As the summit concluded…
After a full day of debate and heated arguments, Earth's major powers finally managed to produce a somewhat unified resolution:
"If communication is possible, we will attempt peaceful contact."
"If hostility is shown—we strike first."
Of course, the real reason they reached consensus so quickly was simple:
They had no other choice.
None of them had the capability to abandon Earth and flee into the stars.
And the enemy, after all, was just a single warship.
What if—just maybe—they could actually win?
With that hopeful thought in mind, the nations began mobilizing their resources.
Countless secret weapons and classified technologies, previously hidden away in the shadows, were now brought out into the light.
After cobbling together every scrap of firepower they could, the compiled list of weapons and systems surprised everyone.
Their side's overall combat strength… wasn't bad at all.
If it really was just one starship—not even a particularly strong one—they might actually stand a chance.
That realization gave the leaders of each country a much-needed boost of confidence.
Mobilization began at full speed.
Weapons, personnel, and equipment were rushed to the space bases on Mars and the Moon at all costs.
The plan was to build defensive lines there—to intercept the incoming enemy before it ever reached Earth.
And as one massive transport vessel after another launched into orbit, their engines roaring with blinding blue flame…
This kind of unprecedented military operation—both in scale and secrecy—was impossible to hide from everyone.
Soon, the nations that hadn't been invited to the summit, along with various civilian organizations and multinational corporations, began to sense that something was wrong.
Even a global war wouldn't require this much manpower and logistics.
They started using every method at their disposal to dig for answers from the higher-ups.
Bribes, seduction, drugs, weapons...
But those at the top knew just how serious this situation was. No one dared slip up at such a critical moment.
It was as if every world leader had suddenly become a saint—no matter how much they were tempted, no one said a word.
After a series of failed attempts, the frustrated parties changed tactics and started digging from the bottom instead.
In just a few days, rumors began circulating among the public—and rapidly spread through various media channels.
Anxiety and panic took root.
Protests, demonstrations, and even violent riots began to erupt across the globe.
But for the major powers, these events were barely worth a reaction.
Aside from dispatching police when things got particularly out of hand, they didn't bother intervening further.
To them, this was just noise. Background static.
Mob violence? So what?
Did they have nuclear warheads?
11th-generation fighter jets?
Maglev main battle tanks?
Next-gen smart rifles?
No?
Then let them riot for a few days. What difference did it make?
Once the real threat was handled, all of this could be cleaned up in a matter of minutes.
And if they couldn't solve the main problem…
Then none of it would matter anyway.
---
In a luxury villa…
After hanging up a phone call, Petra's expression was grim.
Orsaga glanced at her and casually asked,
"What are you up to?"
There was a brief silence. Perhaps deciding that it was better to mentally prepare him early, Petra sighed and replied:
"…The situation's gotten a bit unstable. I wanted to make backup plans—for the three of us."
Under normal circumstances, given her influence in Britain, even if a global war broke out, Petra could easily guarantee their safety.
For example, just beneath this upscale neighborhood, about 300 meters underground, there was a fully equipped fallout shelter.
It had enough supplies to sustain over 10,000 people for more than a decade.
Its security?
Flawless. Built by and for the elite.
Even a nuclear strike on the surface wouldn't breach it.
But this time… something was off.
In a confidential conversation with the Queen, Petra had picked up on some troubling undertones.
The Queen's subtle implications only reinforced her growing suspicion that this wasn't just another crisis.
It demanded caution.
So she had tried to arrange a private spaceflight—to escape to another planet and wait things out until the truth became clear.
But due to the current global situation, not even she could pull that off.
Hence the sour look on her face.
---
"Unstable?" Orsaga chuckled. "You're worried about that?"
"Ugh, you're so annoying."
Seeing his complete lack of concern, Petra frowned.
Just thinking about how she had humbled herself, made calls, begged for favors—not for herself, but for all three of them—made her scowl.
"I only did it for us, you know."
Orsaga gently soothed her,
"No need to stress over something so minor. Just do whatever you feel like doing."
Even though his current strength was at a human level, after a recent blood ritual, Orsaga had obtained one opportunity to unleash his true form.
So that so-called Horizon ship?
He didn't consider it a threat at all.
Even if he didn't know its exact capabilities.
Because honestly, the enemy's performance had been underwhelming.
Neptune was what—three billion kilometers from Earth?
At lightspeed, that was a trip of under three hours.
But that trash heap of a ship was going to take dozens of days to get here?
To Orsaga, that wasn't "advanced alien tech."
It was slow. Turtle-slow.
He was getting impatient just waiting.
---
Picking up on the disdain in his tone, Petra asked curiously,
"You know something about it?"
In her mind, Orsaga was an enigma—his background completely untraceable.
Even with all her power, she had found nothing on him.
That could only mean one thing:
He had deep, dangerous secrets.
Which was why she suspected he might know something more than he was letting on.
Orsaga responded honestly,
"To be fair, I know a little. But not much."
That bizarre, fleshy warship?
He honestly didn't know exactly what it was.
But its grotesque design, covered in blood and bone, gave him a strange sense of familiarity.
Back in the Abyss, his wholesome hometown demons loved that kind of whimsically grotesque aesthetic.
---
Seeing the sincerity on his face, Petra rolled her eyes and teased,
"Liar. I bet you know all the secrets."
"…"
As an honest abyssal demon, Orsaga felt deeply wronged.
No matter who it was, throughout his entire existence…
Everyone assumed he was a liar.
Even if they didn't know his true nature, they just knew he was shady.
But in truth, from the moment he was born until now, he could count the lies he'd told on one hand—ten at most.
He truly believed he had earned the right to be called "honest."
And yet, the entire world seemed determined to paint him as some scheming, duplicitous bastard.
It was honestly exhausting.
___
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