Overindulgence

"All of you, follow me."

Jayce checked the time displayed on his wristband and led Sparta and the others out of the dormitory to the company square.

At a glance, the square was packed with Viltrumite Warriors.

There were recruits they had met a few times, as well as many veteran soldiers they had never met before.

Following behind Jayce, Sparta raised his head slightly and looked into the sky.

Before his eyes, tens of millions of Viltrumite Warriors floated densely overhead. Even the sunlight could not penetrate this torrent.

Everyone knew that a handful of Viltrumites could sweep away all resistance on a planet in a very short time.

And now, hovering above them was a legion capable of destroying an entire galaxy.

The three teams of recruits, including Sparta's, all wore shocked expressions. The disbelief in their eyes seemed almost solid.

The sight of tens of millions gathered together was like a dark cloud blotting out the sky and sun—an incredibly stunning spectacle.

Jayce turned to look at the stunned crowd, then lifted his feet from the ground and hung motionless in midair like everyone else.

Sparta and the others hurriedly followed.

But once he had flown into the air, Sparta realized that the sight before him was even more shocking than he had imagined.

Looking down, he saw people standing everywhere—streets, rooftops, plazas, every place where a person could stand was filled.

This was not a gathering of tens of millions. It was clearly an army of hundreds of millions.

Just as Sparta stood there in a daze, a figure squeezed out from the crowd and appeared before him.

"Father? What are you doing here?"

Sparta froze slightly, never expecting his father to appear on an occasion like this.

That was right. The man was Military Department Colonel Eric.

Eric nodded lightly, his gaze complicated as he looked Sparta up and down.

For a long while, he said nothing. His expression carried indescribable emotions—reluctance and worry.

At last, Eric raised a hand and gently pressed it onto Sparta's shoulder. "Make sure you come back alive and unharmed."

Feeling the weight on his shoulder, Sparta's eyes changed from confusion to determination.

He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

"I will."

Eric opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but it felt as if something were lodged in his throat, leaving him unable to speak.

He actually had many things he wanted to tell his son, but at that moment, every word became nothing more than a movement in his throat.

Seeing his father hesitate, with an expression like he was constipated and unable to relieve himself, Sparta took the initiative to speak.

"Father, are you joining this war too?"

Eric withdrew his hand and nodded.

"Yes, I'll be participating just like you."

Before Sparta could ask further, he continued, "Don't worry. I'm strong enough to take care of myself on the battlefield."

"When the war is over, we'll go eat the grilled steaks you loved when you were little."

"Mm... and bring Zoe along."

With that, Eric turned and left, his figure quickly disappearing into the dense mass of Viltrumite Warriors.

Sparta watched in the direction his father had gone. Even after the tide of people had swallowed that figure, he continued staring that way.

At his side, Jayce looked at Sparta, who had yet to recover, then glanced toward the direction Eric had left. Understanding dawned on him.

No wonder Sparta was so kind-natured. He had a father like that.

Within the Viltrumite Empire, Eric was an exceptionally doting father. He could even be called indulgent.

A son finding his father annoying, and a father finding his son annoying—that was the normal state of a Viltrumite family.

A harmonious father-son relationship like Sparta and Eric's...

There might not even be one in ten million families.

Meanwhile, Eric returned to his own unit.

The moment he appeared, a dark-skinned Viltrumite, also a colonel, stepped forward.

"Where did you just go?"

Eric glanced sideways at the man, then looked away.

"To see my son."

The dark-skinned colonel dug at his ear in disbelief and widened his eyes dramatically.

"Before setting off, you actually went to discipline your son?"

That was right. In the dark-skinned colonel's understanding, the normal Viltrumite family dynamic was that fathers and sons became instantly hostile whenever they met.

"You didn't beat him so badly that he can't fight, did you?"

Eric lowered his gaze toward the ground below, expressionless.

"On the contrary, I told him to come back alive so we could eat grilled steak."

His words made the dozen or so officers around them, all of whom had perked up their ears, freeze at once. They stared at Eric as if he were some kind of freak.

Under their unblinking stares, Eric frowned slightly, not understanding.

"What's the problem?"

The dark-skinned colonel shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. You just don't act like a Viltrumite father at all."

"You need to display the authority of a strict father. That way, they'll obey properly and become qualified warriors of the Empire."

As though he had remembered something, the corner of Eric's otherwise expressionless mouth rose by a few pixels.

"During the Coming-of-Age Trial, he earned my recognition through his strength. From that moment on, he was already a qualified warrior."

"You have no idea how powerful my son is. He's only eighteen years old now."

"He is my pride."

Sparta's talent, strength, personality, appearance, and everything else about him were sources of Eric's pride.

This was his son, an almost perfect Viltrumite Warrior.

Other than his fondness for underhanded tactics, he had no flaws.

For some reason, Eric suddenly felt a chill around his lower body.

Mm, perhaps it was just an illusion.

The dark-skinned colonel retorted, "No matter how strong he is, can he be stronger than us elites? He's just a newly grown recruit."

"Don't spoil him. You'll only ruin that child."

Did he lack paternal love? Of course he had paternal love, but it was different from Eric's.

His paternal love was like a mountain. Every punch he landed on his own son carried the weight of a mountain.

Only such an upbringing could produce the powerful, iron-blooded warriors the Empire required.

Eric merely replied.

"As his father, I will give him love."

"Captain, why didn't the Emperor come?"

Hearing the question, Jayce withdrew his gaze from the horizon and turned to stare at Sparta, who had just spoken.

"Why would the Emperor come?"

The warriors were the ones going to war. Why would the Emperor come?

Thinking Jayce had not understood him, Sparta could only explain in greater detail.

"We're going to war. Shouldn't the Emperor say something to boost morale? Or personally see us off?"

Jayce answered quietly.

"Viltrumite Warriors do not need their morale boosted. That is a sign of weakness. For every person to fight for the Empire and carry out the Emperor's will is the greatest morale of all."

At that moment, ten thousand fuck your mothers galloped through Sparta's heart.

If he had been strong enough, he definitely would have overthrown this Empire, which was absurd to the extreme.

So many people were risking their lives for you, yet you could not even come out to greet them?

There were no normal people left.