Ethan fell silent, his calm gaze sweeping over the audience.
He was waiting. Waiting for a tremor of hesitation, a hand raised in protest, or the frantic murmurs of the skeptical. But within the vast hall, there was a vacuum of sound. No one whispered. No one even bothered to flip through the hundreds of pages of legal jargon in the NDAs.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
The only sound was the frantic, rhythmic scratching of pens on paper. It was dense and hurried, like a silent spring rain nourishing the Federation's soil. In less than sixty seconds, thousands of signatures were inked.
General Marcus Zhang looked at the stacks of documents collected by the guards and gave Ethan a heavy, meaningful nod. "Every soul signed. Not a single withdrawal."
"Very good."
A flicker of raw emotion crossed Ethan's eyes before they sharpened into blades.
"Since you are prepared, steady your minds," Ethan commanded. "Because what I am about to show you will dismantle everything you think you know about reality."
Ethan turned and snapped his fingers.
The massive holographic array behind him ignited. There were no complex spreadsheets or logistical charts. Instead, four simple, jagged words burned across the screen in a deep, arterial red:
CONQUERING THE MYRIAD REALMS
A wave of uncontrollable uproar surged through the hall. Even these titans of industry and war couldn't suppress the shock.
"Myriad Realms? Parallel universes?"
"Conquer? Who are we at war with?"
Ethan pressed his hands down, demanding silence. He threw out the next truth like a grenade.
"Recently, I accessed a unique dimensional frequency. I have obtained an independent world—I call it the Astra-MC Dimension. It contains infinite resources and unique physical laws. Most importantly, it houses a Gateway. A portal connecting to endless alternate realities."
The screen flickered, displaying a grainy, horrific feed extracted directly from Ethan's memory. A bruised, purple sky hung over skeletal cityscapes. Below, a roaring, endless tide of corpses surged through the streets. Among them were Mutated Stalkers—beasts of raw muscle that could tear the turret off a main battle tank with their bare hands.
"This is our first objective," Ethan said. "The Necro-Virus Dimension."
The scientists turned pale at the sight of the viral apocalypse. But in the eyes of the generals, a different light ignited—a fierce, predatory hunger.
"That world is a death trap," Ethan admitted, his tone shifting. "However, we possess a mechanical absolute. The Astra world is composed of 'blocks'—a digital-physical hybrid. Within it lies a mechanism: Consciousness Projection."
Ethan looked directly at the gasping generals. "We can use our technology to bridge the minds of our soldiers into the indigenous entities of the Astra world. This means..." He paused, letting the words carry weight. "Our soldiers will deploy as an Undead Legion."
"Their physical bodies will remain safely in stasis here in the base. Their spirits will wage war in the other world. If they 'die' there, they wake up here unharmed, needing only a few days of mental rest before returning to the front."
"An immortal army?" A white-haired general stood up, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Commander, are you saying we can achieve zero casualties?"
"Precisely," Ethan nodded. "But that is why you are here."
The screen changed again, displaying the blocky denizens of the Astra world:
Endermen: Slender, dark-clad shadows capable of short-range teleportation.Iron Golems: Massive, hulking titans of living metal and floral vine.Creepers: Bio-organic demolition units with volatile internal chemistry.Phantoms: Skeletal avian predators that dominate the night skies.
"These are the shells our soldiers will inhabit," Ethan said with a grim smile. "They are powerful and possess extraordinary traits, but they have a fatal flaw: their geometry. They lack the fingers to manipulate modern triggers. Their frames cannot fit into the cockpits of our current tanks. Left alone, they are limited to primitive melee combat."
Ethan's eyes locked onto the defense contractors and engineers.
"I need you. I need the Sentinel Defense Group to manufacture rifles and heavy ordnance designed for blocky appendages. I need Titan Dynamics to overhaul our armor divisions into 'Land Cruisers' that a seven-foot Iron Golem can pilot. I need the Air Force to integrate missile pods onto the wings of Phantoms."
He slammed his hand onto the lectern. "I want these creatures equipped with the Federation's most lethal technology. We will meet that tide of zombies with an Iron Tide of our own."
The atmosphere in the room reached a fever pitch. The engineers, who minutes ago might have laughed at the idea of arming "block monsters," were now possessed by a manic scientific fervor.
"But, Commander," an Academician from the Biology Division called out, his brow furrowed. "Beyond military exercise, what is the ROI? Why expend these resources on a virus-choked wasteland? If it's just for slaughter, the cost-to-benefit ratio—"
"We aren't there to slaughter," Ethan interrupted, his eyes flashing. "We are there to harvest evolution."
He waved his hand, and blurred conceptual schematics appeared.
"The virus in that world is a nightmare, yes, but it contains the ultimate code for biological advancement. That world holds the secret to Bio-Core Cells—batteries that can power our exoskeleton suits indefinitely. More importantly, once we establish a foothold, I intend to synthesize the Aegis-1 Serum from that world's unique rules."
"A gene-agent," Ethan continued, "that can double the physical ceiling of a human being and grant immunity to almost all known terrestrial diseases."
The room went dead silent. Biologists stopped breathing.
A nation of super-soldiers.
"None of this is ours yet," Ethan said coldly, quenching their fanaticism with reality. "It's locked behind that gate, inside the brains of those monsters, woven into the fabric of a dying world. If we don't conquer, we don't grow. If we don't plunder, these remain dreams."
He struck the podium one last time.
"Now, we build. General Staff, begin matching special forces personnel to the biological profiles of the Astra entities. I want to know who is a telepathic assassin, who is a heavy tank, and who is an aerial scout by the end of the hour. Let's get to work."