Chapter 1456: Dilemma

After giving Robin a few thoughtful seconds to process the cascade of heavy information, Hedrick continued with a deeper, quieter tone:

"...Some years ago—more than I can clearly recall, honestly—my fleet of Stellar Surveyor Ships stumbled upon something unexpected. It wasn’t just another asteroid or a dying world like the thousands we map and ignore.

This time, they found a planet. But not just any planet—a colossal one. Its size alone exceeded all standard planetary metrics we’ve recorded in this quadrant. And more importantly... it had certain unique markers. Characteristics that resonated perfectly with the ancient records describing a Galaxy Seed.

When they reported it back to me, I didn’t leave things to chance. I traveled there myself. Personally. I entered the planet’s atmosphere through the use of a soul shard. And the moment I stepped inside its atmospheric shell... I knew. There was no doubts that it was a Galaxy Seed."

He paused for just a beat before continuing.

"And it didn’t stop there. The planet wasn’t barren or untouched—it was alive, teeming with an already-developed civilization. One not yet known to the wider cosmic networks, but still remarkable.

Their martial traditions had a heritage that spanned somewhere between 200,000 and 250,000 years. Their population? Easily in the tens of billions—enough to be a galactic-level demographic powerhouse.

War was a constant rhythm across their continents. Conflict, chaos, ambition—these were etched into their very bones. And the best part?

Not a single trace... not even a hint... of an Overlord ruling over them. No major overseer, no galactic puppet master. It was a wild zone—a fertile battlefield, untouched and unclaimed.

The kind of place where one could build an empire... not just strong, but legendary."

"Naturally, I saw the opportunity and seized it," Hedrick’s voice gained strength, his eyes narrowing slightly as his passion bled through.

"I gave immediate orders to my generals—gather a tailored arsenal of technologies. Equipment up to fourth-stage, suitable for every affinity. We didn’t just prepare weapons—we assembled tools for talisman crafting, essence forging, soul refinement. We left nothing out.

I acquired for them a licensed spatial portal blueprint, a full plan for building battle-ready fleets. My officers and advisors drafted a complete, long-term operation to convert the planet’s dominant species into a standing force.

A shield. A firewall. The first line of defense should anyone ever come sniffing for the Seed."

"But I didn’t stop there," he added, voice darkening slightly.

"I used a first-grade planetary displacement gear to randomly shift the entire Seed to a new, unpredictable location somewhere deep inside Sector 101. That move alone cut off any entities who might’ve known of the planet before I found it.

Then I began the next phase—contacting analysts, selecting the ideal race whose physiology and soul-wise could withstand blood infusions from beasts aligned with Destruction Laws. One careful decision after another... until the birth of what would become the Great Shattering-Meteors Millennial Empire."

He smiled faintly, but it was a weary smile.

"That empire wasn’t born by accident. It wasn’t grown from pride or ambition.

It was forged, for one reason and one reason only: to protect the Seed.

And for hundreds of thousands of years, I took nothing from them. Not a single offering. On the contrary—I gave. I poured billions upon billions of my personal fortune into their infrastructure.

I gave them knowledge, war engines, alchemical tomes, ancient scrolls from dead worlds. Everything they needed to become the iron gate at the front of the storm.

Their purpose was clear: dominate the surrounding starfield, and ensure that no one—

no one

—ever lays a finger on the Seed.

And they understood that. Deeply. They embraced it. They carried that burden with pride."

Then Hedrick sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly.

"Perhaps that’s why they still haven’t broken. Not even now.

Nearly all of their elite cultivators have perished. Most of their top generals are dead. Over half their home worlds have fallen—burned or destroyed. The rest fall, slowly but relentlessly, day after day.

And yet... they endure.

They continue to fight, tooth and nail, defending what little remains of their birthplace—defending the Galaxy Seed that gave them purpose."

"Oh, that’s... quite moving," Robin nodded twice, though his tone remained neutral. It wasn’t clear whether he was genuinely touched or merely being polite.

Hedrick chuckled softly, picking up on the flat response.

"It’s been almost two thousand years since the war for the Seed truly began," he said. "It all started when one of the local planetary empires in Young Sector 101 managed to locate its general coordinates and told their Overlord about it.

My men crushed them. But out of anger, that Overlord passed the information on—hoping his allies would succeed where he failed, and perhaps share the spoils.

When they too were defeated,

they

told

their

allies. And so the chain continued.

Whispers became rumors. Rumors became facts. And eventually, that knowledge reached the ears of Zarion, the apex predator himself—the head of the serpent."

"That’s when everything changed," he said, his voice lowering to a grim cadence.

"Zarion unleashed the terrifying might of the Zavaros Galaxy. He didn’t come himself—he didn’t have to. He used his influence, his tendrils of control, to reach out to every high-tier force in Young Sector 101. And he turned them all...

against me.

He rallied them like hounds on a scent trail. That’s when the

real

war began."

Hedrick’s brows furrowed as his tone hardened further.

"From that moment on, I committed everything. Every favor I could call in. Every ounce of my strength.

I began a desperate campaign to gather as many planetary displacement gears as I could. I relocated the Seed constantly—shifting it between the galaxies and starfields of young sector 101, between dark zones and cloaked regions of space.

But no matter what we did... they kept finding it. Sometimes in five years, sometimes ten—but they always found it."

He clenched his fists faintly.

"But what did we expect, really? How do you hide a Galaxy Seed... when the entire sector has turned against you?

It’s like willingly walking into the den of beasts, lying down in the pack leader’s nest, and thinking you can sleep peacefully.

We always knew this was a game against time. A countdown.

But we kept pushing forward anyway—fighting for every second we could buy."

"And now... now the battle isn’t just about the Seed. The Shattering-Meteors Planetary Empire has become a target from every direction.

They’re being bombarded by starfire from every side. Their planets are falling one by one, along with their fleets, their armies, their resources.

Everything we built—everything we nurtured and expanded for over 200,000 years—is crumbling. Turning to ash under the weight of a sector wide siege.

Right now, in Young Sector 101... it feels like the end of days."

"...Oh no..." Robin’s brows drew close, his voice low with fake shock.

"...."

Hedrick turned his head slightly to glance at Robin, watching him for a brief second. Then, with a quiet snort of amusement, he exhaled through his nose and smiled, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

"At the very least," he said, tone light but clear, "you could try to sound

a bit

more convincing."

"Ah—sorry, sorry."

Robin waved both hands lazily, as if to brush away the tension, then theatrically cleared his throat.

"Ahem, ahem..."

He furrowed his brows deeper than needed, placed a hand dramatically over his mouth, and let out a fake gasp.

"Oh no!!"

It was absurd, really. What was he supposed to say after hearing all that? Hedrick had poured out a tale of war, sacrifice, and strategy. But Robin? He’d fought in his own battles. He was

still

fighting.

Was it supposed to be his responsibility that Hedrick had failed to keep his Galaxy Seed hidden? That he’d made enemies too powerful to handle? That he was now

losing

?

Not his problem.

"Hmm... that one was a little more believable."

Surprisingly, Hedrick didn’t sound irritated or disappointed. In fact, he nodded, looking faintly amused, and turned back to gaze into the horizon, where the sun was sinking and streaks of colorful meteors lit the sky in silence.

Then he spoke again, voice gentler now, and filled with thought:

"Tell me, Robin. As someone who reached the fourth stage of the Law of Truth in under 700 years...

Someone who, from what I’ve gathered, also commands another Master Law whose nature remains unknown...

If you were standing in my place, what would you do?"

"...."

Robin exhaled, long and deep. A sigh of mild disbelief.

This guy... had patience.

Robin had tried multiple times to bait him, to provoke him into anger or insult so the conversation could just

end

. He didn’t want to give away the planetary displacement gear. Not now, not ever.

And yet, Hedrick remained calm, composed, almost annoyingly respectful. And that made walking away far more difficult than Robin liked.

After rubbing his face and eyes with both hands, Robin finally answered,

"If it were me?"

He paused, then nodded to himself, settling into the idea.

"I’d pull back all the remaining troops and supply lines from the other planets. Completely abandon the outer defenses. Concentrate every last resource, soldier, defense mechanism, and ship around the Galactic Seed itself.

Let it become the single point of absolute defense.

And then, whenever it’s located—whenever it’s tracked down—I’d use the displacement gear to move it again.

Over and over. Until the time for it’s ascension to the Mid Belt comes, or until my enemies give up!"

"...."

For a moment, Hedrick didn’t say anything.

But his expression shifted.

He’d looked at Robin before with the expression of an adult humorously indulging a child’s tantrum. But now, something in his gaze sharpened.

There was respect there—true, genuine respect.

The kind that can’t be faked.

After a few seconds, he nodded. Not once, but several times in succession.

"A brilliant response," he said. "Truly.

It might even be the most effective solution I’ve heard so far."

Then he paused—and his tone changed.

"But let me give you one more variable.

Add this to the equation, and tell me if your plan still works."

Robin glanced sideways, cautious now.

Hedrick continued, calmly but gravely:

"We have approximately 2,500 years remaining before the Seed reaches its pre-destined Ascension deadline into Mid-Sector 101.

And every single day... more fleets from the upper sectors arrive in the Young Belt to search and destroy. More enemies. More eyes. More Lords who want a piece of the Seed."

"...?!"

Robin’s face tightened, brows drawing in, and for a moment, he simply stared.

Then, with a helpless grin tugging at his lips, he let out a half-laugh.

"In that case, forget it. Scrap the whole plan.

Take what you can from the planet while it still stands—and destroy it.

If you’re planning to sell its core afterward... I’ll be your first buyer."

Because now? Everything had changed.

His previous strategy—an endless cycle of hiding, defending, and relocating—could

maybe

buy a few more centuries,

if

everything went perfectly.

But Hedrick’s enemies weren’t fools. If they were already locating the Seed every few years, then it was only a matter of time before they began tracking it down every few months.

Assuming they hadn’t already installed beacons, arrays, or curse anchors directly into the planet’s very crust to trace its position the moment it moved...

Trying to survive for another 2,500 years was no longer a strategy.

It was just delaying annihilation.

But then Hedrick smiled.

And what he said next... shifted the entire conversation:

"And what if I told you..."

he said, voice low, eyes gleaming,

"...that I already have a way out of this trap?

And

you

, Robin... are the key."