Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas
Chapter 56: Ch 56 Council

Chapter 56: Ch 56 Council

The three goddesses briefly glanced around the Council chamber, which—for some reason—had fallen completely silent the moment they appeared. Their radiant eyes swept across the assembly before finally settling on the 18 Divine Pilots seated directly in front of them.

The pilots, in perfect unison, gave respectful nods toward the goddesses—a gesture that was calmly returned.

Next, the goddesses turned their gaze to the Celestial Designers, who likewise acknowledged their presence with silent reverence.

Only after these silent exchanges did the three goddesses finally take their seats upon the floating thrones. Yet, none of them spoke—not immediately. A heavy, expectant silence hung in the air, as if the very chamber held its breath.

"Respected Tier-1 Council members of the Human Federation..." the Goddess of Wisdom began, her voice smooth and measured—layered with a subtle harmonic resonance that deepened the silence already present in the chamber. Even those lost in private thoughts found their attention drawn instinctively toward her.

"I thank you all for coming, despite the sudden summons, and for taking time from your already busy schedules."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep gently across the chamber. Many nodded in acknowledgment of her words, and the minor irritation some had felt at the abruptness of the call began to fade, soothed by her sincerity and calm demeanor.

Yet not all were so easily placated. Among the 24 Council members, a group of 10 to 18 simply smirked—still harboring their displeasure for reasons unknown even to their peers.

The Goddess noticed them, of course—but chose to ignore it. They were irrelevant to the matter at hand. No matter how they felt or what games they intended to play, this Council meeting would proceed exactly as she willed.

Nodding gently, the Goddess of Wisdom continued,"Though this meeting was called without warning and lies outside your usual routines... the matter at hand—one which will be explained further by an existing Tier-1 Council member—is of existential importance."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

"If I may be direct—this could be humanity’s and the Federation’s only chance to break free from the stagnation and mounting crises we face along the Federation’s border zones."

She scanned the room, noting that every eye was on her. Though some were frowning, confused by the direction of her statement, she chose not to clarify. They would understand soon enough.

Then, without a word, she turned her gaze toward her sister deity—the Goddess of War and Expansion. The second goddess, understanding the unspoken signal, stood from her throne.

Raising her hand, she gestured—and in an instant, a massive 3D holographic map of the Federation’s territory materialized in the center of the chamber. It flickered with brilliance, outlining the Federation’s vast expanse.

About 50 pulsar star systems appeared in blue, signifying secure, stabilized zones. But beyond those, another cluster of systems appeared in red—danger zones. There were nearly 40 such systems, perhaps more.

With a sharp snap of her fingers, the Goddess of War narrowed the map’s focus, centering on those crimson sectors.

At once, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted.

Nearly every Divine Pilot, and all seated Fleet Admirals, including Grand Admiral John, instinctively straightened in their seats. They all recognized the locations immediately. These were no ordinary stars—they were wounds on the Federation’s map.

Then the Goddess of War spoke, her voice far more direct than her sister’s—carrying the edge of a seasoned warrior, a hardened veteran of countless campaigns:

"These red zones—let me be precise—these 40 star systems and more... are territories we’ve lost.

Lost to the rising threat of the Severance Alliance."

Her eyes darkened.

"And it all happened in just four decades."

She gestured toward the Divine Pilots and the seated Grand Admirals, her tone steady but heavy with grim truth.

"Despite the best efforts of our Guardians and Federation fleets... despite our technological superiority... we are being consistently pushed back by the Severance Alliance. And even now, the situation shows no signs of improvement."

She paused, allowing the map’s red-glowing star systems to speak for themselves before continuing.

"These systems we’ve lost—had they been merely territorial losses, I might not be as concerned. But that is not the case."

Her eyes narrowed.

"With those territories, we lost critical star systems rich in resources—systems that served as the lifeblood for much of the Federation’s technological and military infrastructure. These were not empty sectors. They are resource-rich star systems full of precious materials. And harvesting materials we are now struggling to replace."

She let her words settle like a cold wind.

"Our projections indicate that, at our current rate of consumption, we will exhaust the usable materials within our core territories far sooner than anticipated. When that happens, the situation will turn from difficult... to catastrophic."

She looked around the chamber, meeting the eyes of every military leader and councilor.

"For now, we are maintaining the frontlines—barely. We strike back when we can. We hold ground where it matters. But if this trend continues... even that will soon become impossible."

Her voice sharpened with conviction, as one used to battlefield truth.

"I am not saying our Guardians or our Navy are inferior to the Severance Alliance. Far from it. In terms of strength and technology, we remain unmatched."

She shook her head slightly, then added with grave honesty:

"But we are too few. Far too few."

"But we are too few. Far too few."

A somber silence fell as her final words echoed. Many nodded, followed by a stillness that included nearly everyone—though with a few exceptions. ’Belief’ would be too strong a word; ’awareness’ was more fitting. They were all aware of the situation on the frontlines.

"There is an old saying I’ve come to understand far too well:’Even an elephant can be brought down by ants—if there are enough of them.’And unlike us, our enemies have numbers in abundance."

Just as the Goddess of War was about to continue, one of the problematic Tier-1 Council members suddenly spoke out—his voice laced with arrogance.

Despite holding a prestigious position that only the most capable could ever hope to attain, the man carried himself like a fool who had somehow slipped through the cracks of fate. It was as if his mind had been replaced with filth—and yet, he dared to interrupt a goddess mid-speech.

"Where exactly are you going with this, Goddess of War?" he asked with a dismissive tone. "It’s not like we’re unaware of the situation at the front lines—and frankly, it’s not as dire as you claim, right?"

He glanced around as if seeking validation, his voice falsely painted with the veneer of reason, when in truth it was laced with mockery. An indirect jab... implying the goddess was exaggerating.

To the surprise of many, a few other council members nodded in approval, quietly supporting his audacity. Emboldened, the man—Councilor Jin Chu—grew smug.

So what if you’re a goddess with power beyond my comprehension? he thought, That doesn’t mean I can’t drag your name through the mud.

But before he could bask in his arrogance any further, a vast pressure fell upon him—an oppressive force so overwhelming that it nearly drove him into the table before him. Cold sweat drenched his face, his heart pounded in panic.

Then came a voice.Not just any voice, but one that commanded silence. And made all fear at the same time.

It was Amon, one of the Divine Pilots—known across the Federation by his fearsome title: God of Silence and Assassination.

"What do you mean by that, Councilor Jin Chu?""Are you implying that we—the Divine Pilots—and the fleet members fighting on the front lines... are wrong? That the Goddess of War is misrepresenting the situation?"

His voice, though calm, was laced with lethal coldness.

"You sit behind the front lines and speak of war as if it’s a game. Why don’t you come and fight on the battlefield yourself?"

The crushing pressure intensified, forcing Jin Chu to his knees.

Then, Amon released the pressure.

Jin Chu gasped for breath, as if he’d just surfaced after nearly drowning. His entire face was soaked in sweat, his limbs trembling.

"N-No, Divine Being Amon—I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t saying that at all!" he stammered, desperation in his voice.

Amon looked down on him with contempt.

"If you don’t have the backbone to stand by your words, then keep your mouth shut. Let the Goddess speak.And don’t expect me to be as forgiving next time."

Jin Chu nodded furiously and said nothing more—for fear of his life and the reputation he had nearly destroyed.

The chamber was silent again.

The Goddess of War hadn’t spoken a single word during the exchange. She didn’t need to. But she, along with the Goddess of Wisdom and the Goddess of Judgment, had already silently marked Jin Chu for future scrutiny.

She resumed her speech, as if uninterrupted.

"As I was saying... our enemy’s numbers vastly exceed our own. That is the truth. Something everyone should agree on."