After the officers and soldiers identified the other side by studying the emblems on their ships, the command center at New Lushun fell utterly silent. For a moment, they felt as though they were caught in some surreal farce. When that peerless psychic descended before them, everything seemed to lose its sense of reality.
They really did feel that the scene before them lacked any sense of reality. After all, the tens of thousands who had witnessed it had never seen an eighth-ring psychic in action. They had no clear idea of just how far these extraordinary beings, who could tear apart the sky and split the earth, were capable of going.
And yet, the basic understanding they had formed over many years was unshakable. In their minds, the most powerful psychics were true gods who had transcended the mortal world. They belonged to an entirely different level of life.
They couldn't even imagine what the arrival of the leader of the Starrealm Knights might entail, yet they could feel the very real threat and pressure. Perhaps that was where this surreal sense of unreality came from.
Whatever the case, a big shot capable of intimidating an entire battleship single-handedly—a top psychic whom many younger civilizations regarded as a true god—had just appeared before them.
Eleanor Bonaparte looked at everyone on the Aurora's bridge. A few minutes ago, surrounded by the watchful eyes of over a hundred "enemy ships," they had been darting back and forth, laughing and cursing without a care in the world, like a bunch of rowdy bandits high on a thrill. Now, every one of them was holding their breath, like lambs facing their natural predator.
She hated that feeling, so she drew the pistol from her waist and slammed it down on the table in