If someone were bitten by a highly toxic creature, simply cutting away the affected flesh—or, as the commander had done, severing a limb—could stop the toxin from spreading further.


    But the injured soldier hadn’t been bitten by anything, nor was his wound limited to a single spot. Given the density of the white smoke in the hall, it was as if he had been submerged in a pool of poison.


    Thus, when the commander cut off the soldier’s left forearm and the medic rushed forward to bandage the wound, what he saw was horrifying. The severed stump was already beginning to corrode. Blood gushed from the wound, washing over the bubbling, rotting flesh. Even the medic, who had seen his share of life and death, found the sight unbearable.


    More importantly, he had no idea how to treat such a wound. As long as it remained exposed to the white smoke, any attempt to treat it would be futile.


    But given the current situation, isolating the wound from the smoke was nothing short of a pipe dream.


    The medic turned to the commander and shook his head. The commander, realizing the futility, made a Moto gesture of seeking forgiveness, then drew a small pistol from his belt.


    Bang! The injured soldier stopped struggling. The commander stepped forward, crouching to examine the body, trying to determine what had caused the attack.


    After a moment, the commander stood up, but his legs gave way, and he stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor. He didn’t get up again. Instead, he sat there, staring blankly, silent.


    “Sigh…” After a long pause, he let out a heavy sigh.


    His worst fear had come true. While the protective suits had high resistance to toxins, they weren’t immune. Prolonged exposure to the corrosive smoke had gradually worn down the suits’ defenses, eventually leading to breaches.


    The initial breach must have been small, allowing only a tiny amount of toxin to seep into the suit. This was why the soldier had reported a sudden pain in his arm.


    But as more toxin infiltrated the suit, the pain intensified, and the soldier couldn’t help but scratch at the affected area. The already compromised suit couldn’t withstand the strain, and it tore open, sealing the soldier’s fate.


    The reason wasn’t complicated. The commander should have realized it the moment the soldier was able to tear the suit. After all, while the protective suits weren’t as durable as space combat armor, they were still far from something a single Moto could rip apart with brute force.


    But all of that was in the past. The remaining soldiers now faced a grim choice.


    Their protective suits were mass-produced, with nearly identical specifications. If one suit had failed, it was only a matter of time before the others followed.


    In this room filled with toxic smoke, a breach in the suit meant certain death.


    Some Moto soldiers clutched their grenades. Although they had made the decision earlier, they hadn’t expected to face death so soon. But when the moment arrived, hesitation was inevitable.


    Just then, Boom! A massive explosion shook the entire fortification. The structure trembled, followed by several more impacts. Then came the sound of something scraping and gnawing at the walls. Sёar?h the n?vel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Burrowing Worms had dug a new path, circling around and returning to the battlefield. What had been an impenetrable fortress to the Raiders was, to the Burrowing Worms, merely a slightly tougher meal.


    “Gentlemen, it has been an honor to serve with you,” the commander, who had been sitting in stunned silence, was jolted back to reality by the tremors. He stood up slowly, saluted the soldiers, then walked to a secluded corner. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the pin on a grenade.


    In the nearly sealed environment, the explosion echoed endlessly. The soldiers understood the commander’s reasoning and choice, but not everyone could bring themselves to follow his example.


    They couldn’t say whether his actions were brave or cowardly, but the commander’s decision provided guidance for many.


    “Ah!…”


    Boom!


    “…”


    Shouts and explosions rang out one after another…


    Finally, the Burrowing Worms broke through the fortification’s walls. Wisps of white smoke seeped through the cracks. The Raiders, long starved for action, surged in, undeterred by the toxic fog. ????????ěs?


    But by then, less than half of the Moto soldiers remained alive. The scene was one of utter devastation—explosions had left their marks everywhere, with blood splattered across the walls, limbs torn apart, and flesh reduced to pulp. It was a sight so gruesome that it would require multiple layers of censorship.


    Of the remaining Moto soldiers, a few chose to go out in a blaze of glory, using explosives to take some Raiders with them. The rest were overwhelmed by the Swarm as they fought back.


    —


    On the horizon, the sun began to rise, casting light across half the sky.


    In space, the coalition commander had initially paid little attention to the distress signals. But as the messages grew more urgent, one after another, he finally realized the severity of the situation. By the time he gathered his staff to discuss a response, he received word that the planet had almost fallen.


    And all of this had happened in just a single day and night since the first distress signal.


    Upon hearing the news, the Moto fleet’s morale plummeted. Without waiting for orders from the coalition commander, the Moto fleet commander took it upon himself to recall all space fighter ships.


    After days of intense combat, the coalition’s fighter forces had suffered heavy losses. As the least technologically advanced among them, the Moto fighters had fared the worst, their losses compounding the already dire situation.


    But as the host civilization, the Moto had a vast number of fighters. Even after their devastating losses, they still had over ten million fighters remaining.


    The sudden, reckless withdrawal of so many fighters left their allies cursing and filing complaints with the coalition commander. The commander found himself facing the same dilemma his counterpart, Difeck, had encountered.


    In the end, he compromised, tacitly approving the Moto fleet commander’s actions. After all, demanding strict discipline at this point could lead to the Moto fleet abandoning their posts—or worse, defecting entirely.


    The Moto fleet commander seemed to have anticipated that his actions would go unpunished. Under his orders, the fighters returned to their carriers like swallows to their nests.


    After replenishing their energy and ammunition, the fighters were escorted back to the life planet by a fleet of three thousand ships.


    “Sir, headquarters is asking why we’re sending ships to escort the fighters back when the planet is within their operational range,” the adjutant reported.


    “Tell them it’s to extend the fighters’ operational endurance. As long as we’re not completely wiped out, we must ensure the safety of the Moto’s life planet!”


    “Yes, sir.”


    The Moto fleet commander watched the departing fleet with mixed emotions.


    Three thousand ships were insignificant in the grand scheme of the main battlefield, but it was the maximum he could mobilize without drawing too much attention from headquarters.


    In addition to escorting the fighters, he had also ordered the ships to evacuate as many civilians as possible. He planned to find various excuses to delay the fleet’s return to the battlefield. If the main front collapsed, the fleet would retreat immediately.