SWNOVELXO Chapter 165: Tactics from Another World
If we add General Sam's ships to the count, then technically, we outnumber the enemy forces.
But the real problem began the moment the Shadowless Hawks appeared on radar—because right then, all of Sam's ships immediately started turning tail, fleeing in the opposite direction.
So in practical terms, the fight now stood at our 183 ships versus their 211. The gap in numbers wasn't enormous, but the difference in quality was. Their entire fleet consisted of battleships and larger-class vessels. Meanwhile, less than half of ours met that classification.
We were clearly outgunned in terms of sheer firepower... Or at least, that's what most would assume at first glance.
"Send out the hunters," I ordered, my voice calm and composed.
Didn't I have all of our ships undergo a series of modifications earlier? Of course, those changes weren't just cosmetic. In fact, our smaller vessels had been transformed into something that could no longer be underestimated.
Each one now carried a high-caliber laser, strong enough to exceed the original generator's output. These weapons could be fired at lower energy levels for regular engagements—but if the power was pushed to the maximum...
{Yeehaw! It's our turn to shine, boys~!}
{Git! Git! Let's go!}
{Turn to space dust, you Hawk bastards...!}
The Hunter-class frigates darted forward, cutting a wide arc as they surged toward the enemy from their blind spots. After all, no matter how heavily armed a ship is, there's always at least one angle that lacks turret coverage.
As for me? Any ship I pilot has no such weaknesses. I can flip a full-sized vessel 360° on a dime, no sweat.
But normal ships aren't like that. They're sluggish when turning. That's why I developed a support program to calculate optimal paths—streamlined trajectories that led our pilots straight to the enemy's vulnerable sides.
These ex-pirates—who previously knew nothing except brute-force charges—could now perform tactical maneuvers with frightening precision.
Before long, they vanished from our view and reached their firing range. Then it happened: turrets unleashed their payload. Our VB Modules flashed from the discharge as laser beams illuminated space, so bright they felt like a pulsar had gone off right in front of us!
"Report!" I barked.
Eva responded immediately, her voice sharp. "All frigates are intact. No damage sustained. Enemy fleet has lost 25% of their forces in a single volley."
"That's fantastic!"
In one coordinated strike, we crippled a quarter of their forces. And our casualties? None. The only cost was that the frigates' capacitors were fully drained. A few minutes of recharge and they'd be good as new.
"Alright, corvettes! Your turn—charge!"
Naturally, the battle strategy didn't stop there.
Now, the smaller, faster corvettes launched forward. They outnumbered the frigates by at least three to one. But their power output was weaker. A single corvette's laser, no matter how advanced, wouldn't be enough to down a battleship on its own. But what if they attacked in groups?
Another swarm broke away from our main formation, dispersing like a cloud of insects. They weaved through space in unpredictable, chaotic patterns—trajectories so erratic it was impossible to anticipate where they'd be a second later.
Statistically speaking, smaller ships actually have higher survival rates than larger ones in fleet battles—simply because they're harder to hit amid the chaos. Trying to snipe one with a capital ship's cannon is like trying to shoot a fly mid-flight with a rifle. Good luck.
Predictably, the enemy didn't fall for the same tactic again.
They promptly restructured their formation, rotating ships to cover their previous blind spots. But in doing so, they inevitably created new ones. My program recalculated the weak points instantly and redirected our corvettes to exploit them.
Corvettes had shorter firing range than frigates, so they had to get dangerously close before engaging. Before they could lock onto a target, the enemy had already begun their counterattack.
Lasers rained down like a storm. Hundreds of beams sliced through space, painting it with deadly light.
{Hahah! That's not gonna hit!}
{Where are you aiming, mofos?!}
The pilots shouted gleefully, even though the enemy couldn't hear them. Still, morale was important, and if a little trash talk helped, who was I to stop them?
And true enough, not a single laser landed. I'd love to credit the navigation program I made, but from their perspective, they were just that good—untouchable aces dancing through enemy fire like it was nothing.
Finally, they closed the gap and entered attack range. At that exact moment, the corvettes grouped into trios, each squad unleashing their lasers simultaneously. Their synchronization was flawless—their precision, deadly.
Each burst of energy struck with pinpoint accuracy, melting through shields as if they weren't even there. The hulls that followed burned and twisted as if sliced by the hand of a god.
"See this?! Even corvettes can destroy battleships, as long as they have the right strategy and equipment!"
Of course, this tactic was already well known among veteran players—but it was usually applied when commanding NPC fleets. After all, no player would willingly choose smaller ships if they could afford the bigger ones. I suppose vanity still triumphs over statistical efficiency in this game.
"Alright, call them back," I commanded. "The distance has been closed more than enough. It's time to engage them properly!"
Right now, the gap between us and the enemy fleet was approximately 0.02 AU—just a little more before both sides would fall into direct firing range.
But naturally, when I said "engage properly," I didn't mean a fair and equal shootout.
"FIRE!" I shouted, voice sharp and commanding.
Normally, initiating a volley at this range would be considered premature. Lasers tend to disperse and lose most of their destructive capability over long distances. But… that only applies if you're playing by conventional strategies.
Roughly 20 kilometers ahead of our main fleet floated a peculiar distortion in space—a single rupture.
A warp portal.
Where did it lead? Good question.
Seconds after we opened fire in unison, a massive eruption of explosions rocked the rear end of the enemy fleet. Flames erupted like solar flares—our combined laser fire from over a hundred ships focused on a few dozen carefully selected targets. The result? Utter annihilation.
That tiny portal had, as you've guessed, opened directly behind the enemy formation.
With this strike—combined with the earlier two waves—we must've eliminated at least half of their forces. The tide had decisively turned in our favor, both in numbers and in terms of firepower.
"Alright, no more need for small tricks!" I yelled through the comms, throwing my hand forward as I roared the command. "Give those Shadowless Hawks bastards hell...!"
And just like that, the real battle began.
Lasers, gamma-ray bursts, kinetic missiles, and plasma shells blazed through the void of space. The enemy, with their armada of heavily armored warships, initially held the advantage in defense. But our ships—overengineered and bolstered by sheer financial overkill—boasted heavier, deadlier weapons.
This was a classic standoff between an impenetrable shield and an unstoppable spear—and by the looks of it, our spear was winning.
Within just five minutes of brutal exchange, roughly half of our ships had sustained varying levels of damage. But the other half? Completely unscathed.
Meanwhile, the enemy fleet had already begun to retreat.
By the numbers... Only around 10% of their forces remained intact. The rest were reduced to molten debris or rendered inoperable, their systems fried beyond hope of recovery.
{A-Amazing...}
General Sam, watching everything from a safe rear position, could only gasp in disbelief.
Well, this was likely his first time witnessing this kind of strategic execution. For his people, this approach must've seemed alien—as if it came from another dimension entirely.
"Should we give chase?" Eva asked, locking eyes on the 20 or so enemy vessels still trying to flee.
But to her question, I simply shook my head. "No need. Let them run."
Eliminating them wouldn't give us any worthwhile returns. In fact, letting them live—and allowing them to limp back home—would serve our interests even better.
"Oh, slip in our next destination somewhere in their system logs," I said, turning to Nyssra, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since the start of the skirmish. "We wouldn't want them getting lost while searching for the ones who did this to them~!"
"Gotcha! I'll get on it right away!" Nyssra responded with a salute and a bright smile.
Looks like she figured out what I was aiming for with this little misdirection.
"Anyway, General Sam. What's the status on the repairs?" I asked the observer, who just minutes ago had been trembling like a leaf in a storm.
{W-We're still working on it! I said it'd take two hours earlier, didn't I?!}
"I see..."
Something about his tone felt...off. Like he was upset about something. Was he annoyed? Or maybe envious of my performance—watching me dismantle a superior fleet with barely a dent on my side?
Well, whatever the case, the immediate danger had passed. Now...
"It's time to collect our loot!"
Most of the enemy fleet had been obliterated, but as I mentioned earlier, some vessels were still mostly intact. Salvaging those could yield valuable components—maybe even rare tech or intact weapons. Anything that could offset our repair bills was worth the effort.
'Not like I can't afford all the repairs and then some, but still… it's the principle that matters.'
We had two hours to kill before the ship was ready to move again, so we had plenty of time to scavenge.
But then, about an hour and a half into the operation, just as we wrapped up the last of the battlefield cleanup—
{Repairs are done. We can proceed now!}
The once spineless General suddenly sounded like a new man.