Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: The First Pan-Galactic Peace Exchange
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Even though the Holy Nation-Empire War had come to an end, the rigid wartime atmosphere showed no signs of easing up.
Even for countries that hadn't directly participated in the war, the Holy Nation shared a border with PATO, so there were indirect effects to be felt.
Like skyrocketing mineral prices that just kept climbing, or empty immigration checkpoints devoid of any travelers.
In truth, that was just a bit of idle talk—things inside PATO were as harmonious as could be.
Why would PATO, basking in war profiteering from conflicts on the opposite side of the galaxy, let its mood sour?
But I just wanted to try something new.
Lately, I'd been pouring too much into the development of the Lushaka Kingdom, and the place was starting to feel a bit too austere.
My ultimate goal was to enjoy highly advanced cultural pursuits across this vast galaxy, but I'd somewhat neglected cultural development.
I'd wanted to go with the familiar Olympic name, but surprisingly, Deneb was already using it.
So, with a recommendation from my brilliant subordinate Jarvis, we settled on the title.
Once I pitched the idea to the Galactic Peace Committee, they were in tears, giving a standing ovation.
"As expected, that commitment to contributing to peace! The Lushaka Kingdom hasn't forgotten. We believed in you. Our committee will cooperate with all our might."
Working with the committee, we racked our brains on what to include in this peace exchange.
Since it started as a casual idea, my initial thought was something like the Olympics—sports competitions with medals awarded.
But picturing a Hirak wrestling a Denebian... I could guess the outcome without even trying it.
Still, I believed a human could overcome such species differences.
A Homo sapiens who could beat a Hirak that crosses 10 meters in 0.1 seconds and punches a hole through your neck... in wrestling.
Yeah, that seemed unlikely.
Apparently, even Earth's first Olympics had all sorts of bizarre events.
Like 12-hour cycling or rope climbing.
These things get refined over multiple iterations anyway.
With some blood, sweat, and tears—euyi?
Just as the Olympics were packed with sports tied closely to warfare, I aimed for a similar vibe with the exchange.
After all, brawling is the most fun, right?
"The 1st! Pan-Galactic Peace Exchange... is staaaaaaaarting right noooow!!"
In the orbit of Solar-03 in the Lushaka Kingdom's Solar Star System.
A colossal space station, built solely for this event, was rotating in orbit.
Station 'Olympianus'.
In truth, it was a knockoff Colossus bulked up with steel plating—a massive space station that, on the surface, inspired awe at Lushaka's construction prowess.
It was called colossal, but it was nowhere near moon-sized—just about the length of ten latest-model Treegalaons lined end to end.
Not only could it accommodate docking for fleets from every nation, but it had all the facilities athletes needed: living quarters, dining, training, everything.
"Hmph. Prophet."
A jagged, sharply protruding rock formation had taken its seat among the commentators.
Inspired by a certain game's RaXshyr from my Earth days.
The two competitors would use only psionic power to push each other off.
Whoever knocked the opponent off a long, narrow log bridge—or pushed them to the end—won.
"For our non-psionic viewers, we're visualizing the psionic flows—let us know if you appreciate it!"
I'd put a lot of thought into boosting athlete participation.
As a hastily thrown-together event, it lacked prestige and credibility, and being only the first, it needed bait to spread across the galaxy.
The solution was simple.
If credits couldn't solve it, you just didn't have enough.
Overwhelming credits.
The hefty weight of those credits forged the missing prestige and credibility.
We even prepared special perks for the nation with the most medals, and everyone was participating with wild enthusiasm—it was heartwarming.
Rubeala used telekinesis to shove the fallen Alararak, sending him tumbling end over end to the edge.
With limited psionic output and brainpower restricted, they were weaker than expected.
The 'me' I sent out on a whim—a warrior from the Galactic Peace Committee named Nubeala of the Bahilila clan—ultimately took the win over Alararak.
Claiming first place in PATO's inaugural pan-galactic event, he wore an expression of true glory.
I footed the entire bill, so naturally, I handled the presentations.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you!"
I hung a star medal—named after the most radiant stars in the galaxy—around his neck.
Gold was only popular with certain species, making it unsuitable for medals.
For reference, silver was planet medals, and there were no bronzes.
As the first event wrapped up, the atmosphere in the spectator sectors of the purpose-built station heated up.
Even in an age where ships roamed the stars, raw superpowered clashes still stirred people's emotions like nothing else.
The events continued after that.
Classic track and field, swimming, shooting to start.
Remora horse racing.
Hacking.
All the way to virtual fleet battles.
As it turned out, all civilized species had their own small-scale planetary sports events.
With wildly different physiologies and cultures, this was the first time such an inter-nation event linked them all.
And on a scale dwarfing anything they'd seen before.
Who else could rent an entire star system for asteroid-belt horse racing?
Amid the roaring heat and cheers, the exchange wrapped up successfully.
The Holy Alliance, which gained independence under the Holy Nation's influence.
True to their promise, the Holy Nation strictly upheld non-interference with the Holy Alliance.
Yet they allowed free border crossings as needed, with no sanctions on trade, military, or economy.
The process wasn't smooth, but the outcome looked remarkably peaceful.
The Empire, satisfied with weakening the Holy Nation, showed no interest in the Holy Alliance.
Their ideologies—psionics versus machines—left little room for peaceful exchange anyway.
The trouble brewed within the Holy Alliance itself.
They'd broken free from the Holy Nation's oppression, but life post-independence was tougher than expected.
"Any nations exporting beryllium? We're critically short."
"Anyone got surplus food?"
The Holy Nation had requisitioned resources when needed, but in turn provided what they lacked at near-free prices.
They'd seen themselves not as Holy Nation colonies, but extensions of it.
With Holy Nation oversight gone, independence's downsides stood out more than subjugation's had.
Now they faced defense budgets they had to pay, inaccessible Oztullan beyond the borders, and tech levels that couldn't compete with the two superpowers nearby.
Gradually, whispers started emerging.
"Hey, the war's over—why not go back under the Holy Nation?"
"That's crazy talk!"
The war—the main reason they'd split from the Holy Nation—had ended.
No more requisitions or conscriptions—why not return to that warm roof?
"Nope, can't do this. My nation's pulling out too."
"No! Grab that guy!"
A loose gathering of minor nations holding at most one or two star systems each.
Good on paper, but without a strong center, such alliances crumbled easily.
Paradoxically, that made retaining members crucial.
Losing even one or two was devastating for such weak states.
"Ahem, well, we're always ready to welcome you back if you change your mind."
"Uh, the non-interference treaty isn't up yet."
The Holy Nation and Empire couldn't yet enjoy quiet days.