Chapter 3: A Twist of Fate

Don't assume that entering the space age means Earth would be left in ruins. Sure, during the wars, destruction was inevitable, but both sides deliberately avoided targeting forests—after all, they were humanity's shared cradle. Even at the height of conflict, neither side resorted to nuclear or antimatter weapons. Post-war, urban greening efforts flourished, and the green-tech cities looked far better than the grim visions of old movies. At least, Finn thought so. The expanded greenery was a welcome sight.

Riding the city tram toward the outskirts, Finn always sought fresh air when his mind tangled in knots. Lying on the synthetic grass, inhaling the scent of soil and greenery, he usually found peace. But today, something gnawed at him. A soldier who doesn't dream of being a general isn't a good soldier. Finn had dreams too—getting into military academy was his immediate goal. Plus, he had another reason to succeed… but why did it have to hinge on exams? Couldn't there be a more diverse way to assess potential, giving theory-challenged folks like him a shot?

No, I have to try. No attempt, no chance. With effort, there's at least a one percent shot. Life demanded a leap of faith. Go for it!

Imagining himself as a glorious Mobile Suit pilot, Finn sprang to his feet, striking a dramatic pose with one finger pointed skyward. "I'm number one, the heavens are second!" he bellowed.

Venting felt good… until he noticed something odd in the sky—a ripple, followed by a shooting star.

Is the universe mocking me? Finn smirked, flipping an obscene gesture at the heavens. "Man conquers all! If you've got the guts, take a shot at me!"

No sooner had he taunted than the shooting star veered sharply, hurtling straight toward him.

Finn blinked, then bolted. What the hell? This is insane!

But a few steps in, a crushing force slammed down. Amid the deafening roar, he blacked out, muttering, "I hate flying rocks."

Evening News: A student from Konghang AP High was struck by a meteorite while relaxing in the suburbs. He's been hospitalized but shows no serious injuries. This rare astronomical event has odds of one in a trillion. Rest assured, suburban outings remain safe.

Mark, mid-dinner, spat out his food. Someone from our school? Talk about luck—should've bought a lottery ticket.

His wrist communicator buzzed, projecting a cute virtual assistant: "Incoming call, incoming call."

"Hey, Finn! Did you hear? Some poor sap from our school got nailed by a meteor. I'd love to meet the guy—maybe send a wreath."

Silence.

"Yo, speak up! I'm eating here."

A raspy voice replied, "Mark, that poor sap is me."

Mark choked, lifting his head to see Finn lying in a hospital bed on the screen. He was speechless.

"Alright, Finn, you need rest," a nurse interrupted, her face stern. Finn sighed, ending the call. Might as well rest. He overheard two nurses giggling.

"He's hilarious—getting hit by a meteor."

"Yeah, just some shock, no real damage. Lucky guy."

Finn buried his face in the pillow. Embarrassing enough to flee to Mars. Of all the improbable things, this happened to him. What "great" luck.

Fatigue washed over him, and he drifted into sleep. Even a normal person couldn't shrug off a meteor strike unscathed.

A faint golden glow enveloped Finn, nearly imperceptible. The surrounding machines dimmed.

"Self-check: three, two, one."

Beep, beep, beep…

"Database damage: 69%, recoverable: 32%. Structural damage: 91%, repairable.

"Info probe: Successful parallel universe traversal. Coordinates: non-returnable, no signal reception. Target location: energy sufficient, 15% usability, mid-level civilization."

The light flickered urgently. Master's presence… Master, Master…

"Warning: Energy low. Entering self-repair hibernation in three seconds. Three, two, one…"

The golden light receded into Finn's body, and the machines resumed normal operation. Finn slept soundly, dreaming of the principals of the Big Five military academies kneeling before him, begging him to enroll. A grin spread across his face.

Dreams could be bliss.

Finn awoke feeling refreshed. Opening his eyes, he saw Mark lunging at him.

"Damn, you're finally awake! Thought you'd turned into a vegetable!"

"Pfft, don't jinx it. I'm fine—just took a nap."

"A nap? You've been out for three days and nights. What are you, a hibernating bear?"

Finn touched his face, baffled. Three days? Then, a pressing thought: "You didn't tell my parents, did you?"

"Of course not. When you called, I got the hint. Told your mom you're at my place for special training."

"Ha, good man!"

It wasn't unusual. Mark's family was well-off, with a gravity chamber at home. Finn often stayed over to train his physique and reflexes. His parents were used to it. Mark, however, had zero interest in physical training. He'd played with zero-G for fun but quickly grew bored. The chamber became Finn's personal gym, where he cranked up the gravity for intense workouts.

"Excuse me, we need to check the patient," a nurse said, nudging Mark aside. He stepped back, eyes gleaming at the nurse. Thirty-five, top-tier, not bad.

"Nurse, my buddy here loves injections. If you get the chance, don't hold back—jab him good."