Chapter 10

Reality itself felt like it was breaking.

For the commanders of the Dark Quadrant's fleet, everything they knew—everything they believed was possible—had just been shattered.

One man.

One being.

And their entire fleet was powerless against him.

Some refused to accept it. They had to be missing something.

"This is impossible! It has to be a trick!"

"It's a humanoid combat device! Some kind of advanced war machine!"

"No, it's an illusion! A projection! He's trying to demoralize us—fire everything! Do not hesitate!"

A desperate order rang out, and the silence of space was instantly replaced by chaos.

A storm of energy blasts, warship cannons, and torpedoes rushed toward Lin Fan, a firestorm capable of reducing entire planets to dust.

But Lin Fan?

He raised his arms… and smiled.

---

From the command bridge of Temple One, Ebony Maw watched in stunned silence.

Lin Fan wasn't dodging.

He wasn't blocking.

He was enjoying it.

As thousands of energy blasts surged toward him, Lin Fan simply floated in place, as if he was taking in the view.

It was a sight Ebony Maw had never imagined.

Not even Thanos had fought like this.

No tactics. No caution.

Just overwhelming, absolute confidence.

For the first time, Ebony Maw felt something he hadn't in a long time.

Worship.

And then—

Lin Fan moved.

His voice rang in Ebony Maw's mind, carried by a power far beyond telepathy.

"Lower the shield and pull the ship back. Let me handle this."

Ebony Maw snapped out of his trance, hurriedly working the controls.

A brilliant blue energy shield enveloped Temple One just in time, absorbing a massive volley of enemy fire. The ship veered away, dodging the chaos that was about to unfold.

But Lin Fan?

He stayed right where he was.

A lone figure, floating in the middle of hellfire.

---

The first energy blasts hit.

Or at least, they tried to.

The sheer force radiating from Lin Fan's body was so overwhelming that nothing could touch him.

Beams of light, plasma shells, missiles—every single attack disintegrated before reaching him.

Space itself seemed to warp, bending around him in a way that defied all understanding.

And then—

Lin Fan moved.

A single punch.

A single attack.

And the void exploded.

A beam of blinding white energy tore through the battlefield like a dying star going supernova.

The shockwave rippled through space, bending light itself.

The nearest warship—a behemoth of steel and weapons—ceased to exist.

Not destroyed. Not vaporized.

Erased.

Everything behind it—the ships, the debris, even the energy waves—were wiped from existence.

For a few long seconds, nothing happened.

Then—

Screams filled the comm channels.

"What—what was that?!"

"Impossible! That was our strongest warship!"

"That attack… it bent space itself…!"

Fear.

Pure, raw fear.

And Lin Fan?

He was just getting started.

---

A sonic boom erupted in the void as Lin Fan vanished from sight.

In the next instant—another ship exploded.

Then another.

And another.

Each time, the same thing happened.

A blur of pink light. A single punch. A ship erased from existence.

To the surviving fleet, it didn't even feel like a battle anymore.

It felt like a child crushing insects.

One commander's voice crackled over the Dark Quadrant's comm network, barely keeping his panic in check.

"We… we can't win this."

But another voice, firm and unyielding, responded.

"Then we die fighting!"

The fleet adjusted formation, their ships forming a desperate defensive wall.

They knew they couldn't win.

But if they could just slow him down—

Lin Fan raised his hand, pointing toward the largest warship in the fleet.

A sphere of black energy—dense, pulsating with destruction—formed at his fingertips.

And then—

He released it.

A gravity bomb.

A miniature black hole.

The moment it touched the enemy warship, the ship folded inward, metal screaming as it crumpled under its own weight.

Then—it vanished.

No explosion.

No wreckage.

Just… gone.

One ship.

Then ten.

Then fifty.

The battlefield was silent.

And at the center of it all, Lin Fan stood, untouched, unshaken.

He looked at what remained of the enemy fleet.

Then, in a voice as cold as the void itself, he spoke.

"Run."

The response was instantaneous.

The surviving warships broke formation, engines roaring as they retreated.

The battle was over.

No—it had never even been a battle.

It had been a slaughter.

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