Only when the last wisp of plasma swept past the edge of the golden shield and vanished into the depths of the stars did that immense golden barrier, which had covered hundreds of warships, slowly dissipate, as though its purpose had been fulfilled.
Saul had grown somewhat pale. Even for him, single-handedly withstanding a cosmic catastrophe of such magnitude had consumed enormous reserves of strength and psychic power. His breathing had quickened, and a fine sheen of sweat beaded his forehead.
"Saul! Are you all right?" His adjutants, Gareth and Klaest, rushed forward at once, one on either side, to steady his slightly swaying body.
"I'm fine." Saul waved a hand and drew a deep breath. A trace of exhaustion flickered in his golden eyes, but far stronger was an anger of utter, icy coldness. "Just... a little tired. And... very angry."
He slowly turned to look at the devastated battlefield.
Beyond the protection of the golden shield, the once-vast Imperial Fleet had been reduced to a scattering of ships. At least a third of its warships had vanished forever in that terrifying display of "divine wrath." Most of those that remained were badly damaged, their shields gone, drifting helplessly through the nebula like tigers stripped of their teeth and claws.
Meanwhile, in Viola's underground command center, Aun'Ve stared at the points of light on the star map that represented the core of the Imperial Fleet, still stubbornly flickering amid the coronal storm. Undisguised shock spread across his face.
"He... he withstood it?"
For the first time, an emotion called confusion flickered in Shadowsun's eyes as well. Her tactical AI calculated and analyzed frantically, yet could find no reasonable explanation.
"According to the energy model analysis, resisting a coronal mass ejection of that magnitude would require an energy shield of