I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse-Chapter 1840: Different Viewpoints on Raising Talents

Hye and his territory and forces would be ready to meet any threat and enemy by then.

As for Moth, he felt like the grand meal he ordered came as a celebration for such a promise.

"I won’t ask for a formal contract," Moth said, his voice calm, almost melodic. He leaned back into his seat, watching the flickering candlelight dance off the fine silver platters. "I highly value my promises, human. And I have come to value yours."

Hye watched him closely, his eyes narrowed. He couldn’t tell if the Hescos commander was joking or if this was a rare display of genuine sentiment. In this world, a promise without a system-bound contract was usually worth less than the air it was spoken with, but Moth was an anomaly.

"Ah, just in time," Moth noted as the first course was served.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of words. Moth began to speak non-stop, his stories flowing like wine. He detailed his early adventures with a nostalgic glint in his eye, describing how he had first started competing in a localized apocalypse.

He spoke of the blood, the mud, and the narrow margins of survival that eventually saw him emerge as the sole ruler and winner of his home world. From there, he described his ascent up the ladder of cosmic power, winning apocalypse after apocalypse like a man possessed.

"How is it that you took part in more than one apocalypse?" Hye asked.

He already knew the technical answer—the system’s laws regarding "Winners" were part of the basic lore he had mastered—but since the food was still being brought out and there was nothing else to do, he decided to play along. He had to entertain Moth, just as Moth was currently entertaining him with these grand tales of conquest.

"I can’t physically re-enter another apocalypse as a participant; those are the well-known basics," Moth said, pausing mid-bite as he realized Hye was leading him on. He gave a sharp, knowing grin but didn’t take offense.

"So, I adapted. I picked the most capable, most ruthless followers from my first win. I formed them into specialized teams, arranged dozens of smaller auxiliary armies to follow their lead, and I paid the entry fees for hundreds of other apocalypses across the sector."

"Hundreds of apocalypses? Wow!" Hye was genuinely surprised. The sheer resource cost of "Entry Fees" for that many planetary resets was staggering. "You were really adamant about winning as many as possible."

"I had no other choice," Moth shrugged, his bravado momentarily slipping to reveal a glimpse of the cold reality beneath.

"In a race as mighty and competitive as the Hescos, you don’t expect to stand out just by doing something ’big.’ Winning a single apocalypse or a few planetary wars is considered the bare minimum for a citizen. It’s a footnote."

His voice trailed off, his eyes unfocused as if he were staring at a ghost from his distant past. "There is only one path to true relevance. Only one. If you want to grow, if you want to be someone who actually matters in the eyes of my race, you have to achieve the impossible. You have to be a serial conqueror. Pathetic, isn’t it?"

"I can’t judge," Hye said softly.

He felt as though Moth wasn’t speaking to him anymore. It felt like the commander was addressing the younger, hungrier version of himself that had been forged in the crucible of Hescos expectations.

"But I will say this," Hye continued. "Great races shouldn’t set such impossible milestones in front of their youth, hoping for only a handful of miracles to survive the cull."

"Then, what would you propose as a better alternative?" Moth fell into a long, heavy minute of silence, his fork hovering over his plate. "I’m very much interested in hearing your viewpoint on this, Human Hye. After all, you are a fellow apocalypse winner. Your perspective carries weight."

"The way your race does it isn’t entirely bad," Hye began, choosing his words with surgical precision.

He knew he had to be fair when assessing the Hescos’ method of "breeding" prodigies. He didn’t know if this brutal Darwinian cull was the standard for the rest of the universe, but he certainly had a few critiques regarding the long-term sustainability of such a system.

"But?" Moth prodded. He clearly didn’t care for the diplomatic cushioning Hye was using; he wanted the raw, unfiltered opinion of the human who had defied the odds. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

"But... it treats the growing pool of talent as if it were a burden, not an opportunity," Hye said, pausing to find the right analogy.

"Look, I’ve built a country. I rule over an entire planet. I’ve integrated many different races under one banner, and in the middle of all that chaos, I’ve seen many ’good sprouts’—talented individuals—rising from the dirt. I was faced with the same challenge your race faces, and it’s one I’m trying to solve right now."

"How to better assess their worth?" Moth suggested, trying to bridge the gap between their philosophies.

"No, it’s not about assessment," Hye said, shaking his head. "How can I properly assess them if I haven’t set the right stage for them to shine? How can I judge their potential without providing the necessary support for that potential to grow? An assessment without investment is just a death sentence."

Hye paused, turning in his seat to point through the open tent flap toward his Soulers, who stood like silent, spectral statues in the moonlight.

"Do you see them? I’ve spent every resource I have growing and supporting them. I took them from mere level-zero warriors and brought them to this elite stage. I never once thought that having more of them was a ’bad’ thing or a burden on my logistics. And I never suspected for a second that having more strength would put me under ’pressure’ to find a place to use them."

"Who said we lacked areas where a prodigy’s help is needed?" Moth asked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "The universe is infinite. There is always a front line."