Aaditya's chest still ached from the sting of humiliation. Inside the Human Shelter on Velmoda, whispers followed him like shadows. The children of the high-ranking officers didn't bother to lower their voices. "Lucky Trash," they called him—mocking the fact that, somehow, an ordinary guy had ended up on a secret mission.
He kept walking, trying to drown out the noise in his head. Their words hurt, but he refused to let them define him.
Focused on the next step, Aaditya made his way toward the room assigned to him. The shelter sprawled out in every direction, a confusing mess of long, uniform hallways and identical doors. Room B4028 was where he needed to go—but finding it was easier said than done.
The place was massive. With over a hundred thousand people living there, it wasn't surprising that everything started to blur together. Signs flashed overhead, sterile and digital, and every hallway looked like the last. What should've been a short walk stretched into nearly an hour of wandering.
Still, Aaditya kept his head down. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention. Losing his temper now would only give them another reason to laugh.
Eventually, he turned a corner and saw it—B4028, printed clearly on the door. Relief washed over him. At least something was going right.
He pulled out his teleportation access card and slid it into the reader beside the door. It clicked open with a soft beep, revealing a compact room. Nothing fancy—just a bed, a small desk, a narrow closet, and a little window that looked out over the courtyard.
It wasn't much, but for now, it was enough.
He stepped inside and carefully placed the few belongings he'd brought from Earth: a worn notebook filled with old sketches, a couple of shirts and pants, and a small item from home he kept close to his heart. As he arranged his things, a strange calm settled over him. It wasn't home, but it felt like a start.
Still, that nickname hung in the back of his mind. Lucky Trash.
He clenched his jaw. No. He wasn't going to let their judgment stick. He was here to prove himself, and that's exactly what he planned to do.
With his card back in his pocket, he stepped out of the room and into the corridor once again.
The training zone outside, known as Driftshade Commons, was vast and wild. More than just a safe zone, this was where recruits learned to survive. The landscape rolled with hills and rock formations, scattered with glowing alien plants. It looked like something out of a dream—and a nightmare.
A holographic sign flickered at the edge: Driftshade Commons.
Aaditya took a breath and crossed the threshold. This was it.
He remembered what they'd taught him in training. Vanta-Class animals were the weakest among the known types—but that didn't mean they were harmless. They could kill if you weren't careful. Their strength usually ranged between 6 and 12 Dominez. Aaditya's own level? Just 4.2.
He was outmatched from the start.
Moving slowly between boulders and strange plants, he kept his senses sharp. Every rustle in the distance, every shift in the wind, put him on edge. The alien grasses swayed, and somewhere in the dark, a creature let out a low call.
And then—movement.
A flicker of motion near the rocks caught his eye. He froze, watching as a small figure crept out into view. Something about it felt off. It wasn't wandering—it was watching.
Training kicked in. He recognized it: a Murkling.
Covered in rough, dark-green skin that helped it blend into the surroundings, with glowing red eyes that didn't blink. Small, yes, but dangerous.
His hand found the hilt of his training sword almost without thinking. His heart was pounding now.
The creature let out a deep growl and started to move toward him. It wasn't rushing. It was confident.
And Aaditya knew—this was no simulation. This was real.
He stepped into the clearing, sword drawn, eyes locked on the Murkling. All around him, the landscape seemed to quiet. Even the air was holding its breath.
He had a choice: freeze… or fight.
The laughter, the whispers, Lucky Trash—they didn't matter anymore.
This was his moment.
He tightened his grip on the sword. Drew in a slow breath. And stood his ground.
Whatever happened next, he wasn't backing down.