Chapter 4: Born Strong

Chapter 4: Born Strong

“Ladies and gentlemen, behold—this is the most outstanding creation of our Stellaris Program so far.”

Inside the underground base’s VIP chamber, a man wearing a silver mask—codenamed Doctor, one of Ember’s highest-ranking leaders—spread his arms wide.

Behind him, a massive holographic projection unfolded, sleek and gleaming with modern technological grandeur.

The image displayed Tendou, dashing across the training grounds at astonishing speed, each movement so precise it was as if calculated by a supercomputer.

Doctor watched with undisguised pride as the projection showcased Tendou’s exaggerated feats, all while calmly introducing him to the unfamiliar guests.

“Codename: Children of the Stars, Sequence 001 — Masamune Tendou. Comprehensive potential rating: S-Class. Within just six months of his Star Core surgery, he gained the strength to single-handedly annihilate an elite tactical squad.”

The projection shifted—Now playing was a combat recording.

A much younger Tendou, wearing his trademark sunglasses, strolled leisurely through a storm of gunfire.

Bullets grazed the edges of his clothes, yet not a single strand of his hair was touched.

Every sidestep, every lean, every tilt of his body was perfectly timed, as if he could see the future itself.

Before long, he had slipped past the squad’s concentrated firepower, and with a clean roundhouse kick, he floored the last remaining soldier.

“This… this is impossible!”

A woman in a canary-gold mask gasped aloud. Her champagne glass tilted precariously in her hand, the liquid nearly spilling onto her lavish gown.

Doctor only chuckled, fingers gliding across the console before him.

The footage froze, capturing Tendou in mid-kick, his form elegant, his strike decisive.

“No Star Core… and yet he achieved this?”

“Doctor, are you certain this footage hasn’t been tampered with?”

Doctor’s reply was smooth, almost leisurely, yet carried an iron weight:

“I stake my very life on it—these recordings are untouched. No post-processing, no deception.”

As he spoke, his hands danced across the virtual keyboard, pulling up layers of intricate data.

“More shocking still—this battle took place on the 183rd day after Tendou’s Star Core surgery. In other words—”

The hologram magnified the boy’s face.

“At that time, he was not yet eleven years old.”

A wave of sharp intakes of breath rippled through the chamber.

Even these highborn elites—men and women long accustomed to luxury and power—leaned forward unconsciously, eyes gleaming with hunger from behind their masks.

For they knew—if Tendou had been a first-order Starbearer, even a non-combat type, that squad could have overwhelmed him.

But here was a child—barely ten—who had surpassed that very threshold with nothing more than a surgery.

If the Doctor spoke the truth, then the Stellaris Program was no mere experiment.

It was a revolution.

Doctor’s smile, hidden beneath his mask, curved ever so slightly.

He tapped his console again, shifting the hologram into a data breakdown.

A 3D model of Tendou appeared, dissected layer by layer until it zoomed in on his chest cavity—where a crystalline core pulsed with a ghostly blue glow.

Doctor raised a hand and pressed the projection. The crystal blazed in response, radiating blinding light.

“The Heaven’s Eye Beast Star Core—a rare type, said to glimpse into the future itself.”

“And Masamune Tendou’s compatibility rate with it is…”

On the display, a crimson number flared into existence:

100%.

The air in the chamber froze.

Not a sound. Not a breath.

Even these figures of authority—people who had long ruled from lofty heights—were struck into silence by that merciless, blood-red number.

But Doctor’s words weren’t finished.

His voice lowered, acquiring a serpentine cadence, like a whisper coiling into their ears, carrying the weight of temptation.

“Tell me, esteemed guests… did you know? Before we conducted the Star Core surgery, we performed one other test on this child—”

He paused deliberately, fingers lingering above the control panel.

With a tap, new data unfurled on the hologram.

Before long, a detailed examination report unfolded before the guests’ eyes.

And when their gazes fell upon one particular line of data, the entire room erupted in shocked exclamations.

[Innate Star Energy Level: S]

“Wha—?!”

The moment that number appeared, the VIP lounge practically exploded.

The canary-masked noblewoman shot to her feet, lips trembling beneath her mask.

“T-This— impossible—! A naturally awakened S-rank?”

Silence returned as swiftly as it had been shattered.

But this time, it was the heavy, suffocating silence of people who knew exactly what such a result meant.

They all understood. Far too well.

Normally, a Starbearer’s strength depended on two things: their Star Core Type… and their Innate Star Energy Level.

If the Star Core was the “engine”… then Innate Star Energy was the “fuel tank.”

The greater the capacity, the higher the efficiency.

The more abundant the fuel, the longer and stronger the Starbearer could fight.

And thus, the saying circulated throughout the Starbearer world:

“There are no useless Star Cores. Only useless Starbearers.”

The same Star Core, when placed in the hands of two individuals of different innate levels, would produce utterly different results.

Yes, there were rare, anomalous Star Cores that could alter one’s Innate Star Energy afterward.

But those were exceptions—miracles.

For the vast majority, this single factor alone was the decisive measure of one’s potential.

In some domains, it was the only measure.

And now, standing before them—was a child with S-rank innate star energy.

A born genius who, even without a star core surgery, was destined to achieve greatness.

But this very same child… had also been granted something no ordinary Starbearer could ever hope to touch—

A Star Core.

It was potential piled upon potential.

A monster given wings.

The guests whispered feverishly, their greedy gazes locked on the holographic boy.

Meanwhile, Doctor watched their reactions with quiet satisfaction, as though admiring the climax of a play he himself had written.

He strolled up to the projection, his gloved hand gliding gently across the three-dimensional image of Tendou’s form. The gesture carried the reverence one might reserve for a priceless artifact.

“Perfect innate aptitude. Perfect star core compatibility. And combat instincts beyond compare…”

He snapped his fingers.

The projection shifted, now displaying a combat recording.

The boy—still far too young by any measure—was locked in a duel against a bona fide first-order Starbearer.

The disparity was clear.

In raw power, speed, endurance—Masamune Tendou was utterly, crushingly inferior.

And yet—he moved.

Each evasive step, each twist of his body, was a miracle of precision.

Like a supercomputer calculating countless possibilities, his motions were pared down to the absolute minimum, skimming just beyond the reach of fatal strikes.

The first-order Starbearer’s blows were lethal.

But none could touch Tendou.

Doctor’s voice dripped with pride, rich with theatrical gravitas.

“Now… watch closely. Here.”

Doctor suddenly froze the projection. His gloved finger extended, pointing at the faint azure glow radiating from beneath Tendou’s dark sunglasses.

“One of Heaven's Eye Beast’s most prized abilities—[Future Sight].”

“Admittedly, the boy has yet to fully harness its potential. At present, he can only predict an opponent’s actions for roughly half a second into the future. But even this is more than enough for him to challenge veteran first-order combat Starbearers without a Star Core of his own.”

Having said this, Doctor fell silent. He allowed the words to sink in, permitted the weight of those revelations to crush the chamber into hushed disbelief.

No one knew how long the silence lasted, until at last a gravelly voice broke through.

“Doctor,” spoke a man wearing a griffin mask, his tone harsh and commanding, “name your price.”

Though his words carried the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed, they could not quell the hunger that now burned in the others’ eyes.

The floodgates burst.

Like predators who had scented blood, the gathered elites began to clamor, voices overlapping in a frenzy of offers.

The canary-masked noblewoman even stripped the jewel-studded ring from her finger and slammed it onto the table with a resounding clack.

“This Evernight Star—will it suffice?”

Doctor let them rage for a while, basking in their desperation, before extinguishing their fervor with a single, cold truth.

He shook his head. Slowly. Deliberately. The silver mask on his face caught the light, gleaming with icy finality.

“Regrettably, ladies and gentlemen… Masamune Tendou is not for sale.”

His words descended like a hammer, silencing the room in an instant.

“Whatever differences or grudges may divide us old relics of Ember, on this matter, we stand united. The boy does not leave. No matter the price. No matter the cost.”

“Because only he carries the weight of our dream. Only he can prove to those who scorned us, betrayed us, cast us aside—that Ember is not mere ash to be swept away once the fire has died.”

“No… Ember is the seed of flame. And in this new age, it shall ignite once more—burning brighter than all the stars combined.”

His voice rang with both conviction and madness as he strode up to the massive projection. The glowing image of Tendou towered above, eyes like frozen fire.

Doctor turned to face the guests again, his tone rising, fervent.

“Understand this well. You were invited here today not only to witness the value of the Stellaris Program…”

“But also, to meet Ember’s chosen successor.”

“For we believe—no, we know—that under his leadership, Ember will bring the so-called Age of Star Cores to its end…”

“…and open the gates to an entirely new era.”

His eyes gleamed feverishly from beneath the silver mask as he spread his arms wide.

“So tell me, honored guests—”

“Are you ready to welcome the new age?”

“An age… named Tendou.”

As if on cue, the holographic Tendou turned.

The boy’s head shifted ever so slightly, his gaze locking onto the audience as though he could see them. His sunglasses flared with cold light, and at the corner of his lips—

—a faint, enigmatic smile emerged.