With that done, Aston leaned back in his captain's chair, letting the hum of Dark Star fill the silence. He glanced at the regional chat and realized he was far from alone. Other captains had reached Level 3 as well, though they were mostly the leaders of fledgling alliances or guilds forming in the chaotic expanse. The chat was alive with names of ships that bore authority, ambition, or just pure audacity.
From Level 3 onward, it was no longer about surviving or scavenging; it was the true measure of a captain's ability to navigate, strategize, and grow in a galaxy that cared little for mistakes.
The requirements for upgrading to a Level 4 ship were laid bare in the system notice that had accompanied the chat messages. Aston read them slowly, letting each line sink in. The conditions were the harshest he had seen since awakening:
The ship must have at least one Blue-tier blueprint.
At least 10 million units of mined resources must be accumulated.
All Green-tier blueprints on the ship must be upgraded to their maximum level six.
The captain must have explored a distance of 100,000 kilometers.
The required resources for the upgrade are: 1 million units of iron, 1 million units of copper, and 100,000 units of silicon.
He stared at the numbers. They were not simply goals; they were barriers designed to test endurance, resourcefulness, and patience. A single Blue-tier blueprint was no small feat. Such blueprints were rare, difficult to obtain, and often required either combat with powerful entities or exploration of highly dangerous zones.
Traveling 100,000 kilometers was almost absurd, even for a captain with limitless energy. Most ships at Level 3 and below could barely maintain 130 kilometers per hour without exhausting their fuel. The physical and mechanical limitations of their engines and energy storage made such distances nearly impossible in a reasonable timeframe.
Dark Star, in contrast, could theoretically push 800 kilometers per hour, but Aston knew better than to test the absolute limits. The ship's internal systems could safely sustain only to about 150 km/hr continuously. At that rate, covering 100,000 kilometers would take thirty to forty days, even for a vessel with infinite energy. For every other captain, the journey would be exponentially more dangerous; their hydrogen reserves would deplete long before they reached a fraction of that distance. Fatigue, system failures, and accidents would be inevitable.
Mining the required resources was equally daunting. Collecting millions of units of iron, copper, and silicon demanded not only efficient tools but also careful management of time and opportunity. Every asteroid belt offered a limited yield, and each session carried risks—larvae hidden among fragments, sudden environmental hazards, or pirate captains scavenging the same areas. Even with multiple laser mining units and magnetic stabilizers, the sheer scale of the task was overwhelming.
Aston allowed himself a rare, reflective smile. For all his advantages, the task ahead was colossal. Level 4 was not about luck. It was about deliberate planning, methodical execution, and the patient accumulation of power. He had to balance exploration, combat readiness, and resource management, all while ensuring that Dark Star remained operational and efficient.
He leaned back further and allowed his eyes to drift over the chat. The messages were frantic yet revealing. Some Level 3 captains were already forming travel convoys to pool resources, while others complained about the impossibility of reaching the distances or finding sufficient Blue-tier blueprints. There were arguments over strategy, warnings about dangerous zones, and discussions of coordinated raids on resource-rich areas. Aston noted one truth clearly: alliances would matter more than ever. Those who worked together might survive the grind to Level 4, while solo captains faced a long, lonely path.
He flexed his fingers on the control sticks and considered his options. The galaxy was wide, the White Zone limited, and danger waited beyond its borders. If he was to progress, he would need more than just resources; he would need information, strategy, and precision. Every mining run, every blueprint upgrade, every calculated drift would push him closer to that next monumental step.
And Aston, for the first time in a long while, felt the weight of it—not as fear, but as a challenge. Dark Star was ready, and he intended to meet it.
...
Just as he was processing the information, a flurry of messages appeared in the regional chat. Several captains had decided to meet in space, and one of them—a former military commander from Earth—had posted the coordinates. He had awakened near a destroyed space station and, using its remnants as a base of reference, shared the location for an offline meeting and trade. The captain was the leader of the Flame Alliance, and his ship-- Flame Commando, was already known across the regional chat for its formidable upgrades and combat readiness. The message appeared clearly in the chat:
Flame Commando: Meeting coordinates – Sector 12, Grid 37, X: 5821.45, Y: -2401.72, Z: 1340.20. All Level 3+ captains welcome. Trade, strategy, and alliance discussions. Time: Galactic Day 5, 1400 hours.
Captains in nearby sectors began responding almost immediately, debating whether they had the capacity to reach the station and whether the meeting would be worth the risk. The chat became a mix of logistics, excitement, and warnings about potential ambushes along the route. Some questioned the loyalty of others, while a few Level 3 solo captains grumbled about traveling that distance alone.
Aston copied the coordinates and fed them directly into Dark Star's navigation AI. With the Navigation Console already maxed at Level 6, the AI calculated an optimal route immediately. The destination was only 1,300 kilometers away, a distance that would take roughly eight hours to cover at his ship's safe continuous speed of 150 kilometers per hour. For other captains relying on hydrogen engines, the journey would be catastrophic—they would consume up to 30% of their total fuel reserves just reaching the coordinates, and refueling naturally could take a full day or more.
Fuel was no concern for Aston. With the Infinite Energy Blueprint, Dark Star's reserves were limitless, allowing him to push the ship without restriction.
He recalibrated the engines, initiating ignition mode, and accelerated smoothly to 130 km/hr. The Navigation Console took over entirely, guiding the ship along the plotted path with precision. Aston leaned back, letting the AI handle the route. He watched the stars stretch past the viewport, each one slowly morphing into streaks as the ship drifted effortlessly through space.
For the first time, Aston felt a sense of coordinated purpose beyond mining and survival. This was a gathering of minds and ships, a convergence of captains who had made it to Level 3.
Unlike the chaotic exchanges of the regional chat, this meeting promised structured interaction, trade, and the potential for alliances. Even if he chose not to join forces immediately, the opportunity to observe others, compare upgrades, and scout new strategies was invaluable.
As Dark Star hummed steadily along the plotted route, the AI maintained full control. Sensors and scanners remained active, continuously checking for asteroid fields, rogue ships, and potential threats. The ship's blueprints adjusted automatically, conserving energy where possible while maximizing output for shields and propulsion. The smooth coordination reminded Aston of the advantages his unique blueprint provided. No other captain in this sector could match the efficiency, range, or operational endurance of Dark Star.
After about four hours of constant travel, the endless blackness of space had settled into a rhythm. Aston had allowed himself a rare moment of reflection, watching distant stars drift past the viewport like scattered embers. The gentle vibration of the engines beneath him was almost hypnotic.
Then Suddenly the alarm blared. Six sharp, metallic beeps pierced the cabin in rapid succession—
beep, beep, beep.....
beep, beep, beep—
Each one cutting through the quiet hum of the ship like a warning hammer. Aston jolted upright in the captain's chair, heart hammering, eyes snapping to the displays.
The navigation console and the danger scanner lit up simultaneously, not with a single red dot but dozens, scattered across the surrounding space. Each dot pulsed violently, a visual scream of biological activity. Within a twelve-kilometer range, a swarm of insect life was converging on his ship, approaching from every direction. The AI had already begun calculating trajectories, but the sheer number of entities made the readings chaotic. Aston's pulse quickened.
He immediately issued the command to open the Shield Emitter. The green-tier blueprint hummed to life, energy flowing through the hull, but he froze mid-command. The Shield Emitter was still at Level 1. Even at full power, it could barely cover Dark Star's expanded hull and would not withstand the concentrated assault he now faced.
From Ship Level 3 onward, upgrading blueprints had become a costly and resource-intensive process. Leveling a green-tier shield from level 1 to 6 now required 18,000 units of iron, triple the cost when the ship was Level 2.
Aston's mind raced. He pressed the upgrade command and watched the progress bar creep slowly forward. Thirty minutes. That was the required construction time, but the insects would reach him in eight minutes. There was no time to waste.
He engaged the ship's AI and issued a defensive protocol: "X-Ray Ion Laser active. Fire automatically at any biological threat within range." The weapon system responded instantly, energy flowing into the laser as the AI calculated firing solutions across multiple vectors. Its range was limited—3 kilometers(3000m)—but it was all he had until the shields finished upgrading.
He throttled back to eighty kilometers per hour, minimizing travel speed to reduce the window of exposure while keeping the ship maneuverable. Swarms approached from every vector, red blips multiplying as smaller groups formed, converging on Dark Star from above, below, and the flanks. Aston studied the displays, scanning for the least dense corridor. He had only one option left: break through from a side with the highest concentration of empty space, firing continuously while accelerating to maximum safe velocity.
The ship responded smoothly, the AI compensating for every slight tilt and vector adjustment. Energy flowed endlessly to the X-Ray Ion Laser, its beams lancing out into the first clusters of insects. Sparks of distorted light streaked across the hull's interface as the laser tore through the smaller forms. Despite the relentless assault, the AI maintained perfect targeting, prioritizing swarms that had drifted within three kilometers while conserving energy in the other sectors.
Aston could see the swarm closing in fast. Their speed was irregular but coordinated, a chaotic storm moving as a single organism. He felt the thrill of control—and the edge of fear. Every minute counted. He glanced at the shield upgrade, watching the timer inch forward.
He adjusted the drift slightly, guiding the ship through a narrow corridor between two floating debris fields. The insects fanned out, some breaking off to avoid collisions, some clustering closer to the hull. The X-Ray Ion Laser fired relentlessly, a continuous stream of energy disintegrating anything that crossed its path. The magnetic stabilizer pulsed faintly, keeping some of the smaller fragments from striking the hull, a minor but valuable assist.
Eight minutes became five. The red dots crowded closer, dozens within three kilometers. Aston's hands rested lightly on the controls, letting the AI handle the calculations, while his eyes darted between the scanner, the shield timer, and the approaching horde. He realized that his survival depended not on brute force but on precise timing, spatial awareness, and the infinite energy that gave him the endurance other captains could only dream of.