"It's all just political reasoning — a convenient cover so they can legally enter another Sector ruled by a Behemoth," Theo explained, his tone heavy with cynicism. "But deep down, they all know it's nothing but a flimsy excuse. They know full well that this move tarnishes the very image of the galaxy. That's why they only sent five hundred fleets each." He paused briefly, nodding before continuing.

"…After the continuous losses that befell Lord Zarion, it was expected that the galaxy would eventually send reinforcements. Yet the aid that came was both small and delayed, a direct reflection of his failures. Ironically, the very reason help arrived was because of those failures — the Galactic Command had tried to ignore this war for as long as possible, portraying it as nothing more than a personal vendetta between you and him. But they can't stay silent anymore. Every day you endure, every hour you stand, you hammer another nail into their pride. Lord Zarion's reputation is crumbling — and with it, theirs too…"

"Actually, Lord Zarion has been trying desperately to block the reinforcements," Theo went on, his voice lower now, "but he failed. His position inside the galaxy is deteriorating fast. Meanwhile, his brothers' influence grows stronger while his own collapses. Some say he won't remain among the high ranks for much longer — not after forcing the galaxy to intervene on his behalf. That alone is seen as a confession… a silent admission that Lord Zarion lost to you. Now, they just want to end this farce as quickly as possible."

"As for the intervention of the Cursed Galaxy — that one needs no explanation. You sent your army to annihilate the marshal of one of their great houses, destroyed a massive number of their fleets, seized countless spells and curses that belonged to their legions — and then you refused to return any of it even after they sent an emissary." Theo paused briefly, letting his words sink in before continuing, "Their biggest problem now is that the battle was colossal… and the news leaked everywhere. Everyone across the star systems is talking about how you wiped out an entire Cursed Galaxy force."

"They come to kill me and expect me to stand there and let them?" Hedrick sneered, his fangs slightly visible. "And second—who in their right mind would send back their spoils of war to the losers? That's absurd. That's bullying!"

The Shadow Swords were the ones who located the position of the Cursed Galaxy's forces and instructed him to eliminate them… but Hedrick felt no anger toward the Shadow Swords for that. If that den of serpents had continued supporting Zarion from the shadows, the war might have already been lost. Eradicating them was a duty, not a choice.

Was there a better way to deal with them—or even with the Cursed Galaxy itself? Perhaps… but there was no use crying over spilled blood. What's done is done.

"…" Hedrick clenched his fangs tightly, his expression dark and calculating. The two galaxies would lose prestige and their names would be dragged through the mud… but so what? What came next?

The incoming reinforcements were vast — four seventh-realm beings among them, in addition to the furious Zarion himself. That made five. Even if Hedrick stood as a sovereign under a Law of Destruction, facing five monarchs and guardians simultaneously would still be dangerous — even for him.

And then there were the thousand fleets approaching — fleets not from a single world, but from entire galaxies. They represented the pinnacle of interstellar warfare, the finest that military science could craft. Those pitiful sixteen hundred fleets surrounding him right now were nothing in comparison. And behind each of those thousand armadas were soldiers of renown — warriors who served Behemoths directly, arriving under the banners of their most fearsome generals and legendary marshals.

How could it be otherwise? They were coming not to fight another battle, but to erase the stain of their repeated defeats — to reclaim their honor in a single decisive strike.

And as if that wasn't enough, the sixteen hundred fleets already pressing against his defenses continued to advance relentlessly, while another three hundred moved in from the south, tightening the noose.

So the question now burned in Hedrick's mind, heavy and merciless —

What will I do when those thousand fleets finally arrive?

After a long, deliberate silence—one that let every calculation, every dread, and every possible outcome ferment inside Hedrick's mind—Theo finally spoke, his tone carrying that eerie calmness of someone who'd already seen the ending of the war before it happened.

"Lord Hedrick," he began, his voice steady but resonant, "this entire quarter of the universe now echoes your name. Every realm, every academy, every empire—everyone speaks of your feats. They speak of the man who, alone, crushed countless cosmic armies and forced the advance of the coalition to a halt. They tell tales of your unmatched courage, of how you delivered blow after blow, refusing to yield even when outnumbered a thousand to one. And they speak, too, of the failure of the Allied Army, which weakens day by day beneath the weight of your defiance. We, the Shadow Swords, have worked tirelessly to ensure these stories reach every ear and every star."

Theo paused, letting his words sink in, then continued with a faint smile. "You've already become a hero of the people. Your title—Son of Destruction—has taken root like ancient steel anchors in the hearts of countless beings. Whether it's your individual might that drove legions to retreat, or the indomitable strength of your army fighting against enemies many times their number, you have already won the moral victory. You stand as the symbol of endurance, the banner of defiance itself. But…"—his tone darkened—"…I fear this is the point where we must pause and change course."

Hedrick's voice came out low and cold. "What do you mean by that?" His fingers drummed against the edge of the table, sparks of soul force flickering unconsciously. "Are you telling me to just walk out there and declare my surrender!? To let them trample what we built!?"

"All I'm saying," Theo replied patiently, "is that from this point forward, the war ahead won't be fought with fleets and fire—it will be a political war. You need to lay down your maps for now, Lord Hedrick, and start opening channels with anyone who can aid your cause. It's no longer a matter of who commands the strongest armada—it's about who controls the narrative of the universe. You cannot keep fighting this battle alone."

"…That's not the way of the Crumbled Dreams Empire," Hedrick muttered, his voice trembling with restrained fury. "That's not my way."

His mind drifted briefly through the scars of his long life. Hedrick had faced betrayal, deceit, and abandonment so many times that the idea of alliances now sickened him. To him, politics was nothing but a masquerade—a hollow mask hiding greed and self-interest. Alliances built on favors were never real; they were transactions disguised as friendship. 'Give and take,' he thought bitterly. 'That's not partnership… it's parasitism.'

For centuries, he had worked to ensure that his empire would stand alone—unyielding, self-sufficient, and feared. In all that time, he had never once extended his hand to another ruler. His relations with others were either neutral or hostile, nothing in between. Dependence was weakness.

"But you have a good relationship with my father," Theo said, his eyebrow lifting slightly, a trace of amusement in his tone. "That's something to build upon, isn't it?"

Hedrick's eyes narrowed. "I didn't choose your father because of what he could offer me," he replied bluntly, his voice sharp as a blade. "I chose him because he's a Candidate—and he knows that's the reason. I won't deny that I've gained more from our alliance than he has so far. I certainly never expected that he possessed an organization like yours, one capable of orchestrating campaigns across entire sectors. But even that wasn't without cost. You've already twisted more than half of my planetary armaments from my grasp."

Theo showed no surprise; if anything, he seemed faintly amused by the honesty. "I know you're betting on the height my father will one day reach," he said quietly. "And I, too, am wagering everything on that same rise. I believe—no, I know—that he will achieve what no Candidate before him has ever done. The Incoming Nihari Seed War will mark the beginning of that truth, a declaration to the entire cosmos."

That war had already become a matter of record, its name whispered among the archives of the thousand planetary empires and ancient academies. Theo had studied those records well. Then, with the quiet authority of someone who could see further than most, he tilted his head down to meet Hedrick's gaze from above.

"Still," Theo said softly, "can't you place your faith in other partners as well? There are more paths to survival than one man's rise."

"…Who do you mean?" Hedrick raised his head slowly, locking eyes with Theo.

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