The Tycoon's Odyssey

Chapter 420 420:Beam Of Mass Destruction

A new laser beam, this time, wider and more destructive, swept across the fleeing USR ships.

The Exterminator Beam emitted an eerie hum as it struck, creating massive explosions that consumed entire vessels in fiery plumes. Ships that attempted evasive maneuvers were incinerated mid-turn.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Where the beam passed, everything that stood in its path was torn apart, dismantled into nothingness. The beam wiped out everything, erasing its existence.

In a straight line, except for the sandy sea bed, everything else just disappeared.

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The ocean floor remained untouched, but above it, only fragments remained of a few nation's pride.

Onboard one USR destroyer, a young sailor cried out, "I don't want to die! Please, someone help us!"

His plea was drowned in the deafening roar of the explosion that obliterated his ship.

_____

Across the battlefield, the scene was one of pure devastation. The ocean itself seemed to boil from the heat of the laser beams. Smoke and fire filled the air, blotting out even the sun and casting an ominous shadow over the remaining fleets.

Naval officers screamed into their radios, desperately calling for reinforcements or orders.

"This is the USR destroyer Ivanov! We're under heavy fire! We need backup immediately!"

"Mayday, mayday! This is the Daxian carrier Shenlong! We're going down!"

"All units retreat! It's a massacre out here!"

But no reinforcements came. The fleets of ULS, Daxia, and USR were utterly destroyed, their once-mighty armadas reduced to mere floating wreckage.

As the smoke cleared, the ocean surface was littered with the shattered remains of ships and the bodies of sailors. Those who survived clung to floating debris, their faces etched with despair and terror.

The once-proud naval forces of the world's great powers had been humiliated and decimated by a single spacecraft.

In the opulent office of President Viktor in the Sovereign Republic Union, the air was thick with cigar smoke. He leaned back in his leather chair, puffing thoughtfully as his chief of staff entered the room.

"Mr. President," the aide began hesitantly, "the fleet is gone. The Crimson Armada... all of it. Wiped out."

Viktor froze mid-drag, his hand trembling slightly. "Gone?"

"Yes, sir. Every ship. No survivors were reported."

Viktor slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, causing the ashtray to rattle. "Damn it! It's over now... With this display of power, they've made their intentions clear. They're done playing nice."

The aide shifted nervously. "Sir, if we rally the world's powers, unite everyone, surely we can—"

Viktor cut him off, his voice dripping with frustration. "Unite the world? Against that monster? Did you see what happened out there? Do you honestly think any fleet—no, even all the fleets combined—could take him down? He annihilated them without breaking a sweat!"

"But, Mr. President—"

"No!" Viktor barked, standing abruptly. "He has shown us what he can do. He has sent a message: surrender to him or face annihilation. And do you know what frightens me the most?"

He took a long, bitter drag on his cigar before continuing. "He doesn't just want to destroy us. He wants to make sure we know that we're powerless against him."

The room fell silent, the weight of Viktor's words pressing down on everyone like a heavy weight.

"What do we do now, sir?" another aide asked cautiously.

Viktor exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing. "We prepare for the worst. And pray he doesn't turn that beam on our cities next. If he does... there won't be anyone left to pray for."

With unnecessary force, he crushed the cigar in the ashtray and sank into his chair, pressing his head in his hands.

"Damn it all to hell."

_____

President Malcolm Hayes sat at the edge of his desk, his grip tightening around the phone he had pressed tightly to his ear. His usual composure crumbled as the voice on the other end delivered the chilling words:

"They have been annihilated."

The phrase struck him like a physical blow, his grip on the phone weakening. His shoulders slumped as the weight of failure bore down on him. Slowly, he lowered the phone, his mind racing with the implications.