I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse Chapter 1964: The God Weapon Approaches

"Of course I would be," the Grand Elder’s voice thundered from the darkness behind a colossal pillar. He emerged into the glow, his face twisted in a sly, perceptive smirk. "But I’d first need to know which exact part was meant to enrage me, hahaha!"

"I meant someone else entirely," Hye fibbed effortlessly, rolling his eyes while shoving the notion of turning against his comrades to the recesses of his thoughts. "Is it all set?"

"All is precisely as we planned," the Grand Elder replied, shifting his eyes toward Moth.

The junior elder looked like he’d matured ten years overnight, but he now exuded an air of command. The crisis had scorched away his doubts, granting him respect from the veteran Elders that he’d lacked until now.

"The portal to those exact coordinates in deep space stands prepared," Moth stated, his voice steady and businesslike, skipping any chit-chat. "The planet’s shields will deactivate shortly. The instant the network fails, we’ll face a tiny window for action. Miss the beat, or if the Toranks spot the shutdown as a trick..."

"I get it, I get it," Hye cut in, flicking his hand casually. "I’m the sole one here who’s been on a bridge facing that horror head-on. I grasp the risks. Now, have you got the gear I requested?"

"Right here." The Grand Elder advanced, presenting a cubic device. It was compact, akin to a typical jewelry case, its exterior carved with tiny circuits that glowed with subtle, gem-like radiance. "Our top researchers wrecked their workshops rushing to complete these. I sincerely hope they perform as you pictured, Hye. We’ve had zero chance for trials."

Hye seized the cube, his gaze blazing with wild, fervent thrill. He flipped it in his palms, sensing the thick power vibrating inside. "You’re not saying you only produced a single one?"

"We churned out thousands," the Grand Elder announced, nodding at hefty boxes hauled into the chamber behind him. "Even so, no tests make it a huge unknown..."

"Forget the tests," Hye chuckled sharply with bold assurance. A quick wrist snap sent every crate vanishing into his inventory. "If your techs stuck to my blueprint perfectly, it’ll work fine. Now, the main armadas? In place?"

"They hit positions an hour back," Moth verified. "They’re operating with our cutting-edge phantom-cloaking measures. Without Torank tech to detect minor space distortions, we’re invisible."

"Excellent." Hye scanned the room, his eyes pausing on the screens displaying the God Weapon’s ominous silhouette at the system’s border. "All pieces align. I’m off. Monitor the broadcast intently. Spot the massive flare, and that’s your signal."

"You’re absolutely sure about no backup?" the Grand Elder pressed, his tone unusually gentle with worry. He recognized the scheme as mad but sound. Hye’s lone-wolf stance was the fragile point—he’d plant himself solo at the heart of the impending doom.

"I’m their top hate target among the Toranks right now," Hye stated, a serene grin curving his mouth. "In a conflict this vast, hate can be your deadliest tool against foes. Hold position, keep troops primed, guard the shield hubs with your lives, and await victory news."

Hye skipped detailing the real reasons for going solo in the opening strike. Sure, the Toranks loathed the Hescos far more than their fresh ire at one human. Yet Hye pursued another aim.

He aimed to work free from the Hescos’ top brass scrutiny. He craved a haul of epic spoils—tech, souls, debris—at the precise chaos peak when war’s blaze hid his inventory grabs.

He wasted no time. The timer wasn’t ticking; it roared. Planetary shields were shifting to blackout. He knew Toranks watched defenses like hawks. Once they verified the unrest crashed the barriers, the God Weapon would charge to incinerate this planet.

Hye climbed aboard his fresh compact vessel, the sleek foe craft seized during the Grand Elder’s rescue. He fired the engines, veering into the portal’s glowing jaws toward the Hescos’ territory outskirts.

Emerging on the far side, his breath caught sharply. He’d pictured this planet earlier, but the sight hit differently.

"This... No way it’s natural. It defies possibility," he muttered, peering through the armored window.

The Hescos’ home wasn’t spherical. A vast, planar continent sprawled across the star system like a stellar disk, mocking all planetary physics he understood. Stabilizing gravity and air on that magnitude demanded unreal tech.

"The sole universe I recall using flat-world design fights us now," he whispered, a icy jolt of surprise racing his back. He snapped out of it fast, locking eyes on the void forward. "No matter, skip the astro-class. Time to lay a massive banquet for our hefty visitor."

He refused to idle. Engines screamed at max, hurtling the ship along the God Weapon’s inbound route Moth had pinpointed.

During the dash, Hye buzzed with motion. He started positioning his troops at crucial points he’d pre-flagged.