The first is the Minecraft World, serving as both base and rear—offering infinite resources and the protection of its rules.
The second is the Multiverse Conquest System bound deep within his soul.
The system's demands are blunt—and brutal.
It grants Steve the power to open Portals to other planes, but the price is conquest: he must subjugate and unify those worlds.
Manifest Destiny and all that.
That's why Steve is so desperate to cooperate with the state.
Solo, he can build houses in Minecraft; conquering worlds with tens of millions of people—or supernatural power—would kill him alone.
Not to mention he can only control one living creature per trip.
He needs a blade—an invincible blade—and the the USA military is that blade.
Collecting himself, Steve looked at General Randy and slowly dropped the real bombshell.
"General Randy, limitless coal and steel can at best make life on Earth comfortable, but my goal—the true value behind the door I hold—was never comfort."
"Beyond basic resources, that world's core function is as a transit hub."
Steve tapped his temple.
"Inside my mind, countless coordinates are lighting up; each marks a real Another World waiting to be conquered."
"Conquer… Another World?"
General Randy's brows locked, his expression grave.
"For what end? Colonization?"
"For evolution."
Steve spoke four words.
Then he dangled bait no Chinese could refuse.
"General Randy, you thought of industry, of technology."
"But have you considered that the door might open, not onto zombies or wasteland, but onto a world of a more advanced civilization or one with superpowers? "
At the word "superpower," General Randy's teacup-hand clenched; his breath froze.
Steve pressed on, voice dripping seduction.
"If that's the case—imagine worlds where people bend gravity with a thought, where armored figures streak across the sky like missiles, where energy blades cut cities in half, and enhanced beings live for centuries. Meanwhile, we arrive with advanced weapons, tactical networks, and the advantage of revival itself—studying their abilities, reverse-engineering their powers, harvesting their tech and serums…"
"Then it won't just be a national tech leap."
Steve leaned forward, enunciating each word.
"We might let all the USA soar like eagles, elevate the entire country—our soldiers tanking missiles with flesh, our people breaking lifespan limits."
"General Randy, we could achieve unmatched power and eternal life, are a few tons of gold and coal anything more than roadside pebbles?"
Boom.
If infinite resources had been a bomb, this immortal-craze was a nuke.
General Randy's mind detonated.
As a high-level officer, he knew the state had never stopped probing human limits—but found no gateway.
Now Steve laid the golden goose egg at his feet.
Invade foreign realms, plunder DNA, feed the USA, evolve the people.
A path to catapult american civilization from planetary to stellar.
Only after a long silence did General Randy recover.
He stared at Steve, the light in his eyes utterly changed.
Where once he'd seen a lucky kid on a gold mine, now he saw the helmsman of a civilizational leap.
General Randy rose, straightened his uniform, his manner graver than ever.
He was no fool; he caught Steve's subtext.
"This world is mine; the gate is mine."
"I bring the state along because I need partners, not masters."
That delicate line had to be held absolutely.
So General Randy drew a deep breath and stretched out his calloused hand, voice sincere and forceful.
"Mr. Steve, I understand: your ambition is world's opportunity."
"The state won't interfere with your authority in that world, nor overstep its bounds."
"On this special battlefield, you are the sole commander; we are your strongest rear."
"Which world you want to strike, the Staff Headquarters drafts the plan; Group Armies spearhead; the Logistics Department secures supplies. The Military Industrial Complex is always ready for war."
"We cooperate, each takes what we need: you finish your conquest."
"The country wants to consolidate it's national strength, wants that evolutionary chance leading to the multiverse and beyond."
Steve looked at the outstretched hand, a satisfied smile finally appearing.
This was the attitude he wanted.
Neither servile nor arrogant—mutual benefit.
I won't be vassal; you won't steal the fruit.
We share the cake, grow it together, elevate the whole USA.
Steve extended his hand and clasped General Randy's firmly.
"Pleasant cooperation, General Randy."
Cold light flickered in Steve's eyes—battle-intent toward the Infinite heavens.
General Randy didn't immediately lift the red secure phone to report.
He merely glanced at the surveillance camera blinking faint red in the corner, then at the silently turning tape on the desk, and looked away.
Every word, every punctuation, had already streamed through the highest-encryption channel deep into the USA.
At this moment, those politicians atop the country's power were doubtless as shaken as he.
With no need for repeat reports, General Randy's taut nerves eased slightly.
He studied the impossibly young college kid before him; scrutiny and authority faded, replaced by an elder's appreciation and subtle warmth.
"Mr. Steve."
General Randy paused, waving a hand.
"Always calling you mister feels stiff, too official. I'm old enough to be your father; if you don't mind, allow me to call you Steve, and in private you call me Randy."
It was a powerful political signal: from now on Steve wasn't merely a partner or talent, but someone inside the protective circle.
Steve gladly complied, nodding with a smile.
"Sure, Randy."
That "Randy" instantly shortened the distance between them.
General Randy sipped water to soothe his throat, then asked the key question gnawing at him.
"By the way, Steve, the President dreamed of you last night—no ghostly portent, just the consciousness-possession you spoke of, right?"
"You see clearly."