Legacy of the Void Fleet

The Fifth Elder let out a low chuckle.

”Ah, that’s what I’ve always liked about you, Second Elder—so quick to catch the true meaning beneath the words.”

He rose slightly from his seat, voice gaining a subtle edge.

”Yes, it’s true. I’ve dreamt of taking the Forbidden Zone since the moment I learned of its existence. It’s also why I allowed the mobilization of the Seventh Fleet months ago.”

His gaze swept across the chamber.

”But don’t fool yourselves. The Forbidden Zone is too big a prize for us to claim alone. We’re a modest power, tucked away in the galactic rim. Once word spreads—whether the Genomes or the Ausar leak it intentionally or not—the truth will ripple outward. The reopening of the Forbidden Zone will reach every major power.”

His tone dropped, grim.

”The Universal Bank. The Mercenary Guild. The Alchemy Guild. The Velorian Empire. The Elven Courts. Even the Dragon and Phoenix clans. Once they know—it’s over. We won’t get a sliver of it. And worse, our clan’s very existence may be at risk.”

Before he could go on, Second Elder raised a hand, cutting him off.

”I agree with most of what you’ve said… but not all. Yes, the Forbidden Zone holds staggering value. But it’s not so vital that all those powers would rush in at once, burning themselves in the process.”

The Second Elder leaned forward with a firm voice.

”Yes, the value is immense. I already said that. But it’s not so immense that every power will risk war over it—not for a mana-rich sector when most of them already sit on their own.”

Fifth Elder nodded slowly.

”Exactly. That’s the point. Not all will act. But some will—and those are the ones we should be thinking about.”

He stood, walking slowly toward the chamber’s center.

”What about the first-tier empires? The Alchemy Guild? The Forgers’ Syndicate? Even some of the stronger second-tier powers—they will want a piece of this. And why wouldn’t they? The alchemists and forgers are always hungry for rare materials, herbs, and catalysts—resources they struggle to find or cultivate. And those first-tier empires? They’re always looking for leverage—another step toward universal dominance.”

The chamber grew quieter as the weight of his words settled.

”So here’s what I propose: we go to them. One, or several. Not as beggars, but as initiators—partners. We give them a share. Let them establish their foothold in the Forbidden Zone, under the condition that we retain a portion ourselves and negotiate the terms.”

Second Elder frowned.

”You’re suggesting we give up our claim before anyone asks for it?”

Fifth Elder raised a finger.

”No. I’m suggesting we control the narrative—before someone else does. If we wait, the value of the zone will spread, and when it does, we’ll be swept aside. But if we approach them now—before the feeding frenzy begins—they’ll owe us. They’ll work to keep the secret, because they’ll have a stake in it.”

He paused just long enough to let that settle.

”And even if word about the Forbidden Zone leaks… they’ll be there to hold the sky for us. Because by then, it won’t just be our risk—it’ll be their investment, their ground to protect. We won’t be standing alone.”

He then looked around the room.

”It benefits us in two ways. First: the intel we offer instantly raises our worth. Second: by splitting the zone between multiple powers, we avoid putting all our trust in one. If one power gets greedy, the others will keep them in check. That balance keeps us safe.”

A pause.

”This isn’t surrender. It’s strategy. We trade a piece of the pie now… to stay at the table later.”

4th Elder leaned forward, arms crossed, his tone skeptical but not dismissive.

”Your idea has merit, 5th Elder. But here’s what’s been on my mind. This ’piece of the pie’ you speak of—if we bring in powers like the Alchemist Guild, the Forger Syndicate, and the Tier-1 states—what’s left for us? Because from the way you talk, we’ll have to give a lot just to get them in. So how much do we actually retain? Half? That’s too much—they’ll never agree to it. So… how much?”

The 5th Elder smiled faintly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

”Now that is a good question, 4th Elder. And the one I expected you all to raise eventually.”

He stood, folding his hands behind his back, pacing slightly.

”These powers—let’s not kid ourselves—are arrogant. When we approach them, they’ll immediately see our weakness: that we can’t hold or develop the Forbidden Zone alone. That strips us of any leverage.”

”But what they do value—what they must value—is our information. Without it, they wouldn’t even know the zone had reawakened. That’s our chip.”

”Even so… realistically? We’d retain five percent. Maybe—maybe—eight, if they’re feeling generous or if we play our diplomacy well.”

A wave of tension passed through the chamber. Even the 1st Elder arched an eyebrow.

Several of the others exchanged glances. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken dissatisfaction.

The silence didn’t last long.

The First Elder spoke, his voice low but sharp as a blade.

”Five percent,” he repeated slowly. ”That’s all we stand to receive? After we discovered it. After our fleet moved to secure it. And you tell me that five percent is the best we can hope for?”

His eyes narrowed—not at the Fifth Elder, but at the idea itself.

”You’re asking us to bow early so we don’t have to kneel later—for even less. There’s dignity in opening the door. But there’s stupidity in handing them the key.”

The Second Elder raised a hand to interject.

”You’re not wrong, First Elder. But neither is he. You said it yourself—we’ll have to wait for the Forbidden Zone to fully recover. And in that time, word will spread. Others will come. And they’ll come hungry, with fleets and forces we can’t match.”

He paused, glancing at the others.

”If we move first—control the narrative—we can decide who joins us. Who gets a stake. That alone gives us leverage we otherwise won’t have.”

The Third Elder spoke next, more tactically.

”So we play the game. We leak the truth, but only to the right powers—those who would align with us. We let them in. We can’t dictate terms, not now, not from a position of weakness. But we can still earn a voice. A place at the table.”

She leaned forward slightly.

”And while five to eight percent sounds small—let’s not kid ourselves. That much of the Forbidden Zone is worth more than most empires. It may be all we need.”

”For now, that is,” the Third Elder added.

The Fifth Elder gave a slow, knowing smile before speaking.

”Exactly. Five percent sounds small—if you’re thinking in terms of the whole. But let’s not kid ourselves. Like the Third Elder said, and as I’ve said before, it’s impossible for us to digest the entire region.”

He looked around the chamber, voice calm but grounded.

”That zone may contain pre-epoch relics, myth-tier herbs, and mana veins of a purity we’ve never seen. In time, it’ll be a goldmine of power and potential. And we have a chance to claim five percent of that… instead of nothing if we just sit and wait.”

He let that sit for a breath.

”And more than anything, what this gives us—is stability. Stability to actually use those resources. To build. To grow. Without being crushed under the weight of trying to hold it all alone.”

”And let me tell you—this pains me just as much as it does any of you. Maybe even more,” the Fifth Elder said, his voice carrying a quiet strain. ”That we can’t hold on to everything… to what is rightfully ours, born from our discovery.”

He paused, the weight of his own words sinking in.

”But the truth is—it’s our fault. We’re not strong enough yet to protect what we’ve found. And that’s the bitter core of it.”

There was no outburst. No rebuttal.

Just silence.

But not of resistance—of relief. They all knew the Fifth Elder was the most ambitious among them. That had never been a secret. So to hear him, of all people, admit this truth—and still advocate restraint—it struck them. It surprised them. And it reassured them.

He wasn’t backing down. He was thinking ahead—for all of them.

”And let me tell you—this pains me just as much as it does any of you. Maybe even more,” the Fifth Elder said, his voice carrying a quiet strain. ”That we can’t hold on to everything… to what is rightfully ours, born from our discovery.”

He paused, the weight of his own words sinking in.

”But the truth is—it’s our fault. We’re not strong enough yet to protect what we’ve found. And that’s the bitter core of it.”

There was no outburst. No rebuttal.

Just silence.

But not of resistance—of relief. They all knew the Fifth Elder was the most ambitious among them. That had never been a secret. So to hear him, of all people, admit this truth—and still advocate restraint—it struck them. It surprised them. And it reassured them.

He wasn’t backing down. He was thinking ahead—for all of them.