Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas
Chapter 61: Ch 61 fuel our growth, to evolve further

Chapter 61: Ch 61 fuel our growth, to evolve further

Meanwhile, there was a group even more excited than the Celestial Designer—the Grand Admirals. They all knew that they stood to benefit the most from this development.

They could already imagine the prospects: their authority would grow, and the power they wielded due to their rank would increase. In time, their reputation and influence might even rival that of the God-ranked pilots—at least in terms of strategic value and status.

Of course, such benefits wouldn’t manifest immediately. But that didn’t matter. Sometimes, having something later is as good as having it now, especially when it’s guaranteed. And this seemed inevitable.

Still, there were many considerations ahead. Producing those ships in large numbers wouldn’t be easy. The technology was completely new—one full tier beyond what the Federation currently possessed.

Entire production lines would need to be retrofitted or replaced. Even the materials required to build such ships were in question—rare, exotic, and possibly not yet in abundant supply.

As steep a challenge as it was, they all knew it would happen. The Goddess of Wisdom had made it clear. Her long speech on the state of their battlefronts and their deteriorating strategic position had awakened many to the importance of boosting military power.

And so, many members of the Council were likely to approve the initiative. After all, to live is to have power—and only the living can wield influence.

If the Federation exists, then everyone within it exists. Only then can they hold their power, their influence. But if the Federation falls, everything tied to it—empires, kingdoms, coalitions, even powerful families—will soon follow.

The combined might of six major empires, two grand coalitions, and countless kingdoms doesn’t even come close to matching the strength of the Federation. So if they fall—if that power is destroyed—then who will stand against the Servants’ Alliance? Who will be left to protect anything?

And it should be obvious to every Council member that accepting this opportunity is in their best interest—and it will be accepted. Grand Admiral Shulin was certain of it.

Her confidence wasn’t misplaced. She had seen firsthand the initiatives being taken by the three goddesses. It was clear they would not let such a promising opportunity—one that far outweighed any potential risk—slip from humanity’s grasp.

And the Council members were no fools. Even if some of them didn’t yet fully grasp the implications, they would understand soon enough. Many would come around quickly. After all, it was in their own interest that the Federation grow stronger.

Furthermore, it wasn’t just Grand Admiral Shulin or her fellow admirals who shared these thoughts. Others did as well—particularly the three emperors of the Tier 6 super-empires, whose authority sat just below that of the Federation. They, too, were paying close attention.

Of course, they didn’t expect the Federation to share this new Tier 7 technology with them right away. That was perfectly normal. It would be unreasonable to assume otherwise. But they also understood that the situation wouldn’t remain this way for long.

Once the Federation completed its internal adaptation process, it was likely they would eventually decentralize or selectively declassify some of the Tier 7 systems—or at the very least, introduce a new generation of technology for broader use. After all, once something is adopted by military officers at scale, its spread becomes inevitable.

But that wasn’t what truly intrigued the emperors.

What caught their attention was William.

If this man truly possessed Tier 7 technology, then he likely had access to much more. In that case, it might be possible to cooperate directly with him, bypassing the Federation as a middleman. And perhaps, through such cooperation, they could gain access to something even more valuable.

It wasn’t out of the question.

After all, the man had requested the status of a Warlord—a claim not made lightly. He clearly had his own ambitions—likely aiming to carve out his own autonomous space within the Federation’s sphere.

And that... that might ultimately benefit them as well.

But not everyone felt excitement. Some felt threatened.

Among the 24 Council members, a group of eight stood apart. Their concerns were rooted not in strategic doctrine—but in economics, power, and control.

Several of them were heads of powerful families with deep investments in shipbuilding and warship manufacturing—not necessarily the most advanced lines, but still influential. Others represented smaller kingdoms, or coalitions of such realms, that had vested interests in regional supply chains, logistics, and lower-tier markets. For them, this development posed a direct threat.

Most notably, two of the great families—giants in the mech industry—had the most to lose. They recognized immediately the disruptive potential of this "William" if he truly possessed Tier 7 or even higher technologies.

And with the title of Warlord, it was inevitable that he would attempt to carve out his own sphere of influence within the Federation. That wouldn’t just require military achievements—it would demand massive financial and industrial resources. And where better to gain that than through high-end warship production and next-generation mech manufacturing?

After all, the shipwright and mech industries were among the most lucrative in the Federation economy.

If William began to introduce superior-quality, tech-integrated ships and mechs into the general market—or even hinted at licensing them—it could destabilize everything. Why would anyone buy their outdated models when a far more powerful alternative existed?

That was the root of their fear.

And not one of them seemed to consider the possibility of working with William—of negotiating licenses or forming joint ventures. No. They were locked in the fear that he might bypass them entirely.

And that fear was growing.

But it wasn’t universal.

To say that others weren’t concerned would be an understatement—many were indeed worried. But their concern was tempered by something stronger: excitement.

Unlike the families entrenched in shipwright and mech industries—whose profits and monopolies were directly threatened—these others saw the shifting landscape not as a closing of doors, but as the opening of new ones.

Yes, the old hierarchies might be destabilized. Yes, some established powers might falter. But with disruption came opportunity.

Cooperation was on everyone’s mind. Strategic partnerships, trade agreements, shared ventures in energy, materials, or even regional military control—there were dozens of potential deals being whispered about in private meetings. And many believed that William, whoever he truly was, would be open to negotiation.

After all, even someone with superior technology needs allies, infrastructure, supply chains, and political cover.

They saw a chance to offer him something in return—resources, legal status, access to territory, logistics, or intelligence. In doing so, they could ride the wave of innovation rather than be crushed beneath it.

In their eyes, the emergence of William wasn’t a threat.

It was a chance.

The three goddesses silently observed the myriad of reactions unfolding across the nearly one hundred Council members.

Expressions ranged from wary contemplation to open approval—but more than half bore a clear inclination: they wanted this William to be accepted into the Federation, even granted the title of Warlord.

Among the strongest supporters were the 16 Grand Admirals and 28 Celestial Designers, their excitement barely concealed. Even the 18 God-Pilots, though visibly concerned, seemed ready to vote in favor should it come to that.

The six major empires—powerful enough to challenge Federation policy when united—also showed signs of favor. Whispers passed between the six emperors, subtle nods marking silent agreements as they conferred among themselves.

Of course, not everyone was smiling—or showing signs of agreement. A few frowned deeply, their minds clearly elsewhere. They were calculating, quietly weighing how to stall or sabotage the initiative.

Change brought risk, and they feared what they stood to lose if it actually went through.

Even so, the three goddesses exchanged a knowing look. Their judgment was clear: the majority leaned in favor—just as they had anticipated before the council meeting had even begun.

The Goddess of Wisdom rose from her seat. The moment had come—and she would not let it slip by.

She cleared her throat, a soft yet commanding cough that brought the chamber to silence. Heads turned. All eyes locked onto her, waiting to hear what the goddess had to say next.

"Council members," she began, her voice calm yet commanding, "I trust you understand the implications these two ships hold—not just for the Federation, but for all of humanity. And let us not forget the one offering such an opportunity. This is a gift, yes—but also a test.

A test of our capabilities and our resolve. Are we a civilization willing to seize the opportunity before us—to fuel our growth, to evolve further? Or are we one that has become stagnant, where power has gone to our heads and blinded us to the future because of some merger fears?"

Around the room, many were stunned by her final words. Yet, heads still nodded in agreement, and several voices rose, declaring their readiness to evolve.

But not all shared the sentiment. A few faces hardened, brows tightening further and further—silent expressions of doubt, resistance, or something else entirely.