The being stooped slightly, pausing as if to give Kallus ti to absorb the flood of information he had just unleashed. It wasn't everything—there was more, so much more—but he held back, allowing Kallus to grapple with what had already been said. And rightly so; the sheer magnitude of it all was overwhelming.
Kallus stood frozen, his mind racing, replaying the being's words again and again. His usual steady composure had shattered—unlike before, when he had t the being's gaze with defiance or resolve, now there was only stunned disbelief. The revelations had upended everything. The changes the being had set in motion—or would soon—were too vast to comprehend at once.
Seconds stretched into silence. Then, finally, Kallus managed to speak, his voice trembling, his expression still clouded with confusion.
"Wh… what?" he stamred.
The word ca out fractured, uncertain, trembling at the edges—his voice stripped of pride, of all the hardened certainty Kallus had worn like armor. Every shred of growth, every fleeting rise in power, every triumph now felt hollow.
Only monts ago, his fleet had been unstoppable—and even now, it still was. Beyond the primordial dominion of eternity, where ti itself stood frozen (though he didn't know it), his forces remained locked in battle.
To him, this confrontation with the being had lasted no more than a few minutes. But out there, in the real world, his armada was dominating the Minotaur fleet. No—slaughtering them.
Ti had slowed to such an extent that even a lesser attack, one that should have already struck its target, remained frozen—still within the barrels of the heavy turbo laser's cannons and other sorts of weapons.
Before he was summoned here by the being, victory had already been within their grasp. Their first battle—their first true war—against the Minotaurs had been theirs to win. All they had to do was continue firing, finish dismantling the Minotaur vessels, and they would be victors.
That triumph had sparked a fragile sense of pride in him—a brittle belief that he had forged this strength with his own hands. That he was on the right path.
Yet, sowhere deep inside, he already knew... he wasn't.
It was as if Kallus had built a barrier around himself—one that kept him from truly seeing what was right and what was wrong.A subtle illusion, self-spun, convincing him that he was on the right path... even when he wasn't.
Maybe it was pride.Maybe he was just too relaxed, too certain, growing complacent in the glow of early victories.
Or maybe—just maybe—he didn't want to face the truth.
But now, that illusion had been shattered—whether by the being's words or by the very changes it promised to make.
Like a ray of light piercing through the fog, the truth lanced through the barrier of delusion that had kept Kallus trapped in the comfort of darkness.
And for the first ti, he began to wonder.
Was all of this—his power, his growing fleet, his teoric rise—truly his own doing?
Yes... it was his hands that moved, his will that commanded.
But had he truly done it alone?Had he really forged this path without help?
The answer, he realized, was no.
He hadn't done it alone—not truly.
He had been guided by the unseen hand of the being above, the one who had gifted him everything. From the Red Empress to the Obliterator-class Star Dreadnought, his flagship, his foundation—even the Universal Plane itself—all of it had been bestowed upon him.
And it was that plane—unchained from ti and space—that had truly fueled his rise.
Where had this power truly co from?
Yes, the technology had been forged by his cabal of mad geniuses, led by the brilliant yet erratic Imperial Chief Engineer, Tyler. But their miraculous breakthroughs? Only possible because the Universal Plane twisted ti in their favor, letting them conduct a decade's worth of experints in re days.
The resources?The exotic materials?The very essence of his fleet's invincibility?
All of it—mined, harvested, and drawn from the infinite, ever-shifting well of the Universal Plane.
It had never been just him.He had climbed the mountain—but soone had moved the earth beneath his feet to lift him higher.
And now, that well of infinite resources—the Universal Plane, which had once sat open and waiting, ready to be harvested by Kallus and his fleet—was no longer his for the taking.
Its abundance, which had once fueled their growth and power without limit, would now be restricted. No longer a free boon, but a battleground.
The Universal Plane would now be guarded.
Or rather....
It was not the Universal Plane itself, but its resources that would now be guarded.
Not by a single sentinel, but by many.
What—or who—these guardians were, Kallus did not know. The being had deliberately withheld that information, claiming it would "spoil the fun."
But Kallus wasn't fooled.
If the being found amusent in it, then it could only an hell awaited him. These guardians would be no re obstacles—they would be monsters.
The being had warned him: the strength of each guardian would exceed his own. And as Kallus grew stronger, so too would they—evolving in power until he completed their assigned missions.
Yes, missions.
For each guardian, there was a unique trial to overco. And there were many guardians.
Many missions.Many walls between him and the infinite.Many battles left to fight—just to earn what was once freely his.
Though Kallus wasn't exactly pleased with this new restriction, he was, at the very least, grateful that the being hadn't taken the Universal Plane away entirely.
Yes, the resources were now guarded.Yes, access was limited.And yes, the guardians were said to be more powerful than him—growing even stronger as he did.
But still... the resources were there.
They hadn't vanished. They hadn't been erased. They hadn't been sealed beyond reach.
He and his subordinates could still claim them—but no longer by simply finding and taking. No more effortless plundering of a limitless domain.
Now, they would have to fight for it.Earn it.Work harder than ever if they wanted a specific resource in their hands.
The age of easy abundance was over.What lay ahead was a gauntlet of trials.But at least... the opportunity remained.
For the first ti, Kallus truly understood how vulnerable he was.How dependent he had beco.
As reliant as he was on the Universal Plane, he now saw this restriction for what it might truly be: a lesson—or perhaps a warning.
Was this the being's way of deterring his growing dependence? Of forcing him to rember that what was given... could also be taken away?
The possibility that the Universal Plane might one day be sealed off entirely was remote—almost nonexistent.But almost was enough.
Anything could happen.And Kallus could not afford to be bound to sothing that was not truly his to begin with.
He hadn't earned the Universal Plane—it had been a gift. And gifts, no matter how grand, were not a foundation to build an empire upon.
That dependence had crept in slowly, born from the allure of its superior resources—resources far beyond anything the real world could offer.
It wasn't as if there were no resources in the real world—there were plenty. Valuable ones, even.
But Kallus and his fleet had grown reluctant to use them. Why bother, when the Universal Plane offered materials far stronger, far more advanced than anything found in known space?
Now, with the new restrictions in place, things had changed.
Accessing the Universal Plane would take ti. Missions. Battles. Strategy.
So Kallus began to reconsider.
If the path to those superior resources was now longer and more dangerous, then perhaps it was smarter to lean on what the real universe had to offer—at least in the short term.
The materials here might not match the sheer potency of the Universal Plane's bounty, but they were easier to gather, simpler to refine, and safer to use—for now.
And ti… ti was sothing Kallus could not afford to waste.
But now, that he finally saw the truth:Even if rarer and more limited, the materials of the real universe did exist.And he would have to start using them—before his empire ca to rely on fantasy instead of reality.
After all his thoughts, the doubts, the revelations, Kallus finally took a deep, steady breath. His eyes locked with the towering, transcendent presence before him—the being who had set everything into motion.
In that mont of clarity, as the pieces clicked into place within his mind, he spoke.
"Alright," he said, his voice calm but firm, "I accept the changes you've decided to make."
The being tilted its head ever so slightly—interested. Curious. Perhaps even amused.
But Kallus wasn't done.
"However..." he continued, drawing the being's full attention now, "I want these restrictions to be delayed. Give ti—fifteen days at most."
There was no arrogance in his voice now. Only calculated intent.
"Let prepare. Let stabilize the changes that are already in motion."
He didn't know whether the being would honor such a request. But he asked not out of weakness, nor fear.
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