The Dark Matter Hearing Star Map Draftsman II: Fate of the Galaxy

They say the human heart is made of flesh and blood—but it can also be an invincible black hole, bottomless and insatiable. We crave lives of grandeur and glory, yet in the end, we often realize that the most precious moments are the quiet, unassuming joys we let slip through our fingers. We must acknowledge this bitter truth: when we chase the world’s recognition with all our might, we discover that the world belongs to no one but ourselves—and no one else truly cares.

Jonathan would never understand this. Not now, not ever.

His mind raced, scheming relentlessly: How could he convince Hamilton to hand over the Star Source replica? He would pay any price—even his life—if it meant fulfilling his lifelong ambition of ruling the Galaxy. He yearned to hear the title “Moreth Steader” spoken not as a hollow honorific for a figurehead, but as a testament to genuine power and loyalty.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jonathan said after a long silence. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly around the table, circling from Hamilton’s left to his right. He fixed his gaze on Hamilton’s profile and continued, “I suspect the resources I’ve offered aren’t what you truly desire, sir.”

“Oh?” Hamilton raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with faint curiosity.

“You wouldn’t have brought me here alone if you weren’t already considering letting me wield this device,” Jonathan said, his voice steady and confident. “Otherwise, this conversation would never have happened. But this—this is the work of your life’s blood. I know you must be hesitant to entrust it to anyone. I think I became a candidate because I once wore a genuine Star Source. Today, I’m nothing more than a test subject to verify if this replica works.”

“Is that really what you believe?” Hamilton asked, his tone unreadable.

“I have nothing to hide,” Jonathan declared, stopping directly across from Hamilton. His eyes blazed with raw ambition. “My only goal is to rule the Galaxy. If you intend to make a deal with me for this device, speak plainly. I would trade my life for my dream—so long as I live to see it fulfilled.”

“And what if I demand your life before you achieve your dream?” Hamilton asked, his voice turning cold as ice.

Jonathan froze. He hadn’t anticipated this twist. To die without realizing his ambition—what meaning would that hold? He paced back the way he had come, stopping when he faced Hamilton again. “I think you’ve misunderstood me, sir. I would gladly give my life to realize my dream. But to die for nothing? My life isn’t worth so little.”

“Then how can I trust you to honor our agreement once you wear this device?” Hamilton pressed.

“Once I wear it, what agreement could I possibly break?” Jonathan scoffed. “You know its power. With it, I could conquer the entire Galaxy. I would bring you anything your heart desires—anything.”

“Do you know what I value most about you?” Hamilton asked, leaning back in his chair.

“What?” Jonathan asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Candidates worthy of this device are few and far between,” Hamilton said, his gaze sharp and penetrating. “We searched the Defenders’ Alliance high and low, but found no one suitable. A common man who wears it gains godlike power—but he remains nothing more than a common man. You, however, are different. You were born into nobility, destined to be the Moreth Steader of the Moreth Federation. And most importantly…” Hamilton suddenly burst into a loud, wheezing laugh, a sound like an old man hacking up phlegm from deep within his lungs.

Jonathan didn’t know whether to laugh or not. He simply stood there, waiting. When Hamilton’s laughter finally died down, his face hardened into a look of grim seriousness.

“What I value most about you is this: You, a mere boy, managed to find a genuine Star Source, incite war between the Three Federations, and destroy White Crystal,” Hamilton said, his voice heavy with admiration. “I’ll admit it—I doubt there’s another soul in the Galaxy capable of such a feat. I admire your natural leadership, your ruthless pragmatism when the stakes are high. That’s why you’re the perfect candidate for this device. It was made for someone like you.”

With that, Hamilton reached out and picked up the Star Source replica from the table.

“Sir, the war didn’t bring me any closer to my goal,” Jonathan said, shaking his head.

“That’s precisely what makes you valuable,” Hamilton replied. “You know when to cut your losses and move on. And you’ve gone from being desperate and reckless for this device to calm and collected in such a short time. The ability to master your own emotions—that is a rare quality. Most people would have begged on their knees by now.”

Jonathan bowed slightly, accepting the compliment with a faint smile. He had never dreamed he would hold a device with the power of a Star Source. The information overwhelmed him; he hadn’t even included a Star Source in his long-term plans. Now, he would have to completely overhaul his strategies. He stared at the replica in Hamilton’s hand, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts: It would undoubtedly increase his chances of conquering the Galaxy—but would it kill him, just like the genuine Star Source had nearly done on the Sane ship?

“Do you know why I kidnapped the Star Map Draftsman’s son and kept him by my side?” Hamilton asked, breaking the silence.

Jonathan shook his head.

Hamilton set the replica back down on the table and stepped closer to Jonathan. “The Star Source designed by Datheon is a masterpiece of engineering. It can absorb dark matter automatically, using the Star Map Draftsman’s body as a vessel to convert that energy into whatever form it desires. But our replica—it cannot absorb dark matter. It can only release it. I kept the Star Map Draftsman here to study his genuine Star Source, to unlock its secrets and perfect our replica’s design.”

“Then where does the replica get its energy from, sir?” Jonathan asked.

“The devices you saw outside,” Hamilton replied, nodding toward the door. “The massive pillars we passed first—those are dark matter collectors. The two purple structures? One converts dark matter into usable energy, and the energy tower stores it. That means the replica must be returned to the energy tower to recharge after a period of use. Otherwise, it will be unable to release the power of dark matter.”

“No wonder those massive structures outside didn’t look like they were just for show,” Jonathan muttered.

“Nothing is ever ‘just for show’ in this world, young man,” Hamilton said, a note of bitterness in his voice. “If Madam Winifred hadn’t destroyed that planet, you would have seen the White Crystal forges in all their glory. What a shame.”

“It truly is,” Jonathan agreed. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the replica. “So, sir—if you allow me to wear this device, what is it you want me to do?”

“I don’t care what you do with it,” Hamilton said, his voice ringing with authority. “I only have two demands: First, help me uncover the secret behind the dark matter decline. Second, if the day ever comes when my people and I need your power to survive, you must come to our aid without hesitation.”

“That’s it?” Jonathan asked, unable to believe his ears.

“That’s it,” Hamilton said with a faint smile. He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his chin upward, as if the terms were of little consequence. Jonathan didn’t care who “Hamilton’s people” were. All that mattered was getting his hands on the replica.

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned that this device might harm you, young man?” Hamilton asked, studying his expression.

“I must admit, I forgot to ask,” Jonathan said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

Hamilton shook his head, picked up the replica, and handed it to Jonathan. “It’s completely harmless. That’s what makes it so remarkable.”

“Then why not mass-produce them? If everyone could wear one—”

“Because scarcity is what creates miracles,” Hamilton interrupted sharply. “If everyone had this power, it would become worthless. Besides, we still haven’t solved the problem of making it absorb dark matter on its own. Until then, the replica must be recharged here at the energy tower.”

“I understand, sir,” Jonathan said, clutching the replica tightly in his hands.

“Now, all I can do is wait and hope we find some clues in the Star Map Draftsman’s scan data,” Hamilton said, a touch of regret in his voice.

“Sir, I have a thought,” Jonathan said, gesturing toward the replica on the table. “What if the reason the Star Map Draftsman can absorb dark matter on his own is because of the Datheon’s emissaries?”

“What?” Hamilton asked, his eyes widening in surprise. This was news to him.

“Dawn Lucius—” Jonathan paused, correcting himself. “I mean, the Star Map Draftsman. He was once struck by an energy being on his Sane ship. He fell into a coma afterward. I brought him back to the Moreth Federation, and my mother saved his life. She told me that even though he wears a genuine Star Source, he’s still in a ‘transitional state.’ He needs to be infused with energy by a Datheon emissary one more time to fully become the Star Map Draftsman—to transform from a mortal into an energy being.”

“Datheon emissaries?” Hamilton repeated, the words hanging in the air.

“Datheon emissaries,” Jonathan confirmed firmly.

“Did you see them on that ship?” Hamilton asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Jonathan nodded.

Even though he had been confined to the medical bay at the time, he remembered vividly: two humanoid figures had descended from the walls of the Sane ship. One had injected energy into Dawn Lucius’s chest, causing his entire body to burst into flames. Looking back now, it hadn’t been fire—it had been the Datheon emissary transforming him. But after the first emissary had finished, the second had hesitated instead of delivering the final infusion. Then, both figures had vanished without a trace.

“No—wait,” Jonathan corrected himself. “One of them merged into Dawn Lucius’s body. The other simply disappeared.”

Datheon emissaries must have been humans once, he reasoned—otherwise, they wouldn’t have human forms. But one thing was certain: They were beings composed entirely of energy.

After listening to Jonathan’s explanation, Hamilton nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. For the rest of the night, the two men sat in the laboratory, plotting and planning like old friends reunited after years apart. They talked about their respective ideals, their ambitions, and the future of the Galaxy.

Life is half daylight, half darkness. All we can do is forge ahead in the light and endure the darkness alone.

The day of the hearing finally arrived. Ailven led Dawn Lucius to a designated hovercraft, which sped toward the hearing building. The building complex consisted of three main structures, situated upstream along a blue river. As the hovercraft raced across the water’s surface, Dawn marveled at the massive, exotic plants lining both banks. Near the main buildings, a semicircular bridge arched gracefully over the river—not just a scenic landmark, but a critical structure that stabilized the artificial dams on either side.

“A word of advice,” Ailven whispered, leaning close to Dawn’s ear. “You’re going to pose as my assistant. Don’t say anything unnecessary—just listen. There’s no need to stir up trouble. This isn’t your fight.”

“Then why did Hamilton bring me here?” Dawn whispered back, mimicking Ailven’s hushed tone.

“I don’t know,” Ailven admitted, shaking his head. “Every plan my master makes has a deep, hidden purpose. I’ve never once been able to guess his true intentions since I became his student.”

“Why do you follow him?” Dawn asked.

“Knowledge,” Ailven replied, tapping his temple with a finger. He smiled and narrowed his eyes, as if savoring the thought of all he had learned.

The hovercraft soon arrived at the second building on the right. Following the signs, they entered a grand hall so vast and magnificent it looked like a work of art. Dawn thought to himself that even if a Sane ship performed aerobatic stunts inside, there would still be plenty of room to spare. The entire hall was bathed in a soft, warm yellow light. Massive pillars stretched from the towering circular dome down to the mist-shrouded floor. Each pillar was adorned with a grid of hollow square panels—some glowing with soft light, others housing what appeared to be scientific instruments. On closer inspection, the floor itself was a bridge suspended in midair, like a giant ship floating on a calm sea.

“No one from Solar System civilization could have built this,” Dawn murmured to himself.

“Alright, we need to take another transport here,” Ailven said as they approached the base of the first pillar.

The two men found a shuttle inside the pillar that would take them to the hearing chamber. Only then did Dawn realize the truth: The hollow square panels on the pillars were docking stations for these shuttles. Each pillar was like a self-contained building, housing different branches of the Defenders’ Alliance. The shuttle ride felt like a never-ending roller coaster; Dawn’s stomach churned with nausea. Ailven patted him on the back and gestured for him to disembark. They walked along a wide, flat corridor for a short distance before arriving at a spacious conference room.

In the center of the room, a massive holographic projector displayed a floating virtual figure. The figure had transparent hair that cascaded from an oddly peanut-shaped head down to its waist. Its hands were spread wide at its sides—a gesture that could have been interpreted as either a warm welcome or a dismissive shrug. Surrounding the projector was a circular table with at least fifty seats. More than half of them were already occupied by people wearing a dazzling array of colorful, exotic clothing—a testament to the diverse civilizations they represented. Further away, standing in a circle around the table, was a group of people of all ages dressed in flamboyant, ostentatious outfits and adorned with gaudy accessories. They looked like performers in a bizarre avant-garde show.

“Our seats are in the back,” Ailven said, pointing to the empty chairs behind the virtual figure.

Ailven led Dawn forward quickly. As they passed the circle of standing figures, Dawn realized with a start that they weren’t people at all—they were hyper-realistic statues, presumably erected to honor some of the Alliance’s founding members. The two men’s hurried pace didn’t go unnoticed; the seated delegates stared at them, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled disdain. Ailven smiled apologetically as he walked, but Dawn couldn’t have cared less. This entire affair had nothing to do with him.

“Is everyone here?” The virtual figure’s voice boomed through the room, growing clearer and more distinct. Its peanut-shaped head slowly morphed into a normal human shape, while everything else remained the same.

“Yes, Chairman Layte,” a man seated diagonally across from Ailven replied.

“Good. Let’s start with the Progress Report from the Development Department,” Chairman Layte said, his tone cold and formal. “It’s rare for us all to be gathered in one place like this.”

“Of course, Chairman,” the man said, smiling broadly as he scanned the room. His eyes locked with Dawn’s for a brief moment. He was an older man with short hair and dark, weathered skin, his bright, piercing eyes radiating unwavering resolve.

“Zhou Qing,” Chairman Layte interrupted sharply. His holographic image swiveled to face Ailven and Dawn. “Today’s hearing is focused on the Science Department. We’ll allocate most of our time to them. You may simply update us on the new civilizations that have joined the Defenders’ Alliance. Is that clear?”

“Understood, Chairman. I’ll follow your lead,” Zhou Qing said, still smiling warmly. He swept his gaze across the room once more, pausing when his eyes met Dawn’s. “As of this morning, we’ve welcomed an additional 16 million planets into the Defenders’ Alliance. As always, these civilizations have all reached Level 2 of development and meet our Lifeline Criteria. When the Magellanic Clouds collide with the Galaxy, the impact on these planets will be minimal—”

“That’s enough, Zhou Qing,” Chairman Layte cut him off impatiently. “This growth rate is far too slow. 16 million planets isn’t nearly enough to accommodate the populations of the planets that will be directly in the path of the collision. We need to prepare for mass migrations. You need to figure out how to accelerate the recruitment process.”

“Chairman Layte, the Defenders’ Alliance is only capable of rescuing the populations of Level 2 civilizations,” a plump woman seated next to Zhou Qing spoke up. “We simply don’t have enough habitats to accommodate anyone else.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware of that,” Chairman Layte said, waving a hand dismissively. “Your department’s only responsibility is to ensure an adequate food supply. Leave the rest to us. We divide the work, and we each do our part.” His tone was clearly exasperated—as if this was a conversation they’d had countless times before.

“Zhou Qing, have you considered expanding our recruitment to include Level 1 civilizations?” Chairman Layte asked, his voice taking on a more tentative tone.

“Chairman, we discussed this extensively at the very beginning,” Zhou Qing replied, his smile never wavering. “Level 0 and Level 1 civilizations are incapable of saving themselves. Our current priority is to help Level 2 civilizations survive the collision. We can only save as many lives as possible—we cannot save the entire Galaxy. That is simply the Galaxy’s fate.”

He spoke with the same casual indifference one might use to discuss saving fruit from frost damage—not the fate of billions of lives across the galaxy.

“But the reality is that we’re running out of Level 2 civilizations to recruit,” Chairman Layte argued. “After all these years, we’ve already absorbed nearly every Level 2 civilization located behind the collision front. At this rate, we’ll never gather enough civilizations to form a strong enough coalition to weather the storm. That’s why I’m asking you to consider including Level 1 civilizations.”

“But Chairman—” Zhou Qing began to protest.

“That’s enough, Minister Zhou Qing,” Chairman Layte said, cutting him off before he could finish. “We’ll hold a special hearing to discuss this matter at a later date. You and your team can prepare a feasibility study in the meantime.” He turned his attention to Ailven and said, “Now then, young man. It’s your turn.”

“Thank you, Chairman Layte. Thank you, esteemed ministers,” Ailven began, rising to his feet.

“Why—” Ailven’s words were cut short by Chairman Layte’s sharp interruption. “I must say, I expected Mr. Pepson to be the one presenting today’s report. But I suppose youth has its merits. You certainly have ambition, young man.” A faint smile flickered across Chairman Layte’s face—but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was a smile of condescension, a silent reminder to the Science Department that sending a mere youth to address the Alliance’s highest council was a sign of disrespect. After all, every other person in the room held the rank of minister or higher.

“My apologies, Chairman,” Ailven said quickly, bowing his head in deference.

“One more thing,” Chairman Layte said, cutting him off again. He pointed directly at Dawn and asked, “And who is this? What is your role here?”

Dawn remembered Ailven’s warning clearly: Don’t say anything unnecessary. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Your only goal is to rescue Stacean. He kept his mouth shut, remaining silent.

“Oh, Chairman, he’s—” Ailven began, stepping forward with a nervous smile, eager to answer on Dawn’s behalf.

“I believe I asked him a question, not you, Ailven,” Chairman Layte said, his voice growing colder. Though he didn’t raise his volume, his words carried the weight of absolute authority—commanding respect, or perhaps fear, from everyone in the room. “This is a formal hearing. Remember your place. I am the Chairman here.”

“My apologies, Chairman,” Dawn said, forcing himself to speak. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and replied, “I am Ailven’s assistant. We are both part of the team investigating the decline of dark matter.”

“Ahh—the decline of dark matter,” Chairman Layte repeated, his voice rising sharply with disdain. He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. Dawn didn’t know whether he should continue speaking or not. He glanced at Ailven, who had bowed his head and was pretending to study the data on his personal screen, avoiding all eye contact.

“Yes, Chairman,” Dawn said after a moment’s hesitation. He recalled Hamilton’s instructions clearly: Stick to the facts. Don’t speculate. Don’t overexplain. So he said nothing more.

“The decline of dark matter…” Chairman Layte muttered, as if speaking to himself.

Dawn glanced around the room. Every minister was either staring intently at the data on the table or avoiding Chairman Layte’s gaze, clearly eager to escape being dragged into this discussion. All except Zhou Qing. He watched Dawn with keen interest, his lips slightly parted, as if waiting for him to say more. But Dawn remained silent.

“The decline of dark matter! Ha! Ha!” Chairman Layte scoffed, his laughter echoing hollowly through the room. He glanced around at the assembled delegates—but no one dared to speak. In the vast, silent chamber, the only sound was the collective thumping of nervous hearts—a chaotic cacophony like the pounding hooves of water buffaloes fleeing from a pride of lions on ancient Earth.

When no one else spoke up, Chairman Layte turned his attention back to Dawn, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, young man—how much has dark matter declined?”

“Dark matter levels across the universe are decreasing compared to previous measurements,” Dawn replied cautiously. He hadn’t seen any of the actual data and had no idea of the exact percentage. Ailven, meanwhile, remained frozen in place, still pretending to study his screen, too afraid to offer any assistance.

“Compared to when exactly?” Chairman Layte pressed, his tone sharp and demanding.

“Compared to the data collected before the Three Federations War,” Dawn said. He didn’t know what the correct timeframe was—but mentioning the war on Visadio Planet felt like a safe bet, a significant enough event to serve as a benchmark.

“Are you implying that the war between the Three Federations caused dark matter to decline?” Chairman Layte asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“No!” Dawn replied firmly.

“And how can you be so certain?” Chairman Layte challenged.

“Because the universe is vast beyond comprehension,” Dawn said, struggling to find the right words. “We are nothing more than a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. A single war, no matter how destructive, could never have such a profound impact on the entire universe’s dark matter reserves.”

“That’s nothing but empty rhetoric,” Chairman Layte snapped.

“It’s an objective fact,” Dawn retorted, refusing to back down.

“I think Mr. Pepson has done a poor job of preparing this presentation,” Chairman Layte said, his voice rising with anger. “You claim dark matter is declining—but you can’t tell me by how much, or what the consequences will be. You have no evidence, no conclusions—only a vague assertion that dark matter is decreasing. What possible purpose does this serve? Tell me!”

“True scientists do not act without reason,” Dawn said, his voice steady despite his growing anxiety. “We only report facts and truths. Dark matter is declining—and we must remain vigilant.”

“Scientists? Ha!” Chairman Layte laughed bitterly. His holographic image swept across the room, fixing each delegate with a cold stare before he continued, “Hundreds of years ago, scientists—your scientists, Mr. Pepson’s predecessor’s chief scientist—told us that the Star Map Draftsman of the Orion Arm had vanished. They even went so far as to claim that all Star Map Draftsmen in the Galaxy had disappeared. With no one to destroy newborn stars, dark matter levels were rising. Remember that—rising. This, they warned us, would accelerate the collision between the galaxies. And that is why the Defenders’ Alliance was founded in the first place!”

Chairman Layte’s gaze locked onto Dawn’s, his voice thundering with indignation. “Now, your scientists tell us that dark matter is declining! Is this some kind of sick joke?!”

Dawn glanced at Ailven, panic rising in his chest. He had no idea how to respond. If he said nothing more, he feared the entire hearing would collapse into chaos.

“Well, young man? What do you have to say for yourself?” Chairman Layte demanded, his tone relentless.

“Chairman, we will conduct a thorough investigation and present our findings as soon as possible,” Dawn said, racking his brain for answers. He tried to recall what Hamilton had told Ailven back on Planet Gorov, what plan he had mentioned. But he’d been too distracted at the time, obsessing over Jonathan’s true motives and reeling from Sandra’s departure. His mind had been in complete disarray—and he’d completely missed Hamilton’s instructions. What was the plan? Dawn searched his memory frantically, but came up empty.

Back in the laboratory, Hamilton picked up the Star Source replica solemnly and placed it in Jonathan’s outstretched hands. He stared into Jonathan’s eyes for a long, silent moment—as if he were gazing into a clear spring and he himself were a young boy longing to dive in and swim. Finally, he snapped out of his reverie and said, “Remember this: This device is one of a kind. Never forget our mission.”

“I won’t, sir,” Jonathan said, bowing deeply as he clutched the replica to his chest.

“Good. You may put it on now,” Hamilton said, stepping back and retreating to stand near the door.

“Very well,” Jonathan replied. He turned the replica over in his hands, examining it carefully. The key to his dream was finally within his grasp—but he couldn’t shake the fear that it might unlock a door to something unknown, something dangerous. He wondered if he could find a reason not to wear it. He thought of everyone he had ever cared about, every moment of joy he had ever experienced—but found nothing worth clinging to. Strangely enough, the only memory that came to mind was the first time he had met Dawn Lucius, when Dawn had asked him to convey a father’s love to Stacean. The very thought of “a father’s love” filled Jonathan with revulsion.

He set the replica down on the table and roughly rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. He picked the replica up again, found the perfect angle, and slammed it against his forearm without hesitation. In that moment, the only emotion he felt was pure, unadulterated hatred.

The instant the replica latched onto Jonathan’s arm, his body was flooded with a kaleidoscope of colors—energy bubbles that swirled and collided beneath his skin. Some bubbles annihilated each other upon impact; others merged to form larger, more powerful bubbles that tore at his flesh from within. Each collision sent waves of searing pain coursing through his body, pain so intense it made him wish he were dead.

Slowly, the energy bubbles began to stabilize, their movements growing slower and more deliberate. When they collided now, they neither annihilated nor merged—they simply retreated, making room for one another. They began to rise steadily toward Jonathan’s throat, squeezing past his trachea and surging into his eyes, until every hair on his body stood on end like the sharp spines of a cactus.

Jonathan threw his head back, his screams of agony eventually fading into silent tears that streamed down his cheeks and splattered heavily onto the floor. The energy stabilized further, spreading evenly throughout his body. When he finally stood up straight again, Hamilton stared at him with his mouth agape, unable to speak or even breathe.

Jonathan’s body had turned semi-transparent—even his hair—and his eyes had transformed into two glowing orbs of deep purple. He fixed his gaze on Hamilton, his expression unreadable.

“Moreth Steader—are you alright?” Hamilton asked, his voice trembling with awe and fear. He still didn’t dare to approach.

Jonathan didn’t answer. He just continued to stare at Hamilton, causing the older man to take a step backward in alarm.

Suddenly, Jonathan raised his hands. Two energy balls of different colors swirled to life in his palms. Behind him, beams of purple energy erupted into the air, while smaller tendrils of purple energy coiled around his thighs. He took a slow, deliberate step toward Hamilton. To Hamilton’s eyes, he looked like a monstrous being dragging entire galaxies behind him as he marched through the cosmos.

“Moreth Steader!” Hamilton shouted, his voice echoing through the laboratory.

Jonathan took a few more steps before stopping directly in front of Hamilton. He slowly lowered his hands, clenching them into fists. He turned and walked back to the table, resting his fists on its surface. Gradually, the energy surrounding his body faded, becoming transparent until it vanished completely. He turned to face Hamilton, his chest heaving with exertion.

“Moreth Steader—how are you feeling?” Hamilton asked, finally finding the courage to step forward. He placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, his touch gentle and tentative.

“I think… we’ve succeeded,” Jonathan said, his voice weak and breathless. “I can feel it… I can communicate with energy. I think I’ve finally mastered how to control it.” He struggled to get the words out, unable to speak in full sentences.

“Moreth Steader—we’ve done it,” Hamilton said, his eyes locked onto Jonathan’s. In that moment, Jonathan didn’t notice the tears of joy streaming down Hamilton’s face.

“But… I can’t hold on much longer,” Jonathan said, raising his hands weakly and pointing to his chest.

“Moreth Steader—don’t push yourself. Take it easy,” Hamilton urged, supporting him as his knees buckled. “Rest now. Today, you’ve surpassed every leader who has ever lived. You are destined to become the greatest leader the Orion Arm has ever known.”

Jonathan looked at Hamilton and managed to force a weak smile before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

Back at the hearing, Dawn’s mind raced. He searched his memory desperately for any clue, any hint of the plan Hamilton had mentioned. “We plan to seek external cooperation for our investigation,” he finally said, recalling a fragment of a sentence he’d overheard. “We won’t use any of the Alliance’s resources. Furthermore, the information held by external forces can complement our own data, leading to a more comprehensive understanding of the issue.”

He suddenly remembered the key point Hamilton had emphasized: Chairman Layte cared most about not wasting the Alliance’s resources. But there was something else—something crucial he was missing.

“Resources?” Chairman Layte scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Dawn. “What resources does the Defenders’ Alliance have left to spare these days?”

“Yes, Chairman,” Dawn replied, his mind still racing. He searched his memory again, certain there was another critical detail he had forgotten. Something that Chairman Layte cared about even more than resources.

“What else does Mr. Pepson intend to do?” Chairman Layte pressed.

“I believe—” Zhou Qing suddenly spoke up, cutting Dawn off mid-thought. He turned to Chairman Layte with his usual warm smile, gesturing toward Dawn as he continued, “Mr. Pepson’s plan is to conduct a small-scale, confidential investigation. He has no intention of acting unilaterally. The purpose of today’s hearing is to make that clear to everyone here. This matter should remain restricted to a small group of core scientists. There’s no need to inform the wider public—lest it cause unnecessary misunderstandings and overreactions that could disrupt the Defenders’ Alliance’s normal operations. Isn’t that correct, Chairman Layte?”

Zhou Qing looked at Layte with eager anticipation, waiting for his approval.

“Yes,” Chairman Layte said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “That is precisely the purpose of today’s hearing.”

Ailven still said nothing, his head bowed in silence. Dawn didn’t fully understand what Zhou Qing had just said—but he nodded slowly, pretending to agree.

“Chairman, regarding this matter,” Zhou Qing said, raising his voice slightly to ensure everyone heard him. He glanced at Dawn and continued, “We will convey your decision to the Science Department: The investigation into dark matter decline must remain strictly confidential. No discussions about this matter are permitted in any public forum or on any information media platforms. Once we have our findings, we will first invite all esteemed ministers here today to review them before making any further decisions.”

“Agreed,” Chairman Layte said, looking thoroughly pleased.

Dawn finally understood. He recalled what Hamilton had said: The Defenders’ Alliance had been founded on the premise that rising dark matter levels would accelerate the galaxy collision. If they now publicly announced that dark matter was declining, it would make the Alliance look like it had been built on a lie—like they were contradicting their own founding principles. That was why the investigation had to remain confidential. There was no need for anyone else to know. And once they had their results, they would report directly to Chairman Layte first—thus avoiding any potential blame or backlash that could derail Hamilton’s research into dark matter.

Dawn breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful for Zhou Qing’s timely intervention. He bowed slightly to Zhou Qing and offered him a small, grateful smile. The rest of the hearing proceeded with reports from other departments—but Dawn paid them no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, focused solely on rescuing his son. When the meeting finally adjourned, the delegates filed out of the room, and Dawn followed Ailven out into the corridor.