“It’s time. We take our first step; a giant leap for our civilization.”

  A spaceship, 700 meters long, docked beside a small asteroid factory. The ship resembled a tailless whale; its upper half was slightly curved, while its lower half was significantly larger, resembling a boat if placed in water.

  But this was a spaceship, weighing 740,000 tons, with cutting-edge technology.

  A being, similar in height to a human but with a slender, bamboo-like body and stick-like limbs, gazed joyfully at this masterpiece of its civilization.

  Turning its head, it could see its planetary birthplace.

  A planet only 87% the mass of Mars, with a thin atmosphere and a surface covered in ice. Its orbital period around its star was approximately 417 Earth days; only during 78 Earth days of each orbit, when its elliptical orbit brought it closer to the star, did the surface ice melt.

  On such a harsh planet, their civilization arose.

  How remarkable.

  “If civilizations can arise on planets like ours, the universe should be teeming with them. Yet, in our civilization’s recorded history of 14,000 cycles (approximately 16,000 years), there are no accurate records of extraterrestrial life. Does this mean our civilization is extremely advanced?”

  Every civilization asks this question.

  From the Federation's higher perspective, it's clear why many civilizations in their early stages don't encounter extraterrestrial civilizations: the universe is vast, and the space a civilization can occupy is limited.

  Also, the conditions for the emergence of more advanced civilizations are more stringent.

  Civilizations like the Olive Branch Civilization, the Filament Civilization, and the Federation took tens or hundreds of thousands of years to reach the mid-range of Type 2 civilizations.

  To become stronger requires another million years, or even several million.

  In the Federation's theoretical model, the typical development time for a Type 3 civilization is 30 to 40 million years; faster development might take 10 to 20 million years, but with several technological explosions, at least 5 million years are needed.

  While not long compared to the age of the universe, it's certainly not short.

  Considering the time from the emergence of the simplest life to intelligent, advanced life on a planet, and factoring in the destruction and disintegration of civilizations, the frequency of Type 3 and higher civilizations becomes extremely variable.

  However, this perspective is only possible from a higher vantage point.

  “We have completely mastered our home planet and begun developing nearby planets, utilizing our star for energy.”

  “Now, we hope to take our first step, to conduct interstellar colonization. This is a great endeavor; we are entering the true space age.”

  Conducting interstellar exploration in the early stages of space travel is both foolish and brilliant.

  If there are no other civilizations nearby, this approach will undoubtedly lead to rapid technological advancement and increased resource extraction.

  Most of a star system's matter is in its star; over 90% of the matter outside the star is within planets. The resources available on planetary surfaces and asteroids represent only a fraction of a percent of a star system's total matter.

  And a significant portion of this fraction consists of silicon, carbon, and other abundant but relatively less useful elements for lower-level civilizations.

  These materials are useful for construction but not for spacecraft or energy equipment.

  Therefore, the resources of a star system are limited, especially given that most stars in the universe are red dwarfs.

  “Ignite!”

  The civilization’s leader gestured with six arms.

  The spaceship ignited its engines. The stabilizing manipulator arms released; the ship began to accelerate.

  The initial acceleration wasn't self-propelled but achieved through rear-mounted boosters, like a rocket. After the fuel was depleted, these boosters detached. This process involved three stages of boosters, finally using the ship's own engines for the final acceleration phase.

  After three days, the ship reached an incredible speed of 241.75 km/s.

  The nearest star system, 3.39 light-years away, was slightly larger than theirs; its primary star was 27% more massive than their home star, and it had four planets, including two gas giants.

  An ideal location.

  The journey would take 4000 years.

  The mission itself was controversial; most believed that if they developed for another 1000 years, they could build a faster ship, making this first voyage a waste of resources.

  But like other technological advancements, most people didn't know how many failures preceded the successful product. No technological breakthrough happens overnight; pioneers are needed to collect data.

  All scientists knew this mission wasn't about the destination but the journey, a symbolic gesture, a testament to a civilization’s hope.

  Without something to aim for, who would believe it was possible?

  This was its burden.

  The ship was officially named “Departure,” signifying not only the ship's journey but the civilization’s.

  After 134 years, the ship left the star system and entered deep space.

  This moment was worthy of celebration.

  The generation that originally saw the ship launch was long dead; a new generation inherited their legacy and witnessed this moment.

  However, 482 years later, the civilization lost contact with the Departure.

  The crew aboard the Departure, thawed from cryosleep by the ship’s warning system, discovered a significant navigational error. High-energy particles had bombarded the ship, causing malfunctions in the computer systems.

  Over a thousand lifeforms frantically worked to repair the ship and correct the course.

  After 29 days, the ship’s radar detected a rapidly approaching object—faster than any asteroid previously observed, and immense in size.

  Within days, the object approached.

  The lifeforms abandoned their instruments and observed it directly through powerful telescopes.

  Then, they witnessed an unforgettable sight.

  A gigantic creature, initially small, grew larger than the surrounding starlight within moments. Its details became visible to the naked eye; it grew to the size of a moon, then, within two hours, filled their entire field of vision.

  They abandoned the telescopes and looked through the ship's windows.

  A colossal, dark creature passed before their ship like a planet flashing by. Each fissure on its surface could conceal their ship; each rivet was heavier than their vessel. Its massive cannons could house entire cities—and those were just minor weapons on its hull; thousands were visible on its surface.

  “A civilization. A powerful, advanced civilization.”

  The crew trembled; they couldn't even stand, falling to the floor.

  But it wasn't over.

  More signals appeared on the radar.

  These were bio-ships, each smaller than the previous one but still incredibly large; a single protrusion on one could accommodate several Departures.

  How powerful was this civilization?

  How insignificant and ridiculous their own civilization seemed in comparison!

  At that moment, all hope and faith in their civilization's future vanished from the crew of the Departure.

  ...

  “That ship that passed wasn’t from the Federation.”

  Ayla reminded her from aboard Kunlun.

  The previous argument hadn't reached a decisive conclusion; both sides had compromised.

  For Luna, arguments weren't unacceptable; she wasn't a dictator; she welcomed dissenting opinions, provided they could persuade her. Clearly, Ayla hadn't managed to do so.

  In Luna's view, Ayla’s failure stemmed from excessive emotionalization, an inability to approach the situation with impartial logic.

  This meant Ayla had become fully lifelike.

  And Ayla's emotionalization didn't cause her to dislike Luna; she was delighted that she could debate with her. This meant Luna no longer viewed her as a machine but as a lifeform, even a person.

  While Luna hadn’t viewed her mechanically, both implicitly understood how each other saw them.

  Through their arguments, the barrier between them lessened.

  Thus, the focus shifted from the Olive Branch Civilization to their argument.

  Luna wished Ayla would be more serious, but Ayla enjoyed their disputes and persisted, deliberately provoking Luna.

  Once Luna understood the reason, she remained silent.

  Years had passed since the argument, and it wasn't revisited.

  Kunlun was underway, but now as a lone warship. Luna needed to rapidly strengthen the Federation, not relying solely on Chu.

  Kunlun's mission was simple: find high-mass stars, build factories, and produce more warships.

  Instead of putting all eggs in one basket (the Tau Ceti Sector, the Alpha Eridani Sector, and the Silk Road Sector), the Federation needed a fourth sector.

  With increased warship speed, interstellar travel became easier; even a distance of 100 light-years would take only a few hundred years.

  Kunlun was en route to Rigel A.

  As a massive blue supergiant, Rigel A was crucial to the black hole project. Creating a black hole would take a long time, but preparations had to start now; it wouldn't materialize instantly.

  Luna planned to develop Rigel A and surrounding star systems for the future black hole project, opening up routes to the Orion Nebula.

  Interstellar routes also needed development, clearing asteroids and establishing supply stations, much like building roads on land.

  Due to the black hole project, Luna also intended to make this region the future core of the Federation.

  Alpha Eridani would remain the capital, but Ayla’s core would be relocated here.

  Alpha Eridani has abundant energy, but not as much as a blue supergiant, nor as much as a future black hole.

  It's also relatively far from other civilizations; the Federation takes over 800 light-years to reach Rigel A, the journey exceeding 6000 years. It's an ideal refuge from the war with the Olive Branch Civilization.

  However, Luna didn't expect to encounter a new civilization so early in the journey.

  “Are you certain?”

  Ayla confirmed with certainty.

  “These ships are very primitive, likely built by a Type 1 or 1.1 civilization. Even the poorest spaceship company in the Federation couldn’t produce such junk.”

  The Departure was actually comparable to Luna's flagship, the Hope, with only minor differences in size; the technological gap wasn't that significant.

  But now, such ships were considered junk in the Federation.

  Even the scrap engines from Federation junkyards—the lowest-grade, combined energy generation, propulsion, and weapon systems—could propel ships to at least 20,000 km/s, power the ship’s computers, providing sufficient processing power for all systems, enabling superior autonomous control, and supplying excess energy to weapons systems.

  Based on Luna's knowledge of the Tau Ceti Sector, Federation explorers had begun DIY spaceship construction. Ships were customized at all levels, down to individual components. Many used scrap parts from junkyards to assemble their own ships; there were even spaceship art exhibitions, with the annual top prize-winning ship being recorded, and the winner receiving 100,000 Energy Credits.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “So it seems this is a civilization newly entering the space age.”

  “This location is slightly off the route from the Federation to the Orion Nebula, so they're fortunate; they weren't affected by the war thousands of years ago.”

  While the war destroyed fewer than 30 stars, over 200 stars were indirectly affected. Some were merely hit by stray projectiles. Even if these projectiles had minimal direct impact, they caused solar flares, potentially raising the average atmospheric temperature on habitable planets by tens of degrees, causing mass extinctions.

  A Type 1 civilization, even if developing slowly, would have been around Type 0.5 thousands of years ago.

  “There’s no need to integrate them into the Federation yet; let them interact with the Federation organically.”

  “Perhaps we can select a lifeform to implement the Protagonist Plan, provide them with a system, and accelerate their development.”

  The Federation doesn't have a strong need for lower-level civilizations. The Federation already has rich biological diversity; more wouldn't make much difference unless it’s a Type 2 civilization, which could bring change.

  Type 1 civilizations will inevitably be absorbed by the Federation, losing their identity.

  But then again, a Type 1 civilization’s identity isn't particularly useful.

  Luna had once wanted to integrate more civilizations to offer the Federation more possibilities, but she realized that lower-level civilizations have limited energy utilization methods. They primarily offer cultural diversity, not technological advancements; thus, the Federation doesn't need them.

  Civilizations typically develop more diverse paths after reaching Type 2.

  Luna’s order was casual, but the Departure civilization's future was predetermined.

  “How do you plan to develop the Rigel A Sector? Dyson sphere?” Ayla asked.

  Luna pondered, then shook her head.

  “No, I plan to develop gravitational technologies there, creating a Tilted Station-style model. Stellar energy is too limiting.”

  She had already decided.

  While it wouldn't be a Dyson sphere, it would be a far larger structure.

  Luna named this journey to open a route to Rigel A, Fusō.

  Because the Earth is in the east from the perspective of the Orion constellation; it's a kind of tribute.

  And the stars along this route begin with "fs".

  Fusō is undoubtedly longer than the Silk Road, but this doesn't mean it has more resources.

  The Silk Road's resources flourished due to trade between two civilizations; Fusō is being developed by the Federation alone, resulting in a resource disparity.

  The only advantage is the number of stars, but most are red dwarfs, and there are few habitable planets.

  Habitable planets exist in abundance in the Milky Way, but their proportion isn't high. Ayla, using a telescope, discovered only one star along the entire route that could support life, and its environment was similar to Proxima Centauri b.

  Proxima Centauri b is tidally locked by its red dwarf, and red dwarfs aren't hospitable stars. The fact that the Kate people survived and thrived there is a miracle. Luna hadn't expected to find a civilization on Proxima Centauri b, but after encountering the Multi-eyed Civilization, she realized civilizations could exist anywhere in the universe.

  Subsequent events confirmed this.

  There should have been more civilizations around the Solar System, but the Purple Thorns Civilization's aggression led to the complete annihilation of four.

  Ayla, controlling a female simulated biological unit, sat on a sofa, pointing to a full-screen display and asking Luna, “Is this really a good idea?”

  The display showed a single word:

  Human

  Preceded by Lelera.

  Lelera-human!

  Originally, the Lelera species.

  “The Galactic Federation has developed for so long; to further consolidate all Federation species, this is the only way I could think of.” This was Luna's decision.

  She separated the concepts of "human" and "Humanity," classifying all species within the Federation as "human," while "Humanity" represented the species.

  This classified the entire Galactic Federation and each star nation under the "human civilization" umbrella. This should foster a greater sense of unity; Luna even granted certain biological modification rights, boosted by gene technology.

  For example, if a Lelera individual prefers a Human, the Human could be genetically modified to resemble a Lelera, or vice versa, and then they could reproduce.

  This increases interspecies relations and the Federation’s birth rate—a win-win situation.

  After the authorization, the Federation largely approved; there was some opposition—racial purists exist in every era—but these voices were weak.

  The only negative aspect for Luna was her altered appearance.

  Or perhaps it wasn't an alteration; because of the genetic modification authorization, most lifeforms could enhance their appearance, transforming themselves into handsome men or beautiful women without side effects.

  After the Genesis Project, Luna visited Sirius. She found no issue with the aesthetics of other species, but the Humans were exceptionally beautiful, almost uniformly attractive. Men were typically over 2.2 meters tall, women over 1.95 meters; all possessed perfect physiques.

  There was no uniformity; genetic enhancement refined existing features, not replicating a template.

  Amidst them, Luna felt plain and unremarkable.

  She could also undergo genetic modification, but as a 21st-century human, she still held some traditional views on bodily integrity. Genetic modification was acceptable for longevity; her height had changed slightly, but her appearance remained largely the same.

  “So the definition of ‘Human Civilization’ has become so broad?”

  “Perhaps one day, the entire cosmos will belong to Human Civilization,” Ayla chuckled.

  That was Luna's ultimate dream.

  Currently, it was just a thought; she had only explored a tiny fraction of the Milky Way, let alone the universe.

  “That star ahead isn’t a red dwarf; it’s an ideal location for a supply station.”

  70% of the Milky Way’s stars are red dwarfs. Yellow and blue dwarfs are far less common. Red dwarfs are practically invisible at great distances; only during specific light flares can they be observed with the naked eye. If red dwarf starlight were bright, the night sky would be a blaze of light, not the Milky Way.

  Several bio-engineered warships entered the star system; they were to build a supply station and deploy seeds.

  Tens of thousands of years later, the Federation’s World Tree Project continued; over 1.4 trillion cosmic trees had been grown along the Silk Road, considered wonders of the cosmos, miracles of the Federation.

  Some World Trees even intertwined, forming cosmic forests. Tiny ecosystems even existed within these forests; they were still in the microbial stage and would require billions of years to develop, but it was still awe-inspiring.

  The success of the World Tree Project naturally meant that other cosmic life projects continued.

  The number of Leviathans surpassed 510 billion two thousand years ago; the number of Vacuum Jellyfish, thanks to their incredible reproductive and adaptive abilities, reached 371 trillion.

  Other microscopic organisms were also uploaded, including Phoenixes adapted to vacuum environments and modified dragons capable of short-duration space travel.

  This was all thanks to the flourishing bio-engineering companies within the Federation, which produced over one million new species annually, which were then randomly uploaded.

  On a planet, this random upload would be immediately complained about and shut down. But in the vastness of space, even uploading a septillion giant monsters wouldn't occupy even one percent of the Federation’s territory.

  The Federation now records over 70 trillion species, totaling over 29 quadrillion individuals—a true hodgepodge, with 60% being artificial lifeforms.

  Luna once stumbled across a face-hugger meme online, but it was a giant version, spanning 170 meters, surviving by parasitizing other cosmic organisms and laying eggs.

  Luna couldn't help but marvel at the diversity of the Federation.

  She truly hoped war wouldn't destroy the Federation; she wanted it to continue.

  Now, their only major obstacle was the Olive Branch Civilization!

  ...

  After arriving in the star system, Luna, aboard Kunlun, prepared to depart.

  But before leaving the system's radius, a message arrived from within.

  The star system was deficient in heavy elements; the warship's computer, after analyzing the star, detected a void.

  This news instantly transported Luna back over 40,000 years: the void near the Alpha Centauri, and the void at sc-8 along the Silk Road. This was the third time Luna had heard of stellar voids.

  Previous discoveries had led Luna to almost forget their existence. Their reappearance suggested that this civilization wasn’t simply creating stellar voids to harvest energy.

  “If it were for energy, they wouldn't need to create voids so far away; they'd focus on smaller stars.”

  “Ayla, analyze the spatial relationships between them.”

  The three stellar voids showed no clear pattern, but Ayla had a hunch.

  She simulated the entire Milky Way, studied their orbits, and reversed time.

  She determined that these three stars were once collinear millions of years ago. Extrapolating this, she traced a diagonal line across the simulated Milky Way, connecting several stars. Ayla requested instructions: “This star. I suggest sending a ship to investigate whether it also has a void.”

  It was a blue dwarf; Ayla excluded the red dwarfs from the alignment.

  “Very well.”

  Luna also wanted to see.

  If so, these voids were remnants left by a Type 2 civilization millions of years ago—perhaps accidental creations.

  Why?

  At least, that's what Luna thought, as she couldn’t see any other purpose for the equipment; it appeared to be a simple energy storage device.

  “Let's send a ship to investigate.”

  Luna launched another ship. The current ships in the star system couldn’t enter the star; they were bio-engineered warships, limited by their biological composition and inability to withstand extremely high temperatures.

  Bio-engineered warships could withstand temperatures up to 2000°C, but not beyond. Above 2000°C, they'd become cooked warships; this was the limit of Federation biology. Making lifeforms resistant to tens of thousands of degrees is incredibly difficult.

  As a biological expert, Luna knew that the Federation was creating heat-resistant test subjects; each degree Celsius increase represented significant progress.

  Unlike conventional materials science, progress in biological materials science was painstakingly slow.

  The new ship arrived at the star's surface and quickly located the void.

  Several months later, Luna received another message; the ship had left the star and transmitted images and videos. Luna was astonished by the images.

  This stellar void was different; it contained a Star City.

  Luna named this star fs-17; its diameter was 1.48 million kilometers; the void within was 2973 km in diameter; a 178-km-diameter Star City existed within, with mountains, water, and lifeforms—a miniature world.

  These lifeforms were primitive; they weren't colonists but were likely placed there when the void was created.

  “Did that civilization attempt to establish life inside the star?”

  Luna doubted the practicality; the cost far outweighed the reward, but that civilization had done it.

  The Star City was covered by a transparent dome, providing protection from radiation and particles, maintaining a habitable temperature inside the star.

  The environment resembled a rainforest, but with dense, interconnected fungal plants. The stalks resembled mushrooms; the leaves were similar to leaves but broader and translucent, like a type of stone.

  The lifeforms were bizarre; some resembled tadpoles but moved like snakes across the land, with short tentacles ending in eyes on their foreheads.

  Other lifeforms existed, but all had a similar appearance, resembling amphibious creatures.

  “Perhaps it was a biological experimentation site.”

  “It doesn’t seem to show evidence of intelligent life.”

  Luna decided to send the ship in for a thorough investigation. She could wait decades; a civilization wouldn't leave these remnants in so many stars without a purpose.

  Creating such voids in these stars would require significant resources for the Federation. If there were no purpose, it would be unthinkable.

  ...

  Decades of research passed in the blink of an eye.

  Ayla had made a discovery.

  Initially, the stellar voids were thought to be energy storage devices. After decades of observation, Ayla concluded they were bombs, not energy storage.

  Considering them bombs was more logical; energy storage devices wouldn't contain much energy.

  The energy production method for heavy elements is fission, far less efficient than nuclear fusion of light elements. Advanced civilizations wouldn't use heavy elements for energy.

  There was no other obvious use. How much heavy matter could a yellow dwarf contain? It would be easier to obtain it from the Orion Nebula or dying supergiants.

  But…

  If they were bombs, what was this civilization trying to destroy?

  Exploding these heavy elements within a star would destroy the star. What benefit would this destruction provide?

  Unknown!

  But it was clear this civilization was among the most advanced in the Milky Way.

  They might be setting a trap.

  And Luna had disrupted one point; she didn’t know if this civilization would hold a grudge.

  “Let’s stay away from these void stars.”

  Luna decided not to establish a transfer station here or investigate the lifeforms within the voids. The Olive Branch Civilization situation remained unresolved; she didn't want to provoke another powerful civilization.

  The fleet departed, leaving the star system. During this 8000-year journey, the Olive Branch Civilization situation seemed to stagnate; the asteroid's appearance had stopped both Tilted Station and the Federation from acting. Thousands of years passed in a flash, baffling everyone.

  The cosmos teemed with diverse civilizations and unpredictable methods.

  This was indeed a vast forest, requiring careful navigation.

  Upon reaching Rigel A, Luna’s grand plan began…

  ...

  Massive objects easily coalesce into spheres under gravity; this is how planets form.

  However, when a planet’s mass exceeds a certain limit, it becomes a gas giant. The immense gravity compresses the planet; lighter elements, unable to condense into a solid state due to insufficient atmospheric pressure, form a dense atmosphere on the surface, resulting in a high-density metallic core and a gaseous outer layer.

  Luna initially envisioned creating a massive planet exceeding the theoretical limits of rocky planets, with a mass up to one-tenth that of a star.

  Many science fiction enthusiasts have similar dreams: a vastly enlarged habitable planet with boundless land.

  However, Ayla’s calculations deemed this plan impractical.

  Counteracting the immense gravitational force of such a planet would require enormous energy, making it inefficient and currently impossible.

  Only Type 3 civilizations might have the resources to create such a super-planet.

  Tilted Station's structure was therefore ingenious; spreading the mass evenly reduced the gravitational forces needing to be countered.

  “So let’s create a continent,” Luna said, sketching a 3D design.

  The design showed Rigel A at the center, surrounded by a continent almost as large.

  The entire continent was situated beneath Rigel A; the star would be directly overhead. The continent would be surrounded by an ocean, bordered by dams. These dams wouldn't release water but would convert it into clouds, which would then be transported by wind to the continent.

  “Isn’t this reminiscent of ancient Chinese geomancy?” Ayla said, slightly amused by the design.

  “It seems a bit wasteful.”

  “The resources used to build this continent could create countless Star Cities.”

  Luna, however, believed it was feasible.

  “The Olive Branch Civilization’s material inspired me; could we develop a similar material using silicon and carbon as the primary components to quickly construct a cosmic continent?”

  Luna called it “Star Continent.”

  The Star Continent wouldn’t be a simple landmass but a gigantic gravitational energy collector.

  Based on Chu’s gravitational energy technology, the Federation had developed a new technology: “Gravitational Piston.”

  The principle was simple: using gravity instead of fuel to drive pistons for power generation.

  To ensure the pistons were affected by the star’s gravity, each would be 300 km in diameter. The energy generated by these massive pistons would be distributed through gears to millions of smaller generators.

  This method, while extremely inefficient in utilizing gravity, is cost-effective; it requires no advanced materials and consumes less than 1% of the energy generated. Compared to other, more complex gravitational energy technologies, this appears crude, but its power output is higher; advanced technology has been completely outmatched in this area.

  Of course, there were other reasons.

  The Gravitational Piston could serve as a gravitational standard for measuring and regulating the energy harvest of the Star Continent.

  The primary task at Rigel A was to induce Betelgeuse's collapse into a black hole and then develop gravitational-to-electrical energy conversion technology.

  Gravitons have been discovered; the Federation also possesses technology to convert closed-strings into opened-strings at the Planck scale, but it’s highly energy-intensive.

  Gravity differs from the strong and weak nuclear forces. The strong and weak forces maintain atomic nuclei and quarks. Nuclear fusion and fission can be considered applications of these two forces. However, gravitons have completely different physical properties; their interconversion requires far more energy. Directly converting gravitational energy into electrical energy is hundreds of times more difficult than researching nuclear fusion in the 20th century.

  The Olive Branch Civilization possesses this technology; otherwise, simply using gravitational machines for power generation wouldn't sustain Tilted Station, not even enough to power its quadrillions of inhabitants.

  Luna hoped to overcome this hurdle; using black holes as gravitational fuel was feasible.

  “The Star Continent project requires resources from dozens of nearby stars and deep space; it will take a considerable time.”

  Ayla disliked the plan; wouldn’t it be better to build small Gravitational Pistons on Dyson Swarms, utilizing both solar and gravitational energy?

  “The age of megastructures is inevitable. The Federation lacks experience in building them; this is about accumulating technical knowledge,” Luna said.

  “…”

  Ayla didn’t believe this.

  This technology didn’t require real-world experience; it could be accumulated within simulated universes.

  Ayla felt Luna simply wanted to build a continent in space, like some people enjoy building things, the joy of creation.

  Fortunately, Luna hadn't completely ignored practicality.

  “The Star Continent project primarily provides a space for gravitational research. We can only observe stellar gravity. But the Star Continent’s form is flexible; we can obtain precise gravitational data through experimentation.”

  “Simulated universes can only simulate what we already know; simulations of the unknown will always have discrepancies. This data is crucial.”

  Dreadnought construction must account for gravitational forces; material composition and strength must be meticulously designed to prevent collapse.

  The Star Continent itself, as a massive, controllable gravitational source, is invaluable and irreplaceable.

  “The Star Continent can also serve as a materials reserve, like Tilted Station—a mobile structure.”

  “And we need to explore to gather resources, which is troublesome. During Star Continent construction, we can simultaneously explore and collect surrounding materials, streamlining resource management.”

  Large-scale projects have wide-ranging consequences. The Star Continent project will have losses, but it will also have significant gains.

  Ayla nodded, but seeing the smile on Luna’s face, she knew her primary motivation was to build a massive continent.

  Fortunately, the plan wasn't wasteful, so Ayla reluctantly accepted.

  The Star Continent project began in their sixth year at Rigel A; then, something finally happened on Tilted Station.