After the first three years of the war against Lord Hedrick, Caesar—empowered by the intelligence flowing from the Shadow Swords—was able to launch a series of massive campaigns that swept across the entirety of the 100th Mid Sector. With a strike as swift as lightning, he astonished the sector by seizing nearly two hundred planets with what appeared to be almost no effort at all.

Yet, despite this rapid success, Caesar never chose to directly assault the imperial capitals or annihilate any power completely. His strategy was precise and deliberate: he would seize their planets with a relatively small number of forces, fortify them thoroughly, and then move on. In his eyes, such a controlled expansion was far more valuable—and less wasteful—than a devastating total war against the core capitals themselves.

However, this strategy came with its own burden. The deeper the conquest extended, the heavier the cost of maintaining control became. Every newly claimed planet required a capable garrison, for the defeated powers were always plotting to reclaim what was once theirs. The Golden Army, once vast and overwhelming, soon found itself stretched dangerously thin across hundreds of systems. There were almost no reserves left to call upon—every veteran and every newly trained soldier alike was deployed to occupy, defend, and push further outward into the stars.

By the fifth year of the war against Hedrick, the Century Cradle Empire had swelled to encompass an astonishing three hundred and ten planets. The sheer scale of this expansion defied logic—it was both a marvel and a warning. Finally, the rest of the sector understood what was truly happening. The neighboring powers began to unite their forces, coordinating in secrecy and haste, determined to halt Caesar's impossible momentum.

Now, every faction struck with cunning opportunism. Whenever Caesar attacked one empire, the surrounding factions would also pounce upon it, knowing that his chosen target was already too weakened to defend itself. And whenever Caesar occupied a planet within a new stellar field, the nearby powers would descend upon that same planet, aware that his stretched forces would struggle to protect it fiercely.

The result was chaos—a colossal war that engulfed the starfield itself. A total conflict, led by Renara with periodic intervention from Helene, who appeared like a storm when least expected. Beyond the central theater, other wars raged sporadically across the entire sector, where Caesar would conquer one planet only to lose another in a distant corner of space.

After the fifth year of war, Caesar's progress began to slow dramatically. The reasons were painfully clear: dwindling fleets, exhausted soldiers, and limited weapon stockpiles. The once unstoppable tide of conquest turned into a slow crawl. From that fifth year until now—over fifteen years since the war began—he managed to acquire only a handful of new worlds, bringing his total to three hundred and thirty-four planets.

That number was still remarkable in itself, and the fact that it continued to rise, however slowly, despite the overwhelming strain, spoke volumes about the enduring might of the Cradle Empire. Caesar took deep pride in this achievement, regarding it as proof of his empire's resilience and divine endurance.

But pride soon gave way to urgency. When the news arrived that new Wings had officially joined the Doubled Grave Empire, Caesar's composure finally cracked. "No," he growled, slamming his hand against his thigh. "This is no longer enough! We must advance—faster, stronger, no matter the cost!"

"Hmm?" Peon raised a brow, half-amused. "I came here to discuss withdrawing our troops from one of the remote stellar fields, and you're telling me you want to expand the campaign?" He let out a deep laugh, spreading his arms wide. "Very well, my friend. My hand is on your shoulder— tell me, how do you plan to pull this off?"

He continued, his tone sharp but not without respect. "Do not forget—we've already withdrawn elite units from the First Army in the Young Belt multiple times. Each time those youths fought a few wars, you dragged them here again. And do you remember the cost? We've burned through an absurd number of Pearls just to teleport them here!" Peon turned his gaze sideways toward Caesar. "You went as far as ordering half their fleets and wargear to be relocated here, crippling the First Army's progress there for years."

He then gestured firmly toward Caesar, his expression half-chiding, half-admiring. "All this while Aro hasn't demanded a single ship or resource from the Third Army in the Young Sector. That's why they're still advancing at a decent pace. And let's not forget the Demons and their Second Army in the same region—they recently crushed a Century Empire entirely. Their rate of planetary accumulation among both S and R classes is downright terrifying!"

"I know you like being number one. You've always been that way, haven't you? Always the one racing ahead, refusing to settle for second place, obsessed with victory even when no one is watching. But tell me then—why not take into consideration the competition happening in the Young Belt? You're being crushed there, Caesar. You're still the First Army Marshal there as well, whether you like it or not, whether you admit it or keep pretending it doesn't matter."

It had been quite some time since the True Beginning Empire, the Cradle Empire, and the Grave Empire had all resolved the old issue of soldier numbers. The endless recruitment programs, the genetic reformations, the battle training—all those systems were perfected long ago.

If Caesar truly wanted, he could summon and recruit a billion soldiers without even lifting a finger, and every single one of them would still possess respectable talent and potential. The Empire's name alone was enough to draw armies from the corners of the galaxies.

But the true problem now lay elsewhere. The bottleneck wasn't men anymore—it was military resources, the fleets, the arsenals, the ships that carried empires across the stars!

Even in the endless wars raging across the Young Belt, war fleets remained the most decisive factor of all. What happened in Jura was the most vivid example of this truth... Back then, the First Army had spread across the entire planet, locking down every continent, every ocean, enforcing total control without leaving a single rebel unchecked.

And yet—a single marshal from the Great Serpent Empire, commanding only a handful of warships, had unleashed devastation on a planetary scale. Their unmatched speed and overwhelming destructive power were enough to erase the majority of Jura's cities in a matter of hours.

He only fell at the very end, caught in a perfectly executed military trap designed and personally overseen by Alexander himself. But by then... the damage was irreversible, and the cost—unacceptable.

"...." Caesar exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead as if the weight of dozens of sectors pressed upon it. "We've gathered enough planets—more than enough—to transfer them into Nihari's orbit. The Young Belt no longer requires our focus. It's time we divert our attention to the Middle Belt. That's where the next true expansion must begin."

"That's not what you used to say," Peon replied firmly, shaking his head. "As long as the Father hasn't spoken, don't presume to guess his will. And secondly—didn't he say himself that he plans to plant loyal followers of ours within the Young Belt even after Nihari's ascension? It's obvious he has deeper designs for the Young Sector. So why are you trying to limit that?"

Caesar stayed silent for several seconds. His expression tightened, his gaze unfocused. Then he dropped heavily onto the seat beside him with a faint thump, resting his forehead on the back of his hand, his voice softer.

"...You're right. I let my excitement get ahead of me. I lost sight of Father's greater interests. It's good that you're here to remind me, Peon."

"Always a pleasure, pal." Peon smiled broadly, the kind of confident grin that could ease tension in a war room. "Then, should I begin arranging the withdrawal of our stationed troops from the Northern Tempest Starfield? We only hold thirteen planets there, but those forces could greatly reinforce us once they return."

He sighed deeply before continuing, "At the very least, they could relieve the mounting pressure inside our own starfield. Right now, we can't even rotate the battle units properly or grant the soldiers their rest cycles for consuming temporary Affinity-Boosting Elixirs. The shortage of personnel has thrown every recovery plan into chaos!"

Of course, what he truly meant was the severe lack of Black-Gold Epic Crews—the elite forces whose armor and discipline formed the very heart of the Three Empires' military supremacy.

Even with the full might of the imperial forges working without pause for the last five hundred and forty years, the total number of epic-grade equipment sets—the secret behind their success—remained painfully limited.

If the Empire allocated ten million low-grade epic armor sets, the soldiers wearing them were now stretched thin across more than a hundred open warfronts. Every single day, countless battles erupted, and every day, large numbers of those precious armors were damaged beyond immediate repair.

"No, no—absolutely not, we're not retreating a single step~" Caesar waved dismissively, his tone carrying a reckless sort of pride. "We'll continue as we are. We'll simply stop pulling more equipment from the Young Belt Army's reserves. That's all."

"...?" Peon frowned slightly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What exactly are you planning to do then?"

"Ugh... that's the problem," Caesar muttered, pressing both hands to his head as if trying to squeeze the answer out. "Our profits barely balance our expenses. We've got maybe a hundred million Pearls left in the imperial treasury, no more." He suddenly snapped his fingers, an idea flickering to life. "Contact Theo. See if he can spare at least five hundred million Pearls. We'll use them to buy several second-hand war fleets and some refurbished epic armor sets to supply the newly acquired planets."

"I don't think Theo has that kind of money..." Peon frowned deeper, shaking his head slowly. "He's practically been funding all three empires by himself for the last century. You're asking him to bleed again."

"Just try!!" Caesar barked, waving his hand sharply—but even in his tone, there was little conviction. Deep down, both men knew the truth: even for Caesar, hope was running thin.

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