John began, his voice steady and clear, "Let start from the beginning."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, the central star map—composed of thirty-eight floating holographic sectors suspended in the air above the council chamber—flickered, shifted, and began to change.
The map zood out first, displaying the broader galactic sectors: blue fields marking Federation territory, red marking the Servance Alliance, and various other zones scattered throughout.
But then, the map zood in—toward a sector completely gray. It lay to the southern side of the Federation’s region, and from there, that entire sector appeared shrouded in a uniform gray hue.
The gray signified one thing: unclaid space. It ant the region was either untouched or lay beyond the direct control of any major force in the galaxy.
"It wasn’t Federation territory—their regions were always marked in blue. Nor did it belong to the Servance Alliance, whose domains were denoted in red."
It was a neutral region—untapped and unexplored by any major power. And that made it ripe for the Federation to expand into
The council chamber grew quiet as the map narrowed further—homing in on a specific section of the gray zone. A single, unremarkable star system near the border of Federation space, separated only by one buffer system between them.
John raised a hand, gesturing toward the hologram as it settled into view. "This system... lies just one jump away from our border. Technically, it’s neutral. Legally, it’s empty.
"Strategically—until recently—it was considered irrelevant."
He paused. The chamber was dead silent. All eyes remained locked on the glowing gray system hovering midair within the hologram.
"But that changed about a week or two ago," John continued. "One vessel from my research fleet made a discovery in that very system—what we have provisionally nad the Nova Star System for convenience."
He gestured again, and the hologram zood in further." The vessel identified unusually high concentrations of resource-rich planets... far beyond standard trics. Most notably, two of those planets contained Tier-6 resources—and not just in trace amounts, but in vast deposits of high-grade material."
Gasps echoed throughout the council chamber.
In Shock.
In Realization.
Every high-ranking official present understood just how rare Tier-6 resources were. They ford the backbone of advanced weaponry; even Divine-grade chs required such alloys and materials for upgrades. Next-generation warships—especially those at peak Tier-6—were constructed from nothing less.
Another added, "This is valuable—no doubt about that. But resources like these, even Tier-6, are long-term assets. They don’t shift the balance of power overnight... or even in the short term." Murmurs of agreent followed. Many heads nodded.
The tone in the chamber shifted.
The discovery was undeniably significant—but was it enough to warrant a full ergency council eting? One that had summoned everyone from Divine Pilots and Celestial Designers to Grand Admirals... and even them?
Many were now beginning to wonder: There has to be more to this. And indeed, just as that thought passed through their minds, Grand Admiral John cleared his throat, drawing their attention back and breaking them from their thoughts and speculation.
"Gentlen," he began firmly, "let finish before you all jump to conclusions. You’re only embarrassing yourselves by behaving like this."
As he spoke, his eyes briefly landed on the two individuals who had spoken out earlier. Seeing his gaze, both of them offered awkward smiles—but wisely remained silent.
They understood full well: the Admiral’s words were directed more at them than at the room.
John then pulled his gaze away from the two—ntally labeling them as fools—and continued.
This ti, his tone carried more montum, and even a hint of excitent.
"After the discovery, I imdiately ordered my subordinate, Admiral Kevin, to leave for the Nova Star System to confirm the findings and conduct deeper research—to see if previous expeditions had missed anything. Kevin led the Red Horizon Fleet, our top-tier research war fleet."
He paused briefly, then added with weight, "But no one expected they would encounter a Tier-6 Insectoid Hive Fleet."
The room, which had grown quiet during John’s calm narration, now shifted again.
Shock rippled through the chamber.
The ntion of Insectoid Hive Fleet was alarming enough. But Tier-6? That changed everything.
Yet this ti, the officials didn’t voice their astonishnt aloud. They held it in. They knew better now—to let the Grand Admiral finish what he had to say.
Seeing their current state—shocked, yet silent—John gave a small nod of approval. At least this ti, they weren’t interrupting him like before. He continued his narration.
"We all know just how bloodthirsty the Insectoid race is toward anything that breathes life," he said grimly. "And soon enough, a battle erupted."
Fortunately, the Red Horizon Fleet had two Saint Pilots among its ranks. They took a portion of the burden upon themselves, holding back the tide of the hive’s assault.
Though they managed to eliminate more than half of the Insectoid fleet in the imdiate aftermath, the situation escalated.
The Mother Hive," John continued, "seed to go into a frenzy—churning out soldier-class and elite-class ships at an alarming rate. Soon enough, it regenerated all the damage the Horizon Fleet had inflicted on the insectoid swarms, and as if enraged, it began pumping out more and more of them with relentless intensity.
He then recounted in detail the brutal engagent between the Red Horizon Fleet and the Insectoid Hive. Every mont was painted with weight—the desperation, the struggle, and the near-futility of the battle.
As the fight dragged on for hours, every ch pilot—Saints included—neared their limit. Fatigue set in. Combat efficiency plumted by nearly fifty percent."The toll on their minds and machines was imnse," he said solemnly. "And annihilation... it drew closer with every passing second."
Then John paused—his voice lowering slightly.
"But then... sothing changed."
He let the silence linger for a breath before continuing.
"A new ship arrived—without announcent, without fanfare. A dreadnought-class vessel, one that Kevin or anyone in his fleet had never seen before, quietly entered the star system near the embattled fleet."
The room leaned forward in anticipation.
And then we found out—it belonged to a human. One man.
"And that man didn’t just assist Admiral Kevin’s fleet... he completely overwheld what remained of the Insectoid Hive in a way that neither Kevin nor I thought possible," he said, his voice low with awe.
"After I watched the battle footage myself... well, you might think—how can even a dreadnought overpower the Insectoids in such a way that it defies logic? Sounds impossible, right? Then see for yourselves."
He turned to the Goddess of Wisdom and the other two goddesses. Receiving their silent nods, he snapped his fingers. A holographic screen flickered to life in front of the chamber.
The visual began to play.
A massive dreadnought—easily over 14 kiloters long—suddenly vanished from its prior position and reappeared in the direct line of fire between the Red Horizon Fleet and the Insectoid swarm.
Both sides had been exchanging heavy fire, but the dreadnought intercepted it all.
Twin barrages, unleashed by Tier-6 grade weaponry from both fleets, slamd into the warship from both directions. Yet the dreadnought’s shields held firm—without even rippling. No reactive flares, or anything.
It stood, unmoved, as if those attacks ant nothing at all...
It unleashed what its owner later described as a point-defense weapon—and ion cannon that he classified only as a secondary system. One salvo. One arc of energy. One blinding assault.
And with that, the entire Insectoid Hive fleet—infamous across the galaxy for its highest-rated defenses—was obliterated on contact. A cataclysmic explosion followed, engulfing all remaining Insectoid vessels in a storm of pure annihilation. Nothing remained.
The visual feed cut off.
And for a long, breathless mont, every Council mber sat frozen—staring at the empty screen, their breath caught in collective silence.
Many, unable to contain their emotions after watching the footage, erupted in disbelief and exclaid loudly.
"This—this... how can such weapons have that kind of destructive power?!" one councilor shouted, eyes wide with shock.
Another added, "That’s not right... Look at the scale of the weapon the man called a point-defense system! How can sothing labeled as point-defense cause that level of devastation?"
Yet another, clearly agitated, stood up and asked in confusion, "Why don’t we have such point-defense weapons? Just give those—forget capital-grade cannons—I’ll take just these so-called ’secondary’ weapons any day!"
Dozens began speaking at once, voices overlapping in stunned amazent.
So muttered, "This level of power... doesn’t it exceed even the capabilities of Divine Pilots and their chs?"
Those who heard this inhaled sharply, stunned into silence. And though the thought seed absurd on the surface, no one could bring themselves to dismiss it—not after seeing that footage with their own eyes.
Had they not seen the footage with their own eyes—and had it not co from a source as credible as Grand Admiral John—they would have dismissed it as a hoax, perhaps even laughed it off as an exaggerated, humorous tale. But it wasn’t a joke. It was real. It was the truth.
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