Roya knew that once the Silent King learned of his rise at the head of Pirate Star, he would undoubtedly mobilize in full force and launch a campaign against him.
In such a scenario, if Roya and his warriors were still relying only on the technology and resources seized from the Fearless Dynasty, they would never be able to withstand the Silent King.
Who could guess what heaven-defying technologies or terrifying weapons that galactic overlord might draw from his all-encompassing databanks once he fully revived?
"I must quickly master the forging techniques and materials of the Ancient Saint Colossi. Then I'll pass the true technical data of this mech to Nuwa. That way, we can push colossus technology to the peak of what's achievable in the shortest time."
"As long as we overcome the hurdle of miniaturization, we can begin mass production and equip not only the main battle legions but also the Pacifist Corps!"
"When that time comes, even if the Fearless Dynasty throws in its entire might, there will be nothing to fear!"
But before he could safely secure this technology—and the manpower and resources of this planet—he first had to deal with the lurking presence that was watching from the shadows.
Having analyzed the original mech, Roya had already understood what trickery this creature had been plotting with its so-called Ancient Saint Colossi.
A schemer like this—he had to be punished.
A faint smile crossed Roya's lips. He deliberately put on an expression of being utterly captivated by the mech, as if forgetting himself in its allure.
After running his hand over its hull, he floated upward, drifting toward the cockpit's entrance.
He understood perfectly: this mech was the other's prized treasure, something he would never willingly allow Roya to claim and carry away.
The only reason he had even let Roya enter in the first place was that he had been frightened—frightened by those few crushing kicks Roya had dealt earlier!
Thus, the lurking foe had resorted to a delay tactic, feigning cooperation, pretending to let Roya in while buying time and avoiding direct confrontation.
The pair of mechs—the intact one and the ruined one—were nothing more than bait, dangled in front of Roya to tempt him.
If he truly lost himself in them and lowered his vigilance, the creature would not hesitate to launch a sudden ambush!
Now, Roya intended to turn the tables—crafting a false image of lowered guard, just enough to draw the enemy out.
Catching a rat while it hid was difficult. But tempt it with cheese, and it would come crawling from its hole—ready to be killed with one decisive strike.
Sure enough, just as Roya brushed his spiritual sense against the cockpit's internal activation rune, and the thick alloy plating began to slide open in layers, a vague, unsettling wisp of spiritual energy suddenly stirred in his awareness.
Hidden, corrupt, sticky—every sensation tied to darkness coiled and writhed within that energy. Its very texture announced that its master was one who thrived in shadows, waiting only to strike his prey with venom when the moment came.
In an instant, Roya gathered his spiritual sense into a focused spear, like wringing water from a soaked towel, forcibly squeezing that foul, invasive energy back out of his perception.
At the same time, he monitored the surrounding energy fluctuations with absolute concentration, ready in case the foe attempted to pry at subspace energy with his spirit and launch an assault.
But Roya had underestimated this opponent's method of attack.
At the very moment he compressed his spiritual sense, that murky energy suddenly piggybacked on his exertion of force, breaching the barrier between material space and subspace at the level of spiritual energy!
No matter how fluidly Roya controlled his awareness, even he could not resist the pull of the entire subspace. Against his will, he was dragged wholesale into it—alongside that gray, malignant force.
Of course, Roya was no stranger to projecting his spiritual sense into subspace. But those times had always been his own initiative, and always when his physical body was in relative safety.
This time was different. He had been forcibly yanked in—without the guarantee of security.
And judging by how smooth and practiced the maneuver was, it was clearly a favored tactic of his adversary, honed through many such confrontations.
Unwilling to reveal himself in the material world, yet bold enough to drag Roya into subspace—this one must have some reliance here.
Steeling himself, Roya stabilized his spirit and leveraged his newly evolved God's-eye view, arranging his awareness in every direction, monitoring the entire reach of his perception.
The rat had finally left its hole. Now it was only a matter of waiting for the perfect chance to strike it dead.
With his senses extended to their utmost, Roya grasped every subtle fluctuation within his range—the projections of spirits, the currents of subspace energy—leaving not a single blind spot.
Yet, clearly, the foe's patience was formidable. The moment he noticed that Roya's spiritual projection was unlike any other, he chose without hesitation to retreat into dormancy once more.
Strangely, this only reassured Roya.
Because it meant that in the material world, his enemy had no allies. Otherwise, he would have risked a reckless strike here, if only to distract Roya and give his helpers a chance to act.
With the battle confined to subspace, Roya feared nothing.
After all, he could directly draw upon subspace energy to strengthen himself!
If it came down to an endurance contest, even the Silent King would eventually be worn down by him.
And indeed, as subspace energy poured ceaselessly into his spiritual projection, it pushed both his spirit and his material body toward ever greater strength.
The effect was plain: his projection grew visibly larger, swelling at a rate detectable even to spiritual perception.
The hidden presence soon noticed this bizarre, terrifying phenomenon. Panic shook through him, and he let out an uncontrollable tremor—born from the spirit itself.
That slip shattered his concealment, leaving him with nowhere left to hide.
In Roya's expanded vision, at the very edge of his perception, a faint, grayish, almost transparent rod-like form revealed itself.
It was grievously wounded, radiating decay and death, lingering on the brink of total dissolution.
Locking onto it with his senses, Roya finally discerned its outline.
It resembled the dragons of myth from his previous life—yet its body was strung together by countless stars, its form traced in lines of starlight.
One could imagine what he must have been in his prime: every star ablaze, his body shimmering with streams of radiant brilliance—an awe-inspiring, breathtaking sight.
But now he was dim, nearly extinguished. Even the core stars of his body hovered on the verge of shattering into transparent fragments.
This star-dragon, already tottering on the edge of oblivion, suddenly stirred to life the instant Roya locked onto him. With a burst of speed, he hurtled straight toward Roya's projection!
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