Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 207

Chapter 207 This Woman Was Insane

Chapter 207 This Woman Was Insane

Quentin didn’t waste a single shot.

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“He may keep quiet all day long, but when it’s time to draw blood, he’s more vicious than anyone.” Tyrone watched the monitor from the front, tossing the comment over his shoulder,

Margarel ignored him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rear cabin.

The remaining assault craft adjusted formation and focused their fire on suppressing the aft section. These weren’t amateurs-they had formal military training. They knew how to use overlapping fire to lock down blind angles.

And they clearly knew exactly who the target was. Every shot converged on the main cabin, right where Margaret sat.

To keep the main cabin’s armor from being breached, Quentin didn’t disengage and retreat to cover. He held his position, maintaining suppressive fire, disrupting their rhythm with sheer attack speed.

A high-yield particle beam slammed into the rear hull. The blast didn’t fully penetrate, but the shockwave ripped through the internal conduits, and a jagged shard of metal rode the superheated air straight toward the main cabin-straight toward Margaret.

Quentin twisted his body and took the impact, putting himself between the debris and the cabin door. The force drove a low grunt from his throat as his back slammed against the metal bulkhead.

When he turned, Margaret saw the tear across the shoulder of his combat gear. The skin beneath was shredded, dark crimson seeping through.

“Quentin.” Her brow furrowed, her voice dropping.

“It’s nothing.” His tone didn’t waver. His hands stayed steady on the controls, still firing.

She looked at the wound. Bone was intact, but the damage was wide. She didn’t press further, but her gaze cooled sharply. She turned toward Tyrone.

Tyrone was faring no better. He was driving the ship toward the satellite cluster with everything he had, but two interceptors were faster, harassing him from the flanks and throwing off his navigation.

Worse, the interference was bleeding into the ship’s spiritual power conduction system.

The nav core required the pilot to sustain a continuous spiritual power output to stay calibrated. Under normal circumstances, an SSS-class like Tyrone could handle it without breaking a sweat. The enemy knew that. They’d tailored their jamming frequencies specifically to drain his reserves, even attempting to penetrate the hull with high-frequency sonic bursts.

The control panel’s alarms shrieked louder. Tyrone’s fingers flew across the holographic interface so fast they blurred.

A drop of blood fell from his nose and splattered across the console.

“Port thruster at thirty percent damage.” He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, casual. “Shield energy at fifteen percent. Won’t hold through another full salvo.”

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13:17 Mon, 6 Jul WG.

Chapter 207 This Woman Was Insane

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“Reroute all shield power to the engines.” Margaret’s voice was flat and absolute. “No defense. Full speed.”

Tyrone glanced at her.

This woman was insane. Without shields, a single piece of stray debris could punch straight through the hull. But he liked this kind of reckless gamble, and he liked her unflinching, take-no-prisoners resolve

even more.

“You got it, Ms. Greene. He grinned and dropped the shields without hesitation.

The ship lurched, freed from the drain of its shields, and surged forward.

Six minutes later, Tyrone’s nose was bleeding again. His face was drained of all color, nearly translucent. But his green eyes burned bright, and he held the controls through the searing pain of spiritual power depletion.

“How much further?” Margaret asked.

“Two minutes.” He was watching the nav line.

Tyrone pushed the ship low and threaded it into the first layer of abandoned orbital tracks around the satellite cluster. Debris closed in from all sides, metal scraping against the hull with grating shrieks. Three assault craft followed them in. The rest were thrown off by the gravitational distortions of the satellite field.

“Now tell me where our next landing point is,” Margaret said, standing beside him.

“Q-990 Planet, the fringe galaxies.” Tyrone’s voice had gone hoarse. “I’ve got a backup storage depot there. Not registered under any name. They won’t find it. But-”

“But what?”

“The fringe galaxies aren’t on any official chart.” He swung the ship into a dense debris corridor, shedding the three pursuit craft in the process. “And we won’t be making a clean landing. Once we’re in, we’re cut off from everyone!”

“If we don’t survive today, what does tomorrow matter?” Margaret’s tone was utterly matter-of-fact. “Land.”

Tyrone let out a short, involuntary laugh. He loved that about her-the unhinged refusal to flinch.

“Hold tight.”

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