It is hope... hope that we can break through barriers and achieve the impossible.

"The Lancelnopt Synchrotron Radiation only appears after a psychic has accumulated a certain level of power. There's no concrete standard to quantify exactly how much," I switched to the next slide, keeping a close eye on the mutt to see if he had fallen asleep. He always seemed particularly distracted during theoretical explanations. Ah, teenagers.

"What is 'Lancelnopt Synchrotron Radiation'?" He propped his chin up with one hand, his elbow resting on the table. His blank stare made me suspect he had already fallen asleep and was talking in his sleep. Or perhaps he was trying to show some reaction to avoid actually dozing off--if that's the case, it's rather touching.

"'Red Eyes'." I enlarged the slide and pointed to the image of glowing red eyes on the screen. "No one knows why, but activating psychic powers causes the eyes to glow, overpowering the natural color of the iris." I gestured to give a command, bringing up another diagram showing the anatomy of an eyeball on the projector. "It's generally believed that the Lancelnopt Synchrotron Radiation emanates from the choroidal layer, so a psychic in a red-eyed state may see a crimson tint over their vision due to reflections. But this phenomenon doesn't seem to have any real significance; at most, it can be used to determine whether a psychic has undergone Council training--untrained psychics are unlikely to muster the power necessary to turn their eyes red, so 'Red Eyes' also refers to psychics who have completed full training under the Council."

"I mean, why is it called that? What does 'Lancelnopt' mean?" The mutt waved his fingers in the air, clearly confused.

"Let me put it this way: When we initially refused to name the defensive circle 'AT Field,' the anime enthusiasts felt highly disrespected." I shrugged, not wanting to waste much time on such trivial matters. "So, compromises had to be made elsewhere."

Naturally, the mutt only looked more confused. He tilted his head, and one ear flopped down.

Hmm... I think I've confirmed that I indeed have a soft spot for black-furred canines--he's just too cute!

I shook my head vigorously, reminding myself of the definition of power harassment.

"These are all the known methods to identify psychics, each with its own pros and cons." I made a new gesture, turning off the projector and restoring the room's normal lighting. I walked back to my desk and sat down. "We can spend some time practicing wave detection, but I haven't made the slides for the rest of the lesson, so maybe..."

The mutt's laughter interrupted me, and I shot him a questioning look, demanding an explanation.

"Sorry." He placed his hands on either side of his muzzle, closing his eyes. But after just two seconds, he started chuckling again.

"Did I say something funny?" I withdrew all my previous thoughts about this mutt being cute.

"The slides...," he said, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Did you make them all by yourself?" The mutt stood up and wiped his eyes, but at least he could speak normally again.

"Yes." I tried to keep my tone steady and calm. But I felt something akin to what one might call "seething rage."

He laughed again, and while I couldn't understand what was so funny, I had the feeling he had struck a nerve somewhere... and it hurt more than I had expected.

"I'm sorry... I just never thought...," the mutt finally calmed down again and took a few deep breaths.

"Never thought what?" I think my hands might have been trembling slightly--did I forget to neutralize the caffeine? I clenched my fists, stopping the shaking.

"I never thought you made the slides yourself." He scratched his cheek as he spoke, seeming a bit hesitant, possibly noticing the change in my tone or body language.

"Is there a problem with that?" I bit down hard to avoid flaring my nostrils, but I think the mutt had already crossed the line.

"No problem..." He lowered his gaze, but it was too late.

"I'd love to hear it." I pressed him, taking on a more aggressive posture as I straightened up, raised my tail, and began swaying it slowly from side to side. "Speak freely, Private Luther."

"Uh..." His gaze darted around, but I patiently placed my hands flat on the table and waited. "It's just that you're..." He gestured vaguely with his hands in my direction, trying to convey something indescribable. "You're the Admiral, commanding an entire fleet with fourteen captains under your command. I just thought you would be more..."

"More what?" I forced the question out through gritted teeth.

The mutt immediately flinched, his ears twitching before flattening.

"More masculine?" I added a growl to my voice. I was trying to suppress it, but some things, like fungal infections--if you don't face and deal with them properly, they will eventually rot you from the inside out.

"I actually meant 'less scholarly'." The mutt hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself less noticeable, his tail curling between his legs. "I didn't mean to offend..."

"Right, you just did it unintentionally." I stood up, expanding my consciousness, and pulled several ingots from the storage locker.

I manipulated them, guiding them in complex trajectories around me as a way to distract myself.

I knew this was quickly turning into a violent incident. I wanted to vent, to prove my strength to something, to turn my frustration into someone else's, to pin this yapping mutt to the ceiling and make him beg for mercy--when did I become like this?

I still remember that scene from the last training session when I went too far and ended up hurting him. If Arthur hadn't been there, would I have noticed? If Arthur hadn't stopped me, would I have held back?

What happened to that wolf who didn't want to hurt anyone?

"After Arthur was promoted to captain, he completed a master's program in management at the Imperial Naval Academy." I spoke slowly, finding that I had calmed down a bit. "Leon has a Ph.D. in nuclear engineering. He's the leading expert on fusion reactor applications in the entire Empire." I never understood mechanics, so I'm not exactly clear on what Leon's field entails. "Schneider and Elias both have master's degrees in particle physics, and Hoffmann has a master's in communication systems and computing..."

I walked over to the mutt, letting my tail drop, and spoke to him in a calm tone. The mutt avoided eye contact, uneasily shifting his stance.

"Every captain in the Empire's Heart fleet holds at least a master's degree. The proportion isn't as high in other Imperial fleets, but it's not much lower. Even the Admiral of the Empire's Claws has a master's degree in management--despite all the rumors that the degree was bought." It's very likely it was bought. "Even the Empire's 'Faith' is founded on the rationality of the Scientific Council, and there's a reason for that." I hadn't decided when to explain the shadow government to him, or if I should even let the Council know this mutt exists.

I gestured for the mutt to take control of two of the ingots. He expanded his consciousness, forming a domain, and cautiously chose two slower-moving ingots with relatively simple trajectories to control.

The mutt did well, showing a lot of improvement. I nodded at him in approval. Luther scratched his ear, standing a little straighter.

"Take a guess at what my Ph.D. is in." I released control of another ingot, and he successfully took it over. "Hint: It's very scholarly." I lowered my ears slightly to show him that I had calmed down.

"Uh..." He glanced at the metal table by the observation window, where a coffee pot set rested. "Is there... such a thing as a coffee doctorate?"

I actually laughed at this lame joke. I've always been someone whose emotions come and go quickly, but... maybe I need to get checked out, to see if there's something wrong with my neuroendocrine or hormonal state. I've denied the impact using psychic powers has had on me for too long, and no one dares to point it out--just like every other powerful psychic who eventually loses control.

"If there were, you'd certainly deserve an honorary degree." I grumbled, and the mutt chuckled awkwardly.

After confirming the relative positions of the objects around me with my consciousness, I broke all the ingots down into tiny grains and spread them out on the floor.

"Do you know what war is?" I manipulated the grains of metal, forming thirty-centimeter-tall models of a red deer and a gray wolf from the tiny pieces of metal.

"A large-scale... violent conflict?" The mutt responded hesitantly. I nodded in acknowledgment; his definition was fairly accurate.

More grains of metal rose from the ground, forming huge clubs in the hands of the red deer and gray wolf models. Then, they started attacking each other with the clubs.

"War can have many fancy definitions and rhetoric, but its essence is undoubtedly violence." I moved my fingers, adding new commands to the consciousness field.

More red deer and gray wolves rose from the metal grains, all wielding weapons as they charged at each other, brutally slaughtering one another. One red deer was knocked to the ground, and the gray wolf that had struck it immediately swung its club down on the fallen red deer's head--scattering the metal grains in all directions.

"As technology advances, the form of war also changes," I modified the command, and the adamantine responded.

Now, both sides wielded swords, making the slaughter much more efficient. Severed limbs flew through the air, and the fallen bodies disintegrated into dust, only to reform into new red deer or gray wolves.

"Every time a new type of weapon appears--whether it's gunpowder, automatic weapons, atomic bombs, or particle beam weapons--people optimistically think, 'This weapon is so terrifying, there will be no more wars because no one will dare to face it.'" They're always so optimistic, aren't they?

A gray wolf knelt on the adamantine sand, clutching its severed arm, its twisted face locked in a silent scream as fine dust continuously sprayed from the cut, like a never-ending torment.

"Many years ago, we reached a singularity--a weapon powerful enough to destroy civilization entirely." I turned my palm over, raising it slightly. "Some people refer to this situation as 'Mutual Assured Destruction.' I've never understood what kind of 'balance' it is when the world can be destroyed a hundred times over."

A massive mushroom cloud rose from the adamantine sand, slowly consuming everything, including all the red deer and gray wolves desperately running, futilely hoping their efforts would have any effect. The expressions on their faces were filled with terror, as if burdened by too many regrets and sorrows.

"The advent of the era of push-button warfare has made it easier for people to distance themselves from war because it's harder to deeply comprehend what they've done. Everyone is just a small cog responsible for pressing a button--no one is a murderer. A little fact: killing requires training and goes against our instincts."

A sphere rose from the sand, floating in midair, slowly rotating. It appeared to be a beautiful and peaceful little garden, but upon closer inspection, one could see countless tiny mushroom clouds blooming on its surface, leaving unhealable scars, a landscape of utter devastation.

"Weapons have become more powerful, more complex, and more efficient than ever before. When the basic engagement distance is three hundred thousand kilometers, every command takes several minutes to know the outcome, but a single moment's mistake can lead to irreversible consequences. This shift has made political entities more reliant on weapon designers, engineers, and operators rather than the traditional understanding of an army." I raised a finger, adding details.

A fleet of starships appeared, surrounding the sphere, firing unimaginably powerful weapons at each other--whether neutron spears, directed nukes, plasma torpedoes, or beam weapons. In the end, everything exploded into dust.

"Make no mistake, scientists have killed far, far more people than soldiers ever have." I waved my hand, and the adamantine reformed into several spheres. "'In times of war, a scientist belongs to his country.' That phrase always sends a chill down my spine. Belongs...?"

I tossed the adamantine back into the storage locker and walked to the metal table to pour myself a cup of coffee.

"But this has given us a chance. If all 'armies' could think like scientists and engineers, with enough rationality, critical thinking--perhaps with a bit more empathy and a lot of courage--might we eventually break free from the endless cycle of war?" I sipped my coffee, looking out the observation window at the countless fragments forming Cronus's rings.

From a distance, the beauty of the rings becomes apparent. The observer's distance affects the outcome.

"It seems, for now, that it might actually be possible." I removed the red uniform coat of a commander and hung it on the wall. "It may sound hypocritical coming from someone like the 'Storm Wolf'--whose hands are literally covered in blood--but perhaps, just maybe, this generation could finally put an end to violence and conflict."

After all... the final reckoning is approaching.

I undid the first button of my collar, loosening the stiff stand-up collar to give my poor neck some relief.

"So," I finished my coffee and tossed the cup into the sink, "to hell with masculinity. What we need is more scholarly intellect."

"I'm sorry..." The mutt spoke up after I sat back at my desk. "I really didn't mean... it like that."

"I know." I activated the electronic desk, sighing. "I'm overly sensitive about some things--it's my issue." I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. "Go rest. Arthur's been pushing you hard lately, hasn't he?" The mutt nodded, his expression complicated.

"The only benefit is that I sleep like the dead every night now," he said, looking somewhere between embarrassed and rueful. "I've overslept a few times for morning drills, and Captain Arthur wasn't pleased."

"Don't tell him you heard this from me, but let me share a joke I really like." Thinking about this story always lifted my spirits. "In boot camp, a rookie explained that he was late for muster because he overslept. The commander angrily asked if he knew what would happen if all the soldiers in the world overslept." I glanced at the mutt, who tilted his head. "The rookie replied, 'Then we'd have world peace.'"

The mutt tilted his head the other way, his large brown eyes fixed on me, possibly searching for the punchline.

"So, we all have a duty to get plenty of sleep," I said with a smile. "Just like you need to do now."

The mutt stood up straight, seemingly about to bow or something similar, but then stopped abruptly. I could only guess he remembered I had told him not to salute me.

"Goodnight, Richter," he finally said with a slight nod. "Hope for world peace."

"Goodnight, Luther," I responded with a nod, looking down at the electronic desk as I heard the door slide open and close behind him. "Hope for world peace," I whispered.

After handling the high-priority tasks, I leaned back in my chair, sighed, and began breaking down the caffeine in my system.

I was genuinely amazed that I could say "It might actually be possible" with such confidence. I've always worried that the 'Storm Wolf' would just become the latest destructive weapon, and once I'm dead or grow old and my deterrent power fades, everything will return to square one.

So, should we accelerate and start the final reckoning while I still have enough strength?

I probed inward, feeling that endless raging storm within.

Interestingly, I found that my power is growing... ever since I met that mutt. I have no idea why yet, but the point is, if this trend continues, I'll reach Omega level in at most five years.

But the Council estimates the first act will need around fifteen years of preparation.

Should I bite the bullet and push through, or...?

Sighing again, I buried my face in my hands, giving my sore eyes a rest.

Once the dryness passed, I sat up again, casually smoothing the fur on my face, and then tapped the electronic desk, beginning to work on the slides for Luther's next lesson.