Legacy of the Void Fleet

And though it wasn’t a complete solution — after all, the problem of infinite resource regeneration remained — the Supreme Being had foreseen this too.

So, he prepared another layer of correction.

But before that, understand what had already been achieved.

By creating Guardian Beasts bound to resources of true value — Sprite Fruits, Resonance Crystals, even entire Mana Zones — the Supreme Being had ensured that nothing precious would be left unguarded. Mythic materials like Mithril, Starseed Alloy, or Celestial Nectar would no longer lie waiting to be plucked by idle hands. Each would be fiercely protected by monsters born of the Universal Plane itself.

To defeat them? Kallus would have to complete missions. Not just any tasks, but hell-tier challenges crafted by the very system he had once relied on for growth.

This did more than just protect resources.

It activated the dormant Mission Core — a part of the system that had long been underutilized.

And even more importantly, it created a powerful deterrent — a counter to the growing complacency that had begun to infect Kallus and his fleet, the Void Dominion. No longer could they harvest the universe’s treasures while reclining in luxury, relying on automation and passive systems. Now, if they wanted access to the Universe Plane’s true wealth, they would have to fight for it. Bleed for it. Struggle for it.

They would have to earn it.

Now that the being had made his decision, he didn’t wait.

Even though he knew Kallus was lost in deep contemplation, trapped in the recesses of his own thoughts, he paid it no mind—as if Kallus’s inner turmoil held no weight in the presence of his will. There would be time for reflection later. For now, Kallus had been summoned to listen.

What would he do?

The being watched Kallus, whose head remained bowed as he pondered his actions. But it didn’t matter.

He had been called here for one reason: to hear the being’s judgment—a decree meant to serve as a preventive measure against both his reckless nature and the path his fleet might take.

Then, the being spoke. His voice, as usual, was calm yet commanding, resonating through the grand, endless throne hall like a force of nature. The sheer weight of it shattered Kallus’s thoughts like fragile glass.

”Listen, Kallus.”

The words echoed through the throne room—deep, resonant, and laced with a cosmic authority that seemed to shake the very fabric of space.

Snapped from his spiraling thoughts, Kallus blinked in momentary confusion. But in the span of a heartbeat, he steadied himself. His mind sharpened, clarity returned. He was no longer wandering the labyrinth of his own mind—he was here, now, in this vast and awe-inspiring chamber, face to face with the Supreme Being.

He looked up, locking eyes with the entity that had called him forth. The voice hadn’t just spoken—it had pulled him back into reality with undeniable force.

”Yes, Supreme Being,” Kallus said, his tone as direct as ever.

There was no bow. There never had been.

Not because of arrogance or pride, but because his soul simply wouldn’t allow it. And strangely, the being never expected it—not from him. He didn’t need Kallus to kneel.

For all their differences in power, in age, in cosmic rank, the being regarded Kallus as something close to an equal. Not in the present, perhaps, but in what he would one day become.

Yes, there was friction between them—inevitable, palpable. One was already forged in the fires of eternity. The other was still rising, still becoming. But that never diminished the being’s respect for him. And Kallus, for all his defiance, held deep reverence in return.

For it was this being who had set him on the path.

It was he who had made Kallus what he was today.

The Supreme Being leaned slightly forward in his throne, though his posture remained aloof, almost lazy—like a god lounging at the edge of eternity. The faint outlines of his white, formless eyes gleamed with subtle light, as if reflecting truths yet unspoken.

”As I’ve said already, Kallus,” he began, his voice calm yet thunderous with unspoken weight, ”you have grown stronger... sharper.”

He spoke as if acknowledging something already obvious, something he had said moments earlier—yet this time, there was a different edge to it. A hint of scrutiny.

”But perhaps,” he continued, ”that growth came too easily… too quickly.”

His voice did not accuse. It observed—detached, yet precise.

”With all the resources this universal plane has to offer, with how effortlessly you’ve come to access them, you’ve grown complacent. I see it now. More importantly, I see that you are beginning to realize it as well.”

There was a pause. The throne room seemed to quiet further, as if the stars themselves leaned in to listen.

”No… you’ve known it for some time, haven’t you?” the being said, almost thoughtfully. ”But because no one dared confront you, you never had to accept it. You kept moving forward, yes—but inwardly, you stalled.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

”But don’t worry. I’m here for that.”

He let the words hang in the air, like a cosmic verdict spoken through stillness.

”And it is good,” he went on, ”that you’ve begun to question it. To face it.”

Then, his voice shifted—slightly firmer now, the tone of a being who had made up his mind.

”Because I’ve seen the path ahead. If left unchecked, you would soon begin to stagnate… and eventually, become a lesser version of yourself. A shadow.”

He leaned back once more into his throne, timeless and immense.

”To ensure that this future never becomes a possibility, I have made a decision.”

”That decision,” the Supreme Being said, his voice echoing with absolute finality, ”is this: from this moment forth, the rules of the Universal Plane shall change.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle into the very walls of the throne room.

”You, Kallus—and the subordinates you have chosen to bring into this plane—will no longer enjoy unrestricted access to its limitless resources. The boundless gifts of this personal universe of yours will now be… earned, not given.”

The being’s eyes gleamed faintly, the cosmic outlines pulsing with ageless intent.

”You will still retain the right to its natural mana,” he clarified, ”for cultivation, for training, for survival. That is your birthright as its master. But the rest—the ores, the relics, the ancient wells of energy, the celestial veins—they shall no longer lie freely at your feet.”

He gestured lightly to the air around them, as if presenting the Universal Plane itself.

”This realm… was never meant to be your endless treasure vault. When I gifted it to you, it was meant to be something far greater—a sacred crucible. A place where you could grow stronger, purer. A world where you could forge your foundation in the most untainted conditions imaginable.”

His voice dropped lower, colder now.

”And so, that is what it shall become again.”

”But understand this: I am not taking the resources away. No, everything that was here shall remain. It will be just as it always was… except now, it will be guarded.”

Kallus’s breath caught.

”A guardian force shall rise,” the being said. ”Born of my will, woven into the very essence of this realm. One that will protect these resources. One that you cannot ignore, bypass, or manipulate.”

”In simple terms: what you once mined, claimed, or harvested without resistance—resources that took decades or centuries to regenerate—will now be defended by entities that surpass you. Entities that evolve.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

”They will match your strength… and exceed it. As you grow, they will grow faster. As you sharpen, they will become deadlier.”

He leaned forward again.

”Until you or your subordinates complete the trials—missions I will set forth—you will not be able to claim anything. You will be tested. Constantly.”

And then, with unwavering certainty, he concluded:

”This is the new law, Kallus. And it will not bend.”

”Remember this well, Kallus,” the Supreme Being continued, his tone calm but commanding. ”These guardians are not your enemies. They are your obstacles—placed in your path to force evolution. To compel change. To break the habits of comfort and ease that you—and your fleet—have begun to develop.”

He gave a small, almost dismissive wave of his hand, as though brushing aside the illusion of Kallus’s past victories.

”They exist to confront your stagnation. To deny you the path of least resistance. They will force you to grow, whether you wish to or not.”

Then, as if recalling a final detail, he added, ”Ah, I nearly forgot something important.”

His voice took on a subtle edge.

”Each guardian is bound to a particular mission, a trial. Only after you complete that mission will its growth begin to slow. Not stop—never stop. But slow.”

He fixed Kallus with a gaze that felt like eternity itself watching through a narrow slit in time.

”This means that while they will still grow, they will no longer evolve in perfect tandem with your strength. Their advantage will remain—but it will shrink. That, Kallus, is your opportunity. Your window to catch up. To rise. To prove yourself.”

Another pause. One final breath in the silence before fate itself was sealed.

”You will not be gifted supremacy, Kallus. You will earn it—or be crushed trying.”