CHAPTER 31: CH-31 IT WASN’T PERFECT—NO SYSTEM WAS

This man is not to be underestimated.

Yet he was human. One of them now. And that thought was somehow both terrifying and comforting.

William continued.

"So here’s my proposal," he said. "As proof of my sincerity—and my alignment with humanity’s survival—I’m willing to gift the Federation two ships: one Tier-7-class frigate, and one Tier-7-class destroyer."

He let that bombshell hang in the air.

Kevin felt the breath leave his lungs.

Behind him, his officers exchanged stunned glances. Some of them blinked rapidly, as if trying to determine whether they’d misheard.

A Tier-7-class frigate?

A Tier-7-class destroyer?

These were the kinds of technologies discussed only in black-budget think tanks, in classified simulations.

These were concepts spoken of in theory, in projections, in classified think-tank reports buried so deep even admirals like Kevin barely saw summaries.

They were theoretical. Dreams. Weapons of legend.

Yet they were still being researched by the Bedration Celestial Designers. In fact, nearly all the Celestial Designers present in this galaxy were currently brainstorming this very technology.

And even then, according to these behemoths—the think tanks, the minds and engineers behind humanity’s arsenal—all current weapons had barely touched upon Tier-7 technological principles. It wasn’t enough to create something meaningful yet. That would take time.

And here was this man—a newly accepted citizen—offering them as a gesture of goodwill?

Kevin swallowed—or at least, he tried to. But his throat was too dry, and all he could do was suppress the urge to gulp down his own saliva as the absurdity of the situation sank in. And yet...

He understood the full weight of the offer. While it would undoubtedly empower the Federation directly, the broader implications were far more profound.

Humanity was a species defined by curiosity, by its relentless drive to reverse-engineer, adapt, and evolve. If even a fraction of Tier-7 technology were successfully integrated, Federation scientists—Celestial Designers—would analyze it, deconstruct it, understand it, replicate it... and eventually build beyond it.

It was just like the Age of Stars—when humanity had first ventured beyond the bounds of the solar system. Back then, they were a fledgling civilization, at the very bottom of the galactic food chain. Yet, from that humble beginning in the Milky Way, they rose to dominate over 70% of the galaxy.

And all of it—every achievement, every conquest—was made possible by one unshakable truth: Humanity’s will to conquer, to dominate, and, above all, its unmatched ability to adapt to any and all situations.

That’s how humanity survived. That’s how they thrived.

This wouldn’t just shift the balance of power—it would rewrite it.

The same pattern had begun to emerge in this galaxy—Uranus. But unlike the Milky Way, where humanity hadn’t initially been perceived as a threat, things were vastly different here.

Back in their home galaxy, that early underestimation gave humanity time—time to grow, to advance, to build a foundation. And by the time the alien races realized the danger humanity posed to their existence and united to strike, it was already too late. They couldn’t shake the foundation humanity had forged through blood, innovation, and sheer will.

But Uranus was not the Milky Way. Here, humanity was never given that chance. From the very beginning, they were seen as a threat—and crushed before they could truly rise.

That was the reason for their current state. Despite being more powerful than any individual race, humanity in this galaxy had always been pushed back—denied the time and space to grow. Forced into a defensive position, they had become a cornered species.

And yet... even now, humanity was adapting, evolving, and advancing at an alarming rate—just as they always had.

But while humanity was still adapting—still evolving at an alarming rate—it simply wasn’t enough. Not enough to mount a true offensive. Not enough to halt the alien invasion.

Despite their rapid growth, humanity was losing ground. Slowly, steadily. And unless something fundamental changed, it would remain that way.

And that—Kevin thought—is exactly what was about to change.

For this was the possibility Kevin couldn’t ignore. Knowing his race—knowing humanity’s potential—if William truly gave them access to Tier-7 technology, then the future was all but rewritten.

Kevin understood his people. They wouldn’t stop at just those two Tier-7 ships. No... not once those designs were absorbed by the Celestial Designers.

Once that door was opened, once the knowledge was truly understood——the cascade of advancement would be unstoppable.

The Federation had never stagnated. As the saying went—humanity always evolved. And under pressure, it evolved even faster.

Now, this man—this William, the so-called newly accepted citizen of the Federation—was offering the oil and spark needed to push humanity to an entirely new level.

Kevin’s every instinct screamed for caution. Logic told him to proceed carefully, to question the motive, to treat this offer as a potential trap.

But his gut—the same gut that had kept him alive through countless battles and impossible situations—told him something else.

That this wasn’t a hallucination. That this was real.

This wasn’t a trap. Kevin could feel it. This wasn’t some elaborate deception laid out by William to harm his race. This wasn’t manipulation. No—this was sincerity. A genuine will to help them because he truly saw humanity as his people.

Kevin shook his head once. Whatever it was—gift, gamble, or miracle—it was real. And it was his duty to act. This wasn’t an opportunity he could afford to turn down, not out of fear, and not out of protocol. "Nor was this an opportunity that could be ignored.

This could be the turning point.A new era.One that belonged to humanity. Once again!!

He focused again on William. The man still wore that same calm smile—unchanged since the moment they’d met—but his aura had shifted. There was seriousness in his posture now. Weight in his words. And above all else... sincerity.

Kevin gave a slow, deliberate nod. Then another, firmer this time. "You... really mean to give us those technologies?" Kevin asked, his voice almost quiet now. "Those two Tier-7 warships?"

William’s answer came without hesitation. Just a single, confident nod. The kind of gesture that didn’t need words. And Kevin believed him—truly believed him. There was no game here.

Kevin closed his eyes for just a moment. A thousand thoughts surged through him like a storm, a lifetime of strategy, consequences, and risk-management compressed into a single breath.

Then he opened them—and the hesitation was gone. The emotion too. He was a commander again, fully present, his expression resolute.

"Then let me thank you, Mr. William," he said with measured weight. "For your goodwill. Truly."

He sighed, almost regretfully. "And while I wish I could accept your offer here and now—I cannot. Even as a Tier-2 Federation Admiral, I do not have the authority to formalize a gift of this scale."

He paused, then added with sharper conviction:"But I support your proposal. Entirely. And I will personally escort this matter to the High Council the moment I return to my flagship. Not as a request... but as a matter of immediate strategic importance."

Kevin glanced toward his team. Then back to William. "And you may not have to wait long. A war fleet—our next wave of reinforcements—is already en route. It includes a Tier-6 battle group... and it’s led by one of our Grand Admirals."

William’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing.

Kevin went on to say,"He holds Tier-1 clearance and is, in fact, one of the Tier-1 officials of our Federation and full emergency executive authority. If anyone can accept your gift on behalf of the Federation, it’s him."

William nodded, his smile widening—but not in arrogance. In understanding.

He wasn’t offended by Kevin’s lack of authority. He wasn’t angry at the process. If anything, he appreciated it.

A society bound by rules, by structure, was what kept civilization from falling into chaos. William respected that. Rules weren’t a weakness—they were the frame that held everything up.

They (Rules) were invisible scaffolding that let a million voices move in one direction without collapsing into madness.

And it was this—the Federation’s structure, its discipline, its refusal to be ruled by greed or ego—that made William decide to move forward with his plan. Even though the gift he was offering might complicate some of his long-term strategies... even though it might draw attention, or stir fears, or set off unpredictable consequences... he still moved forward.

Because he liked the way the Federation worked.

Because he liked the way the Federation worked.

It wasn’t perfect—no system was. Corruption? That would always exist, in every corner of any functioning society. To William, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was how deeply it ran. And here, in this Federation, the rot didn’t reach the core.

The people at the top—those with real power—didn’t make decisions for gold, or land, or titles.

They moved with purpose. For survival. For responsibility.

And that, more than anything else, convinced William to take the risk.

"Good to hear, Admiral," William finally said. "And I’ll be waiting. I look forward to meeting your Grand Admiral soon."