Evans bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Commander.”

And just as swiftly as he had arrived, he vanished—teleporting to his quarters to begin the monumental task at hand.

Just as Minister Evans vanished in a shimmer of light, Kallus turned toward the Red Empress. Before departing, he handed over control of the ongoing operations and cleanup to her.

“Empress,” he said, his voice calm yet heavy with resolve, “I’m going into the Universal Plane. I’ll begin construction on the facilities we’ll need for the new recruits. Time is not on our side.”

And he continued. “While I’m inside, I’m entrusting the coordination of the cleanup and situational management to you.”

The Red Empress gave a small nod of acknowledgment and understanding, but as Kallus prepared to leave, she instead of commenting on the operational task, she instead said something that had nothing to do with logistics—yet everything to do with what mattered.

“Kallus,” she said, her voice quieter but heavier, “what about your parents?”

He stopped.

Her voice was quieter now, but no less firm as she continued. “Don’t they have the right to know? I understand your desire and instinct to protect them. I do. But this—this isn’t the way. this—this-this silence, this distance-is—isn’t protection. It’s isolation. In truth, it’s no different from placing them under house arrest.”

Kallus paused, then spoke—his voice edged with a tinge of irritation. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. If he were in a stable state of mind, he would’ve held his tongue. But he wasn’t.

“They’re not imprisoned, Empress. I’m protecting them by keeping them inside the Universal Plane. They have every freedom they could want in there.”

The Empress, surprised by his reaction, chose not to comment on his tone. She knew Kallus was under immense pressure. He wouldn’t have snapped like that otherwise—especially not in front of her.

“I know you want to protect them,” she said gently, “but they don’t need your protection anymore—not like before. You know it, and I know it. Your sister, the little ‘princess’ as you call her, Luna—she’s not some delicate girl needing a guardian. She already has one. And if I remember correctly, you gifted her Solaria’s. You knew. You have to let them out. In terms of power and capability, she’s just a step beneath you. Even your Imperial Guard, Emma, falls short of her.”

she paused and continued. “And so do your parents, Kallus. Both of them, in their own right, have become forces strong enough to rank in the top five even within our fleet. They’re not weak anymore. You need to understand that.

Instead of isolating them like fragile beings in need of your protection… you’re making a mistake—a completely, utterly ridiculous one.

Yes, they were weak four months ago. But not anymore. Not since they came into the Universal Plane.

They could be helpful, Kallus. To us. To you.

They could relieve you of some of this pressure…”

The Empress’s words struck deep and hit kallus like a barrage. He paused mid-step, turning his gaze to her. His eyes—normally so sharp, so unreadable—were stormed with conflict and myriad of emotions. For—there were too many emotions for her to name: guilt, sorrow, helplessness.

Like a child who had seen too much, carried too much, and yet never allowed himself to grieve.

“I know, Empress,” he finally whispered. “I know… But I just can’t bring myself to put their lives at risk again. Not after what I’ve done to them…”

He didn’t elaborate, but she understood. He was speaking of the Kallus who had once existed in this universe—the one who vanished, who had merged with him through the Infinite Realities. And with that merging came pain, responsibility, and guilt that wasn’t entirely his—but felt no less real.

But the Red Empress’s sympathy flickered into frustration.

Her tone sharpened.

“This again, Kallus?” she snapped. “Why are you still stuck in this cycle? I don’t understand. This wasn’t your fault. Then why… why stuck in this loop of self-punishment. Why do you keep clinging to guilt that no longer belongs to you?”

He flinched slightly at her words, but said nothing.

“This wasn’t your choice,” she continued, stepping closer. “None of what happened was your doing. And your parents… Luna… they already accepted it. All of it. So why do you keep dragging it back? Why do you keep reopening this wound and calling it responsibility?”

Her voice didn’t shake. It was fierce and resolute. Not out of anger at him, but because she refused to watch him imprison himself in chains no one else could see.

“You carry too much,” she said softly, finally. “And you keep hiding it behind missions, behind plans, behind duty. But you forget—some burdens only grow heavier the longer you pretend they aren’t there.”

The Red Empress stepped closer, her voice no longer soft, no longer diplomatic.

“If you keep carrying this useless, unearned burden, Kallus,” she said coldly, “then it will destroy you. And worse—it will destroy everything you’re trying to protect.”

Her words struck deep, sharper than any blade. Kallus didn’t move, but his fists clenched slightly.

“This isn’t about you anymore,” she continued. “You didn’t ask for this. I know that. You didn’t want to merge with that broken soul from another universe. You didn’t want to be the chosen of that Supreme Being. But it doesn’t matter what you wanted anymore.”

She narrowed her eyes, her tone turning harsh.

“You knew this was your only chance. The only path left. That Supreme Being didn’t pick you for sympathy—he picked you because this,” she gestured to the fleet, to the vast unfolding events beyond the command deck, “was inevitable. This multiversal phenomenon… it was always going to happen. If not now, then later.”

Her voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“And when it did, your family—your sister, your parents, even Earth itself—would’ve been nothing more than playthings for the Minotaurs or worse. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Kallus’s eyes trembled slightly, but he said nothing.

“So stop acting like this martyr,” she snapped. “Stop pretending that hiding them away or shielding them from reality is ‘protecting’ them. Because it’s not. If you don’t let them grow, if you don’t let them stand beside you, you’re not protecting them—you’re endangering them.”

She wasn’t done.

“And what about your crew?” she asked. “The ten thousand lives already under your command? The millions more you plan to recruit? If you keep isolating yourself, carrying every burden alone, pushing people away when they want to help you… that is when you become a danger to them.”

She stepped closer still, now just a breath away from him, her eyes piercing into his soul.

“This attitude of yours will become a boulder, Kallus. One heavy enough to crush you long before any enemy ever gets the chance.”

Then came the final blow—cold and brutal, but painfully true.

“Grow a spine, Kallus. For all your power, you still lack the one thing you need most—willpower. You’re brilliant, yes, but you’ve been acting like a child trapped in guilt, clinging to one idea, one plan—this obsession with the Universal Plane.”

She hadn’t meant to be so harsh. She hadn’t meant to say the part about his lack of will. But she was tired. Tired of seeing him drown in regret every time his parents or Luna were mentioned. Tired of his silence when the stakes demanded action.

And those words hurt Kallus more than any wound he’d ever taken in battle.

To be told—by her, of all people—that he lacked willpower? That he had no spine?

Shame. Pain. But no rebuttal. How could he refute her, when everything she said was true?

Still, it was her last words that struck deepest:

“You wouldn’t have even found your family again if it weren’t for interference. Without this anomaly, you would never have returned to Earth. You wouldn’t have met your sister. Earth would’ve fallen—to the Minotaurs or some other devouring empire. That was the fate of your home.”

She softened then, but only slightly.

“This universe you stand in now—it’s not just another world, Kallus. It’s the root universe. The axis of all others. And you’re lucky to even exist here. So stop clinging to the ghost of what was lost. You’ve already been given more than most would dream of.”

She paused, letting the silence settle. Kallus stood there, still and shaken.

He had no words. Not yet.

But this time, something in his eyes shifted. Something heavy broke—not fully, but enough. The cracks had begun to show.

Maybe… just maybe… the Red Empress had finally reached him.

Kallus took a deep breath.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind like flickering stars across a collapsing sky. The Red Empress’s words echoed again and again—no backbone… no willpower… running in circles of self-blame… Had he truly become so… pathetic?

At first, the sting of her accusations hurt more than any battlefield wound. But as the silence settled around him and his mind slowed, clarity crept in like a whisper in the dark.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep