The First Superhuman: Rebuilding Civilization from the Moon-Chapter 150: Culture

If one were to stand on the dark side of Sedna, they would clearly see a colossal, ellipsoidal spaceship docked on the icy surface.

​In truth, it wasn’t merely docked... rather, it was deeply embedded into the crust. Because the spacecraft was so unimaginably massive, it had continuously sunk into the planet’s rocky layer, its sheer weight completely altering Sedna’s orbital trajectory.

​Hundreds of millions of intelligent drones swarmed across the dwarf planet’s surface, constantly busy. They tirelessly mined raw resources, patched the ship’s massive hull breaches, and transported vital supplies. As the spaceship was gradually repaired, the Viridians began to feel a sense of security, their panic from a few days prior finally subsiding.

​At this very moment, hundreds of thousands of Viridians were gathering to hold a grand memorial ceremony.

​The Viridian Empire was a deeply peculiar civilization. Despite being an advanced interstellar race that had expanded far beyond their home world, their foundational social structure was rooted in primitive clan structures and incredibly strict ceremonial rituals!

​In short, every single citizen strove to rigidly restrain their own desires to ensure their behavior perfectly conformed to the requirements of "propriety." Even more surprisingly, this highly rigid social system functioned flawlessly.

​To view their societal phenomena purely from a human perspective, it would seem incredibly strange and stifling. But the Viridians themselves didn’t see it that way. To them, adhering to the strict rules of "etiquette" was the natural order of the universe.

​"Protocol" was the supreme guiding principle of their species, and any behavior that violated this protocol was deemed barbaric.

​Etiquette and manners were paramount in their culture. No self-respecting Viridian would ever neglect their ceremonial duties; doing so meant facing societal exile, or worse, being prosecuted for breaking the law! Those who couldn’t grasp the nuances of "etiquette" were relegated to the absolute bottom of their society.

​Perhaps wisdom truly is a universal constant; the utopian ideals of ancient Earth philosophers, a society governed entirely by mutual respect and strict moral protocol had actually been realized by an alien species in the distant cosmos. It was a testament to the endless, wondrous possibilities of the universe.

​Of course, there were evolutionary reasons for this strange system. It was the result of several factors: the historic lack of resource competition and survival pressure on their homeworld, their incredibly low reproductive rate, their small total population, and the cultural impact of several extraordinary messianic figures in their ancient history.

​An elder Viridian was currently leading a special memorial rite beneath a towering, bio-engineered tree hundreds of meters tall. The rest of the crew mourned in absolute silence, their leaves rustling softly in unison.

​"Those who have passed have returned to the soil. May their souls find eternal peace in Gaia’s embrace..."

​Rustle, rustle, rustle...

​This sacrificial tradition had been passed down from their ancient antiquity and remained completely unchanged to this day. Throughout their history, their science and technology had advanced exponentially, yet they maintained a deep reverence for the things science couldn’t easily quantify, such as the "soul" and the spirit of "Gaia."

​They still held the vast universe in awe.

​At that moment, every Viridian present harbored a deep, crushing sorrow in their eyes. In the devastating interstellar ambush just a few months prior, one of their proudest flagships had been completely vaporized.

​The death toll: 500,000 souls!

​Half a million!

​Their entire species was relatively small, numbering only thirty million across their empire. That meant one-sixtieth of their entire population had been wiped out in a single catastrophe! It was an almost unbearable burden; the sap of every Viridian boiled with a mixture of grief and simmering rage.

​After the memorial ceremony concluded, Captain Fario and Mal returned to the main conference room, their expressions somber.

​"The main warp engine repairs will be finished shortly. The remaining hull damage is superficial; we can deal with it when we finally return to the home world. Our fuel and energy replenishment quotas have also been met."

​Fario felt a slight weight lift from his branches as he reviewed the engineering report. It meant their spaceship could break orbit and flee at a moment’s notice.

​"...Revenge! We must have our revenge!" Mal suddenly roared, turning to an elder with a ferocious expression.

​Mal was one of the rising political stars of the Viridian Empire. Having personally witnessed the brutal massacre of so many of his people, a seed of pure hatred had taken root deep in his heart. Of course, this violent oath wasn’t purely emotional; it was also a calculated political move to curry favor with the more militant elders and secure his future leadership position.

​Despite his youth, Mal possessed a razor-sharp political acumen.

​Unfortunately, even among interstellar empires, the gap in sheer military might could be impossibly vast. The technological divide between the Viridians and their attackers was like comparing a stone-age tribe to a modern superpower. That unknown Annihilator fleet possessed unparalleled, apocalyptic spaceship and overwhelming firepower... something the Viridian Empire couldn’t dream of matching in its current state.

​Realizing the futility of his own words, Mal slowly lowered his head in silence, deeply frustrated. Would their civilization have to spend tens of thousands of years developing new weapons tech before they could even think about revenge? The thought of that vast, insurmountable technological chasm filled him with a disheartening sense of disillusionment.

​An elder Viridian entered the meeting room, interrupting the grim silence with his incessant, polite chatter. "The energy reserves are full, and we are clear to depart. However, as a matter of basic etiquette, shouldn’t we formally greet The Federation and express our profound gratitude for their hospitality?"

​"...Perhaps we should present them with a farewell gift?"

​If you stopped on a stranger’s doorstep to rest because of an emergency, keeping quiet was acceptable. But now that you were leaving, basic decency demanded that you say goodbye and offer thanks.

​This wasn’t just the pedantic thinking of the elders; it was the traditional mindset shared by almost every ordinary Viridian. One might call them outdated or stubbornly rigid, but this was how their minds operated. It was the very glue that held their social structure together. Leaving without observing the proper etiquette would leave them all feeling deeply ashamed.

​"Although the Federation was a bit rude and hostile in their initial warnings, they are, at their core, a merciful and friendly empire. We absolutely must pay our respects before we break orbit," another elder agreed.

​The Viridians had deliberately parked on the dark side of Sedna to use the planet’s mass as a physical shield, avoiding the Federation’s sensors out of respect and caution. Theoretically, they knew advanced empires could use neutrino or gravitational wave detection to "see" them anyway, but making the polite effort to stay out of sight was what mattered.

​To the elders, the fact that the two civilizations had coexisted peacefully in the same star system for months proved that the terrifying Federation was a "friendly" empire.

​Captain Fario was just about to nod in agreement when a blinding red alert flashed across his primary console, marked with an extreme-priority symbol. His heart skipped a beat. "It’s a direct transmission from the Federation!"

​He immediately opened the file. The massive data packet had already been seamlessly translated into their native tongue by the ship’s supercomputer. But as the text populated the screen, it left Fario, Mal, and the entire council of elders completely stunned.

​The message was a harsh, terrifying condemnation from the Federation. It aggressively warned the Viridian fleet to break orbit and run, explicitly stating they were no longer permitted in the Solar System. Attached to the brutal text was a 3D gravitational telemetry map.

​The map clearly showed 13 massive signatures moving at 0.6 times the speed of light, projected to cross Pluto’s orbital path in exactly five months!

​"What in the name of the Mother Tree is this?! We don’t have any ships that match these signatures! Has the Federation made a mistake?!"

​"Look at the telemetry! The flagship is twenty times larger in diameter than ours!"

​"This is... it’s the Annihilators!"

​As the horrifying realization set in, the Viridians in the conference room began to scream in panic. Large plumes of white mist rose from their trembling leaves as their biological stress responses flared. Thirteen spaceships, although there were no optical images, the raw numbers and the apocalyptic size of the gravitational signatures were enough to confirm their worst nightmare.

​"They... they tracked us! They’re coming to finish the job!"

​Every Viridian in the room remembered that terrible day, that waking nightmare... It was this exact fleet that had vaporized their flagship in mere seconds! It was this fleet that had slaughtered half a million of their kin!

​Even Mal, who had just been loudly vowing bloody revenge, turned a sickly shade of pale green, his brave face instantly vanishing.

​"...We must initiate warp sequence immediately! We have to leave this sector!" Fario shouted, panic bleeding into his voice. "This time, we need to jump much further. We have to completely escape their sensor range!"

​"Yes! Our engines are fully repaired and our thermal baffles are functional; we won’t leak infrared heat anymore. We can take a massive, randomized detour through deep space to shake off their pursuit before we head back to the home world!"

​The senior executives of the Viridian fleet frantically began drafting evacuation protocols, their only thought entirely focused on fleeing for their lives.

​"You’re all wrong! You’re completely wrong!"

​Mal suddenly stood up, slamming his heavy appendage against the conference table. He ground his teeth together, his eyes wild with a sudden, desperate realization. "We cannot run! We must stay and fight! We must... destroy them all right here!"

​"Don’t you see?! We are near a star!"