The Situation

If bitten by a highly venomous creature, you can simply cut away the flesh at that spot, or, like the commander, simply cut off a section of the limb to stop the poison from spreading further.

The wounded soldier wasn't bitten by anything, nor was it simply a single wound. Judging from the density of the white mist in the hall, he was essentially immersed in a pool of poison.

So, when the wounded soldier's left forearm was cut off by the commander, the medic rushed forward to bandage it.

The severed area was already corroding, and the horrific sight of blood gushing from the cut washing over the bubbling, rotting flesh was almost unbearable for even the conscripts who were used to life and death.

More importantly, he had no idea how to treat such a wound. As long as he couldn't isolate it from the white mist, everything he did would be in vain.

However, given the current situation, attempting to isolate the white fog is nothing short of wishful thinking.

The medic turned and shook his head at the commander, who then realized what was happening. He made a gesture of supplication, unique to the Meto Race, and then drew a pistol from his waist.

With a loud "bang," the wounded soldier stopped struggling. The commander stepped forward, bent down to examine him, and tried to figure out what had attacked him.

A moment later, the commander stood up, but his legs gave way, and he stumbled back a few steps before finally sitting down on the ground. He didn't get up again; he just sat there, stunned and silent.

"Sigh!" After a long while, a sigh escaped.

His worst fears came true: although the protective suit had a high resistance to toxins, it was not immune to them. Over time, the protective suit's defenses were gradually breached, and eventually, it broke down.

The initial damage was likely minor, with only a small amount of toxin seeping into the protective suit. This explains why the soldier reported a slight pain in his arm.

As more and more toxins invaded, the pain intensified, and the soldier couldn't help but scratch. However, the already damaged protective suit couldn't withstand such tearing and was ripped open, completely destroying the soldier's hope of being saved.

The reason isn't complicated; the commander should have realized it the moment the soldier managed to tear the protective suit. After all, while this protective suit isn't as defensive as the space-age combat suit, it's definitely not something that a single Meto could tear with brute force.

However, all of that is in the past now, and those who remain will face a difficult choice.

Everyone's protective suits are mass-produced, with basically the same specifications. Since someone's protective suit has already been breached, it's only a matter of time before the others are too.

In this room filled with toxic fumes, a torn protective suit means death.

Some Meto soldiers touched their grenades; although they had made the decision beforehand, they hadn't expected to use them so soon. But when faced with death, hesitation inevitably arose.

But at that moment, a loud "boom" was heard, and the entire fortification seemed to shake. Then there were several more impacts, followed by a gnawing sound as if the wall was being scraped off.

The Tunneling Worm dug out troop tunnels, circled around, and returned to the battlefield. Fortifications that were ineffective against the Raider were merely slightly tougher pieces of food when facing the Tunneling Worm.

"Gentlemen, it's an honor to work with you!" The commander, who had been sitting on the ground in a daze, was startled awake by the commotion. He silently stood up, saluted the soldiers, then walked to a position away from them, hesitated for a moment, and then detonated a grenade.

In the nearly sealed environment, the reverberation of grenades echoed continuously. The soldiers could understand the commander's thoughts and choices, but not everyone could put them into action.

They couldn't judge whether this behavior was brave or cowardly, but the commander's actions still provided guidance for many.

"Ah!..."

"Boom!"

"..."

Shouts and explosions rose and fell in waves...

Finally, the Tunneling Worm dug through the walls of the fortifications, and wisps of white smoke seeped out from the breaches. The Raider, who had been eagerly anticipating their arrival, swarmed in, braving the white smoke.

But less than half of the Meto soldiers were still alive in the fortifications. There were traces of explosions everywhere, splattered blood, broken limbs and flesh. The scene was so horrific that it had to be pixelated.

Of the remaining Meto soldiers, a small number perished with some of the Raider while clutching explosives, while the rest were overwhelmed by the Swarm in their resistance.

At this moment, on the distant horizon, stars gradually rose, illuminating half of the sky.

When the Space Coalition Army Commander-in-Chief first received the distress calls, he didn't pay much attention. However, the distress messages kept coming in, becoming increasingly urgent. Just as he finally realized the seriousness of the situation and began to convene his personnel to discuss countermeasures, he received news that Life Star had almost fallen.

At this point, only one day and night had passed since he received the first distress message.

Upon learning the news, the Meto fleet was thrown into disarray. Before the Coalition Army Commander-in-Chief had even given the order, the fleet commander arbitrarily ordered the recall of his aircraft units.

After several days of fierce fighting, the Coalition Army's air force suffered heavy losses. As the most technologically backward Meto air force, the losses were naturally even more devastating.

However, as the host country, they have a huge military base, and even though their aircraft fleet is in dire straits, they still have tens of millions of aircraft remaining.

Many fighter jets forcibly withdrew from the battlefield regardless of losses, causing their comrades to curse and complain to the Coalition Army Commander. The Coalition Army Commander encountered the same problem that his colleague, another Coalition Army Commander Defek, had faced.

Ultimately, he compromised and acquiesced to the actions of the Meto fleet commander. After all, demanding a righteous punishment at this point would be a minor matter if the Meto fleet immediately abandoned their post or even defected.

The commander of the Meto fleet seemed to have anticipated that his actions would go unpunished, and under his command, numerous aircraft returned to their ships like swallows returning to their nests.

After undergoing a round of energy and ammunition resupply, they were transported back to the Life Star by a fleet of three thousand warships.

"Sir, command is asking us why we're sending warships back to Life Star when it's within the fighter jets' combat radius," the Adjutant reported.

"Tell them this will allow the fighter jets to remain in combat for longer. We must ensure the safety of Life Star before we are completely wiped out!"

"Yes, sir."

The commander of the Meto fleet watched the departing warship formation, his expression revealing a complex mix of emotions.

Three thousand warships are dispensable for the main battlefield, but they are the limit he can mobilize on his own without excessively disrupting the command center's operations.

In addition to ordering warships to escort fighters back to support, he also commanded that as many of his people as possible be transferred to the warships. Afterward, he would find various reasons to delay and prevent the fleet from returning to the battlefield. Once the main battlefield was defeated, the fleet would retreat directly.