Counterattack [Interstellar] - Chapter 5

Ten years later, the Evda Palace on the Home Star.

“Your Majesty.” The Master of Ceremonies bowed slightly. “His Royal Highness the Crown Prince requests an audience.”

Emperor Austen stood before the floor-to-ceiling window. His burly frame blocked much of the sunlight, making the already cramped study appear even darker. Thinking of the string of accidents over the past few days, the official felt a twinge of fear. After a few seconds of silence, he repeated his words. Austen, as if he had seen enough of the scenery, turned around and gave a slight nod. The official withdrew, and shortly after, Anthony slowly walked in.

Anthony looked at Austen with an uneasy expression. He took several deep breaths before stepping forward to bow. “Your Majesty.”

Austen’s giant lion Quantum Beast suddenly opened its eyes and let out a yawn. Anthony’s red lynx reacted as if it had been pricked by a needle, scurrying behind its master and no longer daring to curry favor with the lion as it usually did.

“Is this the Crown Prince of our Empire?” Austen sized Anthony up coldly, his voice sharp with reprimand. “Look at your soul-crushing state! I began to wonder if the Parliament had already submitted a motion for your impeachment! Where is your courage?! Where is your responsibility as Crown Prince?! Is your idea of crisis management simply to act pitiful?! As a politician, if you cannot even steady your own heart, how do you expect to soothe the hearts of the people who support you?! If you can’t even convince yourself, how will you persuade your citizens to believe in you?!”

Anthony was left speechless by Austen’s scolding. After a long while, he choked out, “I am very, very sorry to have disappointed you. I truly didn’t expect things to turn out this way. I…”

Hearing this, Austen’s headache worsened. In truth, this incident wasn’t entirely Anthony’s fault; even if Anthony had been a bit too hasty, it was forgivable. He was still young, and making mistakes was as common as eating. What infuriated Austen most was Anthony’s weakness. A mistake is a mistake! As the Crown Prince, he couldn’t even withstand this small of a blow!

In a trance, Austen suddenly remembered his second son. That year, he had hardened his heart to exile Allen. Many people had come to plead for mercy, but even at the very end, Allen had never said a single soft word to him. Austen still remembered it—Allen, only fourteen at the time, had said one final thing to him: “Just you wait; time will give you the loudest slap in the face.”

Although those words had nearly triggered Austen’s Mania at the time, he had to admit that, compared to the docile Crown Prince before him, he actually preferred Allen’s character. Standing at the highest point of the Empire, one could not survive without a steadfast heart. If it came down to sheer mental grit, ten Anthonys would be no match for Allen. It was just a pity…

Austen sat down wearily. After a moment of silence, he said coldly, “You were too impatient this time.”

Seeing that Austen’s tone was no longer as harsh as before, Anthony felt much more at ease. He nodded quickly. “Yes… I handled the matter too carelessly.”

Ten years had passed. A new round of statistics showed that the ratio of Guides to Sentinels in the Empire had shifted from 1:1,000 to 1:1,007. When the figures were released publicly, the Parliament had blurred the numbers again, changing “1:1,000” in promotional materials to “nearly 1:1,000.” Naturally, this kind of ostrich-like deception could fool the kind and tolerant masses, but it couldn’t fool the leadership.

As early as six months ago, the Parliament had been discussing countermeasures. Like Austen, Anthony was an absolute supporter of the Guide Allocation System. Only half a month ago, Anthony had submitted a proposal to change the existing “Blind Date System” to a “Direct Allocation System,” which would more effectively increase the pairing rate between Sentinels and Guides.

The Blind Date System was a vestige of the war era. Every season, the “White Tower” would hold a matchmaking ball lasting seven days. Graduating Guides and Sentinels who had received Imperial approval to participate would meet and fall in love during those seven days, leaving the White Tower together on the eighth day.

The ratio of Sentinels to Guides at these events was 3:1, so to some extent, Guides still had a degree of choice. This was the primary weapon the Parliament used to silence human rights activists. Anthony’s “Allocation System,” however, broke this tradition. His suggestion was to conduct a screening before the matchmaking to ensure that the compatibility between the paired Sentinel and Guide was above 90%.

There was theoretical support for this. Data showed that the combat capability of pairs with compatibility over 80% was far higher than those below it. Furthermore, the probability of “Special Ability” offspring from pairs with over 90% compatibility was 20% higher than those below that threshold.

Simply put, under the Allocation System, the overall combat power of Sentinels who received a Guide would be greatly enhanced, and the proportion of Guides among their descendants would also increase significantly. Anthony had even had experts project the ratio of Guides to Sentinels ten, fifty, and one hundred years after the implementation of this rule. Naturally, the data in the ideal state was incredibly promising. Anthony believed that with this method of distribution, the ratio would eventually balance out.

Unlike Anthony’s initial enthusiasm, Austen had always held reservations. Aside from a few radical members in Parliament, most others had remained silent. But just a week ago, this proposal—which had not passed a single stage of the Parliamentary audit—was suddenly leaked, causing an immediate uproar among the public.

Human rights activists, anti-Empire organizations, and Guide Rights Associations all stepped forward to condemn Crown Prince Anthony’s “anti-human” behavior. Austen himself did not respond, only directing the Parliament to issue a statement claiming the “Allocation System” was merely a preliminary concept with no plans for implementation, and that it hadn’t even been proposed by Anthony, but rather drafted by an official in the Crown Prince’s palace.

The Parliament tried desperately to suppress the matter, but “the tree craves peace, yet the wind will not subside.” An anonymous user on an internet forum suddenly revealed that the matchmaking balls over the last few years had already been implementing a disguised allocation system; the innocent Guides simply didn’t know their “blind dates” had been pre-screened. This revelation added fuel to the fire, turning all previous explanations into proof that the Parliament and the Royal Family were mocking the people.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back was a tragedy within the White Tower a few days ago.

While the outside world was in turmoil, a nineteen-year-old Guide in the White Tower quietly ended his own life.

This Guide had awakened at fifteen. Before that, he already had a childhood sweetheart who was a Sentinel. That poor Sentinel had nearly collapsed when his lover was taken away. For the sake of a glimmer of hope, the Sentinel had volunteered for the front lines. After four years of bloody combat, he finally achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel—the minimum threshold to earn matchmaking rights.

Everything was moving in a positive direction until the Guide heard about the “Allocation System” and fell into total despair. Having grown up with his lover, he knew better than anyone that their compatibility was less than 30%.

On the night he learned the news, the Guide used a stolen syringe to inject air into his carotid artery, leaving a suicide note. He would rather end it himself than become a machine for a stranger in the future. The very next day, the Sentinel who had been waiting so bitterly for the matchmaking season received news of his lover’s death. He took the photon gun he had used to kill countless enemies and fired a single shot into his own temple.

The situation Austen had barely managed to stabilize was instantly thrown back into chaos.

The suicide of a submissive Guide and the betrayal of a Sentinel general who had fought in the borderlands ignited the long-smoldering resentment in the hearts of the people. Countless denunciations appeared online, and the streets were filled with protesters. The Parliament’s efforts were fruitless. After several nights of nightmares, Anthony’s mental state was at its lowest. He was accidentally photographed while out, and when his haggard, defeated face appeared online, the public’s anger found its focal point: the source of everything was this anti-human Crown Prince!

A barrage of negative reports about Anthony followed, from his status as an illegitimate son to his various scandals over the years. Reporters dug through every detail, stripping his reputation bare.

After condemning Anthony for several days, the public’s focus returned to the Guides. Why should they accept such inhuman treatment? The Empire called it “protection,” but had the Guides truly been protected over the years? Or had they simply become tools for the Empire to win over and control the upper class? Moreover, the “Allocation System” claimed to maximize benefits, but who knew what corruption lay within? It wouldn’t be impossible for someone to bribe officials to secure a Guide with pure bloodlines, strong mental power, and a prominent family background.

Anthony, having endured days of public vitriol, no longer had his usual composure. Thinking of the students protesting at his palace gates, he was nearly driven mad. “I hope you can believe me, I never had a shred of selfishness… the proportion of Guides among Special Ability users is decreasing every year. I was anxious… I did it for the Empire, I…”

Austen closed his eyes and nodded. “I believe you.”

“Thank you… Your Majesty.” Receiving his father’s affirmation made Anthony feel better. He continued, “I mean… we should increase the intensity of censorship now. We can’t let these false rumors spread wildly online…”

“Blocking is not as good as channeling. We must let everyone vent their dissatisfaction. Besides, these are small matters—just a few insults! Years ago, when I mismanaged a command and bore the weight of tens of thousands of lives, the attacks I faced were far more severe than yours! I survived them!” Austen interrupted Anthony coldly. “And your focus is wrong! Right now, what you should be most worried about is the morale of the soldiers!”

Anthony froze, then realization dawned on him, and his face turned pale. Austen let out a long sigh. No matter how one looked at it, that suicidal Sentinel was a source of massive negative energy. With that precedent, the soldiers would inevitably feel discouraged, believing all their efforts were worthless. If the army lost faith in the Empire, the consequences would be something even Austen could not predict.

“Don’t show your face for a few days. I will handle the rest.” Austen looked at Anthony and said solemnly, “Show some kingly grace, Your Royal Highness.”

Hearing this, Anthony’s eyes suddenly turned red for no reason. After a moment of silence, he bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Anthony left. Austen sat in his chair for a long time, rubbing his face tiredly. To resolve the current crisis, the capital perhaps needed a bit of fresh blood and a positive topic of conversation.

Austen suddenly remembered what Allen had said to him ten years ago. He gave a bitter smile; that slap in the face truly was painful.

On distant Planet Apollo, Prince Allen—now nearly twenty-four years old—finished reading the letter from the Emperor with a beaming smile. The Master of Ceremonies couldn’t take his eyes off the handsome Prince and involuntarily smiled along. “Your Highness, is there some good news?”

Allen casually tossed the communicator aside, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. “His Majesty the Emperor believes my health has fully recovered. I can return to the Home Star.”

Beside Allen’s leg, a five-meter-long taipan snake suddenly flicked its blood-red tongue.