Perhaps it was because the private office was much quieter than the public work area, but Lamina felt her paper-writing efficiency was higher than usual.
Before she knew it, she had written the better part of her paper, linking the Curio to her department’s research focus.
As long as she maintained the quality of the content, passing this phase of her evaluation was a certainty.
Amid her quiet joy, the young researcher suddenly realized that, in her capacity as an assistant, she hadn’t done much to assist Hua Yi besides pouring him a glass of water at the very beginning and helping with some documents later.
Lamina shot up from her seat, wanting to remedy this, only to see Hua Yi tidying up his desk.
A glance at the time showed that it was already the end of the workday.
“Don’t panic.
I don’t feel neglected just because my assistant was focused on her own research.
That would make me no different from a child seeking an adult’s attention, wouldn’t it?” Hearing this, Lamina was at once flustered and amused, her expression a fascinating mix.
“I-I’m sorry.” “We were both in a good work state today.
It was a pleasant collaboration.
If you really feel bad about it, I’m prepared to drink another glass of water, though I’m not the least bit thirsty.” “Thank you…
thank you.
I’m really grateful.” Hua Yi patted the shoulder of Lamina, who seemed on the verge of speaking her mind but held back.
He left the office first, but he didn’t head towards the new dormitory arranged for him by the Department of Universal Things, nor, naturally, did he go to his old, now-empty one.
The document he’d sent to the Department of Galactic Jurisprudence was, in the end, just his personal viewpoint.
In this universe where the Aeons and their followers occupied most of the stage and power was the absolute main theme, the effect of ideas and words was limited.
The very existence of the powerless Department of Galactic Jurisprudence was destined to be tinged with a degree of helplessness and sorrow.
Hua Yi wanted to help that world-weary old man.
His goal wasn’t overly grand, something like spreading justice throughout the cosmos with words.
If he could just help Guen live a good life on the space station with a more positive and peaceful mindset, his wish would be fulfilled.
As for his current destination, it was the containment area of the Department of Star-Field Species.
This department explored the unusual life forms of the universe, conducting systematic research.
Just as the Department of Universal Things managed various Curios, the Department of Star-Field Species housed some special creatures on the station, making them available to researchers for the study of cross-species ecology.
Most of these contained subjects were relatively safe.
Take the Wuwubao, a subspecies of the Anima Aeviterna from the Phantasmologia order, for example.
They looked like ghosts with a pair of round, beast-ear-like structures.
Their sizes varied, with most being about the size of a basketball, though some exceptionally large individuals existed.
According to the station’s containment classification system, Wuwubaos were of a moderate containment concern level.
While not life-threatening, they could be troublesome, and care should be taken to prevent them from wandering off.
Hua Yi had come to the Department of Star-Field Species late at night not to study the Wuwubaos, which even Level II Researchers could apply to access, but for a dangerous existence that required at least a Level IV Researcher’s qualification to study.
The Outer-Universe Fire.
A bizarre life form not of the conventional universe, it grew from the Fragmentum created by a Stellaron, parasitizing the foundational structure of a world to draw energy.
Flames from the core of a star burned upon its armored shell.
Among all the contained subjects in the Department of Star-Field Species, the Outer-Universe Fire was likely in the most dangerous tier.
Using his Level IV Researcher authority, Hua Yi passed through layer after layer of security, arriving deep within the containment area.
Standing in the observation room, he looked at the monster constrained by various energy fields.
Unlike most researchers who knew what the Outer-Universe Fire signified, he showed no trace of nervousness or fear upon seeing it.
This was not ignorance.
A dim, obscure substance disrupted the flow of Imaginary Energy, aggressively spreading through the cosmos in the form of mysterious objects called [Stellarons], infecting adjacent worlds like cancer cells.
The Interastral Peace Corporation called it the [Cancer of All Worlds].
Twisted life forms like the Outer-Universe Fire were byproducts of this Cancer of All Worlds, the Stellarons.
The flames that constantly burned on its body were enough to warp space and incinerate most of the hardest materials in the universe to ash.
It was a creature of the Fragmentum.
Its very existence was tantamount to a declaration of doom.
The vast majority of civilizations in the universe lacked the ability to seal a Stellaron.
In some corner of the endless sea of stars, the Cancer of All Worlds might be invading a planet right now, destroying a civilization, where pitiful mortals struggled, enacting an elegy of blood and tears.
Closing his eyes, Hua Yi did not rely on any technological equipment.
Merely using his own keen perception in the Imaginary domain, he gauged the Outer-Universe Fire’s effect on Imaginary Energy and further deduced the level of disruption a Stellaron was capable of.
He was analyzing the unknown, and he was preparing for the future.
As the newly minted Level IV Researcher observed the Outer-Universe Fire, another pair of purple eyes, so calm they lacked any trace of liveliness, quietly observed him, packaging the video data to be sent to the system administrator.
Time ticked by.
The station’s most prominent rising star made no new moves.
He didn’t operate the console to apply permissible, conservative stimuli to the Outer-Universe Fire to study the resulting parameters.
He didn’t even package the data from the silently running observation equipment to save on his own terminal.
He just looked at the monster and the scorching flames that burned upon it.
Instead, a certain genius decisively took control of a puppet.
Those purple eyes suddenly became vivid.
“Are you interested in the Outer-Universe Fire, or the Stellaron I sealed?” Turning around and looking in the direction of the voice, Hua Yi saw a puppet of a young girl with brown hair and purple eyes, wearing a black bowler hat.
Her beautiful face was as exquisite and flawless as a doll’s, a work of art.
Though her frame was small and she wasn’t tall, it was enough to make any beholder sigh in genuine admiration, “She’s so beautiful.” And, she had the ball joints of a doll.
She was, indeed, a puppet.
“Actually, I’m interested in both.
My interest in the Stellaron is stronger, Lady Herta.” “Oh?
No beating around the bush.
You’re quite honest.
And your reaction to seeing me isn’t as dramatic as the other researchers on the station.
That’s good.
If I had to waste time waiting for some speechless fanboy to compose himself, that would be incredibly dull.” The Herta puppet sized up Hua Yi.
“You knew I would appear, so you were just standing here waiting?” “No.
I wasn’t just standing here.
I was genuinely observing.” “Doesn’t matter.
You can study the Outer-Universe Fire as you please.
It’s rare for Asta to recommend someone to me by name, and I trust her judgment.
As for the Stellaron—don’t even think about it.
I built this entire space station to contain that inactive Stellaron and save the Azure Star from disaster.
If I let you fiddle with it, I’d just be the one cleaning up the mess in the end.” —o—