Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas
Chapter 42: Ch-42 Is entirely up to you.

Chapter 42: Ch-42 Is entirely up to you.

Then the smile returned.

The former Supreme Commander of the Terra Empire—now simply a citizen of the Human Federation—stood tall, ready to help rewrite the course of Federation history.

And so, the conversation marched forward—into the unknown, let’s say...

The conversation continued, filled with many questions—some veiled, others more direct but all carrying a weight of suspicion.

Both Grand Admiral John and Director Natisha probed carefully, their inquiries, the questions they asked were things that were hinting toward a deeper concern that they had: could William one day attempt to usurp control of the Federation?

Questions arose about the two Tier-7 ship technologies he had gifted them.

Could the gift of two Tier-7 ships be more than just goodwill—perhaps a move to gain influence among the people of the Federation? And could that influence lead to loyalty that, in the wrong context, might allow him to take control of the Federation itself?

Some questions even suggested he might be an invader in disguise, considering his unknown origin remained unclear—a detail that remained suspicious to them.

His power, his mysterious ship... both were beyond anything the Federation currently had. That alone posed a troubling thought: could his presence unbalance the power structure of the entire Federation?

The ship—and William himself—were potential catalysts for a feeling of inferiority among the Federation’s top brass, especially the Celestial Designers, the very minds responsible for the Federation’s technological edge.

After all, it was they who had kept the Federation relevant all these years. Now, here came a man with technology leagues beyond theirs, handing them Tier-7 ships like they were toys.

Even if the chance of that inferiority complex truly taking hold was minimal, the possibility lingered.

And then there was the fear among the higher echelons — a fear that would almost certainly arise once John presented his findings on William to the Federation Council after their meeting — the fear that questions such as, ’What if, someday, William simply decided to take control of the Federation?’ might not only be asked, but asked by voices that mattered and there would be more then one of such voices.

Many such questions were raised by both John and Natisha—questions that made it abundantly clear: they feared William. Feared his power. Feared his unknown motives.

The irony, however, was that William had no hidden motives—at least, not for now. He harbored no intention to overthrow or manipulate, no grand scheme that should warrant such fear.

But the future... well, it was the future for a reason—uncertain, unpredictable.

Anything could happen. And William knew all too well that no explanation would truly ease their minds. In fact, any attempt to clarify might only deepen their suspicion.

After all, people at that level of power often overthink—especially when they sense that their authority might one day be challenged.

And despite knowing all this, William still responded—he still tried, at least casually, to ease some of their doubts. As composed and sincere as he could be, he answered their questions without defensiveness. But even then, he didn’t try too hard. He had no reason to beg, no desire to persuade.

If they couldn’t accept him or the help he offered—if their fears of what he might do overshadowed the reality of what he had done—then so be it. It wouldn’t matter. William held no illusions. He thought highly of the Federation, yes, but in the end, any power blinded by fear and unwilling to see what was truly in its best interest was bound to falter.

And if it came to that—if they rejected him—he would simply leave, just as he had arrived. Perhaps to another galaxy, or even another universe. Somewhere, he might truly be needed. Somewhere, he wouldn’t have to justify his existence and his help.

That thought seemed to sit with him calmly, as he spoke with a casual detachment that only made John and Natisha more unsettled.

"I know you doubt me," William said quietly. "And yes... I can feel your fear. Fear of my power. Fear of what I represent. That much is clear to me."

He paused, his gaze calm.

"And I won’t tell you not to fear me. It’s natural, after all—to fear what you perceive as vastly unknown. But I must make one thing clear: I am still human. That’s already been verified. Kevin himself confirmed it."

He glanced at both John and Natisha, who nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth. William nodded back, continuing.

"You know... at this level, it might even feel despicable to you—that someone of your own race could suspect you’re something else. That kind of doubt stings. But I didn’t take offense. Not once. I understand. I’m a special case, after all. I didn’t come from within your world—I came from outside it. And that alone makes me a threat, doesn’t it?"

He leaned back slightly in his throne-like chair. "Still... I accepted it. And that, if anything, should show you how willing I am to be part of the Federation. My position, my... noble rank, if you want to call it that, would normally never allow such questioning. It crosses a line. But I let it pass. Because I know I don’t belong to the usual mold. Not here."

Then his voice steadied, growing firmer.

"Whether I’m William Velhart or not... what matters is this: I have no hidden motive in joining the Federation, nor in gifting you two tier-7 warships. None."

He leaned forward just a little, not menacingly—but with weight. With truth.

"My only intention is to help humanity survive. That’s all."

Then came silence. He leaned back again, a faint glow from the chair catching the edges of his figure. He wasn’t even looking at them directly anymore—but to John and Natisha, it felt like he was seeing straight through them. It only deepened the sense of mystery that clung to him... and it did nothing to ease their suspicions.

"And if you’re worried that this gift might give me leverage—well... it certainly could," he added, his tone calm. "If you allow the news to spread unchecked, people will grant me influence. Not because I want it—but because that’s how power works. Even a good deed can become currency in the hands of others."

He looked away, almost dismissively.

"I won’t claim these ships will win your war. Not instantly. But they will help. They can stabilize your frontlines, help you fight to a standstill, maybe even turn the tide with time. And if you reverse-engineer them—learn from them—you might reach tier-7 shipbuilding yourselves one day. That’s the real gift."

Another pause. His next words came with almost casual indifference.

"And if you’re so concerned about giving me credit... then don’t. Say they were developed by your own Celestial Design Bureaus. They may not like that—they seem prideful, from what little I’ve learned—but they’ll accept it. And perhaps even be grateful for the chance to expand their research."

Then, with a soft breath, he concluded, his voice dropping into something raw, unfiltered:

"And truly... I don’t care what your Federation Council thinks of me. I’m not here for the Federation. Not even close."

His eyes turned sharp now, unwavering.

"I’m here for the people who live under it."

"Even though I mainly consider myself part of humanity, you must realize that this inevitably involves the Federation—whether I want it or not. By that connection alone, your Federation stands to gain. Greatly, in fact. And without much effort on your part."

William’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"That gain... is merely a byproduct of my work. And I’m fine with that. I have no problem if the Federation benefits indirectly from what I do. If that’s what it takes for you to accept me, to allow me to work—so be it."

He paused again. This time, the smile faded from his face. For the first time, there was no warmth in his expression—only an unreadable seriousness that settled into the room like a shifting pressure.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he spoke again.

"But let me make something absolutely clear."

Then, slowly, deliberately, he spoke again.

"But let me make something absolutely clear."

His tone was calm, but each word carried weight.

"You—more than anyone—should know just how desperately you need this technology. More than anything else right now. That is... if you truly want the Federation, and the people within it, to survive."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Based on my calculations, at the current pace, your Federation won’t remain viable for even a few more decades. Not as it is. So let me spell it out plainly: you don’t have the luxury to say no."

There was a brief silence. Even the air seemed heavier.

"The threat I represent... shouldn’t even be the question right now. The real question is—will you, or your Federation, still exist long enough to see whether I become a threat at all?"

His voice dropped low, final.

"So again—whether you like it or not, here’s my offer. What you choose to do with it... is entirely up to you."