Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas-Chapter 41: ch- A declaration of solidarity-2(revised)

He could see the Grand Admiral was contemplating something, perhaps questioning the logic of his story. But William didn’t give him much time to dwell on it.

He continued in the same calm, carefree tone, as if the weight of inter-universal travel was just another day’s work. "As for what happened afterward... I trust Admiral Kevin has already debriefed you about that, hasn’t he?"

As he finished speaking, his gaze shifted toward Grand Admiral John, silently inviting confirmation.

John felt William’s gaze lock onto him, and even though they were communicating across a vast distance, he could still sense it—sharp, focused, almost as if William were standing right in front of him. It was a strange sensation, and for a brief moment, it unsettled him.

Strange... he thought, but chose to ignore the feeling.

Admiral Natasha, meanwhile, remained silent after her earlier interjection—but her eyes hadn’t left William for some time.

There was no awe in her expression, no sign of intimidation—only the cool calculation that came naturally to someone of her rank and experience.

Where John felt the weight of William’s presence like a burden of responsibility, Natasha was different. She was analyzing him—calmly, methodically—as one might examine a complex puzzle... or an uncharted weapon.

Admiral Natasha, meanwhile, remained silent after her earlier interjection—but her eyes hadn’t left William for some time. There was no awe in her expression, no sign of intimidation—only the cool calculation that came naturally to someone of her rank and experience.

Where John felt the weight of William’s presence like a burden of responsibility, Natasha was different. She was analyzing him—calmly, methodically—as one might examine a complex puzzle... or an uncharted weapon.

And though he had shown no intention of interfering—and had even gifted them two Tier-7 technologies that, through research, could become assets for the Federation’s future—there was still a lingering possibility Natasha couldn’t ignore.

The Federation was already drifting toward collapse. William’s presence might halt that decline... or accelerate it. Even without him lifting a finger, the outcome could shift entirely—depending on how the Federation chose to act.

John gave a slight nod and finally responded, "Yes, Kevin did brief me. That’s why I’ve already expressed my gratitude to you, Mister William. And... forgive the questions. I couldn’t help myself after everything you’ve revealed."

William simply smiled and gave a small shake of his head. "I understand," he said casually.

But before the conversation could settle, William tilted his head slightly, and with a sudden shift in energy—almost playfully—he steered the discussion in a new direction.

"I know you didn’t reach out to me just for this, did you, Mr. John?" he asked, voice still light, but the question was direct.

And William didn’t stop there. He continued smoothly, his voice unwavering:

"I’m quite certain Kevin told you much more than just that, didn’t he?" he said, still wearing that effortless smile. "So if I’m right... why don’t we skip the formalities and get to the main point, hmm?"

His tone was polite, even friendly—but there was no mistaking the confidence behind his words. William was in control of the conversation, and he knew it.

Grand Admiral John let out a light cough before speaking. "Indeed, Kevin told me everything—particularly about the discussions during your verification process," he said, straightening slightly. "And as you just said, you’re right. We should skip the formalities and focus on what truly matters."

There was a faint trace of embarrassment in his tone—not from disrespect, but from the quiet realization that, for once, he wasn’t fully in control of the conversation. He was a man used to leading, commanding, being the one others looked up to. But now, he could only sigh inwardly as an old quote passed through his mind: There is always a mountain taller than you.

And William... William was a mountain so vast that John couldn’t even see the peak.

William, hearing this, offered a knowing smile and made a small, welcoming gesture—wordlessly inviting John to continue.

Clearing his throat again, John leaned forward slightly and asked, "Mr. William... do you truly mean to offer our Federation two Tier-7 technologies—without any conditions or reservations?"

William nodded slowly. "Indeed, Grand Admiral John. I truly meant what I said when I spoke with Kevin regarding this matter," he began, his tone shifting from casual to firm.

This time, his expression turned serious—solemn, even—as if he wanted to ensure there was no room for doubt. He wasn’t speaking just to John, but to the entire Federation through him.

"I understand that my sudden appearance—and the power I represent—might be overwhelming. It’s only natural that the Federation would feel uncertain, perhaps even uneasy. That’s why I’m repeating myself now—so there’s no misunderstanding."

He paused for a breath, his eyes steady.

"Through this gift, I want to make it clear that I am sincere in my desire to support the Federation... and humanity as a whole. While I hold no sentimental attachment to your organization, I am, above all else, a conscious human being. And I will not stand by while our species faces extinction at the hands of alien forces—no matter the universe."

William straightened, his voice now commanding.

"So yes, I’m entirely serious. I will gift the Federation two Tier-7 warships—one frigate and one destroyer. No conditions. No hidden clauses. This isn’t a gesture of charity... it’s a declaration of solidarity."

Then, for the briefest moment, the mask of supreme confidence slipped—not enough for most to notice, but to the sharp eyes of John and Natasha, it was there.

A flicker. A pause.

"I miss the stars of my own sky sometimes," William said quietly, almost to himself. "But there’s no use dwelling on what can’t be changed."

It was a carefully chosen moment of vulnerability—one that wasn’t entirely false, but also not without purpose. William had noticed the lingering doubt in their eyes, the hesitation in fully accepting his story. So he played the part.

A touch of nostalgia, a trace of melancholy—perhaps that would make his tale more believable. And so, he delivered it with just enough sincerity to blur the line between truth and performance.

Then the smile returned. The commander of the Terra Empire stood tall once more.

And the conversation marched forward—toward history.

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