Perhaps, in the future, they would no longer die because of mental sea collapses.
“Prison? Military Zeniths?”
Winslow was confused. Why would military Zeniths be kept in a prison? Was it because they had committed a crime? No, that could not be it. If it were due to a mistake, Chris’s tone would not be this dejected.
“Because of pollution leading to mental sea collapses, the military Zeniths have lost their sanity,” Chris’s voice was incredibly low and hoarse. Winslow was not sure if it was just his imagination, but he seemed to hear a faint sob.
“Military Zeniths who have lost their sanity; we cannot bear to execute them. We can only lock them in prison. But there is no other way. Only Zeniths with mild mental sea collapses are sent to the Capital Star for treatment. Those with severe collapses cannot last that long; they die in agony from the collapse before they can be saved.”
Winslow’s fingers curled instinctively at his side. In this situation, perhaps he should comfort Chris.
Although he could not personally experience that kind of agonizing torment, he seemed to understand that Chris was crying out in pain because he was helpless to save them, forced to watch his comrades die.
The thin ice in the depths of Winslow’s heart seemed to grow fragile. Chris’s sorrow seemed to transport him back to the day he learned of his parents’ death. A scene from over a decade ago turned into a tiny needle, pricking him today, ten years later. It was a dense, lingering ache with a slight sting.
Winslow instinctively covered his heart. Was something wrong with his body? Was it a hidden injury from when he fell into the rift?
Winslow did not know. He took a deep breath and turned to look at Chris, who was staring at the prison gates with a sorrowful gaze. He moved his lips but did not know what to say.
“I have made a fool of myself,” Chris forced a strained smile. He closed his eyes, which were bloodshot from staying open too long. “I will take you back to your room. We will not go in. There is nothing much to see inside.”
Winslow nodded silently.
The human and the Zenith were exceptionally quiet on the way back. Neither spoke until they reached the door of Winslow’s room.
“I will leave you here. You can contact me through the terminal if you need anything,” Chris had regained his usual gentle and composed demeanor after the silent walk. He softly bid Winslow goodbye and turned to leave.
“Chris, wait,” Winslow’s voice was a bit raspy from the long silence. He cleared his throat and continued, “If the military does not have a Mental Regulator, I want to apply to be the first one.”
Chris froze. He thought he might be hallucinating. He turned around stiffly and mechanically, his lips trembling. “You, what did you say?”
“I said,” Winslow’s misty, verdant eyes stared seriously at the tall military Zenith in front of him, “I am applying to be the first Mental Regulator of the military district.”
Winslow had thought about it seriously on the way back. Having arrived in this world with nothing, he had to find a job to establish himself.
Although Chris and the other Zeniths were extremely kind to him—offering him a place to live and expensive gifts without any hidden motives, he still wanted to do something.
The reason for this thought might have been the Zeniths’ bright, pure eyes looking at him. It might have been the sight of Ylair’s bloodshot eyes and painful state yesterday. It might have been the tremor in Chris’s voice and his red eyes. Or perhaps it was the mysterious sting in his own heart today. All of it made him feel an urgent need to reach out.
“Lord Winslow, are you joking?” This time, not just his lips, but Chris’s voice and hands were shaking.
“No, I must ensure your safety. This is not work you should be doing,” Chris took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Even though his hands were still shaking, and even though the border military district truly needed a Mental Regulator, it could not be Lord Winslow. It should not be Lord Winslow.
In the Federation’s Zenith race, Mental Regulators were usually criminal Males. Ordinary Males were mostly noble and proud; they would never perform mental regulation for military Zeniths. Therefore, if a military Zenith or any other female Zenith wanted a regulation session, they had to wait in line for an appointment or take most, if not all, of their life savings to find a Male.
Even then, a Male might refuse. They were arrogant and distinguished; even if rejected, the Zeniths would only feel that they themselves were not good enough.
Of course, if they were lucky enough to be chosen by a Lord Male to become a Zenith King or a Zenith Attendant, they might receive the Male’s mental regulation and pheromones, or even conceive a long-awaited Zenith egg.
But if they were unlucky, having their entire fortune embezzled was the least of their worries. If they became a Zenith Slave, it was a fate truly worse than death. Zenith Slaves were not protected by Federation law. No matter what a Male did to a slave, even beating them to death, they would not be charged with a crime.
This was only changed in the Federation laws after Samuel became the Grand Marshal of the Federation Zeniths. Before Samuel took power, a Male would not even be punished for killing a Zenith King or Attendant. Thus, in the current Federation, Marshal Samuel was highly adored and supported by all Zeniths.
Winslow’s tone became increasingly firm and undeniable. “I am not joking, Colonel Chris. Becoming the first Mental Regulator of the border military district is a result of my careful consideration. I can bear the consequences of this decision. Furthermore, I believe that with my strength, I can easily handle this position. No one is more suited for it than I am.”
“But,” Chris started.
“Enough, Colonel Chris. This is my decision. Please prepare a private mental regulation room for me. I will begin my work tomorrow,” Winslow’s cool voice interrupted Chris’s hesitation.
Even as a steadfast military Zenith, Chris was moved to the point of tears by Winslow’s words. With trembling hands, he gave Winslow a standard Zenith military salute. His breathing was shallow and his voice wavered. “On behalf of all the military Zeniths in the border district, I thank you.”
With that, Chris’s spine straightened into a perfect line, his shoulders leveled, and his shaking hands pressed tightly against his thighs. He slowly bent at the waist, lowering his head. The usually meticulous strands of hair on his forehead hung down as his back curved into a perfect 90-degree angle. The movement was crisp and solemn.
His voice was low and grave. “Thank you.”
At this moment, a thousand words could not express Chris’s feelings. He could only mechanically and sincerely repeat those words of gratitude.
Chris made no attempt to hide the construction of a mental regulation room in the military base. Soon, the news swept through the entire base like a tsunami. Every military Zenith at the base learned of it.
Almost the second they heard the news, every Zenith stopped what they were doing in unison. A Zenith training with a particle blade in the practice field nearly dropped his weapon. As they looked at each other, waves of disbelief surged in their eyes.
“A mental regulation room? Is it the kind of mental regulation room I think it is? Is Lord Winslow going to open it?” A young Zenith gripped his particle blade tightly, his voice trembling and his words trailing off into an uncontrollable sob.
An old Zenith soldier next to him, who had served for a hundred years, felt his throat tighten. He wiped his face hard with his rough palm, forcing back the moisture, but his eyes still turned red. “Our border military district is finally going to have its own Mental Regulator? Our comrades have hope now, do they not?”
They all knew that no high-ranking Male would ever come to a desolate border planet like this. Even criminal Males were concentrated in the military districts of the Capital Star and other developed planets.
But Lord Winslow, such a high-level Male, was actually going to be a Mental Regulator in the border military district.
What had they done to deserve this?
“What?” In the medical zone, Ylair, who was on his bed having his dressings changed and body checked due to injuries sustained while he had lost his sanity, suddenly sat up. The movement was so sudden it pulled at his nearly healed wounds. His beautiful black eyes were incredibly bright. “Is it true? Lord Winslow?”
Before he could finish, tears rolled down his cheeks.
He would never forget the pain when his mental sea collapsed due to pollution that day. As his sanity gradually slipped away, it felt as if countless needles were piercing his mind and his consciousness was slowly shattering.
He also could not forget watching his comrades die one by one on the battlefield or in the military prison because of mental sea collapses. They were Zeniths with military honors, yet they were imprisoned like criminals in small, dark cells until death.
But all of this had been soothed by Winslow.
The news of Winslow becoming the first Mental Regulator of the military district gave the Zeniths a vision of salvation.
Perhaps, in the future, they would no longer die on a border planet because of a mental sea collapse.