Watching his mother's belongings being carried away, Jake felt a deep pang of loss—yet there was nothing he could do.
Given such desperate circumstances, he should have been crushed by the weight of it all. Yet strangely, since that night, he realized his resilience had grown tremendously.
All anxieties, fears, depression—every negative emotion—shrank into insignificance.
It was as if a god, utterly detached from this world, was gazing down upon everything from a higher dimension.
Jake's perspective abruptly expanded to a cosmic scale.
It felt like seeing the vast open plains, the boundless ocean, the towering mountains, and the dazzling Milky Way for the very first time.
Except this sensation was magnified infinitely, and it didn't fade away in a fleeting moment.
When your vision is broad enough, your heart vast enough, and your mind towering enough, your spirit becomes nothing short of radiant.
You realize… all those trivial worries around you aren't even worth mentioning!
His awareness shifted from a narrow first-person view, suddenly lifting into a god-like third-person perspective.
He was still himself, yet at the same time, he was no longer just himself. He was both the actor and the audience of his own life.
It felt like finally becoming the protagonist of your own world—gaining true control over your own destiny.
It's the kind of control like flirting with ten thousand beauties without a single one ever leaving her lipstick on your collar.
[In this wasteland world—where people devour each other, where those who refuse become cattle, where everyone craves instant results with urgency and intensity—the ability to remain untouched by negativity, to stay clear-minded and wise through it all… maybe that itself is a kind of superpower... right?]
Jake wasn't entirely sure.
But one thing he was certain of: right now, he could fully inhabit the present.
Things arose, and he responded; things passed, and he released them.
Nothing clung. Nothing remained.
He was still himself, yet no longer just himself—he was both the experiencer and the observer.
Now, Jake could fully immerse himself in the present.
No negative emotions could ever cling to him.
It was as though a protective layer had wrapped around his mind—the overwhelming pressure no longer brought fear or uncertainty.
What surprised him even more was the sharp enhancement in his senses and mental clarity.
He found himself intensely focused on the present, perceiving the world with unprecedented vividness.
He could feel the subtle flow of air, distinguish the finest textures of leaves, even detect the ultrasonic echoes of bats—sensing what should have been far beyond human perception.
He almost believed he could feel the shifts in magnetic fields and energy currents around him, though he couldn't be sure.
[Could this be... what enlightenment feels like?!!!]
Aware of these changes, Jake began to form tentative theories. After all, this was an age of gene-enhanced warriors and emerging superhumans.
Therefore, he got an idea....
Thwack.
His fist made solid contact with the bedroom wall.
"YOW—!!"
A highly undignified yelp burst from Jake's mouth. He shook his hand vigorously, as if trying to wave away the pain.
[Okay! Not like that, However if I…]
Thus Jake began his great self-experimentation era. He pushed his workouts harder, watching his muscles with the intensity of a scientist observing mildly disappointing lab mice.
Several days passed. The results were…profoundly average. There were no surprise super-soldier serum effects, no hidden mutant genes kicking in physical form.
[something in depth has happed....]
Strength-wise, he could still lose an arm-wrestling match to a generic enhanced raccoon.
However, The real upgrade was in his brain's user interface for his body.
He could now micromanage his muscles with the precision of a neurotic chef plating a tiny dessert.
His gains were better, not because his biceps were suddenly awesome, but because his brain was now a strict, overly detailed personal trainer.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," he grumbled, letting go of his dream of suddenly becoming a superhero overnight.
"Note to self: punching walls to test for super power is… a decidedly dumb idea."
A new, more humble hope emerged:
"Maybe this fancy-pants brain of mine is enough to rank it 'til I make it. Maybe I can still out-nerd the juiced-up kids in the annual exams… right? …Right??"
He nodded to himself, almost convinced. Almost.
In this world, the pen may be for the poor—but the sword has always belonged to the rich.
Even Don Quixote, that deluded knight-errant, scraped together a suit of Armor, a tired horse, and a loyal squire.
But Jake? He had nothing. Not a credit to his name, only a mountain of debt on his back.
In this apocalyptic era teeming with gene-enhanced soldiers and psychic-warriors—where humanity's last hope dangles by a thread—how was he supposed to survive without enhancers, without support, without a way up… or out?
Would he be forced into servitude? Drafted as expendable fodder by the Reserve Armed Division? He didn't know.
How long could a broke, lone sixteen-year-old really last in the merciless outer sectors of the sanctuary?
Again—no clue.
Every resource he needed, he would have to seize for himself.
Or take by force.
Or become the target of those who would take everything from him.
------
Over two-thirds of humanity has been driven into two continents by the Bisolarans from the Zeta Reticuli Star System.
One stronghold lies in north-eastern Asia, the other in North America—connected only by the narrow passage of the Bering Strait. These are the final bastions of humankind.
Of the remaining 2.4 billion people left beyond these zones, 300 million perished in battle.
The rest—more than two billion—have been captured and confined by the Bisolarans.
They are kept like livestock, subjected to experimentation, weaponization, slaughter… or consumption.
This is the brutal reality of the blue planet today.
And this is the world that Jake—parentless, penniless, and utterly alone—must now survive.
[Since I still technically have a sick leave from school, I might as well use this time to...]
Slowly, he opened the mission file Marcus had sent.
------
Beyond the towering, gunmetal-gray walls of Sanctuary 79—laden with defensive weapons and shimmering under a pale sky— lay what seemed like an entirely different world.
The street was pitted and scarred, littered with the wreckage of machinery and biological remains. Puddles of dark, brownish blood stained the ground like rust.
Amid the crumbling ruins of skyscrapers clung something that looked like a grotesque fusion of blood vessels and ivy—Bloodvine.
A unique product of this wasteland, born from the consumed flesh of humans and other carbon-based life.
Here, however, only the lowest sections of the Bloodvine still showed a faint crimson glow; most of it had already dried up, turning dark brown and emitting a nauseating smell of decay.
Through this desolate, death-haunted landscape, Jake moved cautiously—dressed in black tactical gear, using every bit of cover he could find.
As the only living thing in sight, he couldn't afford carelessness.
After advancing some distance, he slipped beneath a derelict car.
With no credits to renew his retinal display or personal AI assistant-Stella, he was forced to rely on the AR map projected by his holographic glasses.
[Once I have the money, he swore bitterly to himself, I'm getting Stella back.]
But now wasn't the time for anger or longing. Pushing aside his frustration, Jake focused on the task at hand: confirming his position.
This has to be the place. This part of the battlefield has clearly been cleaned up—the chances of monsters appearing here shouldn't be high.
He glanced at a gray-black building to his right, also wrapped in dark red Bloodvine, though it had completely dried out, leaving only a faint rotten odour.
Seeing this, the tension in his nerves eased slightly.
Just as he was about to rise, a patch of weeds in a crack along the roadside caught the corner of his eye. Some of the roots were exposed to the air, showing a dull, dying green.
Yet even so, in this wasteland where monsters had sucked the land dry of nutrients, that faint ashen green seemed incredibly vivid.
This land is starting to recover its vitality!
Jake looked once more at the grey-black building, then at the weeds not far away.
A flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes, but after carefully observing his surroundings, he still chose to quietly approach and gently gather the yellowish-red soil mixed with dark particles near the weeds.
Then, in one swift motion, he leaped over the curb and was about to dash toward the black building when a strange cry suddenly came from behind him.
Jake's heart jumped, but he remained unusually calm. Without turning around, he immediately rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the attack coming from behind.
With the momentum of his roll, Jake swiftly drew his steel rod, swinging it hard behind him. His feet pivoted as he turned, settling into a defensive stance.
The creature was alarmingly quick—it dodged his counterattack, crouched low, and let out a raspy, guttural growl.
It stood in a twisted humanoid form, its skin a sickly grey, riddled with visible blue-purple veins bulging beneath the surface.
Its oversized head featured a gaping mouth that stretched all the way to where its ears should have been, lined with two rows of razor-sharp, shark-like teeth.
But the most horrifying feature was on its back: a large, pulsating blood-blister, rising and falling rhythmically as if a heart were beating inside.
Ash-Howler!
Jake took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm. He lowered his center of gravity, tightened his grip on the rod, and stood ready.
The Ash-howler seemed almost intelligent. Seeing Jake hold his ground, it didn't charge recklessly. Instead, it began to circle him, snarling softly.
Jake turned slowly along with it, stepping backward until his shoulders brushed against the cold wall behind him.
When the creature saw that Jake wasn't going to turn and run, a flash of crimson ignited in its ash-grey eyes. With a piercing shriek, it lunged—a wave of foul, stinking air rushing ahead of it.
Jake's brow furrowed. This Ash-Howler was faster than he expected. He threw himself to the left, barely avoiding the creature's sharp claws dripping with dark fluid.
CRACK!
The monster's strike shattered the wall where Jake had just been standing.
A jolt of adrenaline surged through him as his eyes snapped wider.
[Its speed and strength are way beyond anything they taught us in class… Is this actually a Crimson Howler?!]
The creature gave him no time to think. Hitting the wall only enraged it further, and with another piercing shriek, it lunged again.
This time, Jake had already recalibrated. Instead of dodging, he charged straight toward it.
The Crimson Howler seemed almost surprised—a flicker of bloodthirsty excitement crossing its grey eyes.
It raised both claws and leaped forward with even greater force.
It was exactly the opening Jake needed.
He dropped into a slide beneath its swinging arms, using his momentum to pivot left.
In the same motion, he swung his steel rod hard toward the back of the creature's head.
But just before impact, the Crimson Howler's arm twisted at an unnatural angle—blocking the blow with a sickening thud.
The monster staggered forward from the force but wasn't injured. The rod had only bent its arm out of shape, and the thing showed no sign of pain.
In an instant, its other hand shot out and seized the weapon.
An immense force jerked Jake forward—if he didn't let go, he'd be pulled straight into its grip.
At the critical moment, Jake's finger pressed a button on the grip.