Published at 16th of January 2026 9:04 am

Chapter 1914 The hidden policies

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

"...You're hiring slaves from that Syndicate?!"

"....." Althera held Robin's gaze for several long seconds, her expression unreadable, then slowly nodded. "We do what we must in order to survive. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Sons of bitches..." Robin turned his face away, a thin, conflicted smile forming at the corner of his lips. "I honestly don't know whether I should curse them to hell... or stand up and applaud their efficiency."

"I understand how horrific their reputation is, and I don't deny any of it," Althera said gravely. "But they, too, do not want to exist in a universe ruled entirely by the Plague. For that reason alone, our paths intersect, and we cooperate to eradicate that scourge." She paused briefly. "...I know exactly how this looks from the academies' perspective. Still, there are filthy, repulsive tasks that must be carried out as long as the rulers of this universe refuse to risk their own armies, resources, and stability."

"Ohhh, they're very good... Robin ignored every word Althera spoke-or perhaps his mind simply moved far ahead of her voice. "The chain begins with raids on underdeveloped planets-whether in the Young Belt, the middle sectors, or completely isolated worlds. They gather whatever population they desire and reduce them to slaves. A single planet can easily provide them with billions."

He exhaled softly. "Or maybe the Syndicate doesn't dirty its hands directly. Maybe it's pirates and ordinary criminals who do the harvesting, then present the spoils to the Syndicate on a silver platter."

"...Then a portion of those slaves is sacrificed in Specter Farms, exploited through a special profit pathway. The corpses are collected and fed to the Plague, accelerating its growth and evolution." His smile grew colder. "After that, whatever slaves remain are sold to the academies as disposable soldiers- sent to fight the very Plague that was just strengthened by the death of their brothers."

"And perhaps," he continued calmly, "they return once more to the previously Plague-infested worlds, gathering the corpses of those same slaves, transporting them to other red Plague nexuses, repeating the cycle again and again... truly astonishing, nothing goes to waste."

"..." Althera maintained her silence, her face rigid.

"Hm?" Robin turned back to her. "Strange. I expected you to dismiss this as baseless speculation, or to accuse me of slandering your favorite supplier of slaves-sorry, soldiers."

"It is speculation, and you know that," Althera replied after a brief hesitation, looking away. "I don't need to deny it aloud. And secondly..." Her voice lowered. "To keep the machinery of life running, there are things that even if you strongly suspect them- you are forced to overlook."

"Hm. I used to wonder how the Academy Alliance could possibly miss such a possibility," Robin muttered. "But it's clear now-you thought about it. You analyzed it carefully. And in the end, you chose to shift the blame onto the remnants of the Abyss of Doom."

The smile vanished completely from his face. "Out of those 350 billion-your centennial budget- how many billions go to the Syndicate? One hundred billion? Two hundred billion pearls per century? Or even more?"

"I don't understand," Robin said, his brows knitting tightly. "What does your silence represent? Why do you continue funneling these obscene amounts of pearls into their hands?" His voice sharpened. "If each academy in this sector alone pays them a minimum of 100 billion per century, that's 300 billion pearls - and then multiply that by a thousand, accounting for the remaining sectors." His breath caught. "Unbelievable..."

"..."

"..." Robin stared into Althera's silent eyes, his thoughts accelerating at a terrifying pace, calculations stacking upon calculations.

Suddenly, his eyes widened fully.

"It's taxes," he said slowly, realization striking like lightning. He pointed at her. "The academies are paying appeasement taxes to that Syndicate-so they stop sabotaging operations and interfering in the affairs of the sectors!!"

Then he rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth beside the bed, his steps sharp and restless. "Good heavens... so this is how it works. You academies levy crushing taxes on every power under the noble banner of fighting the Plague, while they collect their own share from you-taxes meant to keep them conveniently on the sidelines, free to manage their underground empires, and, more importantly, to refrain from unleashing their overwhelming forces directly into the sectors."

"...In doing so, you academies preserve your indispensable role and protect your steadily growing fortunes. Even if you truly spend 350 billion per century, as you claim, you still walk away with a comfortable number of billions tucked safely aside!" He pointed at her accusingly. "And by the same arrangement, the Syndicate secures its greatest source of income without moving a single fleet- reaping obscene profits indirectly, giving them no reason whatsoever to attempt an outright invasion of the sector themselves!"

"Sigh- So everyone wins, then," Althera finally said, her voice calm, restrained, and painfully serious. She lifted her head slightly. "But you're mistaken about one thing. I keep nothing for myself. Any surplus goes straight into the treasury of the Supreme Council of the Stellar Academies, where it is sealed away and stored for times of extreme necessity."

"To hell with the Supreme Council!" Robin snapped, kicking the side of the bed in frustration. "There I was, like a harmless fool, thinking the Syndicate were the criminals and the stellar academies were the enforcers keeping them in line. But no-turns out you're colluding. Turns out they secure the stability of your operations, and you secure for them an endless river of wealth. An unlimited source of income. What in the name of reason is wrong with this filthy universe?!"

He pointed at her once more, his voice hardening. "And second-you say everyone wins? What about the slaves who die at every stage of this arrangement? What about the populations of planets where the red Plague erupts and drowns entire continents in blood? What about the worlds whose suns are consumed by the blue Plague, leaving nothing but frozen graves behind? Do they win too?!"

"Get that finger out of my face!" Althera shot back as she stood up, her voice rising despite her effort to stay composed. "Do you honestly think I dictate cosmic policy?" She struck her chest several times. "If I were to stop fighting the Plague for even a single century and stop playing this obvious game, a full quarter of the sector would be swallowed whole!"

She turned her gaze away, her tone tightening. "There may be no law that forces me to rent armies from the Syndicate, but the moment I stop hiring their soldiers, I lose the ability to contain the Plague's advance. No one is willing to help me. No one is willing to help the stellar academies!" She waved her hand in agitation. "We can argue endlessly over whether the Syndicate is secretly feeding the Plague or not, but the result never changes-you are facing immensely empowered Plague right now, and they demand an army to cnfront them. So tell me, Burton... what would you do?!"

"....." Robin stared at Althera in silence for a long moment, his expression slowly

cooling. Then he returned to the bed and sat down, his movements far calmer than before. "I apologize. My anger was aimed at the system, not at you. I understand that even if you wanted to change things, you simply don't have the power to do so."

"...." After a few seconds, Althera sat down as well. She looked away and replied briefly, almost wearily, "Thank you."

"But honestly," Robin's voice rang out again after a short pause, "I've begun to

respect the decision made by the Dawn Vanguard Stellar Academy and the Deep Mist Stellar Academy."

Share