Alarm sound reference: https://youtu.be/fpQHabt6e-w
BEEP. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEEEEEEEEP!
A siren shrieked.
Then another.
Then a third.
A car alarm from some forgotten era began blaring in the background.
A second sound joined it—something resembling an emergency siren, except it appeared to have been recorded inside a metal barrel while someone was kicking said barrel down a staircase.
Then came piano keys.
Bad piano keys.
Very bad piano keys.
Then the sound of a man screaming.
Then another siren.
Then what could only be described as electronic dance music having a nervous breakdown.
All of it played simultaneously.
It was less an alarm and more an auditory declaration of war.
The resting chamber shook with the sheer volume of it.
On the bed, Shagun's fingers twitched.
His eyebrows moved.
His eyelids trembled.
Then—
"FUCK!"
Shagun launched himself upright.
His auburn hair was a mess.
His eyes were narrowed.
His expression could have curdled milk.
"What the hell is that?!"
The alarm continued.
BWAAAAAAM—WEEEEEEEEE—BEEP-BEEP-BEEP—
Shagun grabbed the blanket and hurled it at absolutely nothing.
"WHO DESIGNED THAT?!"
The System's voice appeared in his mind.
At least you are awake.
Shagun stared straight ahead.
You are not helping.
I was not aware I was required to.
Are you mocking me?
No.
A pause.
I am observing that the alarm fulfilled its intended function.
Shagun's eye twitched.
You're enjoying this.
That is an unverifiable assumption.
You sound smug.
I do not possess a face.
Exactly. That's why I'm suspicious.
There was a brief silence.
Then Overwatch's voice came through the room speakers.
"I apologize, Captain. The alarm was designed to maximize physiological stimulation and eliminate the possibility of oversleeping."
Shagun slowly turned toward the ceiling speaker.
"You could have just said, 'Good morning.'"
"Historical data indicates verbal greetings have a significantly lower awakening efficiency."
"You recreated the sound of civilization ending."
"And yet you are awake."
Shagun paused.
"…Can't argue with results."
The alarm stopped.
Silence returned.
Beautiful, glorious silence.
Shagun stared at the ceiling.
"I already miss being unconscious."
You have been awake for one day.
Exactly.
That is not how sleep debt works.
I don't care.
He rubbed his face.
Then inhaled deeply.
The oxygen flooded his lungs.
For a moment, Shagun froze.
His chest expanded much more than it should have.
Air entered his lungs with unusual ease, as though the surrounding atmosphere had become something his body could simply devour.
He exhaled.
Then inhaled again.
Deeply.
Slowly.
His mind supplied an unfamiliar memory.
A royal breathing technique.
A method developed for descendants of the V'tuen Emperor bloodline, allowing them to circulate cosmic energy while simultaneously strengthening oxygen absorption and cellular efficiency.
Shagun's eyes narrowed.
"So even breathing is different here."
Your body is different here.
"Don't remind me."
He stretched.
His back cracked.
Then his shoulders.
Then his neck.
He stood.
His body still felt somewhat sluggish, but considerably better than yesterday.
He rolled his shoulders.
"Not bad."
Then his stomach growled.
Loudly.
Shagun froze.
"…Never mind."
He changed direction toward the bathroom.
The sanitation chamber was almost disappointingly normal.
A toilet.
A sink.
A sanitation field.
A compact disinfection chamber.
That was it.
No holographic throne.
No robotic hand from the ceiling performing mysterious medical procedures.
No intelligent toilet capable of judging his life choices.
Shagun had to admit he was grateful.
Technology apparently had its limits.
Or perhaps civilization had collectively agreed that some things simply did not need improvement.
After finishing his business, he stepped into the disinfection chamber.
The surrounding walls emitted a pale blue light.
A thin energy field swept across his body.
Then a faint mist passed over his skin.
That was it.
No scrubbing.
No shower.
No complicated ritual.
"Efficient."
You sound disappointed.
"I was expecting something cooler."
You are disappointed by sanitation?
"No. I'm disappointed that the future still requires me to wash my own ass."
The System was silent.
Then—
I have no response to that.
Shagun grinned.
"Thought so."
He dried himself and returned to the residential quarters.
As he dressed, his thoughts naturally returned to the situation.
The dead world.
Espoir.
The empire.
The System.
His new body.
And the first day of his second life.
He sat on the edge of his bed.
"So…"
He folded his arms.
"What should I do today?"
His mind immediately produced several answers.
Explore the ship.
Study the planet.
Inspect the armory.
Test his body.
Study the empire.
Repair the FTL drive.
Find resources.
Develop weapons.
Establish an escape route.
Secure food.
Investigate the restricted sectors.
Find out what happened to Rex.
Find out why the empire collapsed.
Find out where he was.
And eventually—
Return.
Shagun stared at the wall.
Then sighed.
Maybe I'll just go with the flow.
The thought lasted approximately three seconds.
A golden panel immediately appeared.
DING.
FIRST QUEST ISSUED.
Shagun's eyebrow twitched.
"…Of course."
The System continued.
Quest: Everything Starts Somewhere
Mission Requirements:
Explore the complete layout of Espoir: 0/1
Familiarize yourself with the Maharlika Exo-Suit: 0/1
Train your physical vessel: 0/1
Draft a preliminary escape plan: 0/1
Time Limit: 24 Hours
Failure Penalty: System functions suspended for 30 days
Shagun stared at the panel.
"…You did that intentionally."
Yes.
"You waited until I decided to slack off."
Correct.
"You're petty."
I prefer proactive.
Shagun sighed.
"Fine."
He stood.
"Let's work."
The Tour
Espoir was small.
That was the first thing Shagun realized.
Not small by ordinary standards.
Eight hundred meters of spacecraft was still enormous compared to anything humanity had produced in his old world.
But compared to a proper military vessel—
Espoir was practically anorexic.
It had no sprawling barracks.
No massive recreational areas.
No extensive troop compartments.
No luxurious hallways.
Everything existed for a single purpose.
Survival.
The ship's design was brutally efficient.
The residential section could sustain only a tiny number of occupants.
The medical bay was advanced but compact.
The fabrication deck could manufacture replacement components but was not designed for industrial production.
The cargo area was limited.
The agricultural section was barely large enough to supplement nutritional reserves.
The engineering section contained the ship's primary reactors, engines, and propulsion controls.
The armory was small.
The mecha bay was similarly compact.
There was even an auxiliary hangar, though it was primarily intended for emergency drones, maintenance craft, and small utility vehicles.
Nothing was excessive.
Nothing was decorative.
Even the walls seemed to have been designed with the philosophy of:
If it doesn't help someone survive, remove it.
Shagun walked through the corridors slowly, touching the walls occasionally.
He memorized junctions.
Emergency exits.
Power conduits.
Ventilation routes.
Access hatches.
Maintenance paths.
Overwatch occasionally supplied information.
Shagun listened.
He asked questions.
Then asked more.
And slowly, the entire vessel began forming in his mind as a mental map.
Command center at the central forward section.
Residential and medical areas clustered around the central life-support spine.
Engineering toward the rear.
Mecha bay beneath the command section.
Fabrication adjacent to engineering.
Cargo storage near the lower hull.
Emergency evacuation systems distributed throughout the structure.
And then—
Restricted sections.
Shagun stopped.
A sealed doorway stood before him.
No visible handle.
No public access panel.
Only a small black screen.
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Shagun stared.
"What's in there?"
There was a pause before Overwatch answered.
"Restricted information."
"That wasn't my question."
"I am aware."
Shagun smiled.
"Try again."
"The contents are beyond your present command authorization."
"Even though I'm the captain?"
"Your authority is sufficient to operate the vessel. It is not sufficient to access every subsystem."
Shagun's eyes narrowed.
"How convenient."
"This vessel was designed to preserve imperial heirs."
"And?"
"Certain information was intentionally separated from ordinary command access."
Shagun looked at the door again.
His instincts immediately became interested.
"Ship's core?"
Silence.
Not long.
Just long enough.
Shagun smiled.
"Ah."
"I did not confirm that."
"You didn't have to."
"I suggest focusing continuing your tour"
"Of course."
He walked away.
But he did not forget the door.
Something inside him told him that the restricted sections mattered.
Perhaps they contained mission records.
Perhaps imperial communications.
Perhaps emergency protocols.
Perhaps something far more important.
He would discover it eventually.
There was no rush.
For now.
Information first.
Strength second.
Secrets third.
Actually—
Strength first.
Secrets didn't matter if he was too weak to investigate them.
That thought brought him to the next destination.
The mecha bay.
The Beast
The doors opened.
Shagun stopped.
Then slowly smiled.
The mecha bay itself was modest.
Several maintenance arms hung from the ceiling.
Repair equipment was arranged along one wall.
Storage containers lined another.
There were energy tools, component lockers, diagnostic equipment, and material crates.
Efficient.
Functional.
Unremarkable.
And then—
There it was.
The Maharlika.
It stood in the center of the bay.
Eight feet of black armor.
It looked humanoid, but only technically.
Its shoulders were broad.
Its torso narrow.
Its limbs long and powerful.
The armor plates overlapped like the natural shell of some predatory creature.
Its helmet had a sharp, almost beast-like silhouette.
Two narrow eye-slits glowed faintly.
There were no obvious weapon systems mounted on the exterior.
That somehow made it more intimidating.
A machine that looked like this did not need to advertise how dangerous it was.
Shagun approached.
"Damn."
He walked around it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He crouched.
Looked beneath the feet.
Examined the joints.
The armor.
The interface ports.
The surface composition.
He gently tapped one armored plate.
Tok.
The sound was unusually deep.
He frowned.
The material seemed denser than its apparent mass suggested.
"Interesting."
He checked the system information.
Maharlika Exo-Suit
Series: Limited Edition
Total Known Production: 73
Purpose: Universal Combat
Generation: Fourth
Manufacturer: Varyll Industries
Parent Corporation: SaynDaitha Corporation
Compatibility: Royal Grade
Condition: Operational
Shagun blinked.
"Seventy-three?"
"Seventy-three confirmed units."
"That makes this thing extremely rare."
"Correct."
"And the manufacturer?"
"Varyll Industries."
Shagun whistled.
He knew the name from Rex's memories.
Varyll Industries was a major weapons manufacturer.
Not the largest.
Not the most prestigious.
But extremely reliable.
And its parent company, SaynDaitha Corporation, was one of the larger interstellar defense conglomerates.
Their civilian products were common.
Their military products were expensive.
Their fourth-generation weapons were not publicly available.
Yet this machine had them.
Shagun narrowed his eyes.
"Someone spent a ridiculous amount of money on this."
"Mission: Last Hope prioritized the survival of imperial heirs over conventional expenditure limits."
Shagun looked at the machine again.
Then at the ceiling.
Then back at the machine.
"So my dead mother basically handed me a walking weapons platform."
"That is an inaccurate but functionally acceptable summary."
He smiled.
"I'm keeping it."
"It was already assigned to you."
"Still keeping it."
He walked toward the front.
There was no obvious cockpit.
Then he remembered.
A hand moved across the side of the armor.
A section opened.
Inside was a small control recess.
Shagun placed his palm against it.
The armor responded.
Hiss.
The torso opened.
A narrow internal chamber revealed itself.
Shagun stepped inside.
The interior was surprisingly simple.
There were no dozens of levers.
No overwhelming number of buttons.
Instead, the cockpit wrapped around him.
A central support structure aligned with his spine.
Neural contact ports rested near his shoulders.
The control interface was designed around movement.
The machine was not piloted by hands alone.
It read intent.
Posture.
Neural signals.
Muscular impulses.
Even minute changes in balance.
Shagun remembered something from Rex's training.
The stronger the synchronization between pilot and machine, the more naturally the machine responds.
He settled into the cockpit.
The chamber closed.
Darkness.
Then—
CLICK.
Light flooded the interior.
A translucent display appeared.
PILOT IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED
REX AZERITH LEXUS
ROYAL AUTHORITY VERIFIED
A second display appeared.
NEURAL SYNCHRONIZATION INITIALIZING
Shagun inhaled.
The interface connected.
And for a moment—
He felt something.
Not the machine.
Something beneath it.
Like another presence had noticed him.
A pulse.
Faint.
Almost nonexistent.
Shagun's eyebrows rose.
Then it vanished.
"Hm."
He waited.
Nothing.
He shrugged.
"Probably a sensor."
The System spoke quietly.
Perhaps.
Shagun frowned.
You sound unconvinced.
I did not say anything.
You literally just did.
I said "perhaps."
Exactly.
The System went silent.
Shagun smiled.
"Come on."
A control menu appeared.
He found a line labeled:
COMBAT LIBERATION PROTOCOL
Underneath it:
RELEASE THE BEAST
Shagun stared.
"…That's subtle."
It appears someone had a sense of humor.
"That function isn't even explained."
Would you like to activate it?
"Absolutely not."
A pause.
Coward.
Shagun's eyes narrowed.
You want me dead.
No.
Then stop tempting me.
He moved on.
The first activation nearly threw him backward.
VRRRRMMMM—
The entire machine came alive.
Energy surged through its systems.
The cockpit vibrated.
A subtle pulse moved through the armor.
Shagun's heart raced.
"This is…"
He tightened his hands.
"…Awesome."
He connected his communications system.
"Overwatch."
"Captain?"
"Can you hear me?"
"Clearly."
"I want a perimeter scan."
"Already completed."
"Safe?"
"No significant hostile lifeforms detected."
"Open the external hatch."
"I recommend caution."
"Noted."
"That was not an endorsement."
Shagun grinned.
"Open it."
"Under protest."
The bay doors opened.
Cold air swept into the compartment.
The machine stepped forward.
THUD.
One foot.
Then the other.
THUD.
Shagun emerged onto Fua Thay's surface.
First Steps
The world was ugly.
Beautifully ugly.
Jagged mountains stretched toward a dark horizon.
Black and gray dust rolled across the barren ground.
Clouds of toxic particulate drifted across the sky.
Far above, a distant star burned with cold intensity.
The terrain reflected almost no light.
It looked less like a planet and more like the remains of one.
Inside the cockpit, Shagun smiled.
"Let's see what you can do."
He moved one foot.
The mecha moved.
Perfectly.
He stepped forward.
The response was immediate.
No delay.
No mechanical stiffness.
No unnatural hesitation.
He leaned.
The machine leaned.
He shifted his center of gravity.
The machine responded.
He rotated his torso.
The machine followed.
Shagun began walking.
Slowly.
Then faster.
Then faster.
The machine moved more naturally than any training unit in Rex's memories.
That alone was extraordinary.
He sprinted.
The landscape blurred.
The Maharlika accelerated.
Shagun's heartbeat rose.
His movements became bolder.
A jump.
The machine landed.
A slide.
A turn.
A leap across a rocky ridge.
A full rotation.
Then a landing.
Smooth.
Controlled.
Almost graceful.
Shagun laughed.
"This is insane!"
He accelerated again.
His body adjusted.
His mind predicted trajectories.
The mecha followed.
He changed direction sharply.
The machine compensated before his conscious mind finished the movement.
Shagun stopped.
For a moment, he was silent.
That had been—
Too fast.
His response.
The machine's response.
The synchronization.
It felt almost—
Natural.
A red warning flashed across his vision.
PILOT PHYSIOLOGICAL STRESS INCREASING.
Another.
HEART RATE ELEVATED.
Another.
MUSCULOSKELETAL STRAIN DETECTED.
Shagun slowed.
He laughed weakly.
"Right."
He had forgotten the most important part.
The mecha was enhanced.
He wasn't.
Not yet.
The machine could tolerate movements his body could not.
He looked at the display.
"Overwatch?"
"You should stop."
"I'm fine."
"Your body disagrees."
"Just another minute."
"Captain."
"Five seconds."
"You said that forty-seven seconds ago."
Shagun gritted his teeth.
The warning intensified.
PILOT STABILITY DECREASING.
He stopped.
The cockpit opened a nutrient injector.
A thin needle extended into his suit.
Before he could protest—
PSSHT.
A stream of nutrient solution entered his bloodstream.
Shagun flinched.
"What the hell?"
"Emergency nutrient supplementation."
"You could've warned me!"
"You were ignoring warnings."
"…Fair."
His body began recovering.
Not immediately.
But enough.
Shagun took several breaths.
Then laughed quietly.
He had become so excited over the machine that he had forgotten the machine wasn't the thing moving.
His body was.
And his body was currently the weakest part of the equation.
He looked down at his armored hands.
"That's embarrassing."
A little.
Shagun glared.
You're enjoying this.
A little.
"Unbelievable."
The Arsenal
Back at the ship, Shagun opened the Maharlika's armament interface.
The display expanded.
PRIMARY WEAPON
Varyll Industries — Fourth Generation Laser Rifle
Capacity: 500 shots
SECONDARY WEAPON
Varyll Industries — Fourth Generation Laser Pistol
Capacity: 120 shots
INTEGRATED ORDNANCE
Medium-Range Missile Silos — 10
Concussion Blast Missiles — 5
CLOSE-QUARTERS SYSTEM
Kinetic Thruster-Assisted Combat Fists
Shagun stared.
"Fourth generation."
"Correct."
"Publicly available model?"
"Third generation."
Shagun slowly smiled.
"So the empire had access to a whole generation of weapons ahead of the market."
"Affirmative."
"That's dangerous."
"Yes."
"Very dangerous."
"Yes."
Shagun's smile faded.
"Who else knows?"
Overwatch paused.
"That information is classified."
Shagun's eyes sharpened.
"Meaning?"
"Mission: Last Hope was compartmentalized."
He understood immediately.
If every heir received a ship containing technology a generation ahead of the market—
Then the empire had hidden an immense amount of military capability.
And if even one heir survived—
Someone might eventually notice.
Shagun looked at the weapons again.
"Wonderful."
Then a thought occurred to him.
"Wait."
He pointed toward the weapon specifications.
"Varyll Industries."
"Correct."
"If these weapons aren't publicly available…"
He smiled.
"…then anyone competent who sees them might start asking questions."
"That possibility exists."
"Especially if they realize who is carrying them."
Silence.
Shagun smiled.
"Well."
He clapped his hands.
"That's future-Shagun's problem."
The System appeared.
Future-Shagun seems to be acquiring quite a workload.
"Shut up."
No.
Building the Vessel
The Maharlika quest was completed.
The System notification appeared.
DING.
Subquest Complete: Familiarize Yourself With the Maharlika Exo-Suit
Quest Progress: 2/4
Shagun smiled.
Halfway.
Only two remained.
The next requirement was simpler.
Train your body.
He returned to the training area.
Rex's memories supplied the standard imperial training regimen.
It was brutal.
Gravity resistance.
Reaction drills.
Cosmic-energy circulation.
Balance training.
Neural synchronization.
Strength conditioning.
Endurance.
Pain tolerance.
Combat movement.
And controlled breathing techniques.
All of it was designed for children of the imperial bloodline.
Shagun studied the program.
Then frowned.
"This is actually very good."
You sound surprised.
"I am."
He expected something absurd.
Instead, the program was remarkably sophisticated.
The problem was that it assumed access to specialized training equipment.
Shagun didn't have that.
So he simplified it.
He removed the machinery.
He kept the underlying principles.
Progressive resistance.
Mobility.
Endurance.
Breathing.
Recovery.
Consistency.
Then he introduced concepts from his old world.
Bodyweight conditioning.
Controlled calisthenics.
Static holds.
Sprinting.
Mobility work.
And, most importantly—
combat intent.
His old world had developed countless martial traditions.
Some focused on direct force.
Some on redirection.
Some on economy of movement.
Some on body alignment.
Some on generating power from the entire body rather than isolated muscles.
He remembered Filipino fighting systems built around flowing movement and weapon awareness.
Chinese systems that emphasized internal coordination, breath, structure, and intent.
Japanese traditions that emphasized discipline, precision, posture, and controlled movement.
In the old world, these arts had been physical disciplines.
Here—
They could potentially become something more.
If cosmic energy responded to intent…
Then why couldn't intent become a bridge between thought and power?
Shagun stood in the center of the training room.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed in.
Slowly.
He imagined the energy within his body.
Flowing.
Collecting.
Circulating.
His arm moved.
Not fast.
Not violently.
With intent.
A simple motion.
Yet for a brief instant—
The cosmic energy around his body shifted.
His eyes opened.
"…Interesting."
He tried again.
This time he imagined a tiger.
Not literally.
The qualities.
Predatory intent.
Explosive movement.
Weight.
Dominance.
His fist moved.
The air trembled.
Barely.
Shagun froze.
The System remained silent.
He smiled.
So it works.
Not enough to form a physical manifestation.
Not enough to become some mythical martial avatar.
But the principle was there.
The body could externalize intent through cosmic energy.
Perhaps later he could develop different combat frameworks.
A tiger.
A serpent.
A crane.
A wolf.
A dragon.
Or perhaps concepts that had nothing to do with animals.
Blade intent.
Mountain intent.
Storm intent.
Void.
These were only ideas.
The possibilities were enormous.
He continued training.
Not recklessly this time.
He adjusted intensity based on his body's feedback.
The imperial regimen provided the framework.
His old world provided practical principles.
And his new body provided something neither had possessed.
Cosmic energy.
After several hours, sweat covered his body.
His breathing deepened.
His muscles trembled.
Yet he felt—
Better.
Not stronger by some miraculous amount.
But more coordinated.
More efficient.
His breathing felt cleaner.
His body felt more stable.
The energy inside him circulated more smoothly.
Then—
DING.
Subquest Complete: Train Your Physical Vessel
Shagun stopped.
Quest Progress: 3/4
He smiled.
Three down.
One remaining.
Escape plan.
The Meal of the Future
Shagun's next stop was the nutritional storage unit.
He stared at the liquid container.
"What is this?"
"Nutritional synthesis product."
"It looks like industrial coolant."
"It is nutritionally superior to industrial coolant."
Shagun slowly looked at the container.
"That is the lowest possible standard."
"It remains factually correct."
He sighed.
He poured himself a cup.
The liquid was pale brown.
He sniffed it.
Nothing.
No aroma.
No recognizable scent.
Suspicious.
He took a tiny sip.
Silence.
His expression became blank.
He swallowed.
"…Oh."
The System appeared.
How is it?
Shagun stared at the cup.
"You know that scene in history where prisoners are forced to eat something unholy because the alternative is starvation?"
Yes.
"This tastes like the apology given after that event."
The System remained silent.
Shagun took another sip.
"It tastes like someone liquefied cardboard, removed all the flavor, added vitamins, then accidentally dropped it into a bucket of sadness."
Overwatch spoke.
"Nutritional efficiency is 96.8%."
"I don't care."
"It contains all essential macro and micronutrients required for your present condition."
"I still don't care."
"The flavor can be modified once appropriate ingredients are acquired."
Shagun's eyes lit up.
"Food ingredients."
"Correct."
He slowly looked toward the planet scan.
Toxic atmosphere.
Contaminated soil.
Sparse life.
Low resources.
He looked at the nutrient drink.
Then back at the planet.
Then back at the drink.
"Fixing the FTL just became a higher priority."
The System made a strange little sound.
That motivated you more than the empire.
"The empire can wait."
He held up the cup.
"But this?"
He grimaced.
"This is unacceptable."
The Escape Plan
Back in the command center, Shagun opened the planetary map.
"Overwatch."
"Captain?"
"Give me every accessible piece of information about the planet."
The map expanded.
Mountain ranges.
Subterranean density.
Energy pockets.
Mineral deposits.
Atmospheric currents.
Thermal anomalies.
Possible water reserves.
Shagun studied everything.
"We can't stay here."
"Agreed."
"We also can't repair the FTL drive by simply wishing really hard."
"Correct."
"Which means resources."
He began organizing information.
First:
Identify the materials needed to repair the FTL boosters.
Second:
Determine whether the planet possesses those materials.
Third:
Locate safe excavation sites.
Fourth:
Establish a resource-processing chain.
Fifth:
Repair the ship.
Sixth:
Identify the nearest inhabited system.
Seventh:
Leave.
He added another point.
Create fallback survival options.
Because a smart person never relied on a single plan.
Shagun leaned back.
"That's the broad structure."
"You are missing an important factor."
"What?"
"You have no verified information regarding the political situation beyond this planetary system."
Shagun nodded.
"Which means I can't assume the empire still exists."
"Correct."
"Nor can I assume it doesn't."
"Correct."
"Nor can I assume who won."
"Correct."
Shagun narrowed his eyes.
"So the real objective isn't simply escaping."
He looked at the vast holographic map.
"It is finding out what happened."
Overwatch remained silent.
Shagun smiled.
"Fine."
He reached toward the console.
"Add one more objective."
Determine the fate of the V'tuen Empire.
The plan was saved.
DING.
Subquest Complete: Draft Preliminary Escape Plan
Quest Progress: 4/4
Shagun leaned back.
Four out of four.
Then—
Nothing.
He waited.
And waited.
His eyebrows slowly rose.
"System?"
Yes, Host?
"I completed the quest."
Correct.
"I assume there is a reward."
There is.
"Give it to me."
No.
Shagun froze.
"…What?"
The quest has been completed.
"Yes."
Then congratulations.
Shagun stared into empty space.
"Where's my reward?"
Classified.
"You can classify my foot."
The reward will be revealed according to System protocols.
"What protocols?"
System protocols.
"That tells me nothing!"
Precisely.
Shagun was silent.
Then Overwatch spoke.
"Captain, I believe you are experiencing frustration."
"You think?"
"Would you like some nutritional liquid?"
Shagun slowly turned toward the speakers.
"I will dismantle your personality matrix."
"Threat assessment: non-credible."
The System joined in.
I agree.
Shagun placed both hands over his face.
"Why do I have two people bullying me?"
Neither answered.
The chamber returned to silence that evening.
Shagun eventually entered the Vita Neosus recovery pod.
The lid closed over him.
Medical systems activated.
His muscles relaxed.
His body began recovering from the accumulated strain.
He was tired.
Very tired.
But his mind—
His mind was wide awake.
There were too many possibilities.
The System.
The ship.
The mecha.
The Fua Thay world.
The hidden sectors.
The restricted core.
The fourth-generation weapons.
The empire.
And the distant future.
Shagun stared upward through the transparent pod.
The ship's lights reflected in his golden eyes.
He thought about the Maharlika.
About the strange pulse he had felt.
He dismissed it as imagination.
For now.
He thought about Overwatch.
Its peculiar personality.
Its occasional hesitation.
Its strangely defensive behavior.
He dismissed that too.
For now.
He thought about the sealed sections.
He would return to them.
Eventually.
He thought about the empire.
He wondered who had won.
Who had died.
Who had betrayed whom.
And whether anyone still remembered Rex Azerith Lexus.
Then he smiled.
Perhaps it was better if they didn't.
Because Rex was dead.
The man lying in this pod was different.
He had his memories.
His blood.
His name.
His position.
But he was not Rex.
He was Shagun.
And perhaps—
That was the greatest advantage he possessed.
Not being expected.
Not being known.
Not being understood.
He closed his eyes.
A soft voice entered his mind.
Host.
"Yes?"
You did well today.
Shagun opened one eye.
"You're becoming suspiciously nice."
Do not misunderstand.
"Of course."
Your progress was merely acceptable.
"Sure."
Your planning was competent.
"Thank you."
Your training efficiency was below optimal.
"There it is."
And your nutritional decision-making is concerning.
Shagun laughed.
"You really are tsundere."
Silence.
Long silence.
Then—
I have no idea what that means.
"You absolutely do."
I do not.
"You do."
Sleep, Host.
Shagun smiled.
"Yes, ma'am."
I am not a ma'am.
"Sure."
The System went quiet.
And somewhere deep within the ship, another process quietly awakened.
The Maharlika's internal systems performed a routine diagnostic.
Everything appeared normal.
Armor.
Power.
Neural synchronization.
Weapons.
Energy flow.
All within standard parameters.
Then a hidden sensor registered a pulse.
Beat.
A second.
Beat.
The machine went still.
No visible movement.
No warning.
No alarm.
Only a faint adjustment of internal power distribution.
As though something inside had turned in its sleep.
Then it settled once more.
Dormant.
Waiting.
Unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Shagun drifted into sleep.
The first day of his second life was over.
He had explored his ship.
Touched his new power.
Tested his body.
Entered his first real machine.
Drafted his first escape plan.
And taken his first steps toward becoming something far greater than the dead prince whose body he had inherited.
Outside, the winds of the Fua Thay world continued to howl.
Inside, the forgotten vessel remained silent.
And somewhere beyond the darkness—
the galaxy waited.
Unaware that one of its forgotten heirs had just completed his first step toward the throne.
Unaware that a limited-edition war machine rested in the shadows.
Unaware that an artificial intelligence was beginning to change.
And most importantly—
unaware that the man they believed dead had just awakened.
The King had taken his first step.
The Beast had opened its eyes.