At the other end of the battlefield, the situation was worsening.
"Repairs ineffective! The armor in Sector Seven has completely crystallized!"
"The engine room has fallen! Something is crawling out of the pipes—ah!!!"
"Abandon ship! Everyone abandon—bzzzt—"
Screams rose and fell across the communication channels.
The Nova Corps flagship, the Nova Supreme, was sinking.
This colossal vessel, carrying Xandar's highest technology, now resembled a giant whale being torn apart by a pack of sharks. More than sixty percent of its hull had transformed into dark crimson Abyss crystals.
Fleshy tendrils extending from the transformed areas were drilling frantically into the compartments that had yet to fall, dragging out the soldiers within to either assimilate or tear apart.
Centurion Ilani Rael stood on the bridge, which was on the verge of collapse. Her helmet's visor had shattered, revealing a face covered in blood yet strangely calm.
She looked at the main screen.
It displayed a real-time tactical map of the entire battlefield.
The blue points representing the allied forces were going dark at a horrifying rate.
The red points representing the Abyss Fleet, however, were multiplying like a plague—whenever an allied ship was destroyed, new red points would emerge at the site of its wreckage within minutes.
Endless.
Unceasing.
And the universe itself was "helping" the enemy.
As the Paradox Engine warped the laws ever more deeply, the weapons of the allied fleet were steadily losing efficiency.
Main cannons that could once pierce a cruiser's shields in a single shot now required three or four shots to achieve the same result.
The Abyss Fleet's weapons, meanwhile, were continuously "evolving"—their bombardments had begun carrying mental corruption. Even if soldiers survived the physical impact, their minds would rapidly collapse, turning them against their comrades.
This was not war.
It was a one-sided massacre.