Chapter 45

The battlefield was a storm of chaos. Shattered warships littered the skies, their twisted wreckage burning in eerie silence. The ground trembled beneath the weight of battle—energy blasts, collapsing structures, and the screams of soldiers lost in the relentless struggle.

Lin Fan observed from the shadows, his gaze locked onto the Nova Legion—elite warriors clad in sleek white armor, moving with uncanny precision.

Unlike ordinary soldiers, these fighters operated with machine-like efficiency, reacting almost before an attack landed. Their coordination was flawless, their discipline absolute. Where standard forces would falter under pressure, the Nova Legion adapted seamlessly, countering every offensive move with ruthless precision.

Lin Fan frowned. "They're too perfect."

He had fought countless enemies, but these warriors didn't just rely on strength or skill. They fought like they could predict the future. Every attack from his Majin warriors was countered before it fully formed, every feint was read as if the Nova Legion had already seen it play out.

One of his Majin warriors attempted a rapid shape-shifting maneuver, elongating its limbs to strike from multiple angles. A Nova Legion soldier barely moved—just a subtle shift of the shoulders, a precise tilt of the head—then, in a flash of energy, the Majin warrior was cut down before it could land a single hit.

Lin Fan exhaled sharply. "So that's their game."

The Nova Legion wasn't unbeatable, but they operated on something beyond normal combat tactics. Their movements weren't just disciplined—they were predicted. Their suits must have some form of advanced combat analysis, running thousands of simulations in real time, calculating the optimal response before an opponent even struck.

A battle of reflexes was useless.

They needed something unpredictable.

Lin Fan sent a command through psionic energy, his presence brushing against the consciousness of his Majin warriors.

Break the pattern.

The shift was immediate.

The Majin warriors abandoned standard formations. Instead of calculated attacks, they embraced chaos—shifting shapes erratically, striking from impossible angles, dispersing and reforming in unexpected locations.

The effect was instantaneous.

For the first time, the Nova Legion hesitated. Their flawless synchronization wavered. Their predictive systems struggled to process the erratic movements. They could counter trained techniques, but against pure unpredictability, they faltered.

Lin Fan's lips curled into a faint smirk. "You can't predict what doesn't follow logic."

The tide of battle began to shift. The Majin warriors, no longer bound by predictable combat, started pressing forward. The Nova Legion fought back with impressive resilience, but their once-overwhelming advantage had weakened.

Still, it wasn't enough for victory.

Lin Fan watched closely, studying their reactions. Their weakness wasn't in their armor or their weapons—it was in their reliance on precision. They were built for controlled combat, for engagements where their calculations could dictate the flow.

But what happened when the battlefield no longer followed their expectations?

Lin Fan took a step forward.

It was time to show them.

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