I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse-Chapter 1848: I Want as Much as You Can Get for Me!

"Out there, the unforeseen is the only constant. Chaos is the rule, not the exception. We simply want to ensure that if things do not go exactly as you have envisioned, you don’t end up walking away empty-handed at the end of the day. It’s for your protection as much as ours."

Hye smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He knew exactly what kind of "protection" they were offering, but for now, it was a bridge he was willing to cross.

"It’s indeed a good point," Hye conceded, though his voice lacked any real conviction. He didn’t know how else to respond to such circular logic.

While Moth spoke of safety nets and contingency plans, Hye was operating on a different plane of certainty.

He wasn’t just planning to break the ancient records of the outer battlefield; he intended to shatter them so completely that the universe would never forget the name of the human who did it.

Moth, sensing the silence, pressed further. "And if you didn’t succeed for any reason—be it bad luck or unforeseen interference—we want you to have the capital and resources necessary to try again. With our further support, you can consolidate your power and break the record in subsequent attempts. It’s a marathon, Hye, not a sprint."

"Fine, I’ll sign it," Hye replied. He saw no reason to argue with a man offering him more resources for a failure he didn’t intend to have.

If the Hescos, like so many other races in the cosmos, remained oblivious to the true ceiling of his potential, that was their disadvantage, not his. He would welcome their "good gesture" and turn it into fuel for his ascent.

He swiped his hand across the interface, and the golden reel of the contract flared with a brilliant, blinding light before vanishing into the system’s ether. The document was already bearing the digital signature of the Hescos’ acting leader. It was done.

"It’s official," Moth exhaled, the sound of a mountain being lifted off his chest. His posture slumped slightly with relief, the tension of the last several hours finally draining away. "Let’s celebrate! This is the start of a new era for both our people."

"Not yet," Hye said, raising a single finger without looking up from his screens. He was already back to work, his eyes scanning the backlog of messages that had flooded his inbox during the silence.

"I still haven’t settled on the specific goods I want to trade for. A signed contract is just a piece of paper until the warehouses are full."

Moth was momentarily speechless. He had just facilitated one of the most significant diplomatic treaties in his race’s recent history, a milestone that most would mark with weeks of feasting, and Hye was treating it like a routine grocery list.

"I’ll... order another round of meals while you finish your deliberations," Moth managed to say, shaking his head. He watched the human intently. To Moth, Hye didn’t look like a lucky survivor or a clever tactician; he looked like a monarch in the making.

The realisation sent a shiver of both pride and admiration through the Hescos representative. Unlike the Toranks, who were perpetually consumed by jealousy and the fear of being surpassed, Moth felt a strange sense of kinship.

He had believed in Hye from the start. If Hye achieved greatness, Moth felt it would be a victory he could share in, a testament to his own foresight.

While Moth busied himself with the hospitality droids, Hye returned to the mental battlefield of his kingdom’s administration.

Lily had already sent over her "dream list"—a meticulously organised catalogue of civic needs and diplomatic leverage. Old Gan, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically hesitant, asking exactly how much he was allowed to request.

Hye didn’t hesitate. [Anything,] he messaged back. [Anything you want, Old Gan. This chance won’t come again. If it’s on the list and it can make our research department the envy of the galaxy, order it.]

The gravity of the situation was starting to weigh on him. According to the contract, he had exactly one month of preparation time. After thirty days, he would depart with the Hescos grand fleet, heading into the meat grinder of the outer battlefield.

The sheer volume of tasks ahead of him was staggering. He had to mobilise and organize his armies, but he also had to ensure the home front remained impregnable.

He needed to set the foundations for the kingdom’s population growth, expand the talent pool of his scholars, and streamline a logistics chain that would span across worlds.

He had to bring enough firepower to win a war on the outside, while leaving behind enough of a deterrent to prevent his rivals from carving up his territory the moment his back was turned.

As a final safeguard, he made a decision that felt like a gamble. He exchanged Moth’s direct contact information with Lily.

She would be his voice while he was gone, and if a true existential crisis arose, she would have a direct line to the Hescos for help. It was a last resort, but in this universe, last resorts were often the only things that kept people alive.

He spent the next few hours cross-referencing the lists from his friends, cutting the fluff and prioritising the essentials. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were bloodshot but sharp.

"They picked some great stuff," Hye said, closing the floating windows. "I’ve finalised the list. This is what I want from you."

"Perfect!" Moth cried, look up from a half-eaten celebratory dish. He had been trying to coax Hye into eating for an hour, and the human had only taken a few distracted bites. "Send it over. Tell me the quantities, and we’ll start the transport protocols immediately."

"On a general basis," Hye said, flicking the finalised document across the digital interface toward the stunned representative, "I want as much as you can possibly get for me. Don’t worry about capping the numbers."