Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas-Chapter 64 Not ungrateful

Everyone in the chamber nodded slowly and continuously as the Goddess of Judgment listed the full contents of the proposal. The first two points had matched most of their expectations. But the third—the honorary Tier 1 council seat—hit like a thunderclap.

Had they been younger, less composed, or less trained in the art of diplomacy, some might have fallen out of their seats. It was that surprising.

But after hearing the Goddess of Judgment explain that William Velhart’s request had been far too modest given the scale of what he offered, they began to understand. The logic was subtle, but deliberate. This was not mere generosity—it was positioning.

It was a strategic move.

The goddesses weren’t just rewarding him—they were anchoring him to the Federation. If he could casually offer Tier-7 warships and transfer advanced technology, then who knew what else he might have? To form a relationship with him now, before others tried to, was simply smart.

Some council members speculated: perhaps his knowledge extended beyond military tech—maybe into genetic medicine, planetary engineering, or energy fields still unknown to them. In any case, no one voiced any objection. Why would they? The proposal had passed, and more importantly, they saw the larger play unfolding. The Goddesses were ensuring he didn’t remain an outsider.

So they let the Goddess of Judgment continue, without interruption.

The Goddess of Judgment raised her voice again, clear and authoritative.

"The fourth point is this:

Once more, in recognition of Mr. Velhart’s extraordinary contribution, I—along with my two sisters—have decided to grant him a proper starting point:

the star system where he was first discovered, the one in which he conducted reconnaissance for the Red Horizon Fleet.

Without his actions, not only would the fleet have fallen to the Incetoid race, but we might also have lost key rescue operations now active in the Nova Star Systems.

In a very real sense—that system is his to claim.

And so, we have decided to formally grant it to him.

Not as a favor, but as a sign of sincerity. Not generosity—but respect.

It is the bare minimum any grateful Federation should offer someone who has given so much.

We are not an ungrateful people."

Many in the chamber nodded in agreement at the Goddess of Judgment’s words. They understood what was really happening here.

Yes, William Velhart was now technically a new Federation member—but to think of him as "just another citizen" would be foolish. He was something else entirely. A partner, in a sense. A wildcard with enormous potential—and likely influence.

What the Federation was doing now wasn’t just a welcome. It was laying the foundation for future cooperation—possibly even full strategic partnership.

And showing this bare minimum of sincerity, as the Goddess put it, was not only appropriate—it was wise.

Many council members exchanged glances, reading the same unspoken thought in each other’s eyes. The chance that William would soon take the Federation by storm—in a good way—wasn’t just likely. It was inevitable. This was someone who could shift balance sheets, battlefronts, and entire sectors. And when that happened, those who had supported this early would be remembered as allies—not skeptics.

Some even whispered to themselves, almost amused:

"Looks like the Goddesses planned this from the start... hmm..."

The Goddess of Judgment raised her voice again, steady and composed:

"Those were the four provisions concerning Mr. William Velhart. Now, I will address the parts of the proposal that directly impact the Federation."

"First: The advanced technologies provided by Mr. Velhart have already been reviewed and analyzed by myself and my sisters. We confirm that they are compatible with existing Federation infrastructure.

They can be produced using our current resources.

However, it must be noted that their true potential will not be realized immediately, due to a lack of Tier-7 raw materials—a requirement for peak performance of the warships."

She paused, letting the room absorb this.

"That said—this is not a concern for the immediate future. These vessels can be constructed using Tier-6 alloys currently available to us. The result will be a slight loss in structural integrity—but not enough to compromise combat effectiveness. The Tier-7 shield systems alone are more than sufficient to absorb high-intensity assaults.

Some production lines will require light overhauls to adapt to the new schematics, especially in our classified deep-space shipyards. However, these are not extensive upgrades. We estimate all necessary adjustments will be completed within two to three days at most."

"Second," the Goddess of Judgment continued,

"the blueprints of the two Tier-7 warships, along with all the integrated technologies, will be handed over to the Celestial Designers—chosen for their unmatched compatibility with high-tier systems.

Your role is to research and extract breakthroughs from this technology, with the goal of upgrading our current Tier-6 fleet into quasi–Tier-7-class vessels as rapidly as possible.

In parallel, you are also tasked with isolating individual technologies—especially the Tier-7 shielding systems—for development into planetary-scale defense solutions. This should be a relatively achievable goal, given the shielding tech has already been tested and integrated into the ships.

With that, we can begin reinforcing our inner defense grid—ensuring that no external force, no matter how bold, can breach our core systems."

She paused briefly, then moved on.

"Third and finally:

Once our navy has been equipped with enough true Tier-7 or quasi–Tier-7 vessels, your mission will shift. I charge you, the Celestial Designers, with ushering in a new generation of Federation technology.

This next generation must be rooted in Tier-7 advancements—but it must go beyond them, moving toward a new class entirely: Tier-8 or its conceptual precursor, sometimes called prici-lace class systems.

Your job will be to increase not just our military strength, but the internal power of the Federation and its member states across all fields—defense, medicine, logistics, energy, and civil infrastructure.

I understand this process will take time, and that is expected. But you are not to begin this phase until you have fully studied, understood, and mastered the core differences between Tier-7 and Tier-6 technology.

After all," she said with a rare, dry smile, "you cannot innovate from ignorance. And I don’t need to lecture you on that—you are the best at what you."

"After all," the Goddess of Judgment said with a faint smirk, "creation and innovation are your domain. I know better than to tell you how to do your work—but I will point out the direction we intend to take with this technology."

"You don’t have to explain it like that, Goddess of Judgment," one of the Celestial Designers spoke up. "We understood your intent. You meant well—and none of us took offense."

The other 27 Designers reacted in their own subtle ways. Some rolled their shoulders with a casual ease, a few voiced agreement, and many simply nodded. But their expressions said it all—they were pleased.

For creators like them, praise for their skill was never something they outgrew. No matter how old or accomplished, recognition fed their drive. To have their role publicly acknowledged by one of the Goddesses wasn’t just flattering—it was energizing.

Meanwhile, the Grand Admirals were nearly glowing with satisfaction.

The first two points of the Federation-facing side of the proposal were, to them, pure power. The coming upgrades would transform their fleet, enhancing both firepower and survivability. And judging by the tone and urgency in the Goddesses’ words, these changes wouldn’t take months—they’d arrive soon.

Just imagining it made their blood stir.

A few couldn’t suppress the wide, unhinged grins forming on their faces. Battle-hardened veterans, barely hiding the thrill they felt at the thought of what was to come. With Tier-7 tech in their hands, they could finally crush the Servance Alliance and reclaim the territories under dispute. The idea of pushing back their ancient rivals—and doing it with overwhelming force—made them almost tremble with anticipation.

Their bloodlust was clear in their eyes.

Their expressions didn’t go unnoticed.

Many across the chamber exchanged uneasy glances. Lips twisted in discomfort. A few even shifted in their seats. But none looked more unnerved than the 24 council members who had voted against the proposal.

They sat stiffly, visibly sweating.

Several of them glanced toward the Grand Admirals’ section—and immediately looked away. Their faces had gone pale. Their hands trembled. Their throats were dry as they gulped in dread, again and again.

Even though the bloodlust radiating from the Grand Admirals wasn’t aimed at anyone in the room, the sheer intensity of it was impossible to ignore. Instincts kicked in.

Many council members found themselves shivering, unable to fully suppress the primal unease that gripped them.

A few of the bolder members nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity of it—but had to fight hard to keep their composure. Still, not all succeeded. Some smirked. Others snorted under their breath. And a handful couldn’t help but chuckle outright, earning sharp looks from those around them.

The reaction only made the 24 dissenting councilors squirm harder in their seats, their faces burning with humiliation—not just from their failed stance in the vote, but now from being openly pitied or mocked.