"Welcome to the Judgment Camp. Your ID number is 14-03."
Walking out of the examination room, Lucien held a temporary ID card in his hand. But instead of heading to the barracks like the others, he turned toward the gate.
"I need to go out for a bit," he told the guard at the entrance, his voice calm and natural. "I have some personal items to retrieve. I'll be back before dark."
The guard glanced at his ID card and waved him through. "Don't die out there. Or you'll be marked as a deserter."
Stepping out of the iron gate that symbolized order, the smell of the air instantly changed. If the inside smelled like a sterilized barracks, the outside smelled like a fermenting garbage dump.
The black market on the outskirts of Jinling Base was crowded with makeshift stalls. Survivors swarmed like flies, peddling anything that could be exchanged for food.
"Brother! Need a house? Fully furnished villa, only five crystals!"
"Women! Clean women! Half a crystal and she's yours!"
Lucien expressionlessly pushed away a dirty hand reaching for him. He hadn't risked coming out here to go shopping. He was looking for something—something that would truly let him step onto the path of the stars.
He walked straight to a stall in the corner run by a particularly shady-looking man. The stall owner was thin as a monkey, his eyes darting around warily.
"Map," Lucien knocked on the table. "I want the latest one. Mark all the abandoned factories that haven't been scavenged yet."
"Oh, a pro," the monkey-like owner grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "Latest military survey map. That'll be ten Energy Crystals."
"Ten?" Lucien sneered. "Ten crystals are enough to buy your life. Three."
"Brother, you're killing me..." The owner started to complain, but stopped when he saw the cold killing intent in Lucien's eyes. He shrank back. "Fine, fine, three it is. I'm too kind for my own good."
Transaction complete. Lucien turned to leave.
"Wait, brother," the owner suddenly shoved a small pill bottle into his hand mysteriously. "Since you're so straightforward, here's a freebie. This is a Berserk Pill extracted from mutated plants. Pop one in a pinch, and it might let you swing your blade a few more times. No need to thank me."
Lucien took the bottle and sniffed it. A pungent, spicy smell. Although it was an unbranded product, in a life-or-death situation, this thing might actually save him.
He tossed the bottle into his Void Ring and unfolded the map. His finger traced over the rough paper, finally stopping at a red zone in the barren mountains south of the city.
"Right there," he whispered, a hint of longing in his eyes. "The ship should have crashed there."
Just then, the sky lit up.
"What is that?"
A cry erupted from the black market crowd. The noisy street fell silent instantly as everyone looked up, staring blankly at the sky.
The grey dome of the sky was being torn apart.
Dozens of burning fireballs dragged long tails of flame, like spears of judgment thrown by God, piercing the atmosphere. They weren't random meteors; they were flying objects with precise trajectories.
Boom—!
One of the largest "meteors" smashed straight toward the south of Jinling City.
The earth trembled. The shockwave kicked up a massive cloud of dust, shaking the black market stalls kilometers away.
"Is it an air raid?"
"No... that's a spaceship! Aliens!"
Panic spread through the crowd, screams rising everywhere. But Lucien didn't move. He stared fixedly at the trajectory of the crash, the light in his eyes burning hotter than the flames.
"They're here," he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "The trial participants from the Grand Cosmos Empire... finally here."
This was the real opportunity he had been waiting for while hiding on Earth.
Suddenly, a roar came from the inner city. A black figure shot into the sky—it was Warden Mountain.
But just as he reached mid-air, a piercing alarm sounded from the east of the city.
"Zombie tide! It's a zombie tide! Numbers over ten thousand!"
The Warden paused in the air, glancing at the crash site in the south, then at the crumbling eastern wall. Finally, he gritted his teeth and turned toward the zombie tide. "Damn it! Hold the wall! I'll block them!"
Lucien watched the Warden's retreating back, a cold smile curling his lips.
"Perfect."
This was a once-in-a-lifetime window. The strongest combat power had been lured away, and the military was in chaos. That crashed spaceship was now an unguarded gold mine.
"I have to get there before anyone else reacts."
Lucien activated Flash Step.
His figure pulled a trail of afterimages through the ruins, like a black cheetah sprinting full speed toward the smoking wasteland in the south. The wind howled in his ears. This wasn't a rescue mission; this was a robbery. A robbery for the Origin Script that would change his destiny.
South of Jinling, abandoned industrial zone.
The area had been turned into a massive crater. Factories were leveled, the scorched earth still smoking, the air filled with the pungent smell of burnt metal.
In the center of the pit lay a white sphere, two meters in diameter. Its surface was smooth as a mirror, without a single scratch, completely out of place amidst the surrounding destruction.
"Single-man drop pod," Lucien hid behind a broken wall, squinting. "Standard issue equipment."
Hiss—
With the soft sound of a pressure valve releasing, a crack appeared on the sphere's surface, and the hatch slid open.
A hand wearing a white alloy glove reached out. Then, a young man stepped out. He looked no different from an Earthling—short hair, pale skin. But the streamlined white light armor he wore, and the tactical wristband flashing blue on his left wrist, revealed his identity.
Yasta. A hunter from the stars.
He took a deep breath of Earth's filthy air and frowned. "Disgusting. The air quality on this primitive planet is a disaster."
He raised his wrist and tapped on his tactical band.
Beep beep.
"Hmm?" Yasta suddenly stopped, his gaze sharp as lightning, instantly locking onto Lucien's hiding spot. "A rat over there. Seen enough?"
Lucien's heart skipped a beat. Spotted.
Yasta waved his hand casually. The short blade in his grip slashed out a visible wave of white air pressure.
Boom!
The half-meter-thick concrete wall in front of Lucien was sliced apart like tofu. The cut was smooth and flat, still steaming. Lucien rolled clumsily to the side, landing in the dirt ten meters away, covered in dust.
"Not bad reflexes," Yasta hovered in mid-air, looking down at him with condescension, like watching a monkey perform tricks. "For a native."
He glanced at the reading on his wristband, a mocking smile appearing on his lips.
"Battle Power... 300? Trash. You're not even fit to be a janitor in my academy."
Lucien dusted himself off, stood up, and gripped his iron rod tightly. He didn't argue, just stared coldly at the other man.
"You're from the Grand Cosmos Empire?"
Yasta paused, then burst into laughter. "Oh? A native who knows the name of the Empire? Looks like this planet has been monitored for a long time. That's right, I'm Yasta, an elite of the Empire's First Military Academy. And you..."
He pointed at the ruins beneath his feet, then at Lucien.
"You are just crops waiting to be harvested. Or perhaps... my slaves."
He curled his finger, his attitude arrogant to the extreme, as if calling a dog.
"Come on, native. Let me see how long you can struggle."