Reincarnated as the Demon King's Son

738 Chapter 738 Shocking Display of Power

This environment, however, was something the Platoon had prepared for. The ships' sensors had been calibrated for such conditions, and the onboard magicians, using their enhanced abilities, could sense movements through the nebula's dense clouds.

"Prepare for enemy contact," Francus announced over the comm, his voice steady yet alert. Grigor, standing beside him, monitored the strategic displays, watching for any sign of the demonic fleet.

Suddenly, the sensors picked up multiple contacts. The demonic fleet, hidden within the nebula, had been waiting for them. "Enemy ships ahead!" shouted a crew member.

Grigor gave the order to engage. The Platoon's ships, armed with advanced weaponry, opened fire.

The nebula erupted with flashes of energy weapons and explosions, the sounds muffled by the vacuum of space but visible as bright flares through the gas clouds.

Explosions rocked space as demonic ships were hit. The nebula's clouds, illuminated by the blasts, created a mesmerizing yet chaotic battlefield. Amidst this turmoil, the magicians on board the Platoon's ships cast their spells, adding another layer of complexity to the battle. Protective barriers sprung up around their ships, and destructive spells were hurled at the enemy, wreaking havoc on their formations.

The demonic fleet, realizing they were losing ground, began a desperate counterattack. Their ships, brimming with dark energy, unleashed a barrage of powerful weapons. But the Platoon was prepared. Advanced shields absorbed the onslaught, and rapid maneuvers dodged the most dangerous volleys.

As the battle raged, Francus and Grigor remained focused, issuing commands and adapting to the ever-changing dynamics of the fight. Their leadership was a beacon to their crew, inspiring them to fight with unrelenting courage.

After hours of intense combat, the tide began to turn in favor of the Celestial Platoon. One by one, the demonic ships were either destroyed or forced to retreat. The Platoon's strategic prowess and technological superiority had won the day.

"Sir! The enemy are losing! Perhaps they will retreat."

"No. The demons never retreat. Continue the attack!" Grigor shouted the commands.

The Celestial Platoon's armada, with Francus and Grigor at the lead, continued their relentless assault, systematically destroying the remaining demonic ships.

Each vessel of the enemy was taken down in a display of firepower and strategy, leaving no room for the demonic forces to regroup or retaliate.

As the battle neared its end, only the demonic flagship remained. It was a massive and heavily fortified vessel, capable of withstanding an immense amount of damage. The Celestial Platoon focused their firepower on it, tearing through its defenses.

"A little bit more! Keep attacking!"

A few minutes later, an explosion occured.

Cheers erupted among the soldiers as they watched half of the flagship get obliterated, believing victory was within their grasp.

However, their celebration was cut short as the sensors detected an unusual magical anomaly emanating from the remains of the flagship. Emerging from the debris was a figure that sent chills down the spines of even the most battle-

hardened soldiers.

"What the hell is that?"

A demonic woman with red, purplish skin floated near the wreckage.

She was clad in cybernetic armor, with strange monolithic fragments levitating around her.

"Sir, the sensors detected an anomaly presence."

Francus and Grigor frowned. They never saw a demon like this before.

Her presence alone triggered alarms throughout the Celestial Platoon's ships, warning of an extremely dangerous threat and the presence of immense energy.

With a simple raise of her palm, a darkish purple orb materialized, pulsating with malevolent energy.

RING! RING! RING!

A robotic woman voice blares within the ships.

"Extreme presence of energy detected. Evacuate immediately!"

"Extreme presence of energy detected. Evacuate immediately!"

As the demonic woman with red, purplish skin floated amidst the wreckage, the air around her crackled with an electric charge.

Cybernetic armor fitted to her form hummed with a network of glowing runes, casting an eerie light on the monolithic fragments that defy gravity around her. The space near the fragments bent and rippled as if reality itself was warping.

The orb in her palm throbs with dark purple energy that grows denser and more turbulent.

Then, with a slight push of her hand, the orb shot towards the Platoon's armada at a blistering speed, almost reaching the speed of light.

In a matter of seconds, half of the Celestial Platoon's fleet was obliterated in a devastating explosion.

The shockwave rippled through the nebula, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Francus, Grigor, and the surviving soldiers watched in horror and disbelief. The screams of their comrades were silenced instantly as ships and lives were vaporized, leaving nothing but a void where they once were.

No words could come out of their mouth after they witness such a devastating attack.

The nebula, once a battlefield of strategic maneuvers and victorious cheers, had turned into a graveyard of ships and soldiers. The remaining fleet, now severely weakened, faced an enemy whose power was beyond their worst fears.

Grigor, with a heavy heart, ordered: "Retreat!"

The order to retreat echoed through the comm systems of the remaining Celestial Platoon ships. Francus and Grigor, their faces etched with shock and resolve, coordinated the withdrawal. The fleet, now a shadow of its former might, maneuvered desperately to escape the nebula and the overwhelming force they faced.

As they retreated, the mysterious demonic figure watched, her presence an ominous specter against the backdrop of destruction. The monolithic fragments orbiting her seemed to pulse with the same dark energy that had decimated the fleet.

However, she did not seem to have the intention to chase.

The Celestial Platoon's ships, battered and bruised, navigated through the nebula, dodging debris and the remnants of their fallen comrades. Francus and Grigor, aboard their flagship, oversaw the retreat, ensuring every possible ship made it out.

In the aftermath of the retreat, the command center was filled with a heavy silence. The loss was beyond comprehension – half their fleet, vanished in an instant. Francus and Grigor, veterans of countless battles, faced each other, the weight of command heavier than ever.

"We need to report this to Aldred immediately," Grigor said, his voice somber. "He needs to know about this new enemy. She's unlike anything we've ever faced."

Francus nodded in agreement. "Our strategies, our weapons… they might not be enough anymore. This changes everything."