Chapter 559 - 543: New Player at the Card Table
The Ten Thousand Miles of Sunshine broke through the Plane Crystal Wall of the Crystal Crown, sailing smoothly into the boundless Sea of Magical Power.
Outside the massive portholes, the bizarre tides of energy were both magnificent and deadly.
Allen and Hercules stood shoulder to shoulder. Behind them, the Crystal Crown had already shrunk into a dim speck of light.
Hercules had been silent for a long time. The light in his Rune Eye had been flickering at an extremely high frequency. Having witnessed Allen’s martial prowess with his own eyes, he had once again raised his personal assessment of the young man. A newly advanced Morning Star? No, he already possessed the qualifications to make veteran Morning Star Wizards take him seriously.
"Allen," Hercules suddenly broke the silence, his voice a fraction more amiable than usual. "Did you know that the Association recently discovered a new medium-sized resource plane?"
Allen retracted his gaze and looked at his immediate superior. He guessed that Hercules was about to extend an olive branch.
"Oh?" Allen displayed just the right amount of interest.
"Designation G-771. The Gate of Truth is preparing to allocate it to our Association. According to preliminary surveys, it’s rich in mineral resources, and the environment is suitable for the survival of most carbon-based lifeforms," Hercules said casually. "However, the exploration report indicated some anomalies in that plane. It’s suspected that Black Wizards are hiding inside."
He paused, his Rune Eye shifting toward Allen. "At the upcoming Minister’s meeting, the ownership of this plane will be decided."
Both Eleanor and Hercules had mentioned that becoming a higher-up meant getting a seat at the table to share the pie. However, Allen was still a layman when it came to the specifics of how the pie was divided.
"Mr. Minister," Allen lowered his posture, acting like a junior humbly seeking guidance. "I’ve just stepped into this circle and only have a half-baked understanding of many rules. How exactly is this ’ownership’ decided?"
A trace of a smile appeared on Hercules’s face. He was highly satisfied with Allen’s astuteness; dealing with smart people was always a pleasure.
"Very well. Consider this a lesson for our newly appointed Vice Minister." Hercules walked over to the Commander’s seat and sat down, gesturing for Allen to make himself comfortable.
"In the Wizarding World, whether for White Wizards or Black Wizards, the biggest business for the past few eras has always been the same—developing planes.
"The planes within the Sea of Magical Power are endless, but you can’t just claim sovereignty over one simply by discovering it first. That primitive set of rules was phased out as far back as the ancient era.
"After a series of power struggles, the current rule has evolved so that individuals are no longer permitted to claim ownership of a plane. The development of new planes has, in fact, been monopolized by the major factions."
Hercules held up a finger. "Whichever organization is the first to successfully establish a stable Star Gate capable of two-way teleportation in a plane will by default own that plane for internal development. As for how it’s allocated within the organization, that’s our own business."
Allen nodded. This aligned with the resource allocation logic of a mature civilization, avoiding endless external conflicts and keeping disputes internal.
"But there is a prerequisite here," Hercules continued. "Although there are many ’bubbles’ in the Sea of Magical Power, over eighty percent of them are garbage with low developmental value. Either the environment is so harsh that even a Second-level Wizard couldn’t survive there, or the resources are so scarce that they couldn’t even cover the cost of building a Star Gate. There are also some planes with such bizarre Plane Laws that no one can enter them at all.
"Only the remaining twenty percent or less are worth developing. And within that twenty percent, they are categorized into small, medium, and large planes based on their area and value."
He casually swiped his hand through the air, conjuring a light screen that displayed the Association’s plane classification standards.
Small Plane: Approximately 1 to 10 million square kilometers.
Medium Plane: Approximately 10 to 100 million square kilometers.
Large Plane: Over 100 million square kilometers.
"Based on the type of output, they are further divided into various resource planes, research planes, and ecological planes. Moreover, the closer they are to the core territory of our Wizarding World, the higher their value. After all, there’s no shortage of neighbors in this universe who want to cause us trouble."
Allen’s gaze landed on the light screen, his mind working rapidly. A medium-sized plane was roughly the size of a continent from his past life, yet this was merely an "ordinary piece of pie" in the Wizarding World’s territory of interests. A large plane was equivalent to half, or even several times, the surface area of Earth.
"As for the allocation issue you’re most concerned about," Hercules said, closing the light screen and leaning forward slightly, "that is resolved at the Minister’s meeting.
"The Minister’s meeting is an assembly for all Vice Ministers and higher-ranking officials within the Association. Our Association has a total of twelve departments. Excluding the President, there are currently twenty-eight high-ranking officials. Both you and I are among them.
"The meeting covers many topics, but the most important one is dividing the ownership of newly discovered planes. On average, the Association brings about three new planes to the table for allocation each year. Only those of us attending have the qualifications to participate."
Hercules looked at Allen and enunciated every word clearly. "The method for deciding who gets the plane is even simpler—the highest bidder wins."
"The highest bidder wins?" Allen keenly grasped the crux of the matter and voiced his biggest doubt. "Mr. Minister, there are only a meager few planes each year. How is that enough to go around for more than twenty Morning Stars? Furthermore, if it’s strictly the highest bidder wins, wouldn’t wealth infinitely concentrate at the top? How could newcomers like us possibly compete with veteran powerhouses who have accumulated their fortunes over thousands of years?"
"Good question." Hercules nodded in approval. "First of all, over the long lifespans of Wizards, this meeting has been held countless times. You are the only newcomer to force your way in over the last twenty years. Everyone seated at that table has at least one or more planes to their name; there is no such thing as anyone ’going hungry.’
"Secondly, and most importantly, developing a plane—suppressing the natives, establishing an ecological cycle, fending off external enemies, and constructing a Plane Law Defense Array—requires an ocean of time, energy, and resources.
"Therefore, the vast majority of Morning Star Wizards will only choose one or two planes to manage deeply throughout their entire lives. Sometimes, a single plane is too much for one person to swallow, requiring cooperative development. Biting off more than you can chew by forcibly occupying multiple planes will only lead to a ruptured chain of capital, ultimately causing the plane to drag you down."
Allen completely agreed. He had burned through almost all of his early savings just to forge the Cybertron Half-Plane.
"Finally, there’s the issue of ’matching needs.’" Hercules’s Rune Eye flickered with a light that seemed to see right through human nature. "A plane’s resource attributes determine its buyers. For example, a plane exceptionally rich in plant resources or water elements is a priceless treasure for Wizards of the Contract School and certain Witchcraft schools. They would willingly bankrupt themselves for it. But for people like you and me, the appeal isn’t that great.
"A plane teeming with billions of transcendent lifeforms or intelligent species would have the lunatics of the Bloodline School fighting tooth and nail over it. After all..." Hercules’s lips curled into a cold arc, "people are a resource too."
Allen fell silent. He understood now. This wasn’t a simple casino where people competed to see who had more money; it was a highly segmented, top-tier market.
Every participant had their own core demands. Everyone was waiting for the piece of the "pie" that suited them best. Once it appeared, they would not hesitate to bet their entire fortune. However, for planes that didn’t suit them, they would calmly watch from the sidelines. Those who had already claimed their share would need a very, very long time to digest it.
This left an opportunity for latecomers—like him—to get a slice of the pie.
"I understand." Allen nodded slowly. "So, Plane G-771, the plane with the ’anomalies’... Will that be my opportunity?"
Hercules smiled. The boy was teachable.
"Its abundant mineral resources make it highly suitable for the Alchemy School. Furthermore, the environment is pleasant, and there is some intelligent life, which means you could develop plantations, breeding industries, or other commerce.
"However, its ’anomalies’ have deterred most competitors. The report submitted by the exploration team mentioned ’memetic contamination.’ Even a squad led by a Second-level Wizard went completely missing inside."
Hercules stood up, walked over to Allen, and patted him on the shoulder.
"Those old fogeys are afraid of trouble and fear their investments will go down the drain. But you’re different, Allen." His voice dropped to a low whisper, carrying a hint of temptation. "You are the Vice Minister of our Anomaly Threat Response Department. Dealing with ’anomalies’ is exactly your line of work.
"What others perceive as trouble might just be... trivial to you."
A glint flashed deep within Allen’s eyes. Hercules was guiding him on how to use his new identity to turn a disadvantageous rule into his own advantage.
"Thank you for your guidance, Mr. Minister." Allen bowed slightly, expressing his most sincere gratitude.
"We are colleagues." Hercules waved his hand and turned to walk out of the bridge. "If you have any ideas, hurry up and start raising the funds. Don’t get caught empty-handed when the time comes. I’m going out to enjoy the view."
Hercules’s figure disappeared through the doorway.
On the spacious bridge, only Allen remained. He stood quietly for a moment, his deep blue eyes reflecting the endless sea of stars outside the window.
His Wesren Heavy Industry and his Golem Legion needed a true headquarters of their own. He needed an independent world free from constraints—a place where he could develop recklessly, build factories, train his legion, and even dock his starships.