I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse-Chapter 1907: New Citizens’ Response

"You even gave streaming orbs to your Soulers!" Olana gasped, noticing the perspective shift. These angles were impossible unless the ethereal warriors themselves were carrying the recording devices into the very heart of the enemy's sanctuary.

"What's the point in killing them inside their own ships if no one is there to witness it?" Hye shrugged, his expression cold and detached. "A secret victory is a wasted victory. I want to carve the deepest and strongest impression possible into the soul of everyone watching this."

Olana nodded slowly, the realisation of his strategy finally taking hold. "I see. You wanted to send a definitive message to the other apex races. You're making a bloody example out of the Toranks today so that you won't have to waste time fighting the Hescos or the Hectors later. You're winning future wars before they even begin."

"Well… not exactly," Hye said, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. He knew she had misinterpreted his primary goal. "I was aiming for a totally different audience. That reminds me—I need to check the pulse of the crowd. I need to know how they're feeling after watching this performance."

"Who are you talking about?" Olana asked, her curiosity piqued. Who could possibly be more important than the Big Three races of the universe?

Hye didn't offer an immediate explanation. Instead, he opened a private channel with his friends, demanding immediate psychological and social updates from the newly developed planets under his control.

"You'll see," he said simply. "In time."

He turned his attention to a secondary screen that displayed a montage of live reactions from his own territory. These feeds, shared by Angelica and his inner circle, captured the emotional arc of his subjects during the short-lived battle.

Initially, the footage showed masses of people who were confused and paralysed by uncertainty. When the news of the Torank declaration of war first broke, a heavy gloom had settled over the new planets.

As the broadcast showed Hye's lone fleet being surrounded by the Torank armada, the populations fell into a deathly silence.

To the average citizen, his headlong charge into the centre of the enemy formation had looked like the arrogant blunder of a fool—courageous, perhaps, but ultimately fatal.

During those tense moments of the encirclement, a small, vocal minority had actually cheered. These were the dissenters, the remnants of old regimes who hated Hye's rise and prayed for his downfall. But then, the trap was sprung.

When the hidden fleet appeared and the Soulers began their grim work, the atmosphere on the planets shifted instantly. Silence turned into a roar of triumph that shook city centres.

By the time the last Toranks ship was disabled, it was clear that the ice had finally broken. The new citizens weren't just subjects anymore; they were fans. They were believers.

Hye typed out a quick, stern instruction to his friends: [Make sure to keep your eyes open. There are still those who stand against us. Identify the specific groups who celebrated when it looked like I was losing. Keep a close watch in case they decide to do something stupid.]

He knew he couldn't purge them yet. He needed to nurture the growing sense of belonging and nationalistic pride in the majority first. Once the "good weed" was strong and healthy, he would move in to filter out the "bad weed" without causing a civil tremor.

"Now, let's see where we shall move next," Hye said, turning back to Olana. "Pull up the tactical maps of the remaining Toranks fleet deployments. I want to see which theatre is suitable for our next show."

Olana quickly complied, projecting a star map marked with thirty-five different invasion routes the Toranks were utilising.

"Are you looking for a soft target? A spot with the lowest number of enemy fleets to maintain your momentum? If so, then this sector here should be our next stop." She pointed to a relatively isolated route with minimal resistance.

Hye paused, his eyes scanning the various maps for several minutes, calculating every route's estimated number of fleets. "You've misunderstood me again," he said softly. He reached out and tapped a sector that was glowing deep red with enemy signatures. "There. We'll start with this one."

Olana's face went pale, her eyes widening as she read the data. "This… Hye, this is a highly dense combat zone. There are at least twenty different fleets concentrated in this single corridor! It's a fortress!"

"Good," Hye replied, his gaze returning to the broadcast orb. "A fortress makes for a much better stage."

"..." And Olana gasped when she heard what he said!

"It's the route with the most fleets," Hye said, his voice dropping into a steady, chilling tone that signalled his resolve. He nodded in confirmation to himself more than to her, then turned his back on the command deck.

Before Olana could offer a rebuttal, he stepped outside into the vacuum-thin air of the battlefield to begin the grim task of collecting loot and stabilising the return portal. "I want to attack the biggest gathering of their forces next."

"..."

Olana stood frozen, the silence of the bridge ringing in her ears. She felt a surge of genuine alarm—he was crazy! To target the heart of the enemy's concentration was not just bold; it was a death sentence for anyone else.

Yet, by the time she managed to shake off the initial paralysis of her shock, Hye was already deep into his work. Through the viewscreen, she watched his silhouette moving with practised, cold efficiency among the wreckage.

He was harvesting at a ferocious pace. This time, the haul was different; he was gaining a massive quantity of high-grade bones.

As he gripped the remains of his fallen foes, the texture and weight of the bones confirmed a theory he had been nursing. He began to believe that the grade of the bone was dictated directly by the rank of the race within the cosmic hierarchy of the universe.