Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas
Chapter 57: Ch-57 More and more intriguing.

Chapter 57: Ch-57 More and more intriguing.

If our situation does not change—and soon—then with our limited and rapidly dwindling supply of raw materials, it will become impossible to maintain even our current stalemate at the front. And if that happens... the possibility of a comeback will vanish completely."

"All in all," the Goddess of War said, her voice heavy, "saying we are barely surviving this war... is no exaggeration."

Her glowing blue eyes swept across the Council Chamber. Most members—except for a few—now wore sober, serious expressions. They understood the weight behind her words, the reality she was laying bare before them.

"And if even that fragile balance is taken from us..." she trailed off, letting the silence speak for her.

No one needed her to finish the sentence. The meaning was clear. If the last threads holding them together—raw materials, vital manpower—were cut, the Federation would collapse.

The Federation’s war effort would crumble from within, not due to enemy strength alone, but because its own foundations would be exhausted.

A heavy silence spread like a fog.

Even among the brave and battle-hardened, fear surfaced. All—except for the Divine Pilots, the Celestial Designers, and the Grand Admirals—shuddered as they imagined a full-scale collapse of the frontlines due to depleted resources. Visions of defeat flickered in their minds. Some even gulped involuntarily, unable to suppress their dread.

Finally, one of the Tier-1 Council members stood.

He was a tall man with a sharp, clean-cut presence, dressed in the deep navy blue of the Nova Coalition. His name was President Fredrik Charles, one of the Federation’s most pragmatic leaders. Despite the fear clinging to his voice, he spoke with clarity:

"We understand what you’re saying, Goddess of War...""But the question is—do we have a solution to stop this from happening?"

He paused, then added, voice laced with a thin thread of hope:

"Is this what your sudden summons is about? Have our Celestial Designers discovered a technological breakthrough?Or perhaps the Divine Pilots have found a way to ascend to a new realm of power?"

Hope lingered in his tone—hope that perhaps something, anything, had shifted, for the better at least. And he wasn’t the only one with that glimmer of hope in his eyes. Some of the council members, upon hearing this, also had their eyes light up. They all thought, Yes... it could be a possibility.

Either the Celestial Designer had made a major discovery—some monumental technological breakthrough... or it could very well be the Divine Pilots.

Their gazes shifted toward the central council seats, where eighteen figures sat—each emanating a distinct aura—as they all focused intently on the goddess standing before them.

Another thought passed through their minds: Could it be? Could they truly have found a way forward? After all, it wasn’t unknown to them that the Divine Pilots had been stuck within the Divine Realms for ages, with no clear path ahead.

But if they truly had found a way forward... then how powerful could they become? And maybe—just maybe—then they could emerge from this long-standing deadlock.

A dozen possibilities rushed through their minds.

Meanwhile, upon their thrones, the Goddess of War, the Goddess of Wisdom, and the Goddess of Judgment exchanged glances. No words were spoken between them, but a single, unified thought passed through their glowing eyes:

Finally... someone asked the right question.

They didn’t need to answer immediately. Now, it was time for the Divine Pilots and the Celestial Designers to speak—to refute Fredrik’s hopeful assumptions, to dispel illusions, and finally, to reveal the true reason for this summit.

Their eyes gleamed—not with malice, but with the anticipation of a necessary awakening.

Almost no one in the council noticed that momentary shift in their expressions. But the Divine Pilots, seated closest and most attuned to divine authority, saw it.

And they too... exchanged knowing glances.

Meanwhile, the Grand Admirals, seated along the curved flank of the Council Chamber, listened closely to Councilor Fredrik’s hopeful speculation. And for a brief moment... a few of them almost agreed with him.

What if he was right?

But then they all silently shook their heads, recalling something far more important—the private message that the Goddess of Wisdom had sent them prior to this emergency summit. A single line, etched into their minds:

"This concerns you—not just you, Grand Admiral, but the fate of our entire Federation fleets... and far more than that."

That message hadn’t been addressed to the Council as a whole—no, it had been sent specifically to them, the Grand Admirals, and select others. That fact alone had meaning.

If this situation didn’t revolve around divine power or political decree, then whatever breakthrough there might be—if there was one at all—it had to be related to military technology.

"Most likely... advancements in warship technology—and weapon systems."

Connecting that cryptic message with the words of the Goddess of War and Fredrik’s suggestion, a shared realization crept through their minds. And they weren’t the only ones thinking that way.

Across the room, curiosity was rising. Fredrik’s speculation was beginning to sound not only plausible—but increasingly reasonable. Many council members were beginning to lean into that assumption, their earlier skepticism fading.

Yet among the entire assembly, there were some who remained calm, even embarrassed—though they hid it well.

They were the ones at the center of it all: the Divine Pilots and the Celestial Designers.

Their expressions remained composed, their auras steady. But if one looked closely... a faint shade of discomfort could be seen behind their practiced stillness. A quiet truth lay beneath their silence.

And then, one of them stood.

A tall, weathered man with silver-streaked black hair and eyes that had seen a thousand ship designs rise and fall—Lucias, one of the most respected Celestial Designers, rose slowly and spoke:

"As much as I had hoped Councilor Fredrik’s assumption might be true..."

A hush fell across the chamber. All attention turned toward him. Anticipation shifted to unease.

"...I must regrettably say it is not."

Lucias exhaled softly, the weight of his words dragging the chamber into stillness.

"We Celestial Designers... have made no significant breakthrough—none that might alter our current crisis or elevate us beyond our strategic limitations. And though it shames me to admit it, we are still far from any such advancement."

He finished and sat back down, turning his face toward the right—toward the Divine Pilots—as if silently passing the burden to them.

Meanwhile, the Grand Admirals were stunned as a firm refutation came from Celestial Designer Lucius.

Their hearts sank. The speculation had been wrong. If not a technological breakthrough, then what?

Confusion flickering across their hardened expressions, they glanced toward the Goddess of Wisdom. Was their interpretation of her summons wrong? Had they misunderstood her message?

"If Lucius and his fellow Celestial Designers haven’t made a breakthrough... then how, and in what way, does this concern us—the Grand Admirals?"

Were we wrong? Did we misunderstand her words?

One thing they were certain of: the goddess would never lie to them—not for any reason.

Doubt gave way to a quiet realization. They looked at one another, nodded subtly, and thought the same thing: Perhaps we’re not seeing the whole picture.

Yes... that had to be it.

All of them turned to each other, nodding subtly, wordlessly agreeing: Let’s wait. Let her continue. The full truth will come.

Across from them, the Divine Pilots had gone through a similar train of thought. Many had, for a moment, considered that the call might have been about some radical new warship design. Something they could pilot—something that would change the battlefield.

But now, they knew that too was false.

Their thoughts were cut off by a voice. Strong, disciplined, and clear.

A man stepped forward among them—tall, broad-shouldered, clad in a silver and crimson uniform etched with divine runes. His name echoed across the galaxy.

Chou—known throughout the Federation as the Martial God—rose from his seat. With a calm, authoritative voice laced with divine might, he spoke.

"I too... must refute the claim made by Councilor Fredrik."

He cast a glance toward his fellow Divine Pilots, and they nodded in affirmation, quiet solidarity in their gaze.

"We Divine Pilots have neither discovered a path to ascend beyond the Divine Realm we currently reside in, nor have we achieved any breakthrough—certainly nothing of a qualitative nature—that could tip the scales in this war."

After saying this, Chou calmly returned to his seat, completely ignoring the stunned expressions and darkened faces around him. He didn’t care what they thought.

Their reactions meant nothing to him. His focus had already shifted—once again fixed solely on the three goddesses seated before him.

Meanwhile, the other council members—excluding the Celestial Designers—were visibly shaken. Even the Designers themselves, though composed, showed signs of surprise. Internally, they too wondered: If we haven’t made any breakthroughs... then what has the Goddess summoned us for?

This was becoming more and more intriguing.

The Grand Admirals shared a similar confusion, though tinged with a deeper undercurrent of realization.