[ 2088, February 17th (Monday, Night) ] - [ Niero's Ego-Space (Personal Pocket Dimension) ] - [ Student's Dorm-Block > Gallagher-Sandoval Military Academy > Dungeontown's Middle Ring > Dungeontown USA-07 (Thousand Oaks, California, USA ] - [West Port-City (Los Angeles, USA) > Earth ]
Vuldyr flicked her hand.
The status window disappeared.
A second interface replaced it.
This one was considerably larger.
Niero leaned forward while rubbing both of his hands.
"Now, show me my loot, Vee. The stuff I collected during the Black Tide incident."
Niero sat upright.
"Please, tell me I didn't nearly die for nothing."
> ["You killed an S-Rank Sea Witch, survived a hostile pocket dimension, and helped repel an entire aquatic incursion."]
"Yeah, yeah. Heroic achievements. Very touching." He waved dismissively. "Show me the loot!"
Vuldyr gave him a long, unimpressed look.
Then she raised her hand.
[STATUS WINDOW: INVENTORY]
A translucent interface materialized before Niero, displaying rows of recovered materials, weapons, anomalous specimens, and other assorted items.
His eyes immediately began scanning the numbers.
And then—
He stopped breathing for a moment.
"...Oh."
His pupils practically turned into U-Cred symbols.
"OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL LITTLE NUMBERS."
> ["Please refrain from drooling on the interface,"] Vuldyr remarked.
-
[Recovered Black Tide Loot]
1. [
Dense, oily anomalous blood harvested from Black Tide organisms. Contains biologically active compounds with weak psionic and aquatic mutagenic properties. Its organic material and trace Omnia-compatible structures provide a useful bulk conversion yield.
OU per item: 450 (x49 = 22,050 OU)
U-Creds per item: 45,000 (x49 = 2,205,000 U-Creds)
-
2. [
Crude but effective biomechanical projectile weapons used by Scuba-Scum infantry. Their pressure-resistant mechanisms, metal components, and biomechanical construction make them more valuable than ordinary scrap. Intact weapons could fetch a higher price on the black market.
OU per item: 700 (×42 = 29,400 OU)
U-Creds per item: 70,000 (×42 = 2,940,000 U-Creds)
-
3. [
Hardened anti-personnel harpoons designed to penetrate targets under extreme underwater pressure. Most of their conversion value comes from the metal and hardened projectile components.
OU per item: 12 (×125 = 1,500 OU)
U-Creds per item: 1,200 (×125 = 150,000 U-Creds)
-
4. [
Compression-based aquatic concussion explosives that generate violent water-pressure shockwaves upon detonation. Their specialized housings and pressure-compression assemblies offer substantial conversion value, although live explosives require safe disarming before processing.
OU per item: 180 (×46 = 8,280 OU)
U-Creds per item: 18,000 (×46 = 828,000 U-Creds)
-
5. [
Anomalous, bone-like coral formations extracted from Black Tide organisms. Their structures contain trace Omnia conductivity, making bulk processing worthwhile despite the relatively low value of individual specimens.
OU per item: 80 (×95 = 7,600 OU)
U-Creds per item: 8,000 (×95 = 760,000 U-Creds)
-
6. [
Pressure-resistant organic rubber material used in Black Tide diving suits and biomechanical sealing systems. Its industrial applications give intact material a higher practical market value than its raw molecular breakdown yield.
OU per item: 25 (×99 = 2,475 OU)
U-Creds per item: 2,500 (×99 = 247,500 U-Creds)
-
Niero's mouth slowly fell open.
Six categories of loot.
Thousands of Omnia Units.
Millions of U-Creds.
And that was only the common material.
"Keep going," he whispered.
Vuldyr flicked her fingers.
The interface scrolled downward.
-
[High-Value Anomalous Specimens]
7. [
A unique biomechanical communication organ recovered from the Black Tide, no larger than the heart of a human. Its coral-like structure produces distorted rhythmic signals, aggressive bass frequencies, and fractured sonic spikes capable of feeding directly into connected nervous systems as well as disturbing nearby radio frequency. Its sophisticated signal-processing properties make it especially valuable to researchers.
OU per item: 28,000 (×1 = 28,000 OU)
U-Creds per item: 2,800,000 (×1 = 2,800,000 U-Creds)
-
Niero saw that biomechanical organ...
The same organ, as large as a human heart, caused such a disaster he went through...
A mockery of a living organ that nearly killed everyone on that ship that day...
"Huh. I guess this causes the signal jamming during the ambush. Clever slimy shits..."
> ["But thanks to you, you break their signal jamming and resumed rescue efforts."]
-
8. [
A concentrated anomalous mutagen of unknown origin that triggers powerful physiological transformations in semi-living organisms, particularly Black Tide members. Its research value is considerable, but unsafe processing risks contamination and material loss.
OU per item: 22,000 (×1 = 22,000 OU)
U-Creds per item: 2,200,000 (×1 = 2,200,000 U-Creds)
-
9. [
A specialized biological organ recovered from a Brute-class organism. Its unusually dense structure and regenerative properties make it a promising specimen for military medical research and advanced biological engineering.
OU per item: 35,000 (×1 = 35,000 OU)
U-Creds per item: 3,500,000 (×1 = 3,500,000 U-Creds)
-
10. [
The fractured black heart-core of the slain Sea Witch Amaryllis. Although shattered, it retains traces of Dark Script, a form of corrupted anomalous energy akin to "magic." Its residual power remains valuable for conversion, while occult laboratories may pay substantially more to examine or reconstruct its original structure.
OU per item: 42,000 (×1 = 42,000 OU)
U-Creds per item: 4,200,000 (×1 = 4,200,000 U-Creds)
-
Niero stared at the last entry.
Amaryllis.
The Sea Witch had skewered him, nearly killed him, and dragged him into that horrible pocket dimension.
Her heart was now an inventory item.
A shattered, corrupted inventory item worth more than four million U-Creds.
He leaned back.
"...That's a hell of a severance package."
> ["I'm uncertain that the deceased would agree,"] Vuldyr replied.
"Well, jokes on her."
-
[Exceptional Loot]
11. [
A collection of small, pearl-like crystalline spheres that shimmer like a sunlit ocean. Their exceptional purity, beauty, and unusual anomalous properties make them highly desirable to collectors, specialist artifact shops, artisans, and researchers.
OU per item: 125,000 (×21 = 2,625,000 OU)
U-Creds per item: 12,500,000 (×21 = 262,500,000 U-Creds)
-
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Niero slowly rose from the throne.
He leaned toward the interface.
Then he leaned closer.
Then he rubbed his eyes and checked the number again.
12,500,000 U-Creds each...
262,500,000 U-Creds total...
"For the pearls? These little shiny blue pearls?" he said slowly.
> ["Yes. They are exceptionally valuable, espacially by the "fat cats" socialites of the Queendom. Here is the final calculation for your loot..."]
-
[ Final Loot Calculation ]
> TOTAL OMNIA UNITS (OU) = 2,843,305 OU
> TOTAL U-CREDS = 282,330,500 U-Creds
-
> ["They key takeaway; the 21 Azure Pearls account for approximately 92.3% of the total loot value. Without them, you have recovered loot would be worth only 218,305 OU and 19,830,500 U-Creds."]
He was silent for a moment.
Niero gripped the armrests.
"I'M FUCKING RICH!"
His voice echoed across the endless ocean.
Somewhere in the distance, the stars seemed to twinkle.
Vuldyr folded her arms.
> ["Technically, you possess valuable assets. You haven't sold anything. Nor does the estimated market price guarantee that any buyer will pay the listed amount."]
"Details!"
Niero froze.
He looked at the conversion values again.
Then at the market estimates.
Then back at the conversion values.
> ["Keep in mind that most things you scan or kept into your inventory will be recorded into your Astra Codex for fabrication when needed but it requires substantial amount of resources or Omnia to fabricate them due to its complex nature, let alone its rarity and ranking."]
His expression became that of a man facing the most difficult financial decision of his life.
"...Okay. New rule."
Vuldyr raised an eyebrow.
> ["Which is?"]
"We do not recycle the entire shiny pearls."
> ["A sensible decision."]
"We sell them."
> ["Provided you can find a legitimate...or willing...buyer."]
"We sell them for a fortune, buy a house, buy a car, buy—"
> ["You are sixteen and barely a Marauder. Its gonna be very suspicious how you get these much of money on the get go."]
"—buy a better house, buy a better car, and invest the rest. Mom, Aunt, Sis, and Pumpkin gonna taste some luxury soon."
> ["Your mother might question you and your suddenly acquiring a quarter-billion U-Creds."]
Niero's enthusiasm faltered.
He imagined Mom's reaction.
Then Alura's gambler's beady eyes.
Then Sophie discovered that her little brother had become absurdly wealthy overnight.
He imagined the paperwork.
The questions.
The family interrogation.
Or worse...the Queendom might start questioning him...
His shoulders slumped.
"...I'll deal with that later. Maybe rethinking some tactics."
> ["An admirable financial strategy."]
Still, his grin returned almost immediately.
Even if he never sold the pearls, their potential value was staggering.
And the pearls weren't even the only prize. His Black Tide haul contained weapons, ammunition, anomalous biological materials, specialized organs, and the remains of an S-Rank Sea Witch.
His eyes flicked toward his available Omnia Matter.
1,535 OU.
A hundred more would bring him to the threshold he wanted for his next move.
[Gacha Fortuna.]
He clasped his hands together.
"Okay. The plan is simple. We keep the rare stuff intact, convert the junk and some surplus loot into Omnia, and get enough Omnia to activate Gacha Fortuna or cultivation investment."
> ["Your definition of "junk" includes several potentially valuable anomalous specimens."]
"Then we evaluate them first."
> ["Undestand. What about Omnia?"]
He was quite for a moment, thinking of a viable strategy.
Then he snapped his finger.
"Maybe spit the loot with large quantity into 3 ways; for Omnia conversion, for sales or trade, and keep the rest as collection."
>[ "Hm. Sounds fair."]
"Of course it is. I'm a super-genius after all."
Niero grin smugly.
Niero continued scrolling through his inventory, his eyes darting between item descriptions and estimated conversion values.
The sheer quantity of things he had accumulated was ridiculous.
Apart from the Black Tide's weapons, biological specimens, and valuable anomalous materials, there were also ordinary supplies: packaged food, drinks, spare electronic components, circuit boards, miniature motors, and assorted mechanical parts.
Some of the electronic components were particularly interesting.
Niero had collected them with the intention of building a few gadgets of his own. He already had several ideas floating around in his head, ranging from compact surveillance devices to improvised tools and disposeable weapons that could prove useful during dungeon exploration.
There was just one problem.
He needed somewhere secluded to assemble them.
His dormitory room was hardly suitable for secretive engineering projects. With three other boys sharing Room 1030, someone was bound to notice him disassembling electronics or assembling suspicious-looking contraptions in the middle of the night.
And knowing JD, Bart, and Flick, keeping a secret like that would be an exercise in futility.
I'll figure something out later.
For now, he continued browsing as swiped through the inventory window.
Then Vuldyr suddenly raised a hand.
> ["Wait. There's another item worth examining."]
A new window appeared.
-
[
A mysterious rhombus-shaped relic forged from an unidentified obsidian-like crystalline material. It emits a faint, rhythmic hum of anomalous energy, yet its origin, purpose, and creator remain completely unknown. Its true nature is a mystery, but preliminary observations suggest significant intrinsic value and untapped potential.
-
Niero stared at the display.
Then his expression changed.
The corners of his mouth tightened.
"...Oh."
He remembered.
The black rhombus.
The strange artifact he had somehow collected after killing Amaryllis.
More importantly, he remembered what it had done.
His mind flashed back to the Black Room: the Sea Witch's grotesque transformation, the monstrous body writhing with unnatural power, the overwhelming force that had sent him to the brink of death.
He remembered being skewered.
The pain.
The helplessness.
And the moment when he had genuinely believed he was going to die.
Niero shuddered.
"...fuck me..."
Vuldyr glanced at him.
> ["You recognize it?"]
"Unfortunately."
He rubbed his face.
> ["That's the thing Amaryllis used to transform herself into that S-Rank monstrosity."]
His gaze returned to the artifact.
"That damn thing got a second wind and nearly killed me because of it...."
Niero took another look at the inventory entry.
"Okay. What does the appraisal say? Rank? Function? Conversion rate? Estimated market price?"
Vuldyr gestured toward the floating window.
> ["Nothing conclusive."]
Niero blinked.
"What? Nothing?"
> ["Your appraisal capabilities have expanded following your recent Ascension. I can extract substantially more information from unfamiliar objects than before. However, this artifact resists meaningful classification."]
She enlarged the item's display.
> ["Its composition cannot be matched to any known material in your accessible databases. Its precise function remains unclear, and I cannot establish a reliable Omnia Unit conversion rate or U-Cred valuation."]
Niero frowned.
"Not even an estimated rank?"
> ["Not with any reasonable degree of confidence. Assigning one would be speculation."]
"Great. Another mysterious piece of bullshit."
> ["One with a substantial concentration of anomalous energy."]
"...How substantial?"
> ["Very."]
"Wonderful. I have an unidentified artifact with no rank, no price tag, no instruction manual, and enough mysterious energy to make an S-Rank Witch into a walking nightmare."
> ["When you phrase it that way, it does sound rather concerning."]
"Because it is concerning!"
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Whatever. I'll put it aside until we can figure out what it does."
Then Niero paused.
Something else had occurred to him.
A memory.
An old, nearly forgotten memory.
"...Wait a minute."
He turned back to the inventory window.
"Show me my older items."
> ["Which items?"]
"The stuff from last year. Radiant Day. That alleyway incident."
Vuldyr tilted her head.
> ["Searching inventory records."]
The display shifted.
Niero scrolled through a series of old entries, most of which he barely remembered collecting.
Then he found it.
-
[Rank ???] Unknown Black Cube Artifact ×1
An ominous cube made from unidentified obsidian-like crystalline matter. Used for opening a breach through space from a specific dimension. It still hums faintly with traces of exhausted anomalous energy.
-
Niero went completely still.
"...No fucking way."
He enlarged the entry.
The black cube.
Of course.
The black cube.
He had nearly forgotten it existed.
A year ago, during the Radiant Day celebrations, he had been walking through an alleyway when he sensed something strange.
An anomalous presence.
A distortion in the air.
Something that felt profoundly wrong.
Then he had seen the cube suspended in midair.
A dark, crystalline object surrounded by an eerie distortion in space.
And from the breach it had opened came a group of hostile Skitter Orkoids—goblin-like creatures that had no business appearing in an ordinary city alley.
Niero had fought them.
He remembered the chaos, the improvised tactics, and the sheer absurdity of having to fight monsters in the middle of a public celebration.
After defeating them, he had turned his attention toward the cube.
He had attacked it.
Somehow, the object had become inert.
Then he had collected it.
And promptly forgotten about it for almost an entire year.
Niero slowly covered his face with one hand.
"How the hell did I forget about something that opened a goddamn portal?"
Niero lowered his hand.
He brought both artifact entries into view.
The black cube.
The rhombus.
Different shapes, but almost identical in material and energy signature.
Niero looked at Vuldyr.
"Scan both of them."
Her expression immediately became more focused.
> ["Understood. Initiating comparative analysis."]
The two artifacts floated beside each other.
Thin lines of light swept over their surfaces as Vuldyr's analytical interface began processing their composition, energy signatures, and residual anomalous structures.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the interface changed.
Vuldyr's eyes widened slightly.
> ["...Interesting."]
Niero leaned forward.
"That sounded like an actual discovery. Go on."
> ["Both artifacts are composed of an unidentified crystalline substance. Their exact molecular structure cannot be resolved, but the available readings indicate an unusually high degree of similarity."]
"How similar?"
> ["Their material signatures are functionally indistinguishable within the limits of my current analysis."]
Niero's eyebrows rose.
"You're telling me they're made of the same stuff?"
> ["That is the most likely interpretation."]
The energy readings appeared next.
Both artifacts produced anomalous waveforms that pulsed in distinct but related rhythms.
The cube's residual energy was weak, nearly exhausted. The rhombus retained a much stronger concentration, its faint rhythmic hum still detectable.
Yet beneath those differences, their signatures shared a peculiar underlying pattern.
> ["Their anomalous energy waves also exhibit significant structural similarities. The difference appears to be primarily one of intensity and configuration rather than fundamental composition."]
Niero leaned back.
"So the portal cube and Amaryllis's transformation rock are related."
> ["There is a possibility that they share a common origin, or at minimum, an exceptionally similar manufacturing or formation process."]
"Could they be from the Hollow?"
Vuldyr paused.
> ["Possibly. Their material and energy characteristics are consistent with certain anomalous phenomena associated with the Hollow, even with the artifacts of similar nature from the Queendom's Resource listing. However, I cannot confirm that hypothesis."]
Niero looked between the two artifacts.
"So... its just like other Hollow artifacts. None were able to apraised by the Queedom's top brains?"
> ["A reasonable working theory. Not a verified conclusion."]
He scratched his chin.
"One opens portals. The other turns someone into an S-Rank nightmare."
> ["Their functions may be considerably more complex than that."]
"Fantastic. Two pieces of space-rock bullshit, and we have no idea what their true purpose really is."
Niero was about to dismiss the windows when Vuldyr suddenly froze.
Her eyes shifted toward the analytical display.
Then she leaned closer.
> ["...Wait."]
Niero narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
> ["I have detected another possible application."]
"Please tell me it involves selling them for a fortune."
> ["No. Something else..."]
Vuldyr raised her hand, and a new analysis window unfolded between them.
> ["The two artifacts contain concentrated anomalous structures that appear compatible with the energy-conversion architecture of your Stargod System."]
Niero blinked.
"...Come again?"
> ["Their underlying structures may be suitable as cultivation catalysts."]
Silence.
Niero stared at her.
Then slowly looked at the black cube.
Then at the rhombus.
Then back at Vuldyr.
"You're telling me I can eat them?"
> ["Not literally. Their anomalous structures could be broken down through your Astra Force and absorb into your body, allowing the Stargod System to process their recoverable energy as Ascension growth."]
Niero's eyes widened.
"...You mean I can use them to level up?"
> ["That is my current hypothesis."]
He stood up so quickly that the throne nearly seemed to swallow him.
"Why the hell didn't we think of this earlier?!"
> ["Because we had not previously identified a plausible method of converting these artifacts into a usable cultivation resource. Your recent Ascension appears to have improved both your information appraisal and the System's ability to process unfamiliar anomalous structures."]
Niero stopped.
"...Right."
He looked at the two objects again.
A strange thought crept into his mind.
"Hold on. Before we do anything stupid..."
> ["An unusually sensible preamble."]
"Oh, Shut up."
He pointed toward the rhombus.
"Amaryllis used that thing to become a monster. The cube opened a portal for a bunch of goblins to crawl through. So how do I know absorbing them won't turn me into a mutated abomination or worse, turn me into some kind of living portal? Imagine waking up one morning and having a bunch of tentacle monsters and Goblins crawl out of my chest."
Vuldyr considered this.
> ["That would be incredible...unpleasant."]
Vuldyr raised both hands.
> ["Listen. Based on the current readings, your Astra Force and the Stargod System provide a controlled means of processing the artifacts. The System can regulate the breakdown of their anomalous structures rather than allowing those structures to integrate with your biology in their original form."]
Niero's expression remained skeptical.
"So?"
> ["So I can confirm that the proposed cultivation process should not cause the transformations you described. The artifacts would be broken down into compatible energy and assimilated under the System's control."]
"Should not?"
> ["I cannot offer absolute certainty when working with unidentified anomalous matter. However, the combination of your Astra Force, your current Ascension state, and the Stargod System provides a strong safeguard against uncontrolled assimilation."]
Niero folded his arms.
"And the side effects?"
> ["Temporary discomfort during the breakdown and absorption process. Your body may experience unfamiliar sensations as the anomalous structures are converted."]
"Such as?"
> ["Minor stuff. Coldness beneath the skin. Tingling. A crawling sensation. Possibly some temporary disorientation."]
Niero stared at her.
"...That sounds suspiciously like being haunted."
> ["You are already in a metaphysical pocket dimension sitting on a throne beneath an artificial star that represents your soul, as well as the power of cosmic energy flow in you. Your standards for normality has long pass. The point is that the cultivation process is manageable, and I can monitor it throughout. If the readings deviate from the expected parameters, I will instruct you to stop."]
Niero fell silent.
The two artifacts hovered before him.
A forgotten relic from his first encounter with the Hollow.
Another from the battle that had nearly killed him.
Two mysteries, possibly connected by an origin neither of them understood.
And now they might offer him something even more valuable than their market price.
Power.
Niero glanced at his status.
Level 38.
He still had a long way to go.
If he could cultivate anomalous artifacts instead of relying solely on conventional progression, the implications were enormous.
He could become stronger faster.
Potentially much faster.
He exhaled.
"Okay."
Vuldyr looked at him.
> ["You wish to proceed?"]
"Yeah."
He paused.
"But if I grow tentacles, start bleeding black goo, or accidentally open a portal to the Hollow, stop the process immediately."
> ["I will."]
Niero sighed.
Then he reached out and selected the black cube.
"Let's start with the one that's already inert."
> ["A prudent choice. The cube's residual energy is substantially lower than the rhombus's, making it the more conservative initial test."]
"Thats the idea."
Niero moved back toward the throne.
He sat down, folded his legs, and settled into a lotus position upon its broad seat.
The black cube floated toward him.
He extended both hands and held it between his palms.
For a moment, he simply stared at the object.
A year ago, it had been a terrifying mystery.
Now it might become fuel for his next evolution.
Funny how things worked out.
Niero closed his eyes.
"All right."
He took a deep breath.
"Let's see if this works."
Niero reached inward.
Past his thoughts.
Past his physical body.
Toward the cosmic energy that existed within him.
Astra Force.
The paracausal force that connected his existence to something far greater than ordinary matter.
At first, nothing happened.
Then a faint cyan glow appeared between his palms.
Tiny threads of light spread across the black cube's surface.
The artifact began to vibrate.
A low, rhythmic hum filled the bridge.
Niero concentrated harder.
The cyan glow intensified.
Slowly, the cube's rigid edges began to soften—not melting into liquid, but separating into countless microscopic fragments of light.
Its crystalline structure broke apart one layer at a time.
Black motes emerged from the dissolving material, each surrounded by a faint cyan outline.
They hovered between Niero's hands.
Then the Stargod System took over.
The motes began flowing toward his palms.
Into his body.
For one brief moment—
Niero felt something cold crawl beneath his skin.
He shivers and his fingers twitched.
"...Oh, that's uncomfortable."
> ["Continue concentrating. The absorbtion process is proceeding within expected parameters."]
"Feels like a thousand ice-cold spiders are crawling up my spine!"
> ["An unpleasant but temporary sensory response."]
"You're enjoying this, aren't ya?"
> ["You do sometimes makes a cute expressions."]
Niero rolled his eyes, then gritted his teeth.
The sensation spread toward his wrists, then his forearms.
It felt as though something alien were trying to find a way into his body.
For an instant, his instincts screamed at him to throw the artifact away.
But he held on.
He focused on the Astra Force.
Focused on his Stellarion Cores.
Trusted the System.
Trusted Vuldyr.
And most importantly, he trusted himself.
The cyan light brightened.
The last fragments of the black cube dissolved.
One final black mote hovered between his palms.
Then it entered his body.
WHUMM—!
A wave of energy spread through Ego-Space.
The cold sensation vanished.
The hum stopped.
And the black cube was gone.
Niero opened his eyes.
He looked down at his empty hands.
"...That's it?"
Vuldyr stared at the readings.
For once, she appeared genuinely speechless.
Niero tilted his head.
"Vuldyr?"
She didn't answer.
"Hey. Don't tell me I just gave myself cosmic indigestion."
Then the status window appeared.
-
[Cultivation Successful]
[Anomalous Artifact Absorbtion: Complete]
[Ascension Growth Detected]
[Ascension Level: 38 → 39 → 40 → 41 → 42 → 43 (+5)]
-
Niero stared.
His mouth slowly opened.
"...No way."
The window flashed again.
[Current Ascension Level: 43]
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
"FIVE LEVELS?!"
Vuldyr suddenly threw both hands into the air.
> ["IT WORKED!"]
She practically launched herself off the ground.
> ["IT ACTUALLY WORKED! THE ARTIFACT WAS SUCCESSFULLY ASSIMILATED, THE STARGOD SYSTEM PROCESSED ITS ANOMALOUS STRUCTURE, AND YOU GAINED FIVE ASCENSION LEVELS!"]
Niero watched her fly in a delighted circle above the throne.
"...Are you dancing?"
> ["I AM CELEBRATING A MAJOR BREAKTHROUGH!"]
She spun around.
> ["DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?! WE HAVE DISCOVERED A NEW CULTIVATION METHOD!"]
Niero's grin widened.
"...Holy shit."
> ["UNIDENTIFIED ANOMALOUS ARTIFACTS MAY CONTAIN RECOVERABLE ASCENSION ENERGY! WITH SUFFICIENT ANALYSIS, WE MAY BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY OTHER COMPATIBLE MATERIALS AND USE THEM TO ACCELERATE YOUR PROGRESSION!"]
She flew another circle.
> ["THIS COULD REVOLUTIONIZE YOUR ENTIRE LEVELING STRATEGY!"]
Niero leaned back against the throne.
He couldn't stop smiling.
A year ago, he had nearly forgotten the black cube existed.
Now it had given him five Ascension Levels in a single cultivation session.
Five.
Without fighting a monster.
Without risking another near-death experience.
Without being stabbed, crushed, poisoned, or otherwise subjected to the universe's increasingly creative methods of trying to kill him.
He raised one hand.
"Okay."
Vuldyr stopped midair.
> ["Okay?"]
Niero grinned.
"That was awesome."
Then his expression became thoughtful.
His gaze shifted toward the other artifact.
The rhombus-shaped relic.
The one that had empowered Amaryllis.
The one that contained significantly more anomalous energy than the cube.
Niero's smile slowly grew wider.
Vuldyr followed his gaze.
Her celebratory expression immediately vanished.
> ["...No."]
Niero looked at her innocently.
"What?"
> ["I know that expression."]
"What expression?"
> ["The expression you make immediately before doing something catastrophically reckless."]
Niero held up both hands.
"Relax. I'm not doing anything."
He glanced at the rhombus again.
"...Yet."
> ["NIERO."]
He chuckled.
"Come on. We just discovered a new way to level up."
> ["And we have successfully tested it exactly once. Remember: this is an uncharted territory. There is a lot yet to understand."]
"Five levels, Vuldyr."
> ["I am aware. I was present. I was the one conducting the analysis."]
"Five whole levels. And not from [What Doesn't Kill Me...] boon..."
> ["Again. I'm fully aware of that..."]
Niero laughed.
For the first time since the Black Tide incident, his excitement wasn't rooted in surviving something terrible.
It was rooted in discovering something new.
Something that could make him stronger.
Something that could change the rules of his progression.
And somewhere in the endless star-filled sky above Ego-Space, the massive star continued to burn.
Niero looked at the rhombus-shaped artifact.
Then at his newly updated level.
Level 43.
2 more and he enters phase 2.
He settled deeper into his throne.
"Well, Vuldyr..."
He grinned.
"Looks like we've got a new hobby."
> ["If by 'hobby' you mean carefully collecting and researching anomalous artifacts under controlled conditions and not getting yourself killed, then I agree."]
Niero's grin became positively wicked.
"Sure."
A pause.
"Let's call it that."
Vuldyr covered her face with both hands.
> ["May the Void protect us..."]
=
=====
=
[ 2088, February 18th (Tuesday, Morning) ] - [ The Cafeteria > Gallagher-Sandoval Military Academy > Dungeontown's Middle Ring > Dungeontown USA-07 (Thousand Oaks, California, USA ] - [West Port-City (Los Angeles, USA) > Earth ]
Morning arrived at GSMA with all the subtlety of a military alarm clock.
Niero, however, had absolutely no intention of welcoming it.
After spending part of the previous night exploring his Ego-Space and discovering that mysterious artifacts could potentially accelerate his Ascension, he had eventually decided to stop before Vuldyr accused him of developing a gambling addiction to supernatural progression.
Now, he was getting dressed.
A plain T-shirt. A hoodie jacket. Dark-blue jeans. Sneakers.
Nothing particularly impressive, but comfortable enough.
The expensive clothes Flick had purchased for him were carefully packed inside a larger storage box. His official GSMA uniform would be issued later, so there was no point wearing anything fancy yet.
Niero checked himself in the mirror.
"Good enough."
He turned toward his luggage, rummaging through it for a particular item.
His tactical sling bag.
He had brought it from home, and it was much more practical than carrying everything in his pockets. It could hold his SmartCom, small tools, emergency supplies, and whatever miscellaneous junk he might need during the day.
For Sophie's FoldPod storage device, he kept it in his pocket.
For his 'Purple Fang' Karambit, he kept it at the back of his pants.
As he rummage through his luggage, uncovered something unexpected.
A small paper bag.
Niero paused.
"...What's this?"
He pulled it out and opened it.
Inside was a black beanie with a white skull printed on the front.
Beneath it lay a small handwritten note.
The moment Niero recognized the handwriting, his expression softened.
It was his mother's.
Her writing was distinctive—slightly messy, looping in places, with certain letters leaning at strange angles. It was the sort of handwriting he could identify even if someone buried it beneath a mountain of paperwork. Especially when he helped her with accounting back in at Maison Bella cafe.
He unfolded the note.
Something for your delicate head.
Call me back for an extra surprise.
Niero stared.
"...My delicate head?"
He looked at the beanie.
Then back at the note.
"What am I? 6?."
Despite the complaint, he carefully rolled up the beanie and pulled it over his head.
It fit surprisingly well.
The fabric was soft, warm, and comfortable. The white skull already hidden from the fold but its 'white teeth-stripes" present on the beanie's rim, gave it just enough personality without making it look ridiculous.
Niero adjusted it in front of the mirror.
Then tilted his head, tugged the edge slightly lower.
"...Okay. This is actually not bad."
He turned his head left, then right.
The beanie suited him.
More importantly, it felt like something his mother had picked specifically for him.
A small smile crept onto his face.
Then he looked at the note again.
Call me back for an extra surprise.
Niero narrowed his eyes.
"What kind of surprise?"
Knowing Emmy, it could mean anything.
A care package.
A homemade meal.
Some ridiculous protective charm.
Or something so embarrassingly sentimental that he would have to hide it from his dormmates.
He reached for his SmartCom.
Then stopped.
"Eh. I'll call her later."
He slipped the note into his sling bag, checked that his belongings were packed, and headed for the door.
There were more important things to deal with today.
Like finding out what kind of nonsense Sergeant Crowe had planned for Class G-1.
=
=====
=
[ Lobby > GSMA Student's Dorm-Block ]
The Dorm-Block lobby was already bustling when Niero arrived.
Students moved between the elevators, convenience stores, and communal seating areas. Some were heading to breakfast, while others looked as if they had barely managed to drag themselves out of bed.
Niero walked alongside JD, Flick, and Bart toward the information counter.
They had been instructed to return their temporary dormitory access cards in exchange for their official student ID cards and class timetables.
A straightforward administrative procedure.
At least, that was what Niero had expected.
The Andie behind the counter—a pleasant-looking android with a polished synthetic face—checked their records.
"Good morning, cadets. Please provide your temporary access cards."
The four boys handed them over.
The Andie scanned each card.
A moment later, she paused.
"Ah. There appears to be a special instruction regarding your student identification."
Niero frowned.
"Special instruction?"
"Yes. Your official ID cards and class timetables will be distributed directly by your homeroom instructor, Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe."
Silence.
JD blinked.
Bart tilted his head.
Flick's expression became noticeably colder.
Niero stared at the android.
"...I'm sorry. What?"
Niero slowly turned toward his dormmates.
JD looked as if someone had just informed him that breakfast had been cancelled indefinitely.
Bart's cheerful expression faded.
Flick pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Of course," Flick muttered. "Naturally, the man has decided to personally distribute our identification cards."
JD sighed.
"What is his plan now?"
The Andie continued, blissfully unaware of the collective dread she had just unleashed.
"All 20 members of Class G-1 are subject to this arrangement. Please await further instructions from your instructor."
Niero froze.
JD leaned toward him.
"Why does he need to handle our ID cards himself?"
"Maybe he's going to engrave our names onto them with a combat knife or some shit..." Niero suggested.
Bart's eyes widened.
"Can he do that?"
"I don't know. Have you already see this guy's unhinged behaviour?"
"...Oh."
That explanation seemed sufficient.
Flick folded his arms.
"Perhaps he intends to make the cards part of some elaborate military exercise."
Niero stared at him.
"I hope not. I know this is a military academy but stil...."
JD gave a dry laugh.
"I guess we gotta wait and see."
The four boys exchanged glances.
Somehow, the simple task of collecting student identification had become another source of anxiety.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe had been their instructor for less than a day, and already he was making administrative procedures feel threatening.
With their temporary access cards returned, the boys headed toward the cafeteria.
Their next objective was considerably more appealing.
Breakfast.
===
[ GSMA's Cafeteria ]
JD, Flick, and Bart joined the queue at the food counter, each preparing to purchase their meal using their temporary student identification credentials while waiting for their official cards.
Niero, meanwhile, had already acquired his own breakfast and settled at a table.
His tray contained mushroom soup, toasted bread, biscuits, and a loaded salad.
Nothing extravagant.
But it was warm, filling, and smelled considerably better than the bland hospital meals he had endured only days earlier.
He picked up his spoon.
Then paused.
I should practise.
His telepathy.
Despite more focusing on his physical abilities and Psychokinesis more even back in MAC01, he had been working on it before arriving at West Port-City, learning to regulate the range and sensitivity of his psychic perception.
In a crowded environment, however, telepathy presented a particularly unpleasant problem.
Everyone had thoughts.
And there were a lot of people in a cafeteria.
Niero closed his eyes and carefully reached outward.
Immediately—
WHAM!
A tidal wave of mental noise slammed into his consciousness.
<"Did I remember to submit that assignment?I need to buy shampoo.Why did she leave me on read?I swear, if that student fails another examination—Should I make mushroom soup again tomorrow? Maybe add more herbs...Oh my God, he looked at me.What if he's not even a person and it's just an AI chatbot?I should've picked the other dialogue option.Where did I leave my SmartCom?I wonder if my boyfriend is cheating on me.I wonder if I should get another girlfriend.Who took my last chicken nugget?Ma'am, the coffee machine is broken again!I should've studied for that tactics exam.Whoa, that boys's hair looks gorgeous.Someone's thinking about kissing their instructor. I WANT EXTRA FRIES!Is the new kid okay? He looks like he's about to throw up.My back hurts.Remember to submit your training reports!">
"AGHH—!"
Niero clutched his forehead.
A sharp migraine stabbed through his skull.
The surrounding cafeteria suddenly seemed to grow louder, as if every voice in the room had been amplified inside his brain.
He could hear thoughts from dozens of people at once.
Perhaps hundreds.
Yet he could barely hear is own.
It was like having every radio station in the world play through the same pair of headphones.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck—!"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Barely hearing his own inner voice.
Too much. Too damn much!
Then a familiar voice cut through the noise.
> ["Niero. Breathe."]
Vuldyr.
Her voice was calm, steady, and unmistakable.
> ["Remember our training. You have done this before."]
Niero clenched his teeth.
> ["You are not required to listen to everyone. You are choosing to receive too much information at once. Narrow your psychic bandwidth."]
He breathed in slowly.
Then out.
Again.
In.
Out.
The mental noise remained, but Vuldyr's guidance helped him regain his focus.
> ["Remember; Imagine your telepathy as a radio receiver. Right now, you are attempting to listen to every station simultaneously. Adjust the frequency. Select the signal you want. Filter out everything else."]
Niero swallowed.
Right.
He had practised this before.
Back home, he had learned to isolate individual voices in crowded streets and busy commercial districts.
He could do it again.
He didn't need to hear every thought.
He needed to choose what to hear.
Niero slowly adjusted his psychic focus.
The mental static diminished.
One voice disappeared.
Then another.
The overwhelming mass of thoughts gradually separated into individual signals.
The pain in his head eased.
His shoulders relaxed.
"...Okay."
> ["Better."]
Niero wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"Remind me never to try that without warming up first."
> ["You have been reminded several times."]
"Yeah, well, I learn through experience."
> ["You also learn through unnecessary suffering."]
Niero ignored her.
He took another breath and cautiously expanded his psychic awareness.
This time, he selected a single voice.
A familiar, warm presence near the food preparation area.
<"Let's see... mushrooms, potatoes, onions. We still have enough stock for tomorrow, but I should check the vegetable deliveries before lunch. Maybe roasted chicken tonight? The cadets have been working hard. Something hearty would be good...">
Niero's lips twitched.
Lunchlady Tilly.
The academy's head chef was apparently planning the day's ingredient inventory and future meals.
He shifted his focus.
Another voice.
<"If that boy spends another lecture playing mobile games, I'm confiscating his SmartCom. Just because he's cute doesn't gives him the privelage to do so. How are they going to pass their examinations like this?">
A female teacher.
Niero almost chuckled.
He moved on.
A group of female students sat a few tables away.
<"He's so sweet, though. He sends me good-morning messages every day.">
<"You've been dating for three months and haven't even seen his face.">
<"He's probably shy!">
<"Or he's an old and fugly fat guy pretending to be a handsome teenager.">
<"Oh, hell no. Please don't jinx it!">
<"What if he's an AI chatbot or an Andie?">
<"...Honestly, that would explain why he's always available.">
Niero nearly inhaled his soup.
He lowered his spoon.
<"Oh, this is gold.">
> ["Eavesdrop on private thoughts for entertainment?"]
Niero's expression turned innocent.
<"I'm practising my telepathy.">
He focused on the students' table for another moment, then deliberately tuned the conversation out.
There was a difference between being able to hear someone's thoughts and having the right to invade their privacy.
He wasn't about to become a psychic peeping Tom.
Besides, some things were better left unknown.
Especially whatever was happening with the alleged online boyfriend.
Niero took another spoonful of soup.
<"...Still, three months?">
> ["Niero..."]
"Right, right. Focusing."
He returned his attention to the room.
One voice at a time.
One signal at a time.
Gradually, the surrounding thoughts became less like an overwhelming storm and more like distant conversations through a wall.
He could select a target, listen briefly, then let the signal fade.
His control was far from perfect, but it was improving.
===
Others had finally gathered around Niero at the table.
JD and Bart sat beside him, with Mei, Gertrude, Junko, and Alicia from Room 1029 joining them shortly afterward.
Gertrude placed a small packet of sweets on the table.
"Anyone want something for later? I've got strawberry candies, caramel chews, and a few mint marshmallows."
Bart's head snapped toward her.
"YES PLEASE I want 1 each!"
"Bart," JD said, "you've barely even started your breakfast."
"But I want candies."
Gertrude giggled and passed him a candy.
Mei sat down beside her, her tiger ears twitching as she looked around the cafeteria.
"It's pretty nice here. I thought military academies would have terrible food."
"Don't jinx it," Alicia muttered, pulling down the edge of her face mask.
Junko nodded quietly.
"I-I was expecting nutritional paste or something..."
"Maybe for this academy has good food compare to an actual military academy, at least," Niero said.
Their table soon filled with the usual breakfast fare: creamy mushroom soup, toasted bread, peanut-butter-and-jam sandwiches, club sandwiches, biscuits, loaded salads, and drinks.
The portions were generous without being extravagant.
Everything was freshly prepared, warm, and surprisingly good.
Then Flick sat down.
And placed his tray on the table.
Silence descended.
His breakfast consisted of a beautifully arranged French-style spread: flaky croissants, a golden pain au chocolat, delicate pastries, soft-boiled eggs, fresh fruit, and a small pot of premium jam. Beside them sat a fragrant cup of coffee.
Everything looked immaculate.
It looked expensive.
It looked unnecessarily expensive.
JD stared at the tray.
"...What the hell is that?"
"Breakfast," Flick replied.
"Yeah. We can see that."
"Then why ask?"
Niero slowly turned toward him.
"You went to the vending machine fabriator and paid for premium."
"Obviously. Tilly made some delicious spread but I'm want to settle in with some "familiar" taste first, A dipping-toes-into-the-pool type of situation."
"Familiar taste? Ya mean equivelent to rich people's continental breakfast?"
Flick spread a little jam onto his croissant.
"Glad you've grasped the situation."
Niero stared at him.
Then at the croissant.
Then back at him.
"You are a menace to society."
"Why? Jealous?."
Bart leaned across the table, staring at the pastries with wide eyes.
"Can I have one?"
Flick pulled the tray closer to himself.
"No."
Bart's shoulders drooped.
"...awww."
Flick paused.
He looked at Bart at his pitifull puppy dog face.
Then at the pastries.
Then he sighed with the theatrical suffering of a man making an extraordinary sacrifice.
"Fine. One croissant. But don't touch my pain au chocolat."
Bart's face lit up.
"YAAAAAY!"
He accepted the croissant with both hands.
"THANK YOU, FLICK!"
Bart had already taken an enormous bite.
Flick closed his eyes.
"...you all are mooches."
"Get used to us, Richie Rich." JD said.
"I only tolerate you all for at least 3 years."
Mei giggled.
Gertrude smiled.
Even Alicia's eyes softened slightly above her mask.
Junko, meanwhile, was quietly eating her club sandwich while occasionally glancing at the premium breakfast with unmistakable curiosity.
Niero noticed.
He nudged a spare biscuit toward her.
"Here."
Junko froze.
"...Huh?"
"You looked like you wanted something."
"I-I wasn't—"
"Relax. It's just a biscuit. Plus, I'm kinda full and quite scared to throw away food with Lunchlady Tilly at our...vercinity..."
She hesitated, then accepted it.
"...Thank you."
"Its nothing. Don't mention it."
Across the table, Flick took a leisurely sip of his coffee.
Niero watched him with narrowed eyes.
"You know, for someone who spent yesterday complaining about the lack of premium merchandise, you seem to have adapted remarkably quickly."
"I'm a resilient individual."
"More like a spoiled individual."
"Resilience and privilege are not mutually exclusive."
JD groaned.
"Can you two stop arguing for five minutes?"
"No," Niero and Flick answered simultaneously.
They stared at each other.
Then Niero smirked.
"See? Teamwork."
"An unfortunate coincidence," Flick replied.
Laughter rippled around the table.
For a while, they simply ate.
They traded stories about the previous day's training assessment, complained about Crowe's ominous announcement regarding their student IDs, and speculated about what their instructor might have planned.
Bart suggested that Crowe might take them to a theme park.
Nobody believed him.
Mei mentioned that she wanted to explore more of the academy once their schedules arrived.
Gertrude offered to bring extra sweets for everyone.
Junko quietly admitted that she was hoping the academy's computer labs would have decent hardware.
Alicia pretended not to care about any of it, though she occasionally contributed a dry remark that made everyone laugh.
And Flick continued eating his expensive French breakfast with the composure of an aristocrat dining in a private salon.
Niero leaned back in his chair.
His head still felt slightly sore from his telepathic experiment, but the pain was fading.
After few days of horror from the ambush, he allowed himself to relax.
He also had friends who argued with him, stole food from one another, and made fun of his life choices.
It was a strange collection of circumstances.
But as he listened to the cheerful noise around the table—not through telepathy, but with his ordinary ears.
Even as a Stargod with a cosmic energy flow within himself, he still allow be a teenager for now.
Things felt almost normal.
No monsters.
No anomalous witches.
No interrogation rooms.
No military instructors threatening to turn teenagers into the next generation of humanity's finest killing machines...
...for now at least.
Niero found that he didn't mind it.
Not one bit.
Niero took another sip of apple juice.
Just breakfast with friends.
And six days of leave ahead of them.
Now, what the hell am I supposed to do with Crowe?
The thought crept back into his mind.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe.
The man had somehow managed to turn a routine student assessment into a secret interview involving whiskey, power armor, and an unsettlingly enthusiastic handshake.
He had also discovered that Niero's supposed Centurion Armor might be far more unusual than the was suggested.
And now he was Niero's homeroom instructor.
For three years.
Fantastic.
Niero took another sip of apple juice.
I should probably figure out what that bastard is planning before he—
PING!
His SmartCom vibrated.
Niero glanced down.
A new email notification appeared.
He slowly lowered his cup, stared at the screen.
Before he even read the notification, he opened the email.
-
[
Report to the academy car park at 1030 HOURS.
Wear comfortable clothing and appropriate footwear.
I will personally assigne your student identification card.
Further details will be provided in person.
DON'T BE LATE.
— MASTER SERGEANT H. CROWE
-
Niero's expression went blank.
Then—
PFFFT—!
A fountain of apple juice erupted from his mouth.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The juice sprayed across the table.
JD jerked backward.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!!"
Bart nearly dropped his cup.
Gertrude squeaked and hurriedly lifted her plate.
Mei's ears shot upright.
Junko flinched so hard she nearly disappeared beneath the table.
Alicia stared at Niero with the exhausted expression of someone whose suspicions about the human species had just been confirmed.
Flick slowly lowered his coffee.
A single droplet of apple juice had landed on his sleeve.
He stared at it.
Then at Niero.
Then back at the droplet.
"...You have exactly three seconds to explain why you've baptized my clothing in fruit juice."
Alicia asked Niero angrily.
Niero wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Crowe."
That single word changed the atmosphere.
JD pulled out his SmartCom.
"No."
Bart leaned forward.
"Is he taking us somewhere fun?"
"I...don't know...," Niero said immediately.
JD opened his own inbox.
"Shit. I got the same email."
Flick checked his device.
"So did I."
One by one, the others discovered that the message had reached them too.
Mei stared at her screen.
"Ten-thirty? But I thought we were on leave."
"We are," Alicia muttered. "Apparently, leave means we're free until Captain Moustache decides otherwise."
Gertrude looked worried.
"D-do you think we're in trouble?"
Niero leaned back in his chair.
"Honestly? With Crowe, that's not even the right question."
Flick sighed.
"I miss being rich enough to avoid people like him."
=
=====
=
[ GSMA's Parking Lot ]
At 1025 hours, the freshmen of Class G-1 gathered outside the main academy building.
Twenty students.
And absolutely no confidence that the next hour would improve their lives.
The morning Californian air was cool and breezy, and the academy grounds were busy with cadets enjoying their temporary leave. Some were heading toward nearby shops, others were lounging on benches or making plans with friends.
The G-1 freshmen, meanwhile, stood near the academy's car park like a group of condemned prisoners waiting for the executioner.
Niero stood between JD and Flick, with Bart bouncing impatiently beside them.
"Maybe he's taking us on a field trip. I hope its a theme park." Bart suggested.
"In that guys' mentality, a military muzeum or something...," Niero replied.
"You're very negative, dude. He's not even here yet," JD responded.
"I'm sorry. Have we not met the same unhinged texan instructor?"
JD checked the time.
"Five minutes."
Flick adjusted his collar.
"This better not be some unhinged plans he cooked up..."
Before Niero could respond, a low engine rumble approached from the road.
Everyone turned.
A mid-sized academy bus rolled toward the parking lot.
It was a practical, somewhat battered vehicle with enough seats for approximately twenty-five to thirty passengers. Its grey-and-blue paint carried the GSMA emblem, although several scratches and faded patches suggested it had seen better days.
The bus slowed.
Its brakes hissed.
PSSSSHHH—!
It came to a stop directly in front of the assembled freshmen.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the folding doors opened.
A familiar man in military-style clothing stepped down from the bus with the swagger of someone making a grand entrance.
He wore his usual decorated uniform, his grey-black crewcut immaculate, his grin wide enough to be considered a public safety concern.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe.
He spread his arms.
"GOOD MORNING, CADETS!"
Nobody answered.
Crowe looked delighted.
"Ah! I see we're all excited!"
"Sir," one student cautiously asked, "what's going on?"
Crowe slapped the side of the bus.
"What's going on is that you fine young men and women are about to experience something educational, memorable, and potentially character-building!"
Niero muttered, "Yep. We're doomed."
Crowe turned back toward the group.
"Now, I want everyone to remain calm, follow instructions, and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times!"
JD frowned.
"Why would we need to keep our hands and feet inside?"
Crowe's grin widened.
"Its a suprise, son!"
A collective wave of anxiety rolled through the group.
That word had never sounded more threatening.
The bus driver leaned out from the driver's seat.
She was a Californian woman with sun-weathered skin, loose hair, and an easygoing expression that contrasted sharply with Crowe's military intensity. A faint herbal smell drifted from the open driver's window.
"Morning, kiddos," she called cheerfully. "Everybody ready for a little road trip?"
She waved lazily.
"Call me 'Ms. California'. Well, that's what everybody calls me, anyway."
Niero stared.
"That's not a real name, is it?"
"Neither is Captain Cowboy over there, but we all make compromises."
Crowe turned.
"MA'AM, I CAN HEAR YOU!"
"Good! Saves me the trouble of repeating myself!"
A few students snickered.
The driver grinned and settled back into her seat.
Crowe clapped his hands.
"ALL RIGHT! BEFORE WE BOARD, WE'VE GOT SOME BUSINESS TO HANDLE!"
Then, a female academy staff member approached from the main building, accompanied by an Andie android.
Between them was a trolley carrying a stack of grey, rectangular, opaque plastic bags.
Twenty bags.
Each one of the bags looked identical.
They also looked suspiciously heavy.
One of the students leaned toward another.
"What's in those?"
"No idea."
"Equipment?"
"Maybe uniforms?"
"Explosives?"
"WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!"
Crowe heard the last question.
He grinned.
"Excellent question!"
The student immediately regretted asking.
Crowe took a clipboard from the academy staff member and stood beside the trolley.
"Now, listen up! Each of you will receive your official GSMA student identification card and one assigned equipment bag. Once you've received both, board the bus and find a seat."
He tapped the clipboard.
"Each bag weighs approximately one kilogram. Do not open it until instructed."
Niero's eyes narrowed.
<"Why the hell does he keep emphasizing the weight?">
The bags were opaque, so there was no way to see what they contained.
They weren't particularly large, either.
Whatever was inside, it was packed neatly.
Crowe scanned the group.
"Right! Let's get this show on the road!"
He glanced at the first name on his clipboard.
"Anjali Perera!"
A calm Indian girl stepped forward.
"Yes, sir?"
Crowe handed her an official student ID card and a grey bag.
"Your callsign is INKY!"
Anjali blinked.
"...In...ky, sir?"
"Affirmative!"
She looked down at the bag.
Then back at Crowe.
"May I ask why, sir?"
"Grab a bag and get in the bus, cadet!"
Anjali's expression remained composed, but the slightest crease appeared between her eyebrows.
"...Understood, sir."
As soon she carry a bag, she almost droped it, indicating that the bag seems heavy.
After that, she walked toward the bus.
Niero watched her go.
<"Inky?">
He glanced at the clipboard.
<"Okay. That's not too bad.">
Crowe called the next name.
"Irina Ozyorsky!"
The tall Russian farm girl stepped forward.
"Yes, sir!"
Crowe handed her the card and bag.
"Your callsign is TATER!"
Irina stared at him.
"...Tater?"
"NEXT!"
"...Da. Understood, sir."
Irina looked as though she wanted to argue.
Then she looked at the bag in her hands but due to her stature, its almost weightless to her, possibly a farmer or constructor with that body structure.
Then she boarded the bus.
Niero slowly turned toward JD.
"Tater? What kind a name is that?"
JD covered his mouth.
"Shut up. He's going to hear you."
Crowe looked down at the clipboard again.
"HAN SEO-YEON!"
The short, blind Korean girl stepped forward, her walking stick tapping lightly against the pavement.
"Yes, sir."
Crowe handed her the student ID and bag.
"Your callsign is PEEP!"
Seo-yeon tilted her head.
"...Peep?"
"NEXT!"
Seo-yeon was silent for a moment, adjusting her glasses, then she gave a small, polite nod.
"...Thank you, sir."
She accepted the bag and carefully made her way toward the bus.
Crowe's voice boomed again.
"MAYA OKAFOR!"
The Nigerian-British girl approached with a wary expression.
"Yes, sir?"
Crowe handed her the card and bag.
"YOUR CALLSIGN IS CURVES!"
Maya stared at him.
"...excuse me?"
"NEXT!"
"...Right. Thank you, sir."
She walked away with the unmistakable expression of someone who had just discovered that her military career might involve enduring a lifetime of terrible jokes.
Niero pressed his lips together.
"NEXT!"
The next few names followed.
Every student received an ID card and a grey equipment bag.
Every student received a callsign.
And every callsign made the remaining freshmen increasingly nervous.
Some were reasonably straightforward.
Others were bizarre.
A few were downright embarrassing.
Crowe, meanwhile, appeared to be having the time of his life.
He delivered each name with the solemnity of a decorated commander assigning elite operatives to a classified mission.
The students, in turn, accepted their bags with the expressions of people who had just been sentenced to an uncertain future.
Niero watched the line shrink.
Sixteen students still waiting.
And somewhere on that clipboard—
his name is on the list.
He swallowed.
He could handle a lot of things.
Monsters.
Psychic powers.
Alien armor.
A near-death experience.
An S-Rank Sea Witch.
He can, at the very least, carry a weird-ass name he possibly gonna get
===
"NIERO RIPLEY!"
Niero closed his eyes.
Radiant Empress, if you're listening, please...not some weird-ass callsign.
He stepped forward.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe stood beside the trolley, grinning like a man who'd discovered a particularly entertaining way to ruin twenty young lives.
"Ripley!" Crowe barked, thrusting an official student ID and a grey plastic bag into his hands. "Your callsign is BADGER!"
Niero flinched.
Not because it was intimidating. Not because it was embarrassing.
But because—
Baby Badger.
His mother's nickname for him. The one Emmy used whenever she wanted to pinch his cheeks, smother him with kisses, or remind him that he was still her precious little boy.
Niero stared at Crowe.
Crowe stared back.
"...Why?"
"Because I said so. NEXT!"
"That isn't an explanation."
"Correct! Now get on the bus, Badger! You're holding up the formation!"
Niero's eye twitched.
He took the bag. It felt surprisingly light for something that is a kilogram. Something shifted when he gave it a shake.
<"What the hell did he put in here?">
"CADET RIPLEY!"
"I'm moving, I'm moving!"
Niero boarded the bus, muttering increasingly creative curses under his breath.
Behind him, the ceremony continued.
And somehow, things only got worse.
"LEE FANJIN!"
Flick stepped forward like an aristocrat attending his own execution.
"Your callsign is JADE!"
He froze.
"...Jade? Master Sergeant, with all due respect, I'd prefer something el..."
"Request denied! NEXT!"
Flick collected his ID and bag with the strained smile of someone receiving a birthday present from his mortal enemy.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "Just wonderful."
Already seated near the middle of the bus, Niero leaned into the aisle.
"What's wrong with Jade? Sounds fancy."
Flick turned towards him with the hollow eyes of a man haunted by his own financial decisions.
"Do you know how much trouble I've gotten into because of that word?"
"...What?"
Flick sighs, then continues.
"My family's business deals in not only artifact appraisal but also precious stones, trus has very good eyes in luxuries, especially jemstones. Everyone assumes that because I'm wealthy, I must have an excellent eye for precious stones, especailly jade. Genuine jade, low-quality jade, artificial jade—apparently, I should be able to tell the difference at a glance."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I can't. Other gemstones, sure but its hard for me to identify it. I got grounded and had my allowance cut because of that."
Niero blinked.
"Thats unexpected..."
Flick dropped into the seat beside him, clutching his bag like it had insulted his ancestors.
"BARTHOLOMEW CORREY!"
"YEAH! THAT'S ME!"
Bart practically bounded towards Crowe.
"Your callsign is BRICK!"
His face lit up.
"I LOVE IT!"
He accepted his ID and bag with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a new toy.
"THANK YOU, SERGEANT!"
Crowe patted his shoulder. "Good lad! Thats the entusiasm I like to see!"
Bart boarded, holding his bag aloft like a trophy.
"GUYS! I'M BRICK!"
"Congratulations," Niero said. "Ever considered asking what it means?"
Bart stopped.
He looked at his bag, then at Niero.
"Don't know. You know?"
"Beats me."
"Maybe its because you have brick for brains..." Flick muttered.
Bart sat down, apparently satisfied.
A moment later, he grinned.
"JOYCE DAUGHTRY!"
JD approached with his hands in his pockets.
"Here, sir."
"Your callsign is HAMMER!"
JD stared at Crowe.
"...Hammer? Why?"
"NEXT!"
JD stood there for another second before collecting his ID and bag.
"Right. Sure. Hammer it is."
He boarded and sat across from Bart.
Niero raised an eyebrow. "Any idea what yours means?"
"No. Maybe I can throw a mean haymaker with my hammer-like fist?"
"Quite a stretch...but I kinda see that..."
JD leaned back.
"With these weird-ass callsigns, I'm starting to think our instructor picked random words out of a hat."
From the front came Crowe's booming voice.
===
Dormmate 1029 already taken their seat behind Niero and his Dormmate 1030, talking about their given callsign that M.S Crowe gave them.
"Okay, seriously," Lin 'Mei' Meilin said, her tiger ears twitching.
"STRIPES? That's my callsign? I'm a magical girl enthusiast! I deserve something cool! Like Twinkle Tiger or Radiant Claw!"
"Stripes sounds cute!"
Gertrude Becker chirped, but felt down while hugging her snack-filled fanny pack.
"I got SNACKPACK...because I brought snacks...embarrassingly obvious... I think Sergeant Crowe is...kind of a bully."
Mei stared at her.
"Don't say that. I thought yours is cute and striking!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!."
Beside them, Junko Chabashira hunched deeper into her oversized hoodie, hiding behind her thick-rimmed glasses.
"At least you two got normal words. He called me CLOSET...most likely because he thinks I would hiding in my pocket room." She covered her blushing face. "I just want to stay there and never leaving my room again. I want to hide there forever, draw commissions, and die surrounded by instant noodles and anime pretty boys."
Mei then turn towards Alicia, who was staring miserably at her bag.
"What's wrong?" Mei asked.
"My...callsign..."
"What did he give you?"
Alicia slowly raised her tearful eyes.
"...Snotshot."
Mei stared.
One second passed. Then another.
"...Oh."
"OH?! That's all you have to say?!"
"I don't know what else to say."
"IT'S DISGUSTING! ITS HUMILIATING!!!"
"Yeah, I...can see...why...."
"WHO GIVES SOMEONE A NAME LIKE THAT?!"
"Alicia...calm down?"
Alicia looked ready to burst into tears.
From a few seats away, Niero leaned into the aisle.
"Wait. Why's that so bad?"
Alicia slowly turned towards him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her expression could have curdled milk.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCK OFF!"
Niero recoiled.
"Whoa! I was just asking!"
"JUST FUCK OF AND KILL YOURSELF, YOU EMO-LOOKING-ASS MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!!"
She buried her face back into her backpack.
Niero stared after her, speechless even, then glanced at Mei.
"...touchy subject?" he questioned.
"Apparently." Mei shrugged.
Niero settled back into his seat.
<"Well, at least mine isn't Snotshot.">
He paused.
<"Wait. Why the hell am I called Badger?">
Something about this whole situation stank.
And not just Alicia's callsign.
As soon Master Sargent Crowe climb into the bus, Alicia jump out from her chair angrily with tearful eyes.
"MASTER SERGEANT!"
Alicia's voice rang through the bus.
Crowe turned from the trolley.
"Yes, Cadet Withmore?"
"WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THAT HORRIBLE CALLSIGN?!"
The bus fell silent. Even Ms. California glanced at the rear-view mirror while smoking her green e-ciggerette. .
Alicia fists clenched.
"WHATS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM, YOU BASTARD?! DO YOU GET A KICK OUT OF GIVING US HUMILIATING NICKNAMES?! DOES THAT MADE YOUR DICK HARD FROM SUCH BULLSHIT YOU THROW AT ME??!!"
Her voice was loud, reverberate throughout the bus.
For a moment, everyone is silent. Even M.S. Crowe said nothing.
Then his grin vanished.
The theatrical gleam left his eyes. His shoulders settled, his chin dipped, and the boisterous instructor disappeared.
In his place stood a decorated military veteran whose presence suddenly felt considerably heavier.
When Crowe spoke, his voice was calm.
Terrifyingly calm.
"Cadet Withmore."
His tone laced with Ice-cold vibes that the whole bus can be felt.
His eyes, his gaze, felt cold as well.
Alicia stiffened.
"Y-Yes, sir?"
"Is that how you address a non-commissioned officer under whose authority you currently serve?"
The question landed like a gunshot.
Alicia's face drained of colour.
"N-No, M-master Serge-geant!"
"Then perhaps you'd care change your attitude and to try again."
At that moment, every rage and tantrum evaporated from her being.
As if Crowe's ice-cold calm voice freeze her blood stood still.
She has nothing to say.
Nothing fight over.
Not even a ground to stand on as she felt her knees weakenes.
"I- I'm very so-sorry, Master Sergeant Crowe!" Her voice shrank to a squeak. "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you, sir!"
Crowe regarded her for another moment.
"Apology accepted. Sit down, Cadet."
"Ye-yes, s-sir!"
Alicia dropped into her seat, sitting ramrod straight with her hands folded in her lap.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody even whispered.
Niero sank lower into his seat.
Right. There's a military officer underneath the clown suit.
Crowe surveyed the bus.
"Now that we've established basic manners, let's clear a few things up."
He placed his microphone on the dashboard and folded his arms.
"First, my methods are unconventional. I'm aware that most of you think I'm some lunatic from military base, handing out embarrassing words and expecting you to smile about it."
Several cadets shifted.
"Second, callsigns aren't commonly issued to students at GSMA. That shit only granted when you're in the actual military. In this case, you're all an exceptions.."
That got their attention.
"Callsigns are generally reserved for specialized military units, reconnaissance teams, and certain classified or operational assignments. They're identifiers. Sometimes practical, sometimes symbolic, and occasionally earned through circumstances that make the name stick."
Crowe paused.
"Your callsigns aren't random."
The words settled over the bus.
"Its aint just nicknames."
Niero glanced at his grey bag.
"They represents you."
Crowe's gaze swept across the twenty cadets.
"My homeroom G-1. My...Mad Dogs."
Niero perked up the moment he heard THAT familiar name...
Mad Dogs.
Crowe's grin returned, though it was considerably less reassuring.
"I personally selected every one of you after reviewing your records, assessments, and potential. I didn't choose you because you're obedient, polished, or easy to teach."
He jabbed a finger towards them.
"I chose you because each of you has something worth developing. Something that might prove valuable when the world stops being kind."
His gaze lingered on Niero.
Just long enough to be noticed.
Then he moved on.
"As for the meanings behind your callsigns..."
Crowe spread his arms.
"I'll reveal them sooner or later."
A collective groan rose from the seats.
"Unless you figure them out yourselves!"
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Flick muttered.
"I'm serious as a heart attack in an all-you-can-eat BBQ buffet, Jade."
Flick's expression collapsed.
"Please stop calling me that."
"THAT'S YOUR CALLSIGN, SON! DEAL WITH IT!"
Niero rubbed his face.
This man is a menace.
Crowe clapped his hands.
"Now, before anyone else challenges my authority, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
He turned towards the driver.
"Ms. California, would you kindly?!"
She raised a hand from the wheel.
"Buckle up, kiddos! Let's get this show on the road!"
The bus rumbled out of the academy car park.
Just like that, the twenty cadets of G-1 were on their way to a destination nobody had disclosed.
For the first few minutes, the bus was unusually quiet.
The cadets sat with their bags in their laps, exchanging suspicious looks as the academy buildings receded behind them.
Flick was mourning his callsign. JD was questioning his connection to hammers. Bart happily repeated Brick under his breath. Mei wondered if Stripes was refering her fur.
Alicia appeared to be reconsidering every decision that had brought her to GSMA.
And Niero was still staring at his bag.
Grey plastic. Opaque. Slightly heavy.
He gave it another shake.
Definitely something inside.
His fingers moved towards the seal.
"DO NOT OPEN THE BAGS UNTIL YOU REACH YOUR DESIGNATED COORDINATES!"
Niero nearly jumped out of his seat.
Crowe had somehow materialized in the aisle.
"...You could try not shouting directly into people's ears," Niero grumbled.
"Could also try following instructions, Badger!"
There it was again.
That damn name.
Niero's eyelid twitched.
Crowe marched towards the front, satisfied that he'd prevented an outbreak of curiosity.
A student across the aisle raised her hand.
"Master Sergeant, where exactly are we going?"
Crowe stopped and slowly turned around.
A smile spread across his face.
"It's a surprise."
Something about the glee in his voice was deeply unsettling.
He looked like a man leading children towards a roller coaster—or a particularly dangerous amusement park attraction.
"Is it a good surprise?" someone asked cautiously.
Crowe clasped his hands together.
"Oh, I certainly hope so."
Niero stared at him.
That's not an answer.
Why does he look like he's about to give us the best day of our lives or the worst day of our lives?
He glanced out the window, then at his bag, then back at Crowe.
And why do I have a feeling those are the same thing?
Crowe finally seemed to notice the mood aboard the bus: the silence, the defeated expressions, and the general impression that his students were one humiliating callsign away from mutiny.
He scratched his chin.
"Hmm."
Then he brightened.
"Right! We need some morale boost!"
Before anyone could ask what he meant, he grabbed the microphone connected to the bus's sound system.
Niero felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread.
"Master Sergeant," he began cautiously, "what are you—"
"KARAOKE TIME!"
"Huh...."
"What?"
"What about the radio?"
"Can he even sing?"
Crowe adjusted the microphone, cleared his throat, and gave the driver a thumbs-up.
Ms. California laughed.
"Oh, here we go!"
The speakers crackled.
A familiar guitar introduction filled the bus.
Niero's eyes widened.
No way. Is this...
Crowe closed his eyes, raised the microphone, and began singing.
"On a dark desert highway..."
His voice was rough, gruff, and unmistakably Texan.
He sounded like he'd spent thirty years gargling gravel, yet sang with the confidence of a man performing before fifty thousand adoring fans.
"Cool wind in my hair..."
He swayed to the rhythm.
The students stared.
Crowe opened one eye.
"Come on, cadets! Don't leave me hanging!"
Nobody moved.
Nobody dared.
"Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air..."
Bart began nodding along.
"OOH! I KNOW THIS SONG!"
"Of course you do," Flick muttered.
JD covered his face. Mei looked around, unsure whether this was a morale exercise or a psychological experiment.
Alicia appeared to be praying for a conveniently placed portal to swallow the bus.
Niero, on the other hand, recognize this song all too well.
Crowe, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.
"Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light..."
He pointed dramatically through the windshield.
Ms. California honked in time with the music.
"My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim..."
Crowe leaned into the aisle, gesturing at his students as though each had received a personal invitation to join him onstage.
"I had to stop for the night!"
Bart clapped.
"YEAH! SING IT, SERGEANT!"
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"
Crowe pointed at him.
"BRICK! YOU'RE MY BACKUP SINGER!"
"YES, SIR!"
Too late. Bart was already singing along, several notes above or below the melody.
Flick pressed his palms against his ears.
"I'm going to lose my hearing."
Niero sat motionless, his bag on his knees, watching his instructor perform Hotel California as though civilization's fate depended on it.
He'd survived a Black Tide. Fought a mutated S-Rank Sea Witch. Died, come back to life, and absorbed an eldritch artifact into his soul.
And somehow, this was the situation he found hardest to comprehend.
Yet it somewhat uplifting.
Crowe reached the chorus.
"WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA~!"
Ms. California burst out laughing.
"HEY! THAT'S MY HOTEL!"
"YOU WISH!"
Crowe belted out the next line so enthusiastically that the microphone squealed.
"Such a lovely place, such a lovely place, such a lovely face~"
Half the bus winced. The other half burst out laughing.
Even Alicia looked up in disbelief.
Niero and the rest of the cadets watched Crowe sway down the aisle, singing with the passion of a man who'd never experienced embarrassment.
"Plenty of room at the Hotel California~!"
JD leaned over from the opposite seat.
"I'm starting to understand why the academy gave him an entire class of problem children."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"So he'd have someone to annoy besides the faculty."
"Actually...that seems incredibly plausible."
At the front, Crowe thrust the microphone towards his students.
"ANY TIME OF YEAR~, YOU CAN FIND IT HERE~~!"
A few cadets reluctantly joined in.
Bart sang at full volume. Mei hummed along, while someone clapped to the beat. Flick refused on principle, JD pretended he couldn't hear anything, and Alicia pulled her hood over her head in silent protest.
Niero, meanwhile, sat by the window, still wearing the black beanie his mother had given him. He stared at the instructor who'd named him Badger, now enthusiastically serenading a bus full of freshmen with Hotel California.
<"What the hell am I witnessing?">
He should've been cringing from second-hand embarrassed. Instead, he found himself tapping his fingers against his knee, his head gradually swaying to the familiar melody.
He knew this song. His mother and Aunt Alura used to play it from their oldies playlists, often enough that he'd memorized most of the lyrics without even trying.
Michale Jackson. David Bowie. Queens. Police. And many more.
Before he realized it, Niero was softly singing along with the instructor.
For once, he wasn't thinking about training, rankings, or whatever trouble awaited him at the academy. He was just another kid on a bus, humming along to an old song while a grown man butchered none of the lyrics and all of his dignity.
It was an unexpected change of pace.
And, much to his own surprise, Niero was enjoying every second of it.
===
As the bus driving into the main road, most of the passangers of the bus are unaware they are heading the main event of the field trip...
Towards the tallest structure at the center of Dungeontown...
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<<<[ Stargod System: Post-Ascension Status ]>>>
Ascension Realm (Realm) = Mortal: 1st Realm (Student Realm) ---> Mortal: 2nd Realm (Disciple)
Ascension Phase (Phase) = Phase 3: Sovereign Phase ---> Phase 01: Foundation (Phase 1 cap = Lv31–45)
Ascension Level (LV) = 038 ---> 043
Astra Force's Stage (Stage) = 1st stage (Ember) ---> 2nd stage (Nova)
STR (Strength) = 06.85 ---> 16.85
AGI (Agility) = 05.85 ---> 15.85
END (Endurance) = 05.85 ---> 15.85
INT (Intelligence) = 03.85 ---> 13.85
PER (Perception) = 04.85 ---> 15.85
LUK (Luck) = 14.85 ---> 15.85
CRM (Charm) = 02.85 ---> 12.85
CRT (Critical Rate) = 04.85 ---> 14.85
---
Unused Ascension (leveling) Points: 22 Available (+5 Ascension Points, Lv. 43 post-leveling)
Unused Stargod Boon Roll: 4 Available (+1 for post Level 43 post-leveling)
Unused Empyrean Reliquary Boon roll: 2 Available
=
=====
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<<<[ Ch 39, Part 05 - END ]>>>