In a regular classroom, with third-rate students forever to be known as the characters who'd be shadowed in shows and wouldn't get the characterizing and revealing, detailed eyes. The boy—known as Liam Miller sits. His eyes lay on the chart—where the teacher currently inscribes their assignment—to make up a country, sort its global exports, name a few distinct laws, and create a simple constitution that summarizes the government, then commence an organized alliance and a war to complete it. It has to be completed within two weeks.

"As interesting as it is, few will ever yield their arrogance to do it," mutters Liam. Beside him, was one of those who was too prideful.

Jacob Deten.

Jacob wasn't necessarily a bad student academically. He did his work—but behind the backs of the teachers, he'd do outrageous misdemeanors. Sometimes, when someone would correct him when the teacher was speaking to another teacher, he'd grab the student and slap him repeatedly.

Jacob, noticing Liam's mutter, slapped Liam's hand playfully. Liam's sharp gaze pierced his eyes, and he froze momentarily. His body was rigid, and he was unable to retaliate. Noticing the internally mocking gazes—Jacob pushed Liam onto the ground in a fit of rage.

The dangerously sharp scissors lay there, waiting for its prey to stroll toward it. Blood shot through Liam's head, and Jacob's shock was evident on his face. He wanted to pull Liam's body, but the blood pouring and the brutal scene strengthened his fear.

"Oh—I'm dead."

The darkness surrounding Liam seemed to nod—confirming his passing. Rather than shock, he spiraled into confusion. Why were the scissors leaning on the chair? Why had he precisely fallen on it?

As if to answer this, a light shot towards Liam. Liam barely had enough time to slightly step backward before he was rammed into the ground. As he tumbled, he let out painful yells. As if the universe conspired to answer his unspoken plea, a blinding light shot forth like a celestial arrow, piercing the darkness and hurtling toward Liam. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he registered the imminent impact. His instincts screamed at him to evade, but his body was paralyzed with fear. In the blink of an eye, the light struck him with an earth-shattering force, sending him hurtling through the air. Liam's world spun violently as he tumbled end over end, his body wracked with pain. Agonizing yells ripped from his throat, echoing through the desolate landscape. Each revolution brought him closer to the unforgiving ground, and as he braced for the inevitable impact, a wave of despair washed over him.

"Apologies."

Liam didn't know where his body was headed—but he knew it was nowhere good. Small portions of light opened wherever he was going—and he didn't want to be in the light. He preferred this—but he couldn't stop himself.

As he went through an opening, he was submerged in light. His body was shaped and formed, darkness and light, hot and cold, all mixing. Afterward, from the clouds, Liam descended. He felt as if he wasn't in a physical form—and lacked any fear.

He phased through a roof, and he was projected towards a child in a small palace. He tried struggling and instead was projected onto a teenager—who was chained, watching the child a woman and man admired.

…

Memories shot into his skull—not of the life he knew. A bastard in a low-ranking noble family, born with no extraordinary traits. There was a concept called "Infinek" which was a ritual automatically performed by the human body to those eligible.

This bastard was not of the correct lineage to do so. Hence, his life was as mortal as it could be. With no talent, he could not go on the expedition the rest of his family was on—leaving him alone with the new brother introduced to the family.

"I truly can't believe our son is eligible!"

The futuristic home, equipped with a beautiful, spectacular design greeted the spectators with respect and honor—its hygienic and polished visage a characteristic no regular home could possess.

In this world—rather than a simple world—there was a common goal most leaped for to become a Settler or a Solar Monarch.

Settlers were individuals who scavenged the galaxy or even other galaxies for suitable solar systems and settings that would be optimal for the nation to prosper. Galaxies were called "modern continents" because long ago—the human planet resided on one planet, which was crowded. Settlers searched for any solar systems–consisting of any planetary forms.

Countries regularly consist of multiple solar systems—recognized ones, that is. Many countries haven't been recognized by the Galactic Senate, and therefore are treated as independent states—which can't be traded with or recognized.

As for Solar Monarchs, they were the top social class and the name of the highest-ranked politician, even if the government was a democracy. Governors ruled over one solar system and reported to their majesty, the Solar Monarchs.

In the annals of galactic history, the Trigt Family stood as a testament to human ambition and resilience. Generations ago, their ancestors had embarked on a grand odyssey, leaving behind the confines of Earth in search of new frontiers. Aspiring to become settlers, they had set their sights on uncharted territories, hoping to discover and claim solar systems that no human had laid eyes upon before.

Yet, as fate would have it, the Trigt Family's dreams of discovery remained tantalizingly out of reach. Time and again, they would embark on expeditions to distant corners of the galaxy, only to find themselves retracing the footsteps of those who had come before them. The solar systems they encountered were not pristine and untouched but heavily sheathed and hidden, bearing the unmistakable marks of previous human exploration.

Undeterred, the Trigt family refused to abandon their quest. They delved deeper into uncharted regions, navigating treacherous asteroid fields and traversing nebulae that shimmered with ethereal light. Their unwavering determination and insatiable curiosity propelled them forward, even as the odds of finding a truly undiscovered solar system seemed to dwindle with each passing day.

As they journeyed farther and farther from the familiar constellations, the Trigt family began to encounter remnants of ancient civilizations long forgotten by humanity. Derelict space stations, their hulls scarred and weathered by time, drifted aimlessly through the void. Abandoned outposts stood as silent sentinels, their walls adorned with cryptic symbols and strange hieroglyphs.

These encounters filled the Trigt family with a sense of awe and wonder. They realized that they were not simply rediscovering solar systems, but uncovering lost chapters of human history. Each artifact they stumbled upon, each ruin they explored, whispered tales of civilizations that had thrived and vanished long before their own.

This is the unfortunate predicament of the Trigt Family, perhaps the biggest failure in the Settler career. Even with their minimal success—they were still rich in crystals—ones that grew under bare conditions, in a habitat where no biological life existed.

"We should kill this boy." quietly said the father—looking at Liam with contempt. Liam's expression didn't falter—remaining a neutral, observative, and judging stare.

"We can sell him on Planet Lekt." said the mother, denying the idea. Even if it was significantly beneficial to do so—Planet Lekt was an unfortunately dangerous place—due to its anarchy.

…

Liam, late in the night found his confines removed. His mother fearfully looked, waving her hands. Liam walked away—and as his father's steps came—he hurried. He could faintly hear screams from within before he hurried.

The house was atop a boreal mountain—beautiful. This complicated leaving—but made it nearly impossible for the police to locate their illegal materials. With the difficult tracking of such materials—their illegal operations never got noticed. Not even their special assassination and execution jobs.

After twenty-five minutes of running, and ensuring he wasn't being pursued, Liam stopped somewhere. Immediately, he recognized the appearances of the distant figures. His classmates.

"Where the hell are we?"

"What happened?"

"..."

"Ah!!"

At first—he wanted to rush. He wanted to slander Jacob, who stood there. They didn't seem like they had died. They were afraid–unknowing of the fate that Liam almost presumed.

They hadn't yet noticed the observing Liam—thinking quietly. After some time, Liam passed them. Further in the distance laid a resource he couldn't give up, no matter what form it may have come in.

Shelter.

Far off, there was civilization. It was a small array of homes, highlighted by soft lights. It seemed festive, contrasting with the bitter environment of his former home—or execution chamber.

He marched there, the cold, snowing lands only giving him resolve. Pertinacity flooded his subconsciousness, as he trudged through the lands. Finally reaching the location, a cadre of thugs stood before him.

"Ay—what's the loot?" asked one.

Their smug expressions only served to anger him more. As the savagery he had hidden within him peeked its eye—he shot forward, slamming his fist into the alar cartilages of the one who had spoken.

The spokesman of the thugs flew backward–twitching as he lay. The thugs moved backward but seized weapons from their backs.

Lengthening at 10 inches and extremely thin, they glowed faintly. Their blades seemed to shine, threatening the vitality of the heart itself. They held a sharpness that would easily pass through rock, and shred through iron with little effort.

This was no regular knife, especially in its components. It resembled the visage of a butterfly knife and concealed an item within the double, separating pieces. The button that would trigger this mechanism shined, mocking its holder for not pressing it.

Noticing Liam's decisive step forward, they clicked the button hastily. The parts separated, unwrapping an explosive danger. It possessed the diameter of a coin–and its sharp edges marked its unconfined threat.

"Fuck." said Liam, but he barely had any time before the item flung towards him. It let a sharp sound, before combusting. Time slowed—and a being consisting of fog for skin and multiple eyes stood in front of the item. It seemed humanoid, but its shifting fog said otherwise.

"You're pathetic, master Liam."

In the ethereal realm, where time and space intertwined, a disembodied voice echoed through the swirling mist. It seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously, enshrouding the being in an aura of mystery. The being, shrouded in an ethereal glow, raised its hand, and with a gentle gesture, the fog began to dissipate, revealing the grins of the thugs.

Instantly, time, like an unrelenting river, swept him back into its relentless cycle. The world around him transformed, and the boundaries between past, present, and future blurred. He was once again caught in the whirlwind of existence, carried forward by an unseen force.

As he sprinted forward, he stole one of the daggers. As it shredded the delicate skin of one of them, they disbanded, the unification of a former serenity. Now, they sprinted in different directions.

"Auhh.. damn you!" cursed the thug who had been struck. Like a mosquito sucking the blood of a human, the dagger, embedded in the thug's skin attracted the blood, coating it. This was an ability of the sophisticated element of Proken, a common material in weapons and items meant to pierce.

Like it had consciousness, it targeted the vitals of any creature—and zipped through food efficiently. Its beauty was detailed—explained through multiple scientific discoveries that couldn't be explained with modern science.

Magic—one could name it. It was the closest to.

As the thug's eyes became heavy, and his breathing heavy—Liam realized what he was doing. The adrenaline to defend himself had turned him into a monster. And for the slightest moment, his defense was open.

THWACK

As the punch connected, Liam was forced backward. The thugs scattered, heading in different directions and leaving Liam to himself. For a moment, Liam sat there–just laying in peace.

"I lost," Liam said, slowly. The feeling of loss felt unfamiliar to the perfectionist. He couldn't conquer—yet for some reason, it made him feel human. He was glad he had lost because otherwise, being the victor would have taken someone's life.

Liam lay there, his dagger cradled in his arms. Sleep took the initiative before he could, dominating his consciousness. In this dream, it was hectic. People surrounded him—giving him looks of disapproval.

Not as peaceful.

These people were his enemies, people he hated with every cell of his body. He gritted his teeth—trying to stir any serenity within himself. He fled the location, finding peace in a small alleyway.

A small, young girl lay there, uncertain of whether to trust him. She remained five feet away from him, lying there with bread before her. Liam saw the flowers around her—and the birds above her.

"You're not alive, are you?"

She didn't respond.

Liam turned and tossed in the bed—unable to sleep well. Coming upon him was a man, wielding an axe. Noticing his vulnerable form, the man carried him on his shoulders—and took him to a small village.

Situated in Northslest City—and also protected by the city, it was a safe location. Technology roamed its halls—as minimal as possible. They weren't at tribe levels of technology, even, the technology surpassed the ones of Earth.

They were faster, more efficient, and more precise. The scanner worked its magic, identifying the man and allowing him to enter. Noticing he was carrying someone, the scanner requested for him to punch in details.

[Male (chosen), Female]

[Guest, New Resident, Unverified (chosen)]

[Dangerous, Safe, Uncertain (chosen)]

[Will Be Registered, Guest (chosen)]

[Are you the company of this UNVERIFIED guest? (Yes, I will be serving as the company and assistance of this guest.)]

The scanner let out a beep in confirmation, and the man passed through the barrier.