Chapter 346

Chapter 346: The Chess Match of Star Ocean

Whether deploying troops, building warships, or gathering resources—none could be hidden from the enemy. Everything was laid bare. This defined the standoff in Star Ocean.

So the war could be compared to a chess game, where every move was made openly—or had to be made openly.

But the resemblance ended there. While the situation appeared straightforward, everything else differed entirely from chess.

In chess, both sides wield equal forces.

But here, the sect headquarters possessed far more fleets and resources than Blood Purification and Midi’s Hawk Brigade combined.

Chess follows turns. Here, speed dictated progress. The faster a side acted, the more initiative they seized.

Advanced warships and reckless use of auxiliary boosters further cemented the sect’s advantage.

The enemy’s overwhelming strength remained unaffected by the All-Seeing Demon’s presence.

Meanwhile, tactics like strategic maneuvers, ambushes, and predictions—tools for the weaker side to overcome the strong—were rendered useless by that same demon.

If he had a choice, Midi would have preferred if neither side had the All-Seeing Demon.

Commanders thrive in war’s fog, maximizing their worth through uncertainty. Yet now, he faced fleets multiple times his strength, forced into transparent warfare.

Many saw this as hopeless.

Even Judge Marcel, usually unshakable, had wavered. During Blood Hell Island’s defense, he’d exhausted every aerial combat tactic, yet still failed to repel the assault.

Loz, leader of the Third Temple, barely commanded at all—he’d been busy fighting Midi.

The Heart-Seizing Demons, armed with the All-Seeing Demon’s insight, effortlessly controlled the battlefield, dismantling Marcel’s efforts without their commander.

This proved a harsh truth: in direct combat, numbers decided outcomes. The weaker side inevitably spiraled toward defeat.

"What do we do now?" Reinhardt asked, his striking eyes locked on Midi standing before the Star Ocean map. Despite the crisis, the fourth prince’s gaze burned with excitement, resembling Wiseman examining some bizarre specimen.

Understandable. Reinhardt was a commander. While the All-Seeing Demon crippled conventional strategy, true genius emerged in such crucibles.

As Arad’s proverb went: True steel shows its sharpest edge in the fiercest flames.

Now, Reinhardt eagerly awaited the answer from Arad’s greatest tactical mind.

"What to do?" Midi paused briefly before replying, "First, we consolidate full command of the fleet. This task—"

"—falls to me," Reinhardt cut in.

Blood Purification and the Hawk Brigade were allies of convenience, united against a common foe but riven by internal tensions.

Blood Purification lay broken by the sect’s fierce attacks. With Marcel faltering, no strong leader remained. Meanwhile, Midi’s reputation soared—he’d single-handedly captured eight poison needle warships and turned the tide at Blood Hell Island.

However dire things seemed, without Midi seizing an All-Seeing Demon, annihilation would have followed. Calling him Blood Purification’s savior wasn’t hyperbole.

Merging the allies into a single force under one command promised greater efficiency and strength. With the factions’ current imbalance, failing to seize control would be unlike Midi.

Reinhardt had long prepared for this scenario. If roles were reversed, he too would act first.

“I’ve infiltrated Blood Purification through agents. The Patrol Team’s Rot and Roy brothers are aligned with us. As for Sandur, we’re leveraging Holy Maiden Avril’s influence. Neutral factions agreed to cooperate once we share portions of the Thought Capturer heritage from the Mind Maze. Securing fleet command should be manageable,” Reinhardt explained confidently.

Midi gave a satisfied nod. Having a captain like Reinhardt—a renowned general—proved far more reliable than dealing with the self-serving Wiseman of the Hand of Nightmare.

“Integrate the fleet within three days. Then we begin proper warfare,” Midi stated, eyes fixed on the expansive sea chart.

“Exactly! So, how do we strike?” Reinhardt pressed urgently.

“Simple. Force enemies to dance to our tempo,” Midi answered lightly.

Three days later.

Two fleets departed Blood Hell Island simultaneously, splitting toward separate destinations.

Midi’s fleet, comprised of captured poison needle warships and Hawk Brigade’s replica flame warships, targeted a sect headquarters mining site thousands of kilometers away.

Reinhardt led the second fleet—primarily Blood Purification’s forces—toward a distant floating island outpost.

The sect headquarters tracked both fleets instantly.

But with enemies advancing in opposite directions, a choice loomed: defend the mining site or the outpost?

Ideally, splitting forces to cover both would work. Yet calculations showed only one fleet could reach either battlefield in time.

Midi’s strikes weren’t random tests. Both targets matched his fleet’s travel distance but lacked the sect’s full defensive power. Neither was a military stronghold, preventing additional reinforcements.

Forcing single-target decisions—this was Midi’s tactic.

Ultimately, prioritizing Midi’s notorious threat, the sect hurled their fastest fleet toward the mining site while ordering a distant second fleet to aid the outpost.

Result? Midi’s ships circled the mining site perimeter without firing a single shot before withdrawing.

Meanwhile, Reinhardt unleashed lightning cannon fire upon the undefended outpost. When the sect’s second fleet arrived, only shattered rocks remained. Reinhardt had even rigged the floating island with explosives, obliterating it completely.

Victory didn’t stir Midi’s calm. He repeated the strategy, launching another dual assault to corner the sect into another choice.

Again, they chose wrong. Or perhaps no choice existed—whichever side they defended, the other received intel via magical communications and struck.

After several rounds, the sect’s overwhelming troop strength became meaningless. Midi’s relentless attacks left them scrambling defensively, unable to mount proper counterattacks.

Midi’s scorched-earth policy ensured every targeted floating island was either destroyed or crippled beyond quick repair.

Trapped in Midi’s rhythm, the sect could only react. He dictated when and where battles occurred. He chose to fight or retreat, while the sect wasted resources guarding every vulnerable point.

With mere two or three modest fleets, Midi pinned down forces multiple times larger, eroding their strength through constant pressure.

Ironically, the All-Seeing Demon’s surveillance worsened their plight. Without it, the sect would’ve ignored Midi’s feints and crushed Blood Hell Island and his forward base, expelling him from the Star Ocean.

But fixated on tracking his moves, they drowned in endless defense.

“Force them into our rhythm.”

Only now did Reinhardt grasp Midi’s plan.

The All-Seeing Demon might monitor the entire Star Ocean, but no power could spy on a true commander’s strategic mind.

This wasn’t mere warfare—it was Psychological Warfare, a battle of wits played like chess.