Legacy of the Void Fleet

The only reason he had given Kallus the Universal Plane was to provide a place where he could truly build an unparalleled foundation. That was its sole purpose — a realm where Kallus could train, evolve, and prepare himself as he raced toward true eternity.

The being had no opinion on how Kallus utilized the Universal Plane, nor did he care about the specific paths he took. What troubled him, however, was that Kallus was meant to forge an unshakable foundation — and that foundation wasn't just about cultivation realms. It was also about the strength of one's will.

Right now, while Kallus possessed a strong will, it remained untested. He had yet to face enemies that were truly powerful, adversaries who could challenge him to his core.

That, above all, was the being's concern. Kallus was of his kind — and he wanted Kallus to become someone truly strong, not just a shell of power. True strength wasn't just about possessing power; it was about understanding it, mastering it, and wielding it with purpose.

And for now, Kallus truly had no clear purpose guiding him forward. Some might argue that his dream of building an empire where peace could last was his purpose — but was it really? When asked, the being would simply scoff,

"Purpose? That's just an excuse he tells himself." In truth, Kallus hadn't yet chosen a definitive path. All his current actions were driven by instinct — not by conviction, not by clarity. He was drifting, led not by a grand vision, but by the momentum of survival, emotion, and circumstance.

Back to kallus

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Kallus knew the truth — yes, he had faced some difficult battles, and while the battles were brutal, as they were challenging, they were mostly trials. Tests. Simulations that were designed to push him to test him, but there was never a real threat of death; they were tests, nothing more.

For there was never a moment where death loomed close, where the weight of finality pressed down on him. They were controlled, guided — never real threats to his existence.

Had he ever truly faced danger? Faced challenges so harsh they carved scars into the soul? No, not yet.

No. Not really. Everything had felt like a series of well-designed trials. Hard? Yes. But survivable. Predictable.

And while it was always about him — his growth, his journey — that didn't mean his fleet was any different. His fleet was much the same. Powerful? Undeniably. Talented? Without question. But just like him, everything had come too easily. They hadn't struggled. They hadn't bled for resources or clawed their way out of desperation. No — everything had been handed to them, practically gifted by Kallus himself.

Then came cultivation — the cultivation breakthrough something that should have been practically impossible within the Sol Sector, a region cut off and isolated from the rest of the galaxy.

And yet, under his influence, his crew had advanced as if the laws of reality bent to accommodate them.

In that regard, the decision to use the Universal Plane had been a good one — and for that, there were no complaints and no problem.

Kallus had once been proud of that. Now, he saw it as another sign of the imbalance.

But the real problem began when his crew became too dependent on him — so much so that they might even refuse to seek resources out in the real universe.

They had grown used to relying on the Universal Plane and on Kallus himself for everything. Initiative, risk, and survival — these were slowly slipping away from them.

If this continued, how could they ever thrive outside his shadow? How could they stand on their own when the time came?

Now, some might ask — weren't Kallus's crew the most talented beings in their entire universe? Weren't they chosen for their excellence? And if that's true, then why say they can't thrive outside Kallus's shadow?

The answer lies in their reality. Yes, they were indeed exceptional. But the memories of their past lives — of who they were before — are faded, like fragments of a dream or a mirage.

They know they lived other lives, but those memories are distant, unclear. And tell me — wouldn't anyone grow complacent when everything is handed to them? When all they have to do is ask?

They don't need to struggle. They don't even need to fight to acquire what they want. Resources for the Void Fleet aren't scarce — they're abundant. Practically limitless, thanks to Kallus and the Universal Plane. Why strive, when the universe itself bends to your needs?

And really, why would anyone go out of their way to search for resources that are hard to find, scarce, and often degraded — especially when even the best of them pale in comparison to what lies within the Universal Plane?

Why should they?

The resources inside the Universal Plane are unlike anything in the outer universe. They are nurtured in Origin Mana — the truest, purest form of energy known. Every crystal, every mineral, every drop of essence cultivated there holds a level of refinement the natural universe simply cannot match. When such abundance and purity are so easily within reach, the motivation to seek lesser things fades.

They didn't struggle — why should they, when everything they needed was right in front of them?They didn't bleed — why bleed, when there was no need to fight?Everything was given. Handed to them without cost. Without sacrifice.And that was the problem.

And that, perhaps, is the greatest danger of all.

And worse, everything revolved around him.

Then there was his amity — or rather, his authority over knowledge. That too created another layer of dependence. Any question, any problem, any unknown — the answer always led back to Kallus. It's one thing to make the most of your resources, to rely on a capable leader. But when that reliance turns into total dependence, it becomes dangerous.

Very dangerous.

If Kallus were to disappear, even for a short while, the entire structure of his fleet — the very backbone of his empire — could collapse under its own weight. Not because they lacked strength or talent, but because they had forgotten how to stand without him.

Kallus had taken a step — a deliberate move to begin correcting the dependency he himself had cultivated within his crew. During the battle between the Void Fleet and the Minotaur 7th Light Fleet, he chose not to participate directly. Instead, Admiral Ezrra Tanno led the charge. On the surface, it looked like a shift toward independence. But… had anything truly changed?

No.

Because in the end, Kallus was still there. Hidden in the shadows, yes — but present. Watching. And every single member of the crew knew it. Even if danger loomed, even if the battle turned grim, they knew: he would not let them fall. He would hold up the sky if it came crashing down. That was the image being formed — not the one he intended, but the one they all believed.

And the worst part?

Kallus didn't even realize it. And even if he did, he might have still done the same. These 10,000 crew members — they were his most prized treasure. He couldn't bear the thought of losing even one. But that, too, was a problem.

Talented? Absolutely.But how could they ever truly grow if he never let them fall?Was protecting them worth stunting their evolution — all out of fear that he might lose a gifted soul?

His officers were intelligent, capable, and trained. But they hadn't been challenged. They hadn't learned to lead without leaning on him.

And while Kallus was lost in introspection — quietly reviewing his decisions, his actions, and the path he had walked over the past three or four months — the Being was no different. Sitting upon his eternal throne, he too was deep in contemplation.

As much as Kallus's growing complacency was his own failing, it was also his — the Being's — burden to bear. After all, he was the one who had gifted Kallus the Universal Plane. The one who had handed him powers and privileges far beyond what others could imagine. It was a decision made with good intentions, to help Kallus rise… but in doing so, he had unknowingly planted the seeds of stagnation.

The problem wasn't the Universal Plane itself — it was the nature of its power. The ability to draw infinite resources, effortlessly, without restriction or struggle… that was the flaw. Everything was simply there, waiting to be taken. And Kallus took it — as anyone would.

Yes, Kallus had grown stronger in these months. His knowledge expanded, his power deepened. But the one thing he truly lacked — the one thing he had missed — was challenge. Real challenge. True adversity. And that, too, was on the Being.

He had given Kallus the tools to rise. He had ensured Kallus wouldn't advance in cultivation without laying a solid foundation — a wise decision. But in shielding him from real enemies, from true threats… he had made a mistake.

And only now was he realizing it.

If he was the one who gave Kallus these abilities, then it was also his responsibility to forge worthy opponents — challenges that would push Kallus to his limits. That would break him if he wasn't careful. That would shape him into what he was meant to become.