I leaned forward slightly, hands clasped, gaze sweeping the room. Letting the silence settle just long enough to make the next words land.

“Both of you have given strong suggestions,” I said calmly. “Ideas that I like —that align with the greater vision we’re building here.”

My voice didn’t rise, didn’t waver. But it carried.

“But before I make any decision… I want to hear all voices.”

I scanned the room again — admiralty, research heads, tech leads, and even the representatives from the Void Earth Star Alliance.

“If anyone has more to add — speak now. Let us hear it.

This is not just a decision for the Empire, but for the legacy we’ll leave behind.”

“So… speak. Let every stone be turned.”

As I expected, once I gave them the space to speak — they did.

At first, hesitation lingered in the room like mist.Maybe they thought my interest in Elira and Ryn’s proposals was final.But when I said, “Speak,” I meant it — and they understood.

New ideas followed, flowing like a rising tide.

One, in particular, stood out — bold and ambitious:

“Why not make Evendite our capital?””A central star. A foundation world for the empire yet to be named.””Let this ancient, hidden world rise again — as the seat of our legacy.”

“Evendite — a world far older than Earth, bearing the remnants of a long-forgotten civilization. Though its structures now lie in ruins, worn down by the slow decay of ages — as Admiral Elira Hai once said — and shattered by the Great War that scorched the stars millions of years ago, we still remember its secrets. We still understand the weight it carries.

Locked away for eons, Evendite is special — uniquely positioned in ways few worlds are. And now, in a matter of weeks — two at most — this sealed region will open once more. It will reconnect with the Super galaxy… and beyond that, the Super universe. When it does, Evendite will begin to awaken, reclaiming the vitality it lost during the countless millennia it was severed and silent.

That is why, Commander,” he said, turning to me with fire in his eyes, “I propose this: let Evendite rise once more. Let it become our capital. A central star. The foundation world of the empire we will build — under your leadership.”

And I’ll admit — it caught my interest.The idea had strength. Symbolism. Elegance.

But after a brief moment of deep thought…

I rejected it.

Outright. Without pause.

“No,” I said, my voice steady.

“Your idea is sound, Admiral Kael Throne — and I do not doubt its merit. But my vision for our capital star… it is not this.”

“To build the foundation of our future upon the last remnants of a fallen civilization — it feels like a poor omen. A shadow hanging over what should be a new dawn.”

“But that is not the only reason I must decline. I have many thoughts, many ideas… and this path does not align with them.”

“So forgive me, Admiral, but my answer is no. Not Evendite. Not here.”

As I said those words, I expected the discussion to end. But it didn’t.

My admiral and general both stared at me — their gazes filled with a mix of emotions: confusion, curiosity… expectation.

They clearly wanted to hear more.

And seeing no way out — realizing it would be better they heard it now than later — I gave them the truth.

“As beautiful and as suitable as Evendite may seem… and as rare as the Regal Star System is, home to wonders that once awed the galaxy… they are no longer what they once were.”

“For millions of years, this sector has been locked away — severed from the outer galaxy, cut off from the Superuniverse. The lifeblood of mana that once flowed through it? Gone. What remains is a world barely surviving.”

“Yes, that will change — and soon. But don’t fool yourselves into thinking it will instantly return to its former glory. It won’t.”

I stood from my chair, walked slowly toward the virtual window, and looked out at the Regal Star, not far from where we were stationed. Then I turned, meeting their eyes once more.

“We are strong. Far stronger than most in this galaxy — and perhaps even beyond. That is certain. But strength alone does not crown an empire.”

“Our numbers are few. Including every soul in our fleet, we barely exceed 10,001 lives.”

“As for the rest of our fleet… most of it runs on superior AIs or bio-constructs. Yes, they are powerful — perhaps even better than humans in many ways. They feel. They think. They adapt.”

“But they are not truly alive, are they?”

“And there’s more,” I continued, my voice unwavering.

“Yes, we are small in number — but do not mistake that for weakness. In truth, there are barely any like you in this entire universe. That’s not just a boast — it’s reality.”

“There can be no others like you — because you are the pinnacle of what this age has produced. But let me say this clearly: it is not superior talent alone that builds an empire.”

“To build an empire… its people need a place. A land of their own. Just as a temple cannot be raised on empty space without land to lay its foundation, an empire cannot be born in the void.”

“Even with all our strength, even with our mighty fleet, we cannot call ourselves an empire if we float endlessly through the stars like nomads.”

“Yes, our fleet can act as a mobile nation. Yes, these titanic ships — crafted from the rarest alloys, enhanced with luck circuits and arcane systems — are marvels beyond imagination.”

“But can they truly compare to nature? To a world beneath our feet, to rivers and skies, to soil and roots where generations might flourish?”

“No. They cannot.”

“An empire is not a fleet. It is a state, a civilization — a home. Something real. Something permanent.”

I looked around the room, each face turned to me with rapt attention.

“And what are we here for? To conquer? To claim? No — not merely that.”

“We are here to create. To build a future. To shape a world where our children can grow, thrive, and be protected.”

“Ah, good question, Admiral Varyn Larkovis.”

“Indeed — is Earth not ours? Is the Sol System not under our watch? Is the Regal Star System not within our grasp?”

“Well then… my answer is: No.”

“If you had instead asked whether these places are our backyard, I might have agreed. But to say they are truly ours? That would be a mistake.”

You could see the confusion flicker in his eyes as he gave a slow nod, waiting for my explanation.

“Why aren’t they ours? It’s simple. Because everything we currently hold — Earth, the Sol System, even this Regal Star — lies within the bounds of an alliance formed not too long ago.”

“And you might ask, ‘Is it just a simple alliance we created?’ No. Nothing is ever simple here.”

“True, this alliance would not be powerful without us. That much is clear. But who says that Earth and the Star Fleet will remain loyal members of this alliance forever? The answer is — no one. Nothing is permanent.”

“As we leave this region, as we begin our expansion and conquest, many smaller powers will come to us — seeking protection, seeking purpose. And they will find that in joining our alliance.”

“Let me make one thing clear: alliances, though never stronger than us — nor meant to be — can still serve us well. They are tools. They are shields. They are a kind of resource, one that will ultimately help us, our empire, and our people.”

“But here’s the thing,” I continued, letting the room settle as they leaned in.

“According to the Alliance Charter, there’s a clause — that any member who discovers a new resource or territory must share 20% of its value with the alliance, distributed based on each member’s stake.”

“Well, we discovered the Regal Star System. So, yes — it’s basically ours.”

“We’re obligated to share just 20% of its resources with our current alliance members. The remaining 80%? That’s ours — and rightly so, because our stake in the alliance is unmatched.”

“And when you think about it… as the alliance grows, more members will join. Each brings something — knowledge, resources, skills, territory. While their contributions might not seem significant to us, they could prove invaluable to our people — the future citizens of the empire we will build.”

“They will become the foundation. From a roaming fleet… to a rising empire. The void Star Alliance remains as it is — a structure of convenience, not destiny. We do not absorb it, nor do we need to. It is a tool — a channel through which resources flow, influence spreads, and power consolidates. The alliance serves its purpose. But what we’re building… is an empire.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, a vigorous energy rising in the room like a storm held at bay.

Even Admiral Varyn Larkovis — ever the skeptic, ever the sharp mind — gave a respectful bow of his head, acknowledging my reasoning without further protest.

And just like that, the discussion moved forward.

Many suggestions were made. Some were promising, others merely passable — yet none held the same gravity, the same weight, that Ryn and Elira had offered earlier.

Still, after some thought, I made a decision.

Evendite — ancient and mysterious — would not become our capital, but it would not be cast aside either.

It would become our educational hub, a center of research and culture. A world open to scholars, visionaries, and seekers of truth. A place of marvel and wonder, to be explored and admired — not ruled.

For now, its reach would be limited to Earth and our closest allies. But that, too, would change — and sooner than most might expect.

As for the legacy we were certain existed deep within Evendite’s core — that responsibility would fall to Tyler’s department.

They would decode it.

They would uncover what was left behind by the civilization that once stood at the center of this forgotten star.

And they would handle it — accordingly.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep