117 Expedition Arc 2 Imperial Capital Spaceport

‘Hey, you must be the legendary rookie, Prince Akira. I’m Prince Kyle. Nice to meet you.’

I couldn’t help but tense up at the sudden direct comm from the First Prince.

And it wasn’t just audio—visual feed too, face right there on the screen.

Prince Kyle spoke with a soft manner, calm and unhurried.

‘Prince Akira, Sixth Prince. Thank you for your assistance in recovering the Earthlings. The pleasure is mine.’

‘Kidnapping Earthlings… I should apologize as an Imperial citizen. That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.’

Kyle bowed his head in the holographic display.

‘No, please—don’t do that!’

‘I’ll help however I can.’

Kyle lifted his head, grinning wide, offering his alliance.

‘That means a lot.’

He’s genuinely… human. No wonder he’s the Emperor’s heir.

Well, I didn’t see the Prince’s true face… that’s on me.

At least for now, I’ve only received goodwill from Kyle.

‘By the way, why’d Akira come to the capital? He should’ve missed the deadline, right?’

Ah. I didn’t know, but apparently there’s a custom that lets you politely decline if you’re late.

And yet… I tried my hardest to make it on time.

‘That’s because I didn’t know the custom—so I found a way to make it, and came alone.’

‘Heh heh, you’re amusing. I don’t think anyone’s ever tried to pull off this impossible task without giving up… you’re the first.’

Kyle’s laughing hard—genuinely entertained.

‘Even if you make it, you’re still not a combat asset. That’s a negative rating, right?’

‘Not necessarily.’

Kyle’s expression tightens for a second—goes dead serious, stares right at me—then immediately breaks into a grin again.

If he’s the First Prince, he might just know about my information.

Like the secrets of the Dimensional Storage Vault, for example.

‘You’re seeing the Emperor after this, right? Come with me.’

I headed toward the Imperial Capital’s spaceport, my Personal Ship flanked by the First Prince’s fleet of twenty thousand vessels.

Kyle’s Personal Ship was a super-heavy warship, two kilometers long.

Eight times the length of my Personal Ship—two hundred and fifty meters. That’s eight cubed in volume.

With a warship that massive beside me, my ship looked like a remora clinging to a great white shark.

From the side, it might look like just a fireboat.

By the time I arrived at the Imperial Capital spaceport, I was already reeling from the sheer scale of the disparity.

It was a palace floating in orbit around the Empire’s home planet.

Ahead of me, the spaceport area held docking spots for starships—enough room to fit tens of thousands of vessels.

Behind that spaceport area, a literal castle rose, shimmering with ostentatious brilliance.

The flagship of the First Prince’s fleet split off to either side.

Kai and I kept moving toward the exclusive zone deep within the spaceport.

It was clearly reserved for nobility—dozens of docking spots, large enough to accommodate super-heavy warships.

A laser beacon guided Kyle’s colossal warship into position.

The warship descended, following the beam.

Then, a laser beacon guided my Personal Ship as well.

A 250-meter cruiser descended into the center of a docking spot designed for a 2-kilometer-long warship.

Feels like I’m being put on display or something.

When we dock, a transparent dome extends out and covers the docking spot.

Once air fills the dome, a gangway rises from the floor.

But it doesn’t align—retracts back. Too small a ship, that’s the problem!

Eventually, they give up on the gangway and roll out a ramp vehicle.

Yeah. Definitely on display.

I pull my helmet from the protrusion on top of my pilot suit’s backpack and put it on.

People working outside are in space suits too—better safe than sorry.

The Personal Ship’s hatch light is green, so it’s clear to open. I open it in one smooth motion.

No issues. I step down the ramp set up below the hatch.

The docking spot’s gravity is barely noticeable—jumping down from this height would probably be fine.

Still, I walk down the ramp. No reason to skip the obvious.

I went straight to the work-access hatch and slipped inside.

Taking off his helmet and stowing it on his back, Kyle follows the guide up the stairs to where he’s waiting.

No elevators here—just a work corridor.

Kyle had been watching the whole thing, smiling with what looked like pity.

After this, I’m due to meet the Emperor—but I don’t own a proper ceremonial robe.

Kyle had prepared it for me when I was in trouble. Guess he’s the type to be nice, huh.

Everyone just leaves their formal wear here, you know. There are tons of formal gowns that don’t fit anymore or were never worn in the first place.

Of course it's been washed and properly maintained—shouldn't be an issue. Oh, wait… that might be the Prince's.

"Wha—?"

I’m panicking. Borrowing my archenemy’s formal wear? That’s a rookie mistake.

"Kidding. He hasn’t even been granted the honor of audience. Won’t be, either. Not in this lifetime."

I think that’s going a bit too far. Please skip the heavier stuff.

I was being toyed with by Prince Kyle, the first heir.

Thanks for the rating, thanks for the bookmark.

Just a moment ago I hit 5,500 points—now already 5,600!

It’s really motivating.

Sorry I haven’t replied to your comments yet. My apologies.