But he would not stake everything on one uncertain hope. He didn't even know if the artifact truly existed, much less where it might be hidden. And if it did exist, who could say it hadn't already fallen into another's hands? The writings of his ancestors spoke only in riddles—nothing certain, nothing proven. A hypothesis, yes, but one filled with uncertainties, built on secondhand accounts that might not even be true.

Yet even in that doubt, he steeled himself. If there was even the faintest chance, he would endure whatever trouble it demanded. After all, no matter how unlikely or uncertain, an opportunity was still an opportunity. If it paid off, the rewards would be immense. If not… then at worst, it would end in wasted effort.

So thought the Federation President of Helios , Mr. Ivan Gagrin.

Ivan Gagrin told himself that he couldn't take action now—not when everything was in chaos and when every eye was fixed on the Northern Forbidden Zone. More than that, the records left by his ancestors had taught him something crucial: the galaxy was full of ancient powers, and there was no guarantee they didn't possess similar ancestral records of their own.

If they did, the situation would only grow more chaotic, erasing any chance of a true first-mover advantage.

Yes, five great powers were already making waves—two of them far stronger than his own Federation. But even they weren't fully committed; they had not yet acted on the information he had uncovered. Chances were, they might not even possess such knowledge to begin with. Strange as it seemed, this was the only explanation he could think of, and the only reason that made sense for their hesitation.

The other three powers were too weak to truly capitalize on the secrets of the ancient holy region. Most likely, they too had no idea of its true value. After all, they were newer forces, barely established in the galaxy, and lacked the depth of legacy required to grasp such things.

To Ivan, that meant no one had yet taken the true "first step." And if he did, it would not be a first-mover advantage—it would be a first-mover risk. With so much attention already fixed on that place, stepping forward first would only invite peril.

He had no desire to shoulder that burden. Instead, Ivan resolved to wait, to watch, to let the storm of chaos run its course. Only when the time was right would he move—and when he did, it would be with absolute certainty.

And Ivan wasn't the only one thinking this way. There were others who, after analyzing the situation, had come to the same conclusion: to wait, to watch, and to move only if the opportunity proved truly worth its value.

But not all shared this mindset. Among the seven major superpowers of the galaxy—of which the Helios Federation was one—many dismissed the matter entirely. It wasn't that they outright disbelieved, but rather that the whole affair seemed too absurd, speculation stacked upon speculation, with not a single shred of certainty in the ancestral records they themselves possessed.

For them, the risk far outweighed the promise of reward. They believed too many factions across the galaxy might hold fragments of the same information, ensuring that any move would draw immense attention. And there was no guarantee they wouldn't suffer the same fate as the ancients who once occupied that holy region—destroyed by rivals eager to seize what they sought.

Beyond that, many of these powers already had safer, more reliable paths to achieve similar ends. With such alternatives in hand, why gamble everything on an uncertain, dangerous pursuit?

Similar to them, many forces throughout the galaxy held their own views—some favorable, others against—regarding the events unfolding around the Northern Galactic Rim. Despite the uncertainty, many were eager to seize what they believed could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even if they knew nothing concrete about it. Smaller powers, however, chose to ignore the chaos entirely.

To them, the Northern Rim had become far too unstable, and they preferred to focus on their own development elsewhere. In time, those who stayed away would come to realise just how fortunate they were not to have been drawn into that storm.

Yet still, countless powers—great and small—were being pulled toward the Rim, especially to the ancient holy region at its center. And that only worsened the troubles of the Minotaur Clan and, more importantly, their powerful backers, the Star Empire. Even the emperor himself was beginning to realize that what had seemed like a gamble was rapidly turning into a nightmare.

But this realization was only a small part of him. The greater part still resisted, unwilling to bend despite the mounting pressures he faced—from within his own empire, where ancient ducal families had begun to voice revolt (though not formally yet); from other galactic powers closing in; and even from his supposed allies, whose trust in him was steadily eroding, just as it had in the case of the Minotaur.

The erosion of trust stemmed from the false information the emperor himself had provided. Though he had managed to calm his allies for the moment, it was certain they would never trust him as they once had. If not for the fact that they were already heavily invested, some might have withdrawn entirely.

Indeed, a few had already begun entertaining such thoughts—though the emperor remained unaware, too overwhelmed by the unrelenting pressures closing in from all sides. He had no room to breathe, no time to dwell.

The only relief for the Star Emperor came from the loyalty and competence Duke Flexiy had shown. Without him, the emperor knew he would already be drowning in a crisis he could not possibly manage.

In a distant star system, not far from the mana storm encircling the Holy—or Sol—Region, a day before the Void Fleet departed, Duke Flexiy, seeing how dire the situation had become, took decisive action. He summoned the Minotaur Clan and ordered them to allocate nearly all their forces to reinforce the blockade surrounding the region, leaving behind only the bare minimum needed to defend their own territories within a defined perimeter.

Though reluctant to leave their homelands so vulnerable, the Minotaurs had little choice. Faced with the threats of Duke Flexiy and reassured by the presence of the Star Empire, they complied. In doing so, however, the duke inadvertently cleared the way for the Void Fleet, enabling them to carry out the mission they were about to begin.

Neither he nor the Minotaur Clan would realize until too late that the very force his Star Emperor had sworn to drive out of the holy region had already begun striking against their allies.

Current Timeline — Present

As turmoil around the Northern Galactic Rim and the Sol Region continued to escalate, new tensions emerged that drew in not only the Minotaur Clan and the Star Empire, but also the alchemy association .

But fortunately for the Star Empire's fleet stationed there—as well as for much of the Minotaur Clan's military installations and forces—the dispatched quasi–mana-tech Tier-1 fleet of the Alchemy Association finally arrived. They were the first to reach the front, ahead of the other three supporting fleets that were still en route and would take some time to arrive.

The fleet commander of the Alchemy Association, after swiftly assessing the situation, immediately moved to reinforce the blockade that Duke Flexiy of the Star Empire had established in cooperation with the Minotaur Clan—relieving both him and the Minotaurs of a burden they had long been straining under.

Unbeknownst to them—or to anyone else—a massive assault was already taking shape. The Void Fleet's 3rd Battle Fleet had just crossed into Minotaur territory, targeting an otherwise average star system: the Granthor Star System.

Inside the quantum tunnel, the Third Battle Fleet surged forward through a plane of shifting magic, a vast passage of bluish-purple light that wrapped around them like a living river of energy. It had been over thirty minutes since they'd departed the Solar System with their fleet of 10,000 ships, and now they were nearing their exit point.

Suddenly, an alert rang across the fleet, repeating in the mechanical cadence of an AI:

[Attention all personnel. In three minutes, the fleet will exit the quantum tunnel. All hands are requested to prepare and report to stations immediately.]

Aboard the flagship of the Third Fleet—the destroyer Kael's Throne—the ship's AI, Sentoiry, gave her report in her usual formal tone.

"Grandad, we are approaching the exit point."

Kale nearly tripped over himself, eyes wide."What—Grandad?! I'm Grand Admiral! Not… whatever you just called me!"

Sentoiry, sidestepping his outburst with programmed composure, continued evenly:"Shall I have the quantum ships prepare for exit?"

(The quantum ships served as both navigational keystones and transponders—anchoring the fleet's position so the Solar System's space gates could track them, and activating in case the fleet needed to jump again across long-range sectors.)

"Do you even need to ask that? If we don't, then how will we even exist?" Kael snapped, losing his composure for a moment.(What is wrong with this AI…?) he thought bitterly.