I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse-Chapter 1911: A Decisive Universal Retreat!

Things progressed with blinding speed. To ensure he didn’t miss a single scrap of data, Hye issued a final, risky command. He ordered a large number of Soulers and Reapers to exit their transport ships and fly directly toward the closest hexagonal weapon pieces.

He was offering up his best warriors as live bait to see exactly how the weapon interacted with his deadliest warriors.

Then, the void screamed. The weapons fired.

The attack was entirely alien, a phenomenon that would have baffled even the most ancient dwellers of this universe. In the standard theatre of galactic warfare, destruction was a matter of brute physics: you amassed a colossal quantity of energy and hurled it at a target until its structural integrity failed.

Yet, the Torank weapon defied every established law of combat. It didn’t fire deadly beams or explosive shells as the spectators expected—as Hye himself had expected. Instead, as the black hexagonal pieces reached a fever pitch of luminescence, they didn’t discharge... They shed.

A weird, shimmering layer of bright light peeled away from the obsidian surfaces like a second skin. These translucent sheets of radiance drifted a few thousand miles away from the primary weapon platforms, hovering in the void.

Then, with a sickeningly fluid motion, they began to expand and coalesce, weaving together into a cohesive, glowing lattice that threatened to stitch the stars shut.

It was a bizarre, haunting scene that even a mind as sharp as Hye’s struggled to grasp initially. But then, the first of his vanguard made contact.

Only Hye, with his deep, metaphysical connection to his summons, could truly perceive and assess the impact. The moment his Soulers and Reapers brushed against those drifting veils of light, they didn’t just die. They melted.

Their spectral forms, usually impervious to conventional weaponry, disintegrated into nothingness as if they were shadows being erased by a rising sun.

"This..."

Olana turned, her breath catching as she saw the sudden, violent shift in Hye’s expression. His face, usually a mask of cold arrogance, had gone bone-white.

"It’s the same source of energy from that place... How?!!"

Hye’s mind raced backwards, tunnelling through layers of memory to a time long before he had set foot in this universe. He had experienced this specific absolute power once before, during the genesis of his apocalypse trial. Back then, he had faced a weapon of terrifying proportions—a relic he remembered as the ’God Tear’.

At the time, he hadn’t fully understood the nomenclature, but the sensation was unmistakable. It was power drawn from the mysterious, primordial existences known as Gods.

That single tear had held enough concentrated power to decimate anything and everything it touched. He vividly recalled sending his warriors to intercept it, only to watch them evaporate with the same horrific ease he was witnessing now.

"You know what that thing is, don’t you?!" Olana asked. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but the look in his eyes was a testament to his horror. He didn’t just recognise the weapon; he understood its catastrophic potential and knew exactly what was coming next.

The series of orders he barked out in the next second confirmed her darkest fears.

"We’re retreating!" He was decisive, his voice cutting through the bridge like a whip. He didn’t hesitate for a heartbeat longer. "I’ll open a portal, and we leave—right now!"

"What about your forces?!!" Olana shouted, her voice bordering on hysteria. She looked at the tactical map; his grand fleet was locked in a brutal, close-quarters struggle with the Toranks. "You can’t just turn your back on them!"

"They’ll escape with us," Hye snapped.

Olana completely misunderstood him. Her mind immediately jumped to the meaning of a standard retreat: the grand fleet would have to disengage, perform complex manoeuvres to break away from the enemy’s ships and fire zones, and then funnel through a singular rift. To her, it was a suicidal gambit that was mathematically guaranteed to fail.

Even if those halos of light were currently expanding slowly, she could see them gaining momentum. They were growing in speed with every passing second. She felt a surge of frustration—how could a man as brilliant as Hye not see that by the time his ships broke formation, the halos would have already swallowed them whole?

The moment Hye made his decision, he didn’t waste time on standard naval manoeuvres. He gave a universal command to every single one of his scattered warriors:

[Exit the ships and store them in your inventory!]

It was an order that would have been nonsensical to any other army in the cosmos, but to Hye’s forces, it was the ultimate escape hatch. While his warriors flooded out of the airlocks to execute the command, he sent a secondary, stern retreat order to all his friends and kingdom leaders across the universe.

If the Toranks had deployed this highly advanced "God-Tier" weapon here, there was no reason to assume they hadn’t seeded it elsewhere. In the best-case scenario, the Toranks only possessed this one prototype, but even then, they would move to target his other forces the moment he vanished from this battlefield.

Hye possessed a "cheat code" for withdrawal—a way to vanish from a fight in mere minutes, but his friends did not. Because his warriors were summoned from tokens, they could be stored within his inventory, reverting to their token state, where they were effectively immortal and untargetable.

This was a privilege solely enjoyed by Hye. His friends, however, led armies comprised of living races from his kingdom. They needed every spare second to conduct a proper withdrawal. By sounding the alarm now, he was giving them a good head-up chance.

Olana was just about to scream at him, to grab his shoulder and stop his frantic retreat, when her eyes drifted back to the grand holographic map. Her jaw dropped.

"What the hell is going on with your forces?!!!"

On the screen, the massive, imposing shapes of the grand fleet were blinking out of existence. One by one, thousands of ships were simply... Vanishing.