Back in the UNI-Residence, silence hung heavy in the air.

Lyra lay unconscious on a bed. Her body had already been stabilized, every visible wound healed by Adrian using Breath of Life. Yet despite the restoration of her flesh, her willforce had been pushed far beyond its limits. That exhaustion ran deeper than any injury, and Adrian knew she would not awaken anytime soon.

Adrian stood near the window, arms crossed, his gaze distant. The viewport overlooked the UNI-Hub’s endless sprawl, starships gliding between docking rings like fireflies in the void. Behind him, everyone had gathered in the common area.

Adrian turned from the window and recounted the entire event.

When he finished, no one moved.

Draven bit down on his lip as Adrian finished recounting everything that had happened inside the sealed space.

His knuckles whitened where they pressed against the wall. Septimus exhaled slowly, shaking his head. Max’s usual grin had vanished entirely.

No one spoke immediately, but everyone present understood the weight of it. In truth, even before this incident, their encounter with the space pirates had already shown them how dangerous the universe truly was, and how helpless they still were when faced with beings beyond their reach.

At that time, fear and urgency had ignited within them. They had all wanted to grow stronger, at the very least strong enough to protect one another. But much like Adrian, once they entered the UNI-Hub, the illusion of safety had quietly taken hold. The label of a “safe zone” had lulled them into lowering their guard, and without realizing it, they had all grown complacent.

The UNI-Hub had resembled a great power, and they had felt secure.

Now, they realized their mistake.

Adrian broke the silence, “To be honest, when I planned this excursion, it wasn’t just—”

Septimus interrupted him before he could finish, “Adrian.”

The single word cut through the air with unexpected force. Adrian stopped, meeting the older man’s gaze.

Septimus stepped forward, his presence filling the space between them. Despite his lean frame, the weight of millennia pressed outward from him like gravity.

“Do you truly think we cannot see your intentions?” he said firmly, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “Do you think we’re children who can’t understand the larger picture?”

Adrian opened his mouth, but Septimus raised a hand.

“We are your ancestors. We understand exactly what you are trying to do, because we once stood at that same crossroads ourselves.”

His voice carried the weight of memory.

Selric nodded slowly. Ilyas’s expression had gone still.

“In the past, the twelve of us survived the war with only two options left. We could remain on what was left of Earth, or we could step into the galaxy to increase our chances of survival. At the time, staying would have been the safer choice. The likelihood of demons launching a large-scale invasion directly towards Earth was low. At most, small fleets might have come, and we were already capable of defeating those since we twelve were at SSS-ranks.”

“But we didn’t think like that.”

Septimus’s gaze never wavered from Adrian’s.

“We didn’t choose comfort just because the danger seemed distant. We doubted what if a Stellar comes to attack us? What if an unknown new threat comes and attacks us? So, we entered the galaxy not only to protect Earth, but to grow our planet, our people, and to ensure we would never again experience that same helplessness, even if the chance of disaster was small.”

“When you spoke of this excursion, do you think we failed to see what lay beneath your words? Do you think we insisted on coming merely out of curiosity, just to explore? We saw your intent clearly, we saw that you are just like us at that time, asking the same question of what if an unknown threat comes towards us.”

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Sentinel’s expression shifted, something fierce flickering behind his eyes.

“We came because we saw exactly what you were doing. And we chose to walk with you. To share the burden. We just chose not to talk about it, since we didn’t want to destroy the excursion mode you created.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

Adrian truly didn’t expect this. And he had no words to refute what Septimus was saying, because every word rang true.

Adrian looked towards Lysandra and the other rulers.

They too nodded. Even though they had their own motives, they also could see Adrian’s intentions.

Adrian was truly surprised. Because even for Adrian, these thoughts had been subtle at the start. But still, they had seen through him from the beginning.

And they had chosen to follow anyway.

Aurelia spoke next, her voice quiet but resolute.

“Even though we all understood this, we didn’t carry the same seriousness we once had when we left Earth. Peace made us dull. The urgency we once felt is no longer the same. If it was before, we would never have allowed this to be going on as an excursion; we would have long ago stopped it.”

She looked down at Aerin, who was peacefully sleeping on a bed nearby, then back up at Adrian.

“But what did we do? We not only didn’t stop it, we even became involved in this far too much.”

Sentinel’s hand tightened, his expression was grim.

The other Celestials shared her sentiment. Back then, annihilation could arrive at any moment, and that constant pressure had driven them forward without pause. Now, with a barrier protecting their galaxy and no immediate enemies threatening their home, the sense of danger had faded. That absence of urgency had made them careless.

Draven pushed off the wall, “We forgot what it felt like.”

Elliot shook his head, “We even became fools.”

Adrian looked at them, these beings who had walked through hell millennia before he was born. Who had fought when Earth was ash, and hope was a dying ember. Who had chosen the stars over safety because they refused to be helpless again.

And now they stood here, admitting they had grown soft, just as he had.

Before Adrian could speak, Selric stepped forward, “Dwelling on our past mistakes will only trap us in endless reflection.”

“Remember, this is life,” Selric continued, his gaze sweeping across the gathered faces. “We can’t be aware of everything at all times. Only through mistakes do we learn. Let this stand as a lesson, nothing more and nothing less.”

“What matters is what lies ahead. Let’s discard the idea of this being an ‘excursion’ and start fresh. From this moment on, we focus on moving forward.”

Adrian, his parents, the Celestials, Selena, Kael, Mira, and Kaelith nodded.

This was not unfamiliar territory for them. They had faced survival once before, and now they were returning to that state of mind.

The rulers, however, were slower to respond.

They had built empires, ruled the galaxy, and endured countless challenges, but never quite in the same way. Their strength had been forged across generations, supported by systems and legacies larger than themselves. They had not lived through the same kind of desperate survival that the Celestials or people from Earth once had.

Yet even so, they adapted quickly.

None of them had reached their thrones without enduring hardship. They understood danger, risk, sacrifice, and the cost of survival.

Adrian finally spoke again, “We don’t even fully understand our own galaxy. We know its present, but not its past. We know nothing about the Void Sect, despite its barrier and structures within our territory. And now, we have seen clearly why relying on others is a mistake.”

He paused, letting the words settle.

“If we want to survive, we must rely on ourselves. Not just to endure, but to stand against even Great Sects if necessary. Only true strength can guarantee survival.”

The members of the Origin Empire nodded without hesitation. To them, this resolve felt natural.

The rulers, however, hesitated internally.

Standing against Great Sects sounded absurd, even reckless. After entering the universe, they had learned just how unfathomable the power of such sects truly was. So on what foundation was Adrian making such a claim? And why were his people accepting it without question?

Then a realization struck them.

Hadn’t the Origin Empire begun as nothing more than a single, insignificant planet?

Hadn’t they stood against demons, clans, empires, even the Aethelian Empire itself, and emerged as the supreme power of the galaxy?

What once would have sounded like fantasy had already happened before their eyes.

Lysandra remained silent, but a single thought echoed in her mind. Would history repeat itself?

She glanced at the other rulers and saw the same realization reflected in their eyes.

Each of them understood the risks, and yet none wished to step away. Life itself was dangerous. Had they feared risk, they would never have become rulers in the first place.

One by one, they nodded.

Adrian noticed their resolve and inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Then he turned his gaze toward Aerin, who slept peacefully on the bed after everything she had experienced today.

She had been the spark that ignited this journey. Without her curiosity, without her questions, perhaps he would have continued living comfortably in the galaxy. Perhaps one day disaster would have struck, and he would have been powerless to stop it.

That thought hardened his resolve.

Adrian exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving Aerin’s sleeping form.

He would ensure she, and everyone else, never faced helplessness again.

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