Star City 1.
"The agent I sent has already gathered enough intel." Luna crossed one leg over the other.
She held a glass of plain water in her hand, sipping slowly.
In truth, she rarely touched alcohol—especially as the years weighed on her. She couldn't afford disorientation. Too much responsibility rested on her shoulders, and she needed to remain razor-sharp to guard against intrusion into her mind.
Her habit of drinking water was nothing more than the residue of her centuries in the laboratory. After thousands of years with nothing else, it had simply become her taste.
"That quickly?"
"They should still be en route."
Chu only knew the basics. He waved the matter off, saying, "The tactics used in Star City 1 already worked against the enemy. We should just replicate them elsewhere. Why waste time digging deeper?"
"We can analyze it later."
What mattered now was rescuing the other Star Cities.
But Luna remained motionless. She was waiting for something.
"It's not that simple."
"If we've already grasped it, then how could that unknown civilization not?"
"Striking the other Star Cities now would only mean cutting weeds at the surface. They'd regrow stronger, more aggressive."
"If that's the outcome, what's the point?"
"It would be better to let the enemy cling to what they've harvested, drag them all into the open, and then annihilate them in one decisive sweep."
She didn't say all. Luna was preparing something else entirely—whether it would work or not was another matter.
Chu had little interest in such patience. "Then I'll be leaving soon," he said flatly.
"I'm worried about Hossie. He might already be dead, but I still have to try and find him."
Luna hadn't expected him to mean it so seriously. He had planned departure earlier, but now the conviction in his voice was unmistakable.
"The Dancer is flying at nearly 240,000 kilometers per second. If those above him are dead—or worse, controlled—then it's already skipped past countless galaxies, plunging into deep space."
"You'll never find them."
She understood him, though. Hossie wasn't just a subordinate—he was a junior Chu truly valued. The more their true identities surfaced, the closer Chu and Hossie had grown.
Chu admired him deeply, convinced this junior carried the hope of reviving the Olive Branch Civilization.
But as they uncovered more about the enemy, Chu's hope waned. He feared Hossie's survival was slim—perhaps impossible.
That was why he was restless.
Only one truth could have anchored him in place: Hossie is dead.
But Luna could not give him that certainty.
From what she'd seen, the enemy was far from untouchable. At first glance they seemed invincible. But deeper knowledge showed they were only… troublesome.
"Whatever. Think of it as me going out to find some peace." Chu could no longer stay.
It had taken him considerable courage just to say that to Luna—knowing how reckless, how irrational it sounded.
But some actions, once decided, were carried out regardless of reason.
Luna reflected on the greatest difference between the Eternal Cycle Star Nation and the Federation: the balance of emotion and reason.
The Eternal Cycle had once been too rational, until they turned violently toward emotion—making themselves hypersensitive, driven by feeling.
The Federation was the mirror opposite.
Every life begins with emotion. Civilization tempers it, curbs it, but never erases it.
Yet the Federation's evolution had driven rationality so far beyond emotion that sentiment felt like an afterthought.
General truth, not absolute law.
Still, Luna knew this much for certain: Chu had crossed into the realm of emotion.
She watched him silently, making no move to stop him.
"Then go. Find your peace."
And Chu left.
Luna watched Chu's retreating back. Only after he vanished from sight did she lower her gaze.
Once more, she reviewed the data Damoro had gathered.
"Pseudo-quantum field."
"A bold hypothesis."
"But very close to the truth."
"What lies hidden within the super-microscopic realm? A cluster of machines… or an entire world?"
"Too much effort has been funneled into the micro-scale. That's not a viable strategy."
"When did all of this begin?"
Luna's thoughts drifted back.
It had started when they first encountered the unknown civilization near the galactic core.
Even now, that civilization had issued no response.
It was likely they never would.
"If their target is us, it would almost be a gift in disguise."
"But these methods are too subtle… their effect far too limited."
"Then what exactly are you aiming for?"
Star City 5.
Lorc and Kesiba once more returned to the mortal realm.
For years now, they had scoured every corner of Star City, chasing data.
And bit by bit, the picture of the enemy grew clearer.
Worse—far worse—than either had predicted.
Had they not investigated, they would never have discovered that the Star City's upper officials had long since been replaced.
"Here—look. At the time of your death, another Star City official was at the mall with his family, sightseeing."
"They couldn't have been far from you."
Kesiba projected the file for Lorc to see.
Lorc studied the image through a fog. That memory was gone—stripped from his body. No matter how he tried, nothing surfaced.
"We checked 26 sites. Every single one showed the same pattern. They weren't striking at random. They were hunting Star City officials specifically."
"No wonder the police never pursued it. Sure, negligence and corruption played their part. But the real reason? Orders from above."
Lorc clenched his fists. They should have considered this earlier.
Even now, not one official had stepped forward.
Even if only to calm the public, some gesture should have been made. Instead—silence.
Because they were no longer themselves.
"This might make it impossible for us to obtain authority." Kesiba copied the document, setting it aside for Moffat.
"What's next?" Lorc asked.
Kesiba fell silent, then said:
"If we can't pull authority from the officials, we'll go straight through the main server."
"The main server may have lost fragments of data, but its core protocols won't change. It won't sell us out to the enemy."
Lorc almost laughed. "You're joking again."
"Our clearance is nowhere near main-server level. Even Moffat and Dawn can only use it to verify data, not interact with it."
There was a vast difference.
Verification meant submitting queries—like a search engine with strict authorization.
Interaction meant the main server acknowledging you, taking feedback, weighing your input.
And with quadrillions of lives feeding data into it, the main server couldn't listen to everyone. Feedback from low-privilege users would be lost in the flood—delayed indefinitely, or worse, kicked back to the very officials who had already been compromised. That would be the end of them.
No—the only way forward was to seize a direct, face-to-face opening with the main server itself.
"Honestly, I don't think it's as impossible as it sounds."
"Remember when Dawn's transmission to Star City 1 was received? That means the higher levels already know we exist. Which might mean… we've been granted some level of authority."
Kesiba couldn't be certain. But it was worth the risk.
Somehow, he had to force the main server to notice him.
In a city of over a quadrillion souls, he was nobody. Unless he found a way to stand out.
"The outer sectors of Star City are overseen directly by the main server. So in theory, if we deliberately let the detection systems catch us slipping in… the main server itself would have to intervene."
Lorc stared at him.
"You're serious?"
"Aren't you afraid of death?"
The penalty for illegal entry was absolute.
In truth, it wasn't even a penalty. It was outright annihilation.
The main server showed no mercy in this regard.
Because most illegal entrants came armed, and knowing they'd be executed if caught, they resisted fiercely—wrecking untold damage in the process.
In a Type I Civilization, maybe there would be debates about human rights.
But here—an age of near-infinite population, where new lives could be created at will—
Human rights?
What's that supposed to mean?
If you want to die, then die. No one will pity you.
Ordinary people might speak of fighting for rights, but reality crushes the thought quickly. Even if you rallied hundreds of billions, the higher levels would never care.
Because the Federation was no democracy.
No protest could touch its rulers.
At best, some officials might be dismissed. But those officials were powerless to change anything.
"The odds are still slim," Kesiba admitted.
"But I'm betting we're already on a list inside the main server. It won't kill us."
Kesiba wasn't a gambler.
But right now, gambling was the only path left.
Time was bleeding away.
On the surface, the mortal realm looked calm, but beneath it, powerful currents churned.
Especially after the fleet's departure—the air itself felt changed.
"This isn't like you!" Lorc snapped. His clash with Kesiba was no small matter. It was life and death.
"I just refuse to die for nothing."
"Before, you were directionless—taking risks you couldn't control, throwing yourself at danger without purpose."
"This time, at least there's a goal. And this mission only needs one pilot. I'll go."
Indeed, only one person was required.
All it took was someone to fly the ship.
"Are you certain you don't need me?"
"Can you conjure a warship out of thin air?"
Both of them had resources, but nothing close to enough for a purchase.
So the only way forward was theft.
Ships were heavily fortified with automated defenses—but Lorc had once worked as a warship engineer in the Eternally Democratic Star Nation. He knew every bolt, every code, every weakness.
Egg Starport.
The lone open Starport in all of Star City 5.
Dozens of others dotted the planet, but every one of them was sealed.
This was standard for the Eternal Cycle Star Nation. Citizens were forbidden from leaving, and inbound travel was kept to the strictest minimum.
Isolation. Self-imposed, but necessary.
Every law carried its benefits—and its costs.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
A sharp alarm split the air.
One ship tore free from its docking clamps, cutting straight into the void.
Chaos followed. A shout rose:
"There! That's the thief's accomplice!"
Lorc's laughter rang out as he sprinted across the Starport, pursued by a wave of enforcers. He was fast, but they were faster.
These weren't ordinary workers. They carried special privileges—no need to switch between mortal and underworld states.
They could interact with outsiders, even leave Star City.
But they couldn't set foot in its true interior—not the mortal realm Star City.
If Lorc could just reach that range, they'd lose him.
For now, his job was distraction. Buy time. Hold them off.
Give Kesiba the chance to escape.
Through the corner of his vision, Lorc caught sight of the stolen ship slipping away—Kesiba at the helm, vanishing into the black.
"Don't die!" Lorc shouted after him.
Lorc hurled himself toward the mortal realm with everything he had.
But his pursuers weren't just people. Machines joined the hunt.
Controlled directly by the main server, they streaked through space at over 300 kilometers per second—speeds Lorc could never match.
In the blink of an eye, the machines boxed him in.
They were perfect cubes, black metal gleaming faintly, harmless in appearance.
But the moment they reached him—he froze.
The surrounding electromagnetic field locked his body like chains.
"Let's see you run now!" one of the pursuers jeered.
The rest caught up, grinning at the sight of him paralyzed in space.
Lorc said nothing.
"Don't think silence means you're safe," another sneered. "This isn't over."
"Your friend in the stolen ship? He's just flying to his death. If he's lucky, he'll only end up stuck with us—doing endless chores."
Lorc's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
One of them laughed bitterly. "You've heard rumors about us—'the privileged.'"
"Use your brain. How could any star nation tolerate actual privilege?"
"We're the same as you. People who once tried to escape. Yes—we got out of Star City. But now? We're nothing but permanent freight drivers, shuttling cargo between Star Cities."
The words hit him harder than the field pinning his body.
Exile. Not prison, not execution—forced exile.
Unacceptable.
He had to remain in Star City 5.
The thought of suicide flickered through his mind.
But instantly, another force seized him. His will was ripped away, his body locked down tighter than before. He couldn't even lift a finger.
Meanwhile, aboard the stolen ship—
Kesiba had already flown more than ten million kilometers.
He now slammed straight into the defensive perimeter he had glimpsed earlier.
From every direction, fleets of machines turned toward him, swarming like a tidal surge.
Kesiba didn't hesitate. He was pragmatic.
"I surrender!"
He hadn't planned to truly escape anyway.
[Relinquish control of the ship and transfer the master key!]
The ship's systems were independent, beyond the main server's direct control. The server's authority here was vast—but bounded within Star City's walls.
"Okay, okay, fine!" Kesiba raised his hands.
"Main server—you must be paying attention to me right now. I'm the only one trying to break out!"
[Incorrect. Currently, 7 individuals in Star City 5 are attempting unauthorized departure. You are one of them.]
Kesiba blinked. "Seven?!"
Speechless. Of course others had thought of it.
Still—it didn't matter. The main server was speaking to him. That was all he needed.
"I want to establish communication. I have critical intelligence—confirmed earlier by the key figure in Star City 1. He needs this data."
Kesiba called out for a long time, but no response came.
Just as he thought his plan had failed—
[Hello, Citizen Kesiba. Please state your information!]
"..."
[Judgment established. The main server is being interfered with. Activating warning mode…]
Adjustments rattled through the system, and Kesiba waited.
After half an hour, the main server finally replied.
[After confirmation, Citizen Kesiba, your concerns are indeed valid. Please describe the information you know. I will record and report it immediately.]
[Also, state your request.]
"Star City is facing an unprecedented threat. An unknown civilization has been carrying out mass killings inside Star City for thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of years, through special means."
"Those who are killed don't just vanish from reality—the main server itself forgets they ever existed."
"By your own records, over a quadrillion people have been erased across the ages."
"But they didn't truly vanish. Instead, their bodies are seized by entities from that unknown civilization. They still walk within Star City."
"Through this method, they primarily target Federation officials, replacing them, and using their authority to mask themselves from your detection."
"For these issues, we've already begun investigating and even devised countermeasures. But right now, we need authority to resolve what's happening inside Star City."
"This is urgent!"
"The survival of Star City depends on it!"
[Your information has been filed. Please wait for the filing to complete…]
[This filing requires higher-level authority approval. Please be patient.]
The reply made Kesiba seethe.
"I said already, this is urgent! Every moment we wait, more people die."
"Those who are killed don't just lose their bodies—they lose their consciousness too. They're erased completely."
"Sending data back and forth takes dozens of days. That's far too long. We cannot wait."
"Main server, this is about your choice!"
Kesiba boxed the main server into a corner.
The system was bound by behavioral protocols, yes—but in special circumstances, couldn't it bend them?
Kesiba didn't know.
But he hoped it could.
"You can check the last response. The higher-ups already replied to our signal."
"That counts as acknowledgment. Even you, in your cold logic, can understand what that means!"
In truth, the reply was only five words:
Good luck to you all!
Yet the meaning was clear.
It wasn't a denial, but recognition of the message.
Though Kesiba still didn't understand why the higher-ups, after receiving news of Star City 5, hadn't directly commanded the main server to act.
There must have been reasons—complex ones.
[Citizen Kesiba, when communicating with the main server, refrain from insulting language. You have been warned once.]
[Main server is calculating the accuracy of the data, calculating whether to initiate the offline operation command, calculating whether to grant Citizen Kesiba authority…]
[Calculation complete. Congratulations, Citizen Kesiba. The information you submitted has been affirmed by the main server; however, it is out of sequence.]
Kesiba's heart had surged with hope at the first sentence.
But the second made him want to curse aloud.
After all that, it still wasn't enough.
Just as his spirit began to sink, the main server spoke again.
[However, the main server can grant you certain authority. You are to conduct small-scale experiments, then submit the research results to the main server.]
[Upon receiving the results, the main server will give you a definitive answer.]
[Citizen Kesiba, the accusation against you regarding escaping Star City has been dismissed, but you must bear the compensation for the damaged ship.]
Kesiba no longer felt angry.
This was already the best possible outcome.
"I need authority to travel freely between the underworld and the mortal realm. This is crucial."
"I also request that you make a physical record of the information I provided, and strengthen its permanence—so that if I die, the data tied to me won't vanish."
[The main server has accepted your request. The ship is returning to its departure point. Do you wish to proceed to the underworld or the mortal realm?]
For now, Kesiba wanted to return to the underworld.
The mortal realm was far too dangerous.
No one could be certain that this very conversation with the main server wasn't already being monitored by the unknown civilization. After all, the enemy could directly interfere with the main server itself.
"First, return to the mortal realm. I need to retrieve my companion. Then, I want you to escort us to the underworld."
"The other plan can begin as well."
[Understood, Citizen Kesiba.]
At this moment, the server's tone carried far greater acceptance—proof that Kesiba's authority level within the main server had risen.
The ship quickly docked at the Starport.
The main server marked Lorc's location for Kesiba, and what he saw shocked him.
Lorc was being tortured by a gang of people. His screams tore through the air like the howls of ghosts and wolves—raw, hopeless, unending.
Their mechanical bodies might not feel pain naturally, but that didn't matter. They had forced a sensory chip into him, then tampered with its transmissions, magnifying the torment.
The punishment Lorc endured now was tens of thousands of times worse than a human smashing their toe against a table corner.
And to prevent his mind from adapting, the intensity kept climbing, wave after wave.
These people's methods could only be called vicious.
"Let him go!"
Kesiba advanced.
The torturers turned, recognizing the one who had stolen their ship earlier, and immediately encircled him.
"You dare to come back? Looks like you realized you couldn't sneak out and finally broke down in despair."
"But do you think just returning the ship will settle the score?"
These were not kind men to begin with. They had no reason to show mercy now.
They wanted Kesiba broken.
"I never intended to escape. I only stepped out for air."
"I will compensate for the ship, but not yet."
His eyes shifted toward Lorc, still bound by the robots. No wonder Lorc was completely helpless.
"Main server, release him. He is my companion. I will take full responsibility for this matter; it has nothing to do with him."
"Everything I reported earlier was not mine alone—the greatest credit belongs to him!"
The crowd burst into mocking laughter.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Acting like you can order the main server around!"
But then, the robots suddenly withdrew.
Silence swept over the hall.
Lorc, finally able to move, gasped raggedly, then roared at them with raw fury:
"You just wait—I'll make you regret this later."
It was mostly empty bluster; deep down he knew this grudge might never be repaid.
He turned to Kesiba. "Is it handled?"
"Half handled—but it's the best outcome we could get. We're going back to the underworld now."
At that moment, a massive rift opened beneath their feet, dragging them in.
The mortal realm and the underworld were really just "a place apart," separated by only a few kilometers in linear distance.
The two vanished.
The remaining men stared at one another, dumbfounded.
Had they just picked a fight with someone untouchable?
Were those two actually high-ranking officials of Star City?
Their faces darkened, and one by one they drifted away. This incident would weigh on them for a long time.
Meanwhile—
Lorc quickly shook off the ordeal. He knew when personal grudges were pointless.
Kesiba relayed the details of his recent conversation with the main server. Lorc frowned.
"A localized pilot program won't be stable. You know as well as I do—our plan is a chain reaction."
Kesiba said nothing.
Of course he knew. Once triggered, their plan could never be stopped halfway.
But this was the price of getting the experiment off the ground. The main server would never allow full-scale deployment at the start, so he could only accept this compromise. Later problems would have to be solved as they came.
For now, there was only one priority: Activate the equipment!