This was the most terrifying cosmic legend of the past ten centuries?
The mechanical demon king of the Abyss Nebula? This was it!?
The top of the food chain in a forbidden zone of civilization? This was it!?
It felt like all it would take was a single fighter passing by—not even needing to use missiles or torpedoes, just sweep it with its autocannons once—and this ancient old ship would come apart like a toy.
It was like the final big bad had the face of a slime. Everyone was having a hard time accepting it.
Anyway, several more minutes passed before the first officer finally spoke, in a voice that wasn't especially convincing. "Our database has no image of the 'Ghost Dreadnought,' but it can only be that, right?"
"I thought a terrifying ghost ship would be more ferocious. At the very least, it ought to be glowing green, with fierce demon heads and skull reliefs on its sides. And ideally, there'd be ghostly figures drifting around it, too," the surveyor said.
His understanding of ghost ships had clearly been shaped by works of fiction, but he wasn't the only one who had imagined them that way.
"Our database has no image of a ghost ship... Can the Eye of the Heavens detect any high-energy readings?" the captain asked.
He received an answer at once.
"No. There isn't even a basic energy signature." The navigator gripped his scalp hard.
"So it really is a ghost ship..."
"But the question is, how does it fly? Whether it's a chemical engine, a plasma engine, or a neutrino engine, there has to be some kind of energy reading, right?"
"That's what I'm saying. It's a ghost ship. Come on, aren't you being a little dense by getting hung up on common sense