Hostility

Another day passed, and Zane had undergone surgery. After shelling out two thousand contribution points from his own pocket, he was now equipped with a tactical electronic eye in his left socket.

Besides normal vision, this eye featured thermal imaging, infrared, and ultra-long-distance sight capabilities. In the interstellar wasteland, spotting an enemy a second earlier could significantly increase one's safety.

So Zane didn't hesitate to spend half of his contribution points on it—after all, points could be earned back, but a life was irreplaceable.

The tactical eye looked like any regular eye except for occasional surges of electricity that would cause a flash of blue light in the pupil, nothing that would draw undue attention.

Finally free of the eye patch, Zane planned to discuss his mission with Lyra that evening, but his mother seemed to sense something amiss.

She avoided the topic and even prevented Zane from having the chance to bring it up, busying herself with tidying the already sparse shack.

Frustrated, Zane found himself unable to broach the subject of the mission, let alone offer his apology.

The next morning, Lyra was already out. Zane left a note explaining he had to leave on a mission and that they would talk upon his return.

After breakfast, fully equipped and dressed in his uniform, Zane hopped on his electromagnetic bike and headed for the transit platform.

The rendezvous point was at Deck 7 in the third sector of the platform.

Arriving early, Zane found the area deserted.

He maneuvered his bike to a corner to park when a cool voice intervened, "This is the Raven Squad's assembly area. Which squad do you belong to? Don't just park your bike anywhere."

Zane turned to see a youth standing behind him, slightly older but still in his twenties. His crow-colored hair was tied in a ponytail, and his delicate features could easily be mistaken for a girl's.

The youth, too, wore the Nightwalkers' black uniform, but his armor was unique—with silver glints of Star Crystal in the patterns, clearly intended for Ascendants.

Yet, the many scratch marks on it betrayed its wearer's experience in battle.

The young man carried a sword, sheathed in a narrow scabbard with a special open-and-close design at the mouth for quick access.

Zane knew enough to recognize that swords weren't meant to be overly long unless there was a specific need; an excessively long sword was more a hindrance than a help.

"Hey, you. What are you daydreaming about? Is this the quality of new recruits nowadays? They're just handing their heads to the dark denizens." The youth seemed dissatisfied with Zane's reaction.

Noting the same rank insignia on the youth's shoulder as his own, Zane swallowed the word "Sir" and replied, "I'm Zane. Commander Lin sent me to report to the Raven Squad."

The young man was taken aback, then his eyes filled with disdain, "So it's you. I heard you killed your superior the moment you became an Ascendant."

Zane felt the wave of hostility emanating from him but had no intention of explaining himself. With no common ground, he saw no point in further conversation and turned to find a quiet spot.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Zane looked back to see the youth, an icy expression on his face.

"Just a lowly commoner, don't get too full of yourself," the youth said coldly.

Zane brushed off his hand. "Have I offended you in some way?"

"Not at all. I just find your actions disgusting," the youth said, clenching his fist and holding it to his mouth as if nauseated. "A mere commoner elevates to an Ascendant and then gets carried away with revenge on a superior who offended them. He may have been in the wrong, but as an upper-citizen, his mistakes shouldn't warrant death. At least, he shouldn't have died by your hand!"

"You lower-dwellers never understand gratitude, just resentment. Do you ever stop to think that without the sacrifices of us upper-citizens, you parasites would not be able to live safely within the bastion?"

Zane laughed coldly. "Do you know that your so-called noble upper-citizen shot me in the leg during a mission to attract Wanderers so he could escape? What, upper-citizens shouldn't die, but commoners should just serve as bait?"

The youth was taken aback. Though he had heard rumors about Zane, he wasn't aware of these details.

Zane continued, "Besides, I am now an upper-citizen myself, so mind your sense of superiority and save yourself some trouble!"

The youth huffed arrogantly, "You, like that, deserve to call yourself an upper-citizen? True upper-citizens are those with family names. Do you have one?"

Zane calmly responded, "I will have one, eventually."

"That's exactly what disgusts me. The thought of those uneducated brats, possibly even born of whores, one day possessing their own surnames makes me sick." The youth covered his mouth, feigning physical discomfort.

Zane's hand tightened on his knife handle. "Say it again, I dare you!"

The youth coolly touched the hilt of his sword. "What, am I wrong?"

"You can say what you want about me, but don't insult my mother!" Zane growled, his combat knife an inch out of its sheath.

"Oh, to think that you're actually a..."

Before he could finish, a fist connected with the youth's face, sending him spinning through the air and crashing several meters away.

Zane was startled to see a new figure beside him.

A burly man with thick eyebrows, a cigarette in his mouth—it was Han Shu, the captain of the Raven Squad!

"What the kid said is right—every mother deserves respect. Cangdu, reflect on your behavior!"

Han Shu's gaze shifted to Zane, clicking his tongue. "But you too—drawing your weapon on a comrade. Go, run fifty laps around Deck 7."

"Sir, I..."

"Make it sixty laps!"

"Right away, Sir!"

Zane didn't dare argue further, hurrying to run to avoid further penalties.

Han Shu crossed his arms, watching the disheveled youth struggling to his feet and Zane running his laps.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "Young people and their energy. Why not save it for those dark creatures rather than causing trouble?"

He scratched his hedgehog-like short brown hair. "Orion, that bastard, must be doing this on purpose. Don't we already have a map? Why the need for a guide? I knew it—each time the Chief of Staff looks me up, nothing good comes out of it!"