Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas-Chapter 43: CH- Armageddon

His words were calm. Almost too calm. That, more than anything, unsettled both John and Natisha. Through the holographic display, they squinted slightly, disturbed by how casually William treated the gravity of the situation.

To them, his demeanor resembled that of a child handling a serious matter without truly grasping its weight.

What they didn’t know was that William truly was handling the situation exactly as it appeared—calmly, almost effortlessly. For him, this entire scenario was far too simple, despite being severely limited, unable to even access a fraction of his true strength. Yet even under such restrictions, he found the matter trivial.

And even if they had known the truth, they would have realized there was nothing they could say to compel William to act more seriously. After all, they held no authority over him—and more importantly, he was completely right. It was their Federation that needed him, not the other way around.

If they believed in any higher power, then they should indeed thank the heavens that someone like William—unbound by fate or destiny—was reincarnated into this galaxy and not elsewhere. Had things gone differently, they might not have even been given the choice to ask for his help.

They didn’t know any of this yet. But if they ever did... they’d understand just how lucky they truly were.

But as luck would have it, power is a force that never truly sleeps. No matter how structured a society is, or how faithfully it follows the rule of law, power always finds a way to reassert itself—especially by those who have once tasted it. frёewebnoѵēl.com

For such people, the moment they even sense the slightest threat to their position, they retaliate. It doesn’t matter if that threat might also represent a path to salvation. Most don’t see the bigger picture. What they do see is the possibility of their authority being undermined—and that alone is unacceptable to them.

It seemed the Federation had its fair share of such individuals as well.

Examples? John and Natisha themselves. But fortunately, they were also realists and are of the survivalist faction. They understood better than anyone that power only matters if you’re alive to wield it—and if those you rule over remain alive as well.

After all, what is a king without a kingdom? A throne without subjects is just a decorated chair. No matter how grand a ruler’s title may be, if there are no people to govern, then that power becomes meaningless. A kingdom without people is no better than an illusion—vast, perhaps, but empty. And emptiness, no matter how large, holds no true authority.

John and Natisha exchanged a glance. Their eyes met, and in that moment, both understood what the other was thinking. With the kind of power William had already demonstrated, it would be easy—far too easy—for him to carve out his own domain in this galaxy. And yet, here he was... choosing to join them.

And they were the ones questioning him?

But perhaps it couldn’t be helped. William tilted his head slightly, his smile returning—not with arrogance, but with quiet acknowledgment.

Acknowledgment of what? That was something only William truly knew—or, if one could guess,[Comment here]

...

After all, rulers, no matter the kind, they still clung tightly to the reins of power, even in the face of looming danger. And though they called themselves warriors, strategists, protectors—none of them were saints.

No one was.

The conversation between the three continued, even though their doubts remained unresolved. William, for his part, made no real effort to clear them. He answered their questions just as casually as before, maintaining that same composed detachment.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the command room—within William’s inner sanctum—someone silently observed. She had chosen not to attend the meeting in person, preferring instead to stay away from the formal proceedings. Yet despite her absence from the table, she was still very much present, watching everything unfold through the internal feeds.

Elsa sat quietly, stroking the soft fur of a tiny white tiger cub nestled in her lap, purring contentedly like a spoiled housecat. As she watched the exchange on the display, she shook her head in disbelief and muttered under her breath, her voice laced with both confusion and mild frustration.

"Humans... such interesting creatures. And sometimes, so indecisive," she said with a sigh. "They ask so many questions... when all they really need to do is accept the gift William is offering. All he asked in return was a small favor. Not a demand, not a threat—just a request. And what he’s asking for... isn’t it something every citizen of the Federation already has the right to pursue? And yet here they are, interrogating him like he’s some criminal. I truly don’t understand people in such positions of power..."

She trailed off, her fingers still gently petting the cub as her eyes returned to the screen. The meeting had slowly devolved into what could only be described as an impromptu question-and-answer session. If someone had called it an interrogation, it wouldn’t be entirely wrong—but even that wasn’t accurate. No one could interrogate William unless he allowed it. And clearly, he was allowing this.

Elsa could see it clearly. William was letting them ask all these questions, letting them vent their fears and uncertainties—not because he owed them answers, but because he wanted them to feel secure. He was offering them this small courtesy to prevent future resistance, to ensure that their paranoia wouldn’t lead to unnecessary conflict.

She sighed again, more deeply this time.

"I just hope they accept us in the end," she murmured. "William is putting in so much effort... and I don’t want to see it all come crashing down. Even if it won’t affect him. Or me. Not even a little... still—"

Her voice faded as she leaned back, her thoughts heavy despite the soft purring beside her.

Finally, after nearly an hour and a half, the long-winded question-and-answer session came to an end. Though John and Natisha still weren’t entirely satisfied, and their fears hadn’t been fully extinguished, their distrust toward William had lessened—considerably so.

Throughout the entire exchange, William had remained perfectly composed. Not once did he lash out, show irritation, or avoid a question—even when they crossed certain boundaries. He handled each inquiry with the same calm demeanor he had at the start. And that, more than his words, was what they appreciated. It was that poise, that restraint, that began to wear away the edges of their mistrust—though it hadn’t vanished completely.

After all, William had yet to fulfill his promise of providing the Tier-7 ship technology and blueprints. And until those were tested and verified as genuine, some level of caution was only natural. Trust was not something anyone could afford to give away too easily—especially not at this stage.

John stepped forward on the command deck, offering a respectful nod. Then, with a slight bow and a tone of genuine appreciation, he spoke:

"Let me thank you, Mr. William, for giving us your time—and for your patience. Some of our questions may have been... less than polite, and yet you answered them in full, with clarity and restraint. I trust someone of your caliber wouldn’t have a reason to lie."

(Though, in truth, John knew full well that people of William’s caliber often lied more than anyone. But he also sensed that William was different—he didn’t need to lie like others in his position would, not when he already stood so far above them.)

Behind him, Natisha rose from her seat and offered a graceful bow of her own, her gesture laced with genuine respect.

William gave them a soft smile and nodded in response.

"There’s no need for such formality, Grand Admiral John," he said calmly. "It was only natural that I answer your questions—and try to ease your doubts as best I could."

A brief, polite exchange followed. Then, with the atmosphere finally calm, Grand Admiral John took the lead and steered the discussion back to the original purpose of their meeting.

"Mr. William," he said, his tone formal but respectful, "we would now like to request the completion of your promised gesture—the gift you mentioned. You described it as a symbol of sincerity. If possible, we’d like to proceed."

William nodded. "Of course. I’ll fulfill my end of the agreement."

He turned slightly, facing Ascendia, who sat at one of the primary system control dashboards nearby. Understanding his intent instantly, she tapped a few commands into her console.

A new holographic projection bloomed to life in front of William—fully three-dimensional and radiating with intricate detail.

Two starships appeared in full, majestic glory.

The Tier-7 Panther-Class Frigate—sleek, agile, built for both speed and firepower.

And beside it, the Armageddon-Class Destroyer—a powerhouse of strength and resilience, meant to dominate in in extended engagements.

Both ship blueprints floated in silence, their outlines glowing with soft energy, while everyone present stared in awe at what was now being shared.

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