3: Civilization behind the screen

Thinking of this, Lei Wen immediately sprinted towards his dorm room.

When Lei Wen returned to his dorm, his roommate was playing a game with headphones on. Startled by Lei Wen's ghost-like appearance, he took off his headphones and cursed, "Holy crap, are you in a hurry to reincarnate?"

Lei Wen ignored him completely.

He rushed to his seat, and due to his abrupt movement, his knee hit the corner of the table hard, but he felt no pain.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and blood rushed to his brain.

That absurd, crazy thought expanded and burned in his mind like an out-of-control star.

He had to confirm it.

He had to see with his own eyes that it was all just a hallucination caused by his over-fatigue.

His trembling fingers pressed the power button on the computer, and the host emitted a familiar hum.

During the dozens of seconds waiting for the system to start, Lei Wen felt like an eternity had passed.

He stared intently at the screen, not blinking, afraid of missing any detail.

Once the desktop icons loaded, he double-clicked the familiar stellar universe icon with nearly spastic fingers.

The loading screen with swirling galaxies appeared, accompanied by grand and ethereal music. To Lei Wen at this moment, the music sounded like a requiem from the abyss.

"Load Game."

He clicked on his save file, which was already marked "Completed."

"Faleim Scientific Conglomerate - 2451.01.01"

The loading progress bar crawled slowly across the bottom of the screen, each increment feeling like torture to Lei Wen's nerves.

Finally, with a crisp notification sound, the game finished loading.

Lei Wen's breath completely hitched the moment he saw the screen.

It was gone.

Everything was gone.

The vast empire he had spent three months building, spanning the entire Milky Way, with hundreds of star systems, thousands of colony planets, and tens of thousands of warships, had vanished.

In its place was a deep, silent darkness.

His view was locked onto a solitary star system.

The G-type main-sequence star "Sacred Flame" burned in the center of the system, with thirteen planets quietly orbiting it.

That was the Faleimland System, the Cradle he had personally chosen for his creation.

Beyond that, there was nothing else.

The edge of the system was enveloped by a thick black fog, representing an "unexplored area," an endless void.

There were no hyperspace lanes connecting to distant places, no stargates flickering with pale blue light, no imperial territories of former allies or enemies.

It was as if his empire had never expanded a single step outward.

It was as if the Faleim Scientific Conglomerate had only ever had this one star system.

Lei Wen's face turned ashen, his lips devoid of all color.

He frantically moved the mouse, trying to drag the Star Map, but the view was firmly locked on Faleimland.

He wanted to click on planets to build, to open the fleet editor to design new warships, to contact any of his former vassal states...

But all the operational buttons had turned gray.

A prompt box, which he had never hated so much, popped up on the game interface:

"Game Over. You have met the victory conditions. Currently in 'Observer Mode,' you can no longer perform any operations. The universe will continue to evolve on its own."

Observer Mode.

Lei Wen kept hitting the keyboard, trying to open the game's console, but found no response at all.

When he opened the backend files of the save, he could only see garbled code.

He had become a spectator.

A god who could only watch his world evolve... or rather, a prisoner.

Or rather, a prisoner.

"No... that's not right..." Lei Wen muttered to himself, forcing himself to calm down, trying to understand everything before him with logic. "The save file is corrupted, yes, it must be a BUG! Data overflow after completion, causing the loss of imperial territory..."

He exited the game, cleared the cache, and even re-verified the integrity of the game files in administrator mode.

Everything was normal.

He loaded the save again.

The scene before him was still the lonely Faleimland System, enveloped in endless darkness.

His empire had truly disappeared.

Or rather, his empire, along with its homeworld system, had been forcibly "scooped" out of the original universe map and thrown into a brand new, blank map.

This realization struck Lei Wen's last psychological defense like a high-dimensional lightning bolt.

His dream... the phone call Professor Liu received...

This was not a BUG.

This was not a dream.

His game, the civilization he had created, had descended into our universe in a way he couldn't comprehend.

And this game program was no longer a game.

It had become a window.

The only window through which he could peek into that real world.

...

Meanwhile, 13 light-years away in the Faleimland System, the atmosphere in the Central Council hall had shifted from the euphoria of discovering the "Lighthouse" to a deeper, more profound concern.

The order to assemble the Far Star Fleet had been issued.

All mobilizable research vessels, construction vessels, and the few remaining defense fleets in the homeworld system were gathering in orbit around the capital planet.

The entire system entered the highest state of alert, and all industrial output began to shift towards military production.

However, a fatal problem lay before all Faleim People.

"We... cannot leave here."

At the emergency Council meeting, the newly appointed Military Council Member, a young general known for his calmness and rigor—Talon—stated this cruel fact in an emotionless tone.

Before him, a three-dimensional, dynamic topological map of the universe was displayed.

On the left was their familiar old universe model, crisscrossed by countless pale blue lines.

Those lines were "hyperspace lanes," a kind of "fold" in the universe's own structure, the "highways" they relied on for faster-than-light travel.

On the right was the model they had established through preliminary exploration of the new universe—a smooth, flat void, devoid of any folds or lanes.

"Our hyperspace engines work by opening a window to 'hyperspace,' allowing the ship to enter this higher-dimensional realm, move quickly along naturally existing lanes, and then return to normal space, thus achieving faster-than-light travel," Talon explained. "However, this universe... either lacks the 'hyperspace' dimension, or its dimensional structure is completely different from our previous universe, incredibly stable. Our hyperspace engines here are like ships designed for the ocean thrown into the desert; they are... useless."

This conclusion plunged the Council members, whose hopes had just ignited, into an icy abyss.

It was like a group of sailors ready to set sail, only to suddenly find that the sea had disappeared.

They had the strongest ships, the best crew, and had even seen the light of the distant Lighthouse, yet found themselves trapped in port.

"What about other faster-than-light methods?" Consul Price, an elder who had served for nearly five hundred years, asked in a deep voice.

His gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, sweeping over every scientist and engineer present.

Zeral, newly appointed Chief Scientist, stepped forward and brought up another data report.

"Fortunately," he began, his voice bringing a touch of comfort to those present, "after our precise measurements of this universe's fundamental physical constants—including Planck's constant, the speed of light, and the gravitational constant—we found them to be completely consistent with the values in our old universe."

The significance of this discovery was revolutionary.

It meant their scientific theoretical system was still applicable.

The laws of physics had not changed.

"This means that our two other known methods of faster-than-light travel are theoretically feasible," Zeral continued.

"The first is the 'Jump Drive,' which tears space instantaneously for point-to-point jumps. However, this technology essentially uses immense energy to distort hyperspace lanes; ultimately, ships still travel within hyperspace, and jumping causes instability in the spatial structure on both sides, preventing continuous jumps. It's a method only used in emergencies, so our Jump Drives still rely on hyperspace travel for routine ship movement."

"The second," he paused, a rational glint in his eyes, "is the 'Warp Drive.' This works by distorting spacetime around the ship, creating a 'warp bubble' that allows the spacecraft to ride this 'spatial wave,' thereby achieving faster-than-light speeds without violating local speed of light limits. While its speed is not as fast as a Jump Drive, it excels in stability and endurance, and has no impact on the ship's combat capabilities."

"So, we have no choice," Consul Price concluded.

"Yes, we have no choice," Zeral affirmed with a nod. "We must adopt warp travel, but..."

He changed his tone, pointing out the most critical problem.

"However, the guide chose 'hyperspace travel' as our technological path early in our civilization's development. Therefore, all our ships, from the smallest frigates to the largest Titans, use hyperspace engines. We don't have a single ship equipped with a Warp Drive, and we don't even... have mature, mass-producible large Warp Drive blueprints."

"Furthermore, what we have lost is not just the empire's vast territory, but also countless researchers and technicians. AI and automated facilities cannot completely take over our industrial system; there are still positions in the homeworld system that require manual operation, and we lack a large number of specialized personnel. For example, 'Dimensional Fabricators,' which are black-box structures, cannot be replicated with our current engineering capabilities. After the last industrial relocation, the entire Faleimland System only has one 'Dimensional Fabricator' on Faleimland-4, and its output is merely a drop in the bucket for our current resource needs."

"There are also many technologies recorded in the database that cannot be realized due to engineering limitations and a shortage of technical personnel. A large number of our giant structures and engineering facilities for engineering and scientific research are in other star systems; the homeworld system only retains an administrative structure that is too bloated for our current needs, along with a large number of entertainment facilities and a small number of cutting-edge research facilities."

"So, you mean we still possess a lot of cutting-edge technology, but most of it is unusable, is that right?" Consul Price countered.

Zeral nodded.

"Great Faleimland is the heart of the empire, but the heart doesn't just pump blood to the whole body; the whole body also needs to supply blood to it. We are now becoming 'anemic.'"

Silence.

Dead silence.

What a tremendous irony this was.

"Then let's start from scratch."

Consul Price's voice broke the silence.

His words were decisive and full of unquestionable authority.

"All resources of the academies of science are to be invested in the research and design of large Warp Drives! I want to see mature blueprints in the shortest possible time!"

"Order the shipyards in synchronous orbit around Faleimland-4 and Faleimland-5 to be refitted to prepare for the production of entirely new warp warships!"

"This is not an ordinary fleet replacement; this is our civilization's 'Rebirth' project! This fleet, about to be born, will carry all our hopes to find the 'Lighthouse' that guides us. It shall be named—Far Star Fleet!"

"We have no retreat."

...

Lei Wen slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the screen.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there.

Outside the window, the sky had changed from the bright golden yellow of afternoon to the deep twilight of evening.

His roommate had already gone out to eat, leaving only him in the dorm, along with the monotonous hum of the computer's fan.

He had accepted this reality.

This game was alive.

Or rather, it was a terminal connected to another real world.

He tried to understand it all.

Had some higher-dimensional being turned his game into reality?

Or had his every click subtly influenced the fate of a real civilization?

Was he a creator, or an unwitting observer?

He didn't know.

He only knew that the screen before him might be humanity's only window to observe the activities of a real alien civilization in real-time.

He began to "observe" his Faleimland System like a true astronomer.

He couldn't issue direct commands, but he could bring up various data panels.

Resources, population, planetary output, diplomatic status... these cold data points now became vivid intelligence in his eyes.

He quickly noticed an anomaly.

In just a few hours of his "observation," the monthly output of "Alloys" and "Rare Crystals" in the Faleimland System began to be consumed at an extremely exaggerated rate.

At the same time, the previously stable "Consumer Goods" output experienced a sharp decline.

In the game, this meant one thing—the entire civilization's economic model was forcibly switched to a "militarized economy," redirecting all civilian industrial capacity to military production.

Immediately after, he saw that the "Research Output" value in the planetary data column for Falem Homeworld had skyrocketed several times, and all physics-related research projects were marked as high priority.

Then he zoomed in his view to the synchronous orbit of Falem Homeworld.

The spaceports, originally used for civilian trade and interstellar travel, began to be dismantled and refitted. Giant mechanical arms swung, piecing together new modules—modules for large military shipyards.

One, two, three...

The entire capital planet's orbit was being transformed into an unprecedented giant military shipyard.

Lei Wen's heart sank.

They were mobilizing.

With the strength of their entire civilization, they were undertaking an unprecedented, extreme mobilization, designing and preparing to build a brand new fleet.

Recalling the Star Map of the Solar System he saw in his dream, the Faleim People's purpose was self-evident.

He knew the Faleim People's characteristics better than anyone, as he had personally set them—extreme materialism, authoritarianism, reverence for military power and technology.

What would they do when they arrived on Earth?

Peaceful exchange? Or... would they view Earth as a primitive, indigenous world to be conquered and "integrated"?

He couldn't predict.

Because he was no longer the "Archon" who could control everything about them; he was merely a powerless "observer."

He looked at the lonely star system on the screen, at the furiously depleting resource data, at the giant shipyards rising in orbit, and for the first time, felt a profound sense of... unease about this "perfect civilization" he had personally created.

Unease.

This universe was no longer silent.