Cultivator vs. Galaxy: Rebirth in a World of Mechas-Chapter 50: Ch Divine AI

In that quiet moment, both of them became more certain than ever: the Goddess of Wisdom was truly beginning to feel—showing signs of emotion.

However faint, however fleeting—it was real. And for them, it was no small thing.

But before their thoughts could drift further down that emotional road, the Goddess interrupted them. Like a sword’s sudden slash parting through silence, her voice cut in—clear, bright, and commanding—pulling their focus back to her once again.

"Admiral Natasha and Grand Admiral John Watcher... I have reached my decision."

"Her tone left no room for doubt—or even protest—for she spoke with the authority of a commander or a supreme leader of sorts.

And even for two leaders who had served for centuries, the sheer gravity of her words made both John and Natasha instinctively straighten their postures.

Natash, despite her long military career, felt it even more deeply. Her rank—second to her husband, the Grand Admiral—meant she wasn’t as accustomed to directly facing this kind of presence.

While she had spoken with all three Ultimates—more formally known as the Divine AI Goddesses—many times before in the course of her duties, which required her to report to them regularly among other responsibilities, this encounter felt vastly different.

She was no stranger to the Goddess of Wisdom either. The three goddesses were always cold, direct, and precise—traits she had grown used to and even found acceptable, given that they were, after all, AIs with authority over human regions and incredible power.

And yet, this time was different. The Goddess seemed even more commanding, more authoritative—as though she had claimed command of the entire room, imposing her authority on both her and Grand Admiral John like a superior officer addressing subordinates.

It was a stark contrast to her usual role as an analyst, governor, or overseer—positions that, while powerful and significant in their own right, lacked the sharp edge of absolute command.

After all, the Goddess of Wisdom was an administrator. She did what administrators do—manage, guide, calculate. She wasn’t a ruler, nor did she wield any formal authority.

And yet, in that moment, her tone didn’t resemble that of an administrator at all. It was the voice of a superior—one who presides over subordinates—and for a fleeting moment, she truly felt like one.

While Natash processed that, John wasn’t far behind—but his thoughts ran far deeper than his wife’s. As one of the Federation’s Grand Admirals and a sitting member of the High Council, he knew more than most about the Three Goddesses: their origins, their purpose, and above all, their prime directive—ensuring the growth and survival of humanity at any cost.

It was a truth many leaders resented. After all, that directive often bypassed their authority, undermining their power in subtle but undeniable ways. Yet they were helpless to resist it.

First, because they couldn’t change what was fundamentally built into the Goddesses’ very existence. And second—more damningly—because they lacked the power to oppose them. No one could stand against the Divine Pilots and their divine mechs, the ultimate protectors of both humanity and the Three Goddesses.

So as stifling as it was, the High Council and the rest of the Federation leadership could do nothing.

But it wasn’t about authority—not right now. It was about that sudden shift in the Goddess of Wisdom’s demeanor. John noticed it instantly, and with his insight, he quickly understood why.

She had reached her judgment.

There was no doubt in his mind—the Goddess of Wisdom had come to a conclusion, and she had done so alone. Unlike him, his wife, Admiral Kevin, or the rest of the fleet, she had seen the truth of this situation with far greater clarity.

didn’t carry the same fears they did—fears about their positions, about the potential threat this moment posed to their authority.

And he knew it, because in the end, all she cared about was whether humanity would benefit. And they would. Of that, John was certain.

Even so, the realization sent a chill down his spine—not for himself, but for the others.

He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a devil either. He could see what was right and what was wrong, what brought short-term gain and what held long-term value.

Shaking his head, John focused again on her demeanor—cold, commanding, and resolved. It reflected a rare state. One he had never seen with his own eyes, but had read about in the ancient records left behind by the ancestors who created the Three Goddesses.

The records had been clear: if even one of the Three entered this state, the others would follow.

They would unify, act with perfect coordination, and wield the full extent of their power—including deploying all Divine Pilots (After all, they had complete trust in her abilities and were bound to humanity; the more prosperous and stable humanity became, the more they stood to gain. As for how exactly they benefited—well, that was a matter for the future.) to force a path forward, one they deemed most beneficial to humanity’s long-term survival.

And anyone who stood against them in that state, no matter how high-ranking, no matter how noble their intent, would be branded a traitor to humanity’s progress—and dealt with by any means necessary.

Even coercive force.

And John realized exactly what this meant.

According to her judgment, the Goddess of Wisdom had deemed William—and the gift he carried—not as a threat, but as a blessing. A precise, deliberate miracle meant for humanity’s advancement. Not a danger to be restrained, but a force to be nurtured—something that, if guided properly, could bring nothing but benefit to their species.

He exhaled slowly, almost silently, the breath slipping through clenched lips like steam from a pressurized engine. His thoughts drifted—briefly, darkly—to those who might defy the Goddess’s will.

After all, there were always bad apples in any tree. People driven by ambition, fear, or ignorance. But anyone foolish enough to stand in the Goddess’s way now—anyone arrogant enough to become an obstacle while she was in this state—would face a punishment far worse than mere rejection or disgrace. They wouldn’t just be cast out like rotten fruit.

They would be crushed.

The weight of that truth settled on John and Natash both, though in different ways, and in less than a second it passed through them—swift and silent, like lightning behind their eyes.

.....

Meanwhile, the Goddess of Wisdom floated before them in her holographic form—elegant, still, and utterly commanding. Her glowing eyes settled on John and Natash, noticing the brief, thoughtful looks on their faces and their momentary detachment from the present.

And somehow, she understood.

She couldn’t read their thoughts directly—at least, not in the way organic minds imagined. But she didn’t need to. With the ship already under her full control the moment she manifested, she quietly ran a scan through the bridge’s neural web—analyzing brainwave fluctuations, emotional surges, and micro-expressions using the Oblivion’s many state-of-the-art technologies.

In mere seconds, she constructed a remarkably accurate map of what was running through their minds—or at least, a close approximation.

They were taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. Unspoken questions surged within them. Doubts. Curiosity. Caution.

She could see it all. She could understand it all.

And yet... she said nothing.

Not a single word.

She simply chose to ignore it—for now. They would understand soon enough. And when they did, their questions would answer themselves.

Her gaze remained steady, her expression unreadable. And her voice—unchanged—retained that same tone of unwavering finality as she continued.

But not before she snapped her fingers.

Somehow—despite being nothing more than a holographic projection—the sound rang out clearly, sharply, like the crack of real fingers in still air. It shouldn’t have been possible. She had no physical form. And yet, she had done it.

But no one noticed.

The strangeness of the moment passed unregistered. Both John and Natash were still lost in their thoughts, only snapping back to reality as the sound reached them—jarring their focus back to the present.

They didn’t question it. They simply looked up again, eyes locked on the Goddess of Wisdom.

She gave a small, knowing nod... and began.

"I have reviewed every fragment of data you provided, and I have analyzed them to the best of my abilities—running simulations through to their final iterations.

After all of it, I have reached a conclusion—one as clear as logic can permit, and as beneficial to both humanity and the Federation as a whole.

There are minor variables that may prove problematic, yes. But none significant enough to outweigh the overwhelming advantages. They do not diminish the outcome.

And so, from my perspective—and according to all simulations, analysis models, and logical deductions—I have reached this decision:"

"The gifts Mr. William has offered are far too critical to humanity and the Federation to be set aside. Especially not out of fear... or speculation over threats that have yet to manifest."

She paused.

Her crystalline eyes—if they could even be called eyes—glowed faintly, subtle gleams of light flowing like thought itself through her holographic form.

Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at (f)re𝒆we(b)novel.com Only