Chapter 39: Chapter39-The Young Warrior’s Desire for Glory

Dalton Aerial City.

Leo Grey stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

He wore a simple dark suit, without a single ornament that suggested power or rank.

Yet the invisible aura that surrounded him — the quiet authority that bent the air itself — was far more regal than any crown or robe could ever be.

His deep gaze seemed to pierce through the barriers of space itself, as though he could personally witness the massacre nearing its end at the edge of the star system — the fading starships, the wreckage swallowed silently by the cold, dark void of the universe.

Elarielle stood slightly behind him, silently.

The Queen of the Sunborn Elves, Lilith’s magic instructor — today, she had shed the poise of the Academy’s Headmistress and the confidence of Dalton’s Grand Secretary.

Her flawless face was veiled with a layer of melancholy that could not be dispelled.

Her emerald eyes were not fixed upon the majestic Starsea, but instead sought something more fragile — faint traces of energy signatures that belonged to Team Star.

Most of all, she searched for that one presence she knew better than any other: warm, radiant, and still a little unrefined — the power of a young, growing star.

“The students of the Magic Academy,” Leo spoke at last, his tone carrying faint pride, “have truly lived up to the name ’The Light of Dalton’ today.”

“Whether serving as tactical nodes within Elizabeth’s steel armadas, tending to the wounded in the logistical rear, or — like Lilith — standing on the blade’s edge of the frontlines… each of them has displayed remarkable courage, mastery, and selflessness. The Academy has indeed contributed dazzling stars to Dalton’s cause. Elarielle, you have my gratitude.”

His words were an official commendation — an acknowledgment of her Academy’s success.

Elarielle bowed her head slightly.

“To nurture new blood for you, for Dalton — that is both the duty and the honor of the Magic Academy… and mine as well. Yet, President, if I may ask — why did you permit Lilith to go to the frontlines? You know as well as I do… war shows no mercy.”

She had witnessed too many bright souls perish under the cruel rhythm of battle — regardless of how strong, how kind, or how innocent they were.

Under the iron hoof of war, few ever survived intact.

“Elarielle,”

Leo turned his head slightly, catching the faint shadow of reproach that glimmered behind her composed expression.

A smile tugged at his lips.

“The student registry under your name — it’s thick enough to rival the oldest of epics.”

“Tens of thousands of young prodigies, and right this very moment, they are scattering their knowledge and ideals across the battlefields of the Starsea. Many have already distinguished themselves — some even hold critical command positions.”

He paused, his eyes soft yet piercing.

“And yet… why is it that your gaze clings to one star that is not even the brightest among them?”

Elarielle’s body trembled, so faintly it was almost imperceptible.

She drew in a deep breath.

When she lifted her head again, the worry in her emerald eyes had been replaced by a gleam of fierce, almost obsessive conviction.

“This is entirely different, Leo.”

Her voice was solemn, almost sacred — like one reciting a vow.

“Those students — they are the foundation of Dalton’s future, the sparks that will keep our civilization alive. I am proud of them, as any gardener would be of a thriving garden — willing to pour every drop of devotion into nurturing them, until their brilliance lights the world.”

“But Lilith… she is the future.”

She stopped for a heartbeat, her tone now resolute beyond question.

“She carries your blood.”

“And for her sake — for the sake of protecting the Dalton you’ve built — everyone in the Magic Academy can serve as a necessary sacrifice, myself included.”

Elarielle’s eyes blazed with unwavering light.

“If the situation demanded it, I would gladly let the entire constellation of the Academy’s stars burn away — all to illuminate her path, to drive away the darkness before her.”

“Even if it meant extinguishing my own life’s light — I would not hesitate.”

Leo’s brows lifted slightly.

He had not expected such near-mad devotion to come from her.

He regarded her in silence. Behind his back, his fingers curled almost imperceptibly.

A long pause passed before he finally spoke again.

“Young eagles cherish the warmth of the nest, but the true sky belongs only to those who dare to spread their wings and face the storm.”

“The flowers nurtured in the safety of a greenhouse may be beautiful — but they will never understand the force of the wild wind, nor the breathtaking splendor of a rainbow born after the rain.”

He stepped forward, his gaze cast far beyond the walls of Dalton — into the depths of uncharted space.

“Trust her, Elarielle.”

His voice was quiet — the voice of a father who had placed all his hopes upon a single soul.

“This is her chosen path. It will be thorny, yes — but every step has been calculated for the worst outcome, and every shield she could possibly need has been prepared.”

Elarielle understood. She could hear the finality in his tone — the kind that left no room for persuasion.

She knew his logic was sound. But still, she could not bear to let Lilith face danger. Not even a little.

Even knowing that Leo would never allow true harm to befall her… her heart still resisted.

At last, she only sighed softly.

With a faint nod, she said no more — standing beside him in silence, gazing with him into the endless, star-strewn abyss.

The battle in the void had already ended.

The once-turbulent sector was now silent — cold, littered, and deathly still.

The wreckage of countless starships drifted like torn toys scattered by a careless child.

The fractured metal reflected the dim light of distant suns; now and then, a damaged energy conduit spat a faint spark — only to be swiftly devoured by the eternal dark.

Frozen droplets of blood, dismembered bodies, twisted weapons — together they painted a gruesome mural of a cosmic graveyard.

Only a few ships, protected by rare emergency systems, had managed to slip away — like terrified rats tearing holes in space itself to flee through warp channels into the depths of the Starsea.

Yet in truth, if Dalton’s forces had truly wished it — not even a single rat would have escaped this slaughter.

Dalton Aerial City

Strategic Command Center

Elizabeth removed her gold-and-blue officer’s cap and placed it neatly beside the command console.

Her stance remained perfectly straight, like a spear. The violet flames of battle had yet to fade entirely from her eyes — they glowed faintly, like embers refusing to die out.

Before her, the massive tactical holomap displayed the aftermath of war.

The red indicators of the enemy fleets had nearly all vanished, leaving only a handful rapidly fleeing toward the outer rim of the Aresia system.

“President,”

Elizabeth’s voice was crisp and clear, carrying the disciplined cadence of a soldier.

“Battlefield clearance complete. Casualty assessment: minimal.”

“Three ’Bulwark’-class heavy magitech golems from the Seventh Armored Division suffered core meltdown due to overload; runic cores retrieved…”

“Seventeen rangers from the Elven Expeditionary Force sustained minor injuries, mostly from energy backlash. No fatalities.”

She paused briefly, her fine brows knitting together — two sharp blades crossing in thought.

“However, based on the last signal transmitted by Hat, seven enemy ships from different factions successfully escaped.”

“Forgive me, but I fail to understand, sir — why were they not eradicated?”

“According to the Dalton Interstellar Defense Code, confirmed hostile invaders should be annihilated to the last — to prevent future threats.”

Her tone was firm, yet beneath the professionalism there was an undercurrent of doubt — a faint edge of frustration.

In her mind, any threat left alive was an error. Every seed of danger should be crushed before it could grow.

Leo Grey’s projection shimmered into view at the far end of the command hall.

Hands still clasped behind his back, his eyes seemed to pierce through the layers of steel and circuitry — straight into the void that had just quieted from battle.

“Elizabeth,”

Leo’s voice was calm, yet carried an unshakable weight.

“Have you ever seen a seasoned fisherman… who scoops up every fry in the pond?”

He didn’t wait for her reply before continuing.

“Draining a pond may bring momentary fullness,” Leo continued, his tone calm yet carrying the cutting clarity of a blade, “but it ends the fisherman’s future catch.”

“To release some back,” he went on, “to let the small fish grow — to let news of what they’ve witnessed spread among the schools — that is how one draws in larger, fatter prey.”

He turned slightly, casting a glance toward Elizabeth, his eyes gleaming with the light of a strategist who had already seen ten steps ahead.

“Dalton,” he said softly, “is a newly forged sword. Only through blood and battle can its edge be truly tempered.”

“Our soldiers — especially the young ones — crave merit. They long for a broader stage upon which to prove their worth.”

“Let those defeated fugitives go,” he continued. “Let them scatter across the stars, carrying with them the terror and prosperity of Dalton like a plague. When the stories spread, those drawn to us next will not be petty starborn raiders — but true opponents worthy of our blade.”

“Dalton needs enemies,” Leo’s voice deepened, “needs pressure. Only through constant collision can we forge a backbone of steel. A stagnant pool can never raise a dragon.”

Elizabeth froze.

She was no fool — and in an instant, she understood.

This was no act of mercy.

It was strategy. A method of training.

To regard the boundless universe itself as Dalton’s military training ground — to treat the endless stream of enemies as whetstones upon which to sharpen the empire’s edge!

A surge of fiery determination erupted in her chest, burning away the confusion that had clouded her moments earlier. It was as though a log had been thrown into a roaring forge — her heart ignited.

She could already envision the vast, magnificent war scenes of the future.

“Understood!”

Elizabeth saluted sharply, the violet in her eyes blazing like twin stars.

“In accordance with the President’s will! The Astral Guard Legion will hone its blades and ready its armies for the next enemy!”

“We will ensure that all who covet Dalton — will never return once they come!”

Her blood boiled with renewed purpose, yearning to water Dalton’s growth with more victories.

Standing silently to the side, Aragis inclined his head ever so slightly.

He said nothing, yet his clenched fist and the faint flash of light beneath his helm betrayed his inner anticipation — a hunger for battle.

He longed for a worthy foe — one of equal rank and power — someone who could make him fight with all his might.

This time, he hadn’t even needed to lift his sword.

Crushing ants was no honor for a knight.

Meanwhile —

Deep within the universe, in a desolate sector known as the Ashen Starfield.

The very structure of space here was unstable — fractured planetary remains floated amidst twisted rifts that shimmered like glass under strain.

Yet in this dead expanse, a silent catastrophe was unfolding.

There was no warning.

From nowhere, a vast, blood-dark mass of sludge-like shadow tore open the very fabric of space.

It wasn’t ordinary void — it was a rift to the Abyss, reeking of sulfur, despair, and damnation.

From within it poured countless warped and grotesque figures, surging like a tidal wave.

Some were enormous, insectoid creatures, their chitinous shells burning with eerie green flames.

Others took humanoid shapes, their skin cracked like molten rock, wielding rune-blazing swords.

Still others were mere amorphous shadows — shifting constantly, devouring even light as they moved.

Their target was a small, insignificant world nearby — one that had only barely reached the threshold of a Level 2 Civilization.

A world whose people had yet to take their first true step into the stars — whose homeworld was still shrouded in the primitive mists of magic.

On that world — Cain World — its guardian, a Star Core Archmage of immense power, awoke the moment the Abyss tore open the sky.

Summoning the planet’s full might, he raised a colossal magic array — a radiant barrier of pure energy spanning the heavens, an act of desperate defiance against annihilation.

Its light gleamed fiercely amid the dark starfield — like the final flicker of a dying man’s heartbeat: brilliant, yet hopeless.

“Keh-heh-heh…” a guttural laugh echoed.

“Such a feeble light. Struggle, little flame… your agony is the sweetest offering to the Abyss!”

The speaker — a Demon General towering a hundred meters high, with three goat-like heads and a massive burning scythe — unleashed a shrill psychic screech as it swung its weapon.

The single blow shattered a section of the planet’s great barrier.

The world’s defense collapsed almost instantly under the crushing difference in both number and power.

It was like sunlight melting frost.

The demonic legions descended upon Cain World like locusts, devouring everything alive — every tree, river, and stone.

Forests turned to ash.

Rivers boiled and vanished.

Cities fell into ruin.

Every living creature screamed in agony as their life energy was drained — their very souls consumed by the demons’ hunger.

Cain World’s defenders fought valiantly — their response swift, desperate, all-consuming — but against the endless, monstrous horde, their resistance was as fragile as a candle in a hurricane.

The world’s vitality faded — visibly, tangibly — as if death itself were spreading like ink through water.

On the outer rim of Cain World, upon a barren planet moments away from complete demonic corruption—

A boy ran.

His lungs burned as if aflame, his breath ragged and sharp.

His clothes were torn to shreds, his body laced with cuts and grime.

Behind him, a massive, dog-like demon — its body covered in bone spines, its mouth dripping with corrosive saliva — pursued him leisurely.

Its crimson eyes gleamed with mockery and cruelty.

It could have easily overtaken and slain the boy at any moment — but it relished the chase.

Every few steps, it spat a glob of acid near his feet, dissolving holes in the ground, or flicked a clawed paw to send pebbles smashing into his back — each blow drawing a muffled cry of pain.

Yet the boy’s will to live burned fierce.

“I can’t die… I won’t die…”

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes — wild and defiant — gleamed like those of a starving wolf.

Still, will alone could not bridge the chasm of power.

When he leapt, desperately, across a ravine, his strength finally gave out.

“ROAR!”

The demon let out a triumphant bellow and lunged, its massive claws cutting through the air —

— and struck the boy squarely in the back.

Thud!

He was flung like a rag doll, crashing hard into the ground, blood spraying from his mouth.

Pain overwhelmed him; it felt as though every bone in his body had shattered.

His vision blurred.

Darkness crept in, cold and inexorable.

“Am I… going to die?”

The freezing void swallowed him whole.

And just as his consciousness began to sink completely —

Time stopped.

The demon froze mid-pounce, suspended in the air.

Blood and dust hung motionless between them.

Before the boy’s dimming eyes, scenes from his short, painful life flashed by —

like the final, fleeting reel of a lantern dream.

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