daemon—

(End of Chapter)

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