Stars See Me [Interstellar] | Chapter 27 | The Blades of the Old World | Novela.app

Chapter 27 - The Blades of the Old World In the boundless reaches of the cosmos, the metrics of distance and time that govern ordinary life dwindle into insignificance. Lei Ting sat cross-legged upon the deck before eventually reclining, his hands pillowed behind his head. Above him, two small fragments of metallic calcium drifted, shifting through a series of fluid transformations under the silent command of his will. They morphed from various geometric solids into intricate silhouettes of people, animals, and plants—some of which were half-remembered echoes of classical Earth artworks, rendered with a slight, alien distortion. Finally, the shimmering silver light coalesced into a perfect ring, encircling the distant stargate within its metallic frame. Through that makeshift aperture, he watched as the gate slowly expanded to encompass their entire world. The transition was a languid affair. When *The Sun* resumed its voyage from a state of suspension, the process of accelerating from zero to full cruising speed took a staggering hour and fifteen minutes. “It’s an old-model transport vessel, after all,” Sandro remarked, lying beside Susanna as he watched the monumental halo of light draw near. “The acceleration isn’t exactly breakneck.” “It’s fast enough,” Lei Ting murmured softly. A cerulean radiance gradually consumed them—effortless and silent. In the vacuum of space, sound found no medium; within the confines of the ship's spherical barrier, the cadets heard nothing. Even if sound could travel through the void, the mechanical structures maintaining the stargate’s stability were over half a planetary diameter away. Had they been close enough to hear the hum of such titanic machinery, the sonic vibrations would have likely liquified the brains of any crew members on board. A field of stars lay before the gate, and another lay behind. To the naked eye, it seemed as though nothing had changed, yet everything felt fundamentally different. “If you were to peer through an astronomical telescope before entering and then again after exiting, you’d find the results to be worlds apart,” Sandro noted with a sigh of wonder. Lei Ting gazed into the distance. Even without instruments, the shift in perspective was palpable. This single stargate spanned countless systems; had humanity attempted to explore this distance conventionally, leapfrogging from one star to the next, it would have taken ten thousand years to behold the constellations of this sector. The stars were eternal, yet what they saw now might only be the ghostly afterimages of celestial bodies that had perished eons ago. As the youths lay there, the usual banter and friction of academy life seemed to evaporate. Beneath the vastness of the firmament, personal grievances felt soothed by a sudden, crushing sense of scale. How long could a single human exist? Could their entire lifespan match even a single breath of the revolving heavens? If not, why squander precious moments agonizing over trivialities destined to be forgotten within a decade? Even now, the electromagnetic radiation anomalies at the galaxy’s edge persist—a lingering echo of the battlefields where the Galactic Empire clashed with extragalactic entities during the Second Total War centuries ago. Back then, monumental fleets warped through spacetime guided by force-field beacons, or charted long, straight courses through regions where jumping was forbidden, carving enduring redshift scars into the fabric of the universe. What the people of this new era beheld when they gazed into the deep was still the glint of the old world’s blades. This was the universe: grand, ungovernable, ever-changing, yet possessing a memory that never faded. Though his memories of his previous life had grown hazy, Lei Ting could still faintly recall the feeling of looking up at the stars from the surface of a planet. Now, he was among them, lying upon the cold, solid hull of a massive starship. Protected by an ethereal energy shield, he experienced a moment of profound clarity, realizing with absolute certainty that he was sailing across the Milky Way. Beneath the majesty of the cosmos, he felt like a solitary mote of dust. It was a sensation that compelled even the most boisterous teenager to embrace a fleeting moment of silence. At some point, someone nearby began to hum. It started as a few casual notes, followed by light laughter and the melody of a popular Star-Net hit, before dissolving into a cacophony of off-key wailing that could only be described as a contest of tonal discord. Lei Ting couldn't quite grasp the lyrics, but he wasn't the only one. No one seemed to mind; they simply joined in, howling along in a shared, tuneless joy. Several people were sprawled out near Lei Ting, with Sandro and Lucas Kang being the closest. Sandro was busy teasing his perpetually annoyed childhood friend, while Lucas seemed lost in thought, his spirit seemingly adrift among the stars. After a long silence, Lucas suddenly spoke in a hushed tone. “...Lei Ting?” “Yeah?” Lei Ting grunted in response. “You...” Lucas hesitated, then asked, “What have you been doing lately? I mean... what kind of books are you reading?” Lei Ting’s mind drifted for a second, contemplating the sheer scale of the information he had consumed. Filtering out the volumes he had already finished, he replied, “I’m halfway through *Theories of Major Engagements*.” “...” Lucas was stunned, the words dying in his throat. “...What?” “After that, I’ll probably move on to *An Introduction to Conventional Spacecraft Maintenance*,” Lei Ting added. This time, it was Lucas whose mind felt like it was experiencing a cosmic reboot. After a long pause, he whispered, “Why... why do you work so hard?” “What do you mean?” Lei Ting blinked, genuinely confused by the question. Lucas took a deep breath, as if summoning his courage. “I mean... why the effort? Lei Ting, with your innate potential, you could easily become a favored guest of the Federation—or even the Galactic Core—simply by letting your abilities grow naturally.” The 'Galactic Core' referred to the central headquarters of the Galactic Union. It was rumored to be an artificial Ringworld encircling the galactic center, constructed by an ancient civilization. With a diameter of roughly thirty thousand light-years, one could stand on the inner rim and witness the churning activity of the galactic heart itself. That heart was a sphere of countless red stars, billions of years old, emitting radiation and energy of terrifying proportions—yet the Ringworld stood defiant, perfectly shielding its inhabitants from the onslaught. No one knew what kind of transcendent beings had built such a marvel, or where that great civilization had vanished to. By all logic, as a 'Double S' ranker, Lei Ting only needed to mature normally to surpass the vast majority of Orion humanity and secure his place in the history books. In truth, the moment his rank was confirmed, his name had already been etched into the annals of the academy. Lucas couldn't fathom why Lei Ting chose to bury himself in books and grueling training under such gifted circumstances. Only a month had passed since the start of the semester, yet the entire ship knew Lei Ting was constantly sporting new bruises. Was it normal? Was it worth it? The first semester was supposed to be dedicated entirely to theory; combat practice wasn't even on the curriculum until the second half of the year. Lei Ting’s response was simple. “Then why *shouldn't* I work hard?” he asked curiously. “Since I have this foundation, wouldn't it be a waste not to push it to its full potential?” Lucas stared at the stars, blinking. “But you could choose an easier path. Just like back then... you didn't have to save those people.” Lei Ting smiled. It was true; he could choose to coast, or even take a passive stance toward the 'future' and 'destiny.' After all, the disasters of the future would surely be resolved by some 'protagonist' of fate. But why? Why should he force himself to stop growing and become a 'salted fish' when he didn't actually mind the hard work? Effort wasn't just meaningless competition; he had his reasons. It was only natural for a person to strive for their own future. “It’s just my personality, I suppose. I don't want to face a tidal wave in the future with nothing but a surfboard,” Lei Ting said in a mild tone. “At the very least—and I do mean the absolute minimum—I want to be a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier.” Lucas, who had grown up in the planetary cities of the interstellar age and had only seen oceans on the Star-Net, was momentarily speechless. After a moment, he whispered, “Your metaphors... they’re so classical.” “Ha! Didn't you know?” Sandro, who had been eavesdropping, chimed in with a laugh. “This guy is a certified Revivalist!” Lei Ting’s mouth twitched. He felt a genuine wave of cringe at the label. His reaction drew laughter from those around him, and the sound rippled outward. Others further down the deck didn't know what the joke was, but laughter was infectious. Soon, the entire deck was filled with the sound of students and merchants laughing together, their voices trailing off into the deep space behind the massive vessel. Once *The Sun* had put sufficient distance between itself and the stargate, the 'beeping' of personal terminals signaled that the mandatory communication blackout had ended. The external optical units began to reboot one after another. On the bridge, red warning lines flickered to life, signaling for those in the observation areas to clear the zone. A gentle repulsive field expanded, nudging those who were slow to move toward the safety zones. The laughter died down as the cadets stood up, preparing to return to their routines. Lei Ting stood and glanced back one last time. As expected, the lights on the far side of the stargate had shifted to form a new set of words: ‘Roman Empire.’ Lei Ting smiled, gazing at those two words as the surrounding structures of the ship's interior began to rise and enclose the deck once more. He lowered his gaze to the crowd. Tens of thousands of people were gathered in the plaza, a sea of striking faces. After countless generations of genetic optimization, the 'original' humans of Earth no longer existed. Everyone here was an evolved, miraculous species whose internal structures differed significantly from their ancestors. The Orionids had spent centuries refining their genome, and the most obvious result was that their appearance now perfectly aligned with the aesthetic standards of their race. Based on the mixed-blood heritage of the 'Earth-blood' lineages from the war eras, the average Orionid was, at the very least, conventionally attractive. Some were so exceptionally gifted by birth that their beauty alone could shatter a person's psychological defenses, inspiring a loyalty that bordered on the fanatical. Consequently, the laws of the Orion Human Federation strictly forbade individuals from altering their basic facial features. In an age where changing one's face was easier than eating a meal, unauthorized cosmetic modification was a serious criminal offense, given its potential to facilitate major security breaches. Furthermore, barring rare developmental disorders, almost everyone reached a minimum height of 1.7 meters upon reaching maturity. The average height hovered around 1.8 meters, while Alphas reached an intimidating average of over 1.9 meters. Thinking of this, Lei Ting realized that based on height alone, Valen really did look like an Alpha... *Wait... why am I thinking about Valen again?!* Lei Ting frowned and shook his head, rubbing his temples as he turned toward the dormitories with his friends. Tomorrow was his first machine test. He needed to rest and ensure he met the evaluation standards on his first try. While such a feat might be a pipe dream for others, he had to succeed... otherwise, the jerks in the Logistics Department would never let him hear the end of it.