Why would it be a problem, you might ask?

Well, it all comes down to response time.

As you all know, the mighty Obliterator is, by definition, an apex vessel—both technologically and strategically. A weapon of overwhelming power, capable of dominating any battlefield regardless of the enemy’s numbers or strength. That much is a fact.

But sheer strength alone doesn’t solve every tactical dilemma.

Situations like multiple attacks, sudden multi-vector assaults, require swift, decentralized responses. And while the Obliterator and its accompanying fleet are unmatched in firepower, they are still only a small force stretched thin across countless threats. They can’t be everywhere at once, nor can they respond to every incursion in real-time.

It’s not about fear.

Neither Kallus nor his fleet feared anyone in this domain—or beyond.

But letting such vulnerabilities linger? That was negligence.

Kallus understood this.

The solution wasn’t brute force alone. The solution was manpower—specifically, human resources.

While bio-humanoids served their roles effectively, they lacked the innate adaptability, the unpredictability, and the spark that true humans brought to the table.

And though the Void Fleet had no intention of relying on traditional humans forever, in situations like these, that organic chaos could make the difference between decisive victory and a prolonged campaign.

But how?That was the question that echoed in Kallus’s mind.

There weren’t many immediate options. Most solutions required time and patience—luxuries he currently couldn’t afford.

Yet, after hours of contemplation, Kallus had narrowed his options to three distinct strategies. Two were long-term, while the third was something he could implement almost immediately.

He then turned his gaze to the seven admirals seated around him, their expressions a mix of anticipation and curiosity, and he laid out his plans, seeking their insights.

First Option: Earth-Human Integration—(a plan everyone already knew about.)Recruit Earth’s humans into the Void Fleet.But the glaring problem was their inexperience.

These were people who had never faced the horrors of the Galactic Domain, let alone the intricacies of interstellar warfare. Integrating them now would strain his resources, slow down fleet operations, and jeopardize the momentum he had worked so hard to build.

Yes, steps were already underway—preparations for the Void Academy on the central star system of the Sol region, the Regal star system’s Evendite world were in motion.

But that academy would take years to produce capable officers and crew. The years he didn’t have.

Second Option: Subjugation of the Genome.He could, theoretically, seize control of the Genome Empire or the nearby Asura Federation.Specifically, genomes empire.

Their society was heavily reliant on integrated technology—and thanks to Kallus’s unique God of Machines skill, he could override most of their systems, including their naval forces, by hijacking their central source codes. That would give him instant control over their warships and critical infrastructure.

But this option had dangerous consequences.Even if he seized their fleets and used their own weapons against them on their home world and ruled the star system, he would still not control the people themselves.

His ability to command absolute loyalty only worked if their emperor or any leader submitted willingly. And in case of genome empire, they had their own emperor. And such a proud, stubborn ruler—whose authority was woven into his very being—would never surrender easily.

Gaining full control of the Genome would take months, perhaps longer, and would embroil him in a messy political quagmire he wasn’t eager to enter unless absolutely necessary.

For now, that is.

As for the Asura Federation, Kallus didn’t see them as enemies, nor did he have any intention of oppressing them.

In truth, he wished to see them join the Void Earth Alliance. Not out of necessity or fear—they were formidable, but that alone didn’t sway him.

If he willed it, he possessed the power to crush them. Yet such a path held no appeal to him.

Instead, it was respect. He respected their culture, Respect for their way of life, for their unshakable yet unyielding belief in martial strength, and for the fierce pride they carried as a race.

A pride not only rooted in their warrior spirit, but also in their remarkable achievements in the field of technology—achievements that had allowed them, despite being a relatively young civilization of barely a thousand years, to stand on equal footing with far older empires.

That potential for growth, that relentless drive, was something others both respected… and feared. At least, that was the truth as Kallus understood it, drawn from the vast authority of knowledge at his disposal.

Third Option: Selective Human Uplift.Out of the billions of humans on Earth, he could handpick the most talented—those with the potential to adapt and excel—and bring them directly into the Universal Domain. There, with the aid of the Domain’s time-acceleration fields, he could train them intensively. Days on Earth would equal months, even years, in the Domain.

For the ratio was 1:500, meaning that for every single day in real space, five hundred days would pass inside the universal domain.

This way, he wouldn’t have to worry about them being too few or too green. He could create an elite cadre of human officers and specialists capable of filling the current gaps in his fleet’s operational structure.

Kallus paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room as he scanned the faces of his seven admirals.

“So…””What do you all think?” he finally asked, his gaze sharp, his tone expectant.

While he asked, a storm of other thoughts churned in his mind, unspoken but relentless.

When Kallus proposed the final option—the one he personally favored—he also began to realize something he’d overlooked. The momentum. The popularity. Both he and the Void Fleet had become more than just visitors from beyond the stars; on Earth, they were icons. Especially to those who grew up on stories of the Star Warriors, space operas, and all the other sci-fi legends.

For nearly a month straight, the Void Fleet had been the talk of Earth. Every social media feed, every headline, every late-night show—they stayed on top. And most of the chatter? Overwhelmingly positive. It wasn’t just fascination; it was gratitude. People’s lives had improved drastically. Standards of living across the globe had shot up, even in countries outside the official Void-Earth Alliance.

Kallus remembered his earlier words to his council: humans only get rebellious when they feel ignored, cheated, or threatened. When they’re losing more than they gain, they start pushing back—and sometimes, they push hard enough to overthrow you.

But this? This was different. This time, the people weren’t plotting. They weren’t resisting. They were celebrating him. They saw the Void Fleet as a symbol of progress, of a future where they were winning, not losing.

And Kallus understood this—understood it deeply.

With just a few words, he could rally people back on Earth. All he had to do was announce that the Void Fleet would begin recruiting, and that those chosen would be granted real benefits. First, they’d become part of his legendary fleet. Second—and more importantly—their citizenship rank would be elevated directly to Tier-1 Omega Class after completing the vetting or learning process.

Just that much would be enough to cause a wave of chaos.

Scratch that—almost everyone on Earth would be ready to drop everything, even abandon their current lives, just for a chance to join the Void Fleet. Even if Kallus didn’t offer any benefits at all, the mere opportunity to be part of something that vast—something cosmic—was enough. For many, being in the Void Fleet meant access to knowledge, power, technology… and maybe even the chance to pilot a real starship. That alone was a dream countless people were willing to die for.

Even the leaders of powerful groups and nations would want to join—though most wouldn’t admit it. But they feared losing what little power they had left, so they stayed silent. That didn’t stop the common folk, though. The idea of achieving Omega-level citizenship was something they’d kill for.

Why? Because for most, especially this generation, reaching that level felt impossible.

But… that’s a conversation for another day.

Back to the eclipse command hall.

The room fell silent for a moment as each admiral weighed the options. Finally, Admiral Kale broke the silence.

“The first option is something we’ve already discussed,” Admiral kale thrown said. “It came from Admirals Elira Seal and Ryn Velos—and it’s an idea we’ve all supported a few days ago, right, Commander?”

Kallus nodded in agreement.

“As you’ve already said, Imperial Commander, that first option is a long-term solution. We’re already working on it through the Void Academy. Construction has started, and it’ll be operational in a few more days. But as you mentioned, even with the academy up and running, it’ll take years to produce fully trained talent—people who can actually handle the stress of battle and the weight of command.”

He paused, then added:

“So that covers our long-term strategy. But we need something that works now.”

So the first option?Useless. Completely irrelevant in the current situation.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep