Legacy of the Void Fleet

”Oh yeah, that’s basically what was happening back on Earth while we were operating in the Regal Star System. Earth was going through its own transformation, driven by us.

A lot had already changed, and everything was moving fast. The Gene Awakening Serum didn’t just make people physically stronger, as expected—it also uplifted them more thoroughly. Everyone found they could learn faster, process more, and retain knowledge better. That was by design—it was a core benefit, and we made sure not to waste it.

We pushed forward by providing structured knowledge—covering physics, chemistry, biology, space science, quantum theory, and more. All simplified to their core concepts. We made learning these subjects practically mandatory for classification.

Why? Because I’d already begun to restructure society into a merit-based tier system.

Yeah, I started dividing society based on merit.

This system wasn’t just for our benefit — it applied globally, especially to the allied nations under the Indar Empire and the other three major states. Those capable would be ranked and provided with resources. They’d become the focus of development, not just for us, but also within their own countries, if they were part of the Indra empire or one of the other three major states. For now, at least!

The Tier system came after some consideration and deep discussion with my crew and even members of the Indra Empire, the State of Avalon, the Bear Empire, and the Jinag Dynasty. And we finally come to a decision and decided that the tier structure itself was split into three broad categories:

Tier-3: This was the baseline., The base level. These are individuals with only a basic education or general awareness. They might lack specialized knowledge or strong critical thinking skills.

- This means that due to their lack of specialized knowledge, people in this category are generally limited in performing manual tasks or taking on roles as common citizens. They can only contribute in straightforward, low-importance, and non-complex ways.

Tier-2: These are the people who’ve gone beyond the basics. they were Individuals who surpassed the basics and had intermediate to advanced knowledge in specific fields or limited strategic ability.

-This means that, due to their superior knowledge and skills, these individuals are capable of occupying critical roles in society. They might become engineers, scientists, elite soldiers, officers, or mid-level administrators.

Tier-1: The top tier. Masters of their craft or multi-field experts.”These individuals may possess superior problem-solving abilities and demonstrate mastery in one or multiple specialized fields. Their capabilities often include innovation, strategic foresight, and leadership potential.

-As such, they are and could be frequently entrusted with leading major projects and delivering impactful results. Typical roles for people at this level include high-ranking officers, lead innovators, key decision-makers, or upper to top-tier management administrators. Simply put, they are the geniuses—the very top talents in their respective domains.”

Though we haven’t officially announced the tier system yet, we definitely will. It’s only a matter of time. Once the foundation is solid and the early data proves what we already know, we’ll make it public. And when we do, it won’t just be a structure—it’ll be a statement: ability matters, and progress belongs to those who earn it.

This framework would not only be fully transparent but also flawless—no backdoors, no hidden privileges. Only those with real and true talent and proven ability would be able to rise and ascend to a higher classification tier.

To ensure fairness and transparency, and to make sure of that, I even acquired top-tier AIs to oversee the system. In terms of capability, they were just one step below the Red Empress herself, though in their specialized domains, they might even surpass her. These three AIs were given codenames: Goddess, and the one tasked with monitoring and administering the classification system was known as the Goddess of Wisdom. Her sole responsibility was oversight, not just of citizen classification, but of the entire internal state of our alliance, ensuring balance, transparency, and fairness at every level.

The other two AIs had distinct roles, but they’re not relevant for now—I’ll save that for later, so we don’t dive into an info dump.”

Sure, there might be some cons to this framework. I’m not denying that. But I’m not here to dwell on them—I’ll let others argue those points. I’m focused on the pros, because they matter more. And the biggest one? I gave everyone—not an equal start, but a fair, transparent one.

Everyone got a real chance. Not through backdoors, not through politics or nepotism. Just pure ability.

Maybe the starting line wasn’t perfectly level, but it was visible. Reachable. If someone had what it took, they could rise. From nothing. They could become a top-tier engineer, an innovator, or even rise through the military ranks if scholarship wasn’t their path. That option existed. That ladder was there.

A beggar could become a Tier-1 citizen. A nobody could turn into someone valuable—among billions. All it took was effort. And thanks to the Gene Awakening Serum, even those who didn’t have the potential before do now. That’s a massive win—for society, for the nations, and for us, the Void Fleet.

It made talent easier to find.

And once we found them, we could invest in them—recruit them into our fold, forge them into the foundation of our strength. That’s how the Void Fleet grows—not by numbers, but by value.

And no, these recruits weren’t just handed to us. They chose who they aligned with. Offers were made, and the best offer wins. I made sure we weren’t competing with our own allies for talent—wouldn’t be right. Not that I really care about what’s fair, but appearances matter. And I’m not here to look like a tyrant. Not yet.

The reason I didn’t push for immediate implementation of the framework was simple—some key parts were still being finalized. For example, we were still deciding what specific benefits would be granted to citizens at each tier.

There needs to be a clear reward system. Something simple, like: If you’re Tier-1, you get these perks—low-interest loans, priority housing, access to restricted research, exemption from certain taxes. Real privileges that make people want to strive for advancement.

Because if there’s no real difference between the tiers outside of roles or responsibilities, why would anyone work hard to move up? The motivation has to be tangible. It has to matter.

That’s why the benefits and rewards were still under review. And there were other details too—smaller on the surface, but significant in how they impact the system’s long-term function. I wasn’t about to roll out something half-formed. When it goes live, it needs to be solid. Deserved. Earned. And worth chasing.

”Another reason I didn’t enforce the framework right away was simple—we, the Void Fleet, didn’t have the time or resources to dedicate solely to this initiative. Our focus was elsewhere. And now, with reconnection just re-established a day or two ago, it became critical that we shift our attention back to that front.

So, after some thought, I decided to delay the rollout of the system. The new deadline would be set for a month or two down the line—after we’ve made tangible progress beyond the Forbidden Region and after the Evendite World is properly prepared. We’re already laying down the groundwork there, constructing the infrastructure needed to support this new framework. Once the external front stabilizes, we’ll have both the time and capability to implement the system the way it’s meant to be: fully, efficiently, and without compromise.

So yeah, those were basically my plans for Earth’s future development—a long game that would benefit me and the Void Fleet. Not immediately, but not far off either.

And just like that, another day passed.

With each hour, the intensity of spatial fluctuations kept growing. The artifact—bearing the cracks—was nearly at its limit, barely holding together. Collapse was imminent. My fleet and I were waiting, eagerly. But we weren’t the only ones.

Just outside the Forbidden Zone, in the not-too-distant Rigid Sol system, the Minotaurs were also waiting—just as eager, but twice as terrified.

Why? Obvious. Because the power struggle unfolding wasn’t just between players—they were watching the Universal Will and the Galactic Will themselves making moves. The Universal Will wasn’t unleashing its full force, but even the level of support it was providing was enormous—enough to bend reality, enough to make the barrier shake. That alone was enough to rattle the Minotaurs. And they weren’t alone. The Genom-class fleet stationed nearby shared that fear.

Their only comfort was a second barrier—one crafted by the Galactic Will itself. This barrier masked everything. It kept the Universal Will’s activity hidden from the rest of the galaxy. Which meant no one else—no other powers—knew what was happening. Not yet.

And that gave them hope.

If both the Universal and Galactic Wills were taking active interest in this Forbidden Zone, then there had to be something in there. Something unique. Something worth risking it all for. Their excitement was real. Their anticipation was rising.

But they were dead wrong.

And that mistake—they would absolutely regret.