Published at 14th of February 2026 9:03 am

Chapter 1994 Absolute dependence

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"..."

Everyone around Emily furrowed their brows a little deeper and lowered their gazes to the ground. It wasn't mockery, nor was it anger. Rather, it was a complicated mix of reactions-some were genuinely chewing over Zuha's words, replaying them again and again in their minds, while others clenched their teeth tightly, overwhelmed by a familiar, suffocating sense of powerlessness.

Nearly three full centuries had passed since the Empire first received

fourth-grade planetary displacement equipment. In all that vast stretch of time, fewer than six hundred planets had been successfully relocated to orbit around Nihari.

And yet, among the entire economic output of all forces subordinate to His Majesty Robin Burton, the single greatest contributor-by an overwhelming margin-was precisely those six hundred planets.

The Cradle and the Grave, each boasting close to four thousand planets of their own?

The remaining worlds of Young Sector 99 and Young Sector 100, which together were nearing a combined total of five thousand planets?

All of them, when placed on one side of the scale, were still outweighed by Nihari and the planets circling around it.

This outcome was only natural. Those planets existed in a state of extreme harmony and mutual integration. What one planet lacked could easily be supplied by its neighbor. A single space freight vessel could traverse the galaxy and reach any of those worlds within mere minutes. More importantly, everything the Northern Region of Nihari required-raw materials, refined resources, personnel, equipment-arrived almost instantly, without delay or bottleneck.

But still...

"Heh~ Zuha, you're always so immersed in your work that you end up drifting away from reality sometimes..." one of those present sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "It's not that we haven't thought about this. And it's definitely not because we're stupid. We don't think about it because thinking about it leads nowhere."

Another woman in the group shook her head slowly, her expression tired. "Fourth-grade planetary displacement equipment brings us one planet every six months. If we downgrade to purchasing second-grade equipment, we'd be lucky to get one planet every thirty years. Third-grade equipment would manage one planet every five years at best. They're practically useless-unless we somehow buy every planetary displacement artifact available on the market."

"Does anyone even sell them?" someone muttered bitterly.

"Ah~ If only we had infinite number of space rings... or even a single ring with truly limitless storage, all these transportation and distance issues would vanish overnight!!"

"And where exactly would you find enough space-path materials to forge something like that?" another voice shot back immediately.

"That's enough." Emily raised both hands, her voice cutting through the chatter with authority. "Did we set aside all of our problems just to circle back and fantasize about mythical artifacts?"

She brought her raised hands together in a sharp clap. "Miss Zuha has already made the core issue clear. Building additional transport fleets is meaningless as long as our production still depends entirely on the planets of this galaxy. I'll be increasing external purchases in the coming period, so there's no need to worry about immediate supply shortages. Just continue your work as you have been."

Then her tone hardened further. "Six of the Greed Crucibles will return to producing Note-4 fleets. The seventh will resume full service for the Shadow Swords and the Imperial Guard. I don't want debate on this matter. If circumstances change, I expect a written request, properly documented and sealed with soul authority, on my desk. Understood?"

"Yes." Everyone answered in unison, their voices firm.

"Then disperse." Emily adjusted her glasses, her gaze following them as they turned and left one by one.

Once the area finally quieted, she let out a long, weary sigh. "Haaah-"

She turned back toward the Greed Crucible, forcing herself to resume writing notes and calculations. But it didn't last. After only a few seconds, her pen slowed, then stopped entirely.

She moved to a quiet corner, lowered herself to the ground, and sat there weakly, shoulders sagging as the weight she had been carrying finally pressed down on her.

This was... simply too much.

The Empire's production machinery had begun to spin at such a terrifying, almost apocalyptic speed that its massive gears were wearing down under the relentless friction, grinding mercilessly against one another, sparks flying at every turn, and threatening to shatter completely at any given moment. The very hum of the engines carried a sense of impending doom, echoing across the vast industrial complexes like the heartbeat of a world teetering on the edge.

Skilled labor was abundant, their hands precise, their minds sharp, and their commitment unwavering.

Ideas flowed endlessly, overflowing from the minds of engineers, strategists, and inventors alike, each one more ambitious than the last.

Money, seemingly infinite, circulated through the Empire's coffers, ready to fund any venture, any experiment, any audacious design.

Even raw materials existed in sufficient quantities-metal, energy cores, rare alloys, and exotic compounds-all waiting silently, patiently, for the hands that could transform them into epic artifacts of war and peace alike...

Yet, what they lacked above all else, what gnawed at the edges of every plan, every design, every operation, was time.

Time-immense, bleeding, unrelenting-slipping away into the void as vast stretches of it were wasted on nothing but the painstakingly slow

transportation of materials and finished goods across unfathomable distances that spanned entire sectors, each trip eating away at the hours and days like a

ravenous beast.

But who, exactly, could step in to relieve this crushing burden?

Her Highness Zara had secluded herself within the fortified towers of Sky

Opening City,

accompanied by the brightest minds and most skilled strategists the city could offer. They poured over countless scrolls, digital arrays, and predictive models,

immersing themselves completely in the study of the military's future evolution. New designs meant to simplify and expedite the production of high-tier epic equipment were analyzed with painstaking precision, while countless projects proposed every single day were dissected, debated, and either discarded or improved. And most crucially-

They were painstakingly drafting the blueprints, resource allocations, and logistical plans for the construction of the colossal Sovereignty Note-1 vessel, a project of such scale that even the mere thought of it could make lesser minds

falter.

And atop all these burdens, Her Highness Zara also bore the heavy responsibility of overseeing the further development and refinement of the Peacekeeping Army within mid Sector 99. Her goal was meticulous: reduce casualties to the absolute minimum while simultaneously preparing for the imminent, unavoidable expansion of peacekeeping operations into mid Sector 100. Naturally... all of this mounting responsibility would eventually cascade, like an avalanche, onto Emily's shoulders, just as it always did withut mercy. Meanwhile, Prime Minister Kristan devoted the majority of his time to Planet S-175, accompanied, as was customary, by every single Beast King discovered across the sprawling Young Sectors. He emerged rarely, and only when necessity demanded, to revise laws, enforce order, and hasten the subjugation of Category-R planetary tribes-tribes that had dared resist until their military forces were utterly crushed.

Whenever Emily approached him for assistance, he would respond with a calm, measured reminder: his specialty lay in governing minds and souls, not managing the endless logistical nightmare of supplies, resources, and operational details.

That was, of course, despite the fact that his so-called "hobbies" were extravagant and disturbingly specific: designing highly specialized armor sets, constructing intricate weapon systems, and-most infamously-creating elaborate toys tailored solely for the Beast Kings, designed to indulge whatever strange and twisted pastimes he happened to favor. And as always, those requests-overly complex, extravagant, and utterly time-consuming-inevitably landed on Emily's already overflowing desk.

And the Shadow Swords?

They had almost entirely withdrawn from the day-to-day operations, having

spread themselves impossibly thin across mid Sector 90 in the east to mid Sector 102 in the west. The sheer, exponential explosion of responsibilities forced them to take a step back whenever Headquarters required their support, leaving the burden largely unshared.

Naturally... their territorial expansion also created an insatiable demand for Phantom Shadow-2 vessels in overwhelming quantities, while their accelerated recruitment campaigns triggered a frightening surge in the production of mid-tier epic Shadow armor sets-each piece painstakingly crafted, each demand more urgent than the last.

Even the procurement of rare and essential resources had been abandoned entirely by the Shadow Swords, leaving Headquarters alone to secure what was desperately needed. To cope with this strain, the Empire had officially sanctioned the commercial entity led by the senior members of the Burton family-personally represented on the front lines by the old, cunning merchant Ryan Burton-to act as the primary commercial interface for the Empire, bridging the gap between raw materials, production, and military deployment. In the end, even His Highness Caesar and Marshal Aro had withdrawn from the financial and logistical support of Headquarters, their hands tied by an unending chain of relentless wars that stretched across countless sectors, each battle more exhausting than the last, none offering a reprieve.

"Heh~" Emily sighed, her voice barely audible over the clamor of her thoughts.

She rubbed her temples as the weight of the world seemed to press down from all sides. "Everyone has their own problems. Everyone carries the heavy burdens entrusted to them by His Majesty. I understand that. I truly do. I know that no one is deliberately avoiding me..."

She paused, her voice softening, almost whispering to herself amid the clamor

of her mind.

"But... in the end, don't they all rely on Headquarters to cover their backs? Is a mere, ordinary girl like me... truly capable of shouldering all of this

responsibility, all this weight, all at once?"

"...Perhaps..." She lifted her exhausted, weary eyes toward the breathtaking, endless sky above Nihari, its hues a mixture of deep sapphire and gold. "...it is, perhaps, time... to take a short, well-deserved vacation."

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