episode_0009

“Huu…”

I let out the breath I had been holding for a long time.

As the tension released, the fatigue accumulated throughout my body rushed in all at once. I did it. I had truly escaped.

It had been a dangerous gamble, but as a result, I gained my freedom.

‘I’m no longer Cog7.’

I am Kang Jin-woo. A free mercenary with no affiliation.

That fact came with a strange sense of liberation, yet also a heavy sense of responsibility.

I had to decide and take responsibility for everything myself.

Starting with the immediate problems.

I ran the system diagnostic program again.

The results were as expected, a mess.

Due to the forced maneuvers and booster usage during the escape, the energy reserves were barely clinging on, and the reactor temperature was still high.

In this state, proper combat was impossible, let alone long-distance flight.

‘I need a safe place to repair and maintain this. And information too.’

Escaping from Bulldog’s grasp wasn’t the end.

He would surely try to track me down. I also had to evade the surveillance networks of other corporations.

I needed a hideout and a new base of operations. Then, the memory of ‘Galaxy Titans’ came to mind.

‘Terminus!’

Yes, that’s it! The place called ‘the sanctuary of free mercenaries’ in the game.

It was an autonomous zone on this planet, outside the control of any specific corporation or government.

A lawless zone and a sanctuary where all kinds of information brokers, arms dealers, and skilled free mercenaries gathered.

According to the game’s settings, it was hidden deep within a desolate and dangerous barren land called the ‘Ashfall Wastes,’ far from the Eon Zone where the Chronos base was located, a place rarely touched by human footsteps.

‘Does it exist in this world too?’

I couldn’t be sure.

But for now, it was my only hope.

I turned on Bugbear’s navigation system.

I pulled up the planetary map, fumbled through my game memories, and entered the estimated coordinates of the Ashfall Wastes.

The system displayed a warning: ‘Unidentified danger zone, extreme environmental conditions expected,’ but I ignored it and set it as my destination.

The distance was considerable, but it would take about a full day of atmospheric flight to arrive.

[Automatic navigation system activated. Destination: Ashfall Wastes. Estimated arrival time: 23 hours 12 minutes.]

From now on, it would be a tedious and lonely flight.

I confirmed automatic navigation mode and briefly took my hands off the controls.

Outside the window, the vast continental landscape slowly passed by.

Lush forests and plains gradually disappeared, and dry, rugged land began to appear.

It was exactly as the ‘Ashfall Wastes’ had been described in the game. Corporate surveillance would likely not easily reach this place.

How many hours had I been flying?

Finally, the navigation system announced that I had reached the vicinity of the destination coordinates.

The surroundings were still nothing but desolate gray rock and deep canyons.

Was my memory wrong? Or did Terminus not exist in this reality? It was then that anxiety began to creep in.

The sensors detected a faint but regular artificial signal.

It was an encrypted communication signal barely caught amidst strong radio interference and atmospheric disruption.

I turned the nose of the ship in the direction the signal was being transmitted, and as I ventured deeper into the canyon, hugging a giant volcanic rock cliff, an unbelievable sight unfolded before my eyes.

Artificial structures that looked like they were carved out of a crater-like basin floor, or perhaps excavated from the cliff itself.

They were skillfully camouflaged with the surrounding gray rock, but looking closely…

I could see colossal entrances that appeared to be mechanic hangars, a landing pad that seemed to be used by several transport ships and mechs, and faint artificial lights leaking out into the dusty atmosphere.

Like a miracle blooming from the ashes, Terminus, the sanctuary of free mercenaries, truly existed before my eyes.

‘…I found it!’

I let out a sigh of relief and managed a faint smile.

But I couldn’t relax.

This place was a land of opportunity, but also a den of outlaws.

I reduced Bugbear’s speed and sent a standard identification signal requesting landing permission to what appeared to be the station’s control tower.

[Warning: Powerful scan detected. Origin: Terminus Station.]

They had detected me.

And now they were thoroughly scanning my craft from head to toe.

My Bugbear’s paltry armament status would surely be entirely exposed by their scan.

It was unpleasant, but there was nothing I could do.

‘It’s okay. This is the sanctuary of free mercenaries. They said it’s a place that accepts any craft, any story.’

I reassured myself, recalling the information from the game.

Of course, they wouldn’t accept me for free.

The freedom here always came with its own risks.

If I were rejected or met with hostility here, I could end up drifting through the Ashfall Wastes and dying.

At that very moment, a new message was finally received by the communication system.

It wasn’t a voice communication, but a cold, dry text message that appeared on the cockpit screen.

[Unidentified craft. Identification code mismatch. Proceed to landing zone 7. Follow designated guidance signal. Deviation from path will result in immediate destruction.]

It was concise and threatening, but it was a clear permission.

I let out a sigh of relief.

At least the first hurdle had been cleared.

A blue guidance signal leading to landing zone 7 began to appear on the screen.

Landing Zone 7 looked like the most remote and dilapidated of the station’s many landing pads.

Nevertheless, various types of cargo ships and modified mechs had landed there, and I could see busy workers and armed guards moving about.

I tried to land as smoothly as possible, but the damaged craft ultimately touched down roughly with a thud.

When I opened the cockpit hatch and stepped out, a hulking man in oil-stained, thick work clothes approached with two armed guards.

He scrutinized me from head to toe, then asked in a raspy voice, like grinding metal.

“A rookie, it seems. Name?”

“Kang Jin-woo.”

“What brings you here?”

“I need repairs. I also want to get some information and find work.”

The man looked alternately at my appearance and Bugbear, then let out a scoff.

“Huh, another starry-eyed rookie. Alright, Kang Jin-woo. I’d like to say welcome to Terminus… but nothing here is free. Unregistered freelancers must pay 500 credits upfront for landing and docking fees. Non-negotiable.”

I transferred 500 credits via my personal terminal.

The man nodded.

“Alright, this Bay 7 is yours for 48 hours. If you go over the time, your pile of scrap will be disassembled and sold off, so keep that in mind. For repairs, go to the ‘Junk Alley’ in Gamma Passage over there. For lodging, the ‘Zero-G Inn’ downstairs is cheap. As for information… well, you’ll have to find it yourself. Check the bulletin board or find an info broker. Watch your back.”

He gestured with his chin towards the hangar entrance.

“Exit and go left. And don’t cause any trouble.”

He said that and left.

As I left the hangar, the wide corridor was bustling with people of various origins, moving about in a chaotic mix.

Unintelligible dialects and slang, loud music, machine sounds, and shouts constantly echoed.

The walls were covered with crude hologram advertisements and graffiti, and along both sides of the corridor were numerous stalls selling unidentified items and shabby shops.

‘This place is completely different from the Chronos base.’

I adjusted my collar and surveyed my surroundings warily.

The immediate priorities were to secure lodging and find a reliable repair shop.

But before that, I felt extreme fatigue.

All-night work, simulation training, escape, flight – I had been awake for almost two full days.

In this state, it would be difficult to make proper judgments.

‘Right, I’ll rest first.’

Instead of looking for the ‘Junk Alley’ sign, I decided to find the location of the ‘Zero-G Inn’ first.

A check at a nearby information terminal confirmed that the inn was located in the lower section, about two floors down via elevator from the central corridor.

The further down I went, the darker and gloomier the atmosphere became.

The corridors narrowed, the lighting grew dimmer, and the people passing by looked even shabbier or more menacing.

Finally, I found a shabby inn, half its sign ‘Zero-G Inn’ unlit and flickering.

Stepping inside, stagnant air hung under dim lighting.

In a corner of the lobby, someone appeared to be sprawled out, drunk and asleep.

Behind a reinforced plastic counter sat a skinny old man with a bored expression.

He rested his chin in his hand, peering at a cheap data pad, only giving me a fleeting glance.

“A room. For one day.”

I spoke first.

The old man looked me up and down, then yawned and said,

“100 credits a day. Upfront. No questions, cause trouble and you’re out.”

As I transferred 100 credits, the old man casually tossed a worn plastic key card to me.

“Room 3B. Right at the end of the corridor.”

I took the key card and headed down the narrow, dark corridor.

Opening the door to Room 3B revealed a cramped space.

Metal walls, a bed fixed to the wall, a small sink/toilet unit, flickering lights. There were no windows.

Just enough space to sleep.

As the tension drained from my body, extreme fatigue washed over me again.

I unbuckled a few fasteners on my combat suit, took off only my boots, and collapsed onto the bed.

It was hard, but at that moment, it felt more comfortable than any luxury bed.

As I closed my eyes, the events of the past few days flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern.

Yuna, Bulldog, the escape, and now Terminus – my mind was a jumble, but I had no strength left to think.

The faint hum of Terminus Station could be heard beyond the inn room’s walls.

Amidst that noise, I finally fell into a deep sleep for the first time in a very long while.