Life as a Low-Ranking Mercenary
Riing-riing-riing!
The goddamn alarm clock gouged straight into my skull.
Throbbing headaches—I still couldn’t tell whether they came from the cheap swill I’d slammed last night or the chronic illness that had settled into me the moment I woke up in this rotten world. Probably both.
I dragged myself out of the creaky cot like a sluggish worm.
Before me, the translucent system window still floated, faint and unbroken.
Kang Jinwoo
Rank: Low-Rank Mercenary
Unit: Kronos Mercenary Group
Grade: Private (Cog 7)
Credits: 350 CR
Status: Hangover, mild malnutrition, chronic fatigue
Cog 7.
Just a part number instead of a name.
That was the proof this was the galaxy of Galaxy Titans.
I still didn’t understand why the Rank #1 pilot of Asura, the one who’d carved his way through the battlefield with nothing but a mining drill, had ended up here in this shithole.
One morning I’d simply opened my eyes and found myself in this body.
“Ugh, my head’s about to split open… Hey, Cog 7! Looks like you really tied one on, huh? You’re a mess.”
Cog 5, the guy they called Jinx, scratched his bed-head and grinned at me, his own face looking no better than mine.
Yeah, right. In this whole place, was there even one decent-looking guy?
“Shut it. Worry about your own ugly mug instead.”
I answered gruffly and pushed myself up.
From the next cot, Cog 6—Sparky—muttered under his breath.
“Damn it, where are we being sent this time? I’d kill for anything but Gamma Sector. That place is a ghost town.”
Jinx snorted like he was mocking him.
“Hey, Sparky. No matter where we go, everything here is a shithole. We’re just cannon fodder anyway—what’s the point of arguing? Just eat whatever they feed us and be grateful.”
“Feed us? That nutrient slop? Every time I look at it I want to puke!”
“Better than starving, right? C’mon, Cog 7—what do you say?”
Jinx shot me a questioning look, but I just grabbed my crumpled mercenary uniform and started pulling it on.
Their complaints were always the same: cheap booze, garbage rations, life-threatening missions, and pay so small it wasn’t even worth counting.
It was normal for them to gripe, but to me it just sounded hollow. I couldn’t keep complaining like this forever.
I had to survive, no matter what, and see this world through to the end.
“Cog 7! Stop dawdling! Briefing time!”
At the end of the corridor, Bulldog’s roar echoed like thunder.
The briefing room was thick with cigarette smoke and the sour reek of tired mercenaries, just like always.
Bulldog stood there, holographic map flickering in front of him, voice as flat as a blade.
“Today’s mission is a scout run at Sector Gamma-7—an abandoned asteroid mining base.”
Sparky’s instinct was spot-on.
He let out a small groan.
“Recent scans picked up strange signals from that area. Could be pirates or leftover junk from our rivals. Either way, we go in, check it out, and scrub any threats. Teams Cog 4, 5, 6, and 7. Pay’s two thousand credits each.”
Two thousand credits.
After fixing Bugbear’s maintenance, buying fuel, and stocking up on nutrient slop for a week, there’d be nothing left.
But there was no choice. Today’s food came first.
The mercenaries surged toward the hangar, and I followed right behind them.
Bugbear—the broken down excuse for a machine I called my ride—looked just as pathetic as ever in the corner of the hangar.
Crushed armor, rust everywhere, and the only good weapon left was the laser rifle patched up with duct tape after the last mission. The left arm still had a working Vulcan cannon, but its ammo was down to half.
Jinx was kicking his own machine with his boot and cursing a blue streak.
“You piece of junk! Coolant’s leaking again! One wrong move and you’ll blow up mid-air!”
“Don’t worry about my life—yours is probably tougher.”
I jabbed back, but Jinx just waved me off and sighed.
“Yeah, whatever—my life or this scrap heap, it’s all the same.”
[Pilot identification confirmed. Cog 7. System online.]
An old, familiar, and yet completely alien voice crackled over the cockpit panels.
The ancient engines coughed and shook the whole frame.
Surviving on a piece of crap like this?
A moment later the launch order came through.
The four of us—Bugbear piloted by Jinx and me, Sparky’s ride, and Cog 4’s machine—streaked out of the transport ship one after another and rocketed toward the abandoned mining base.
We slipped through the torn-open hangar door under Cog 4’s orders and made our way carefully into the base’s guts.
[Holy crap, this place is a total ruin.]
Sparky’s voice crackled over comms.
Exactly as he’d said. The hangar was dark and silent.
Only the beam of our headlamps cut through the dust and the rusting wreckage on the floor.
Air recyclers had been dead for who knows how long; the air already tasted like old metal dust.
[Maintain formation. Search Sector Alpha first. Stay sharp.]
Following Cog 4’s orders, we plunged into the huge interior tunnel.
Every step we took echoed with a metallic thud, thud.
Emergency lights flickered on and off, barely guiding us through the dark.
[Hey, Captain. I’ve got a weird noise on the sensors since earlier… like something’s actually there.]
Jinx sounded uneasy, but Cog 4 answered bluntly.
[It’s an old base. Could be residual energy or structural instability. Don’t let it get to you—keep your eyes forward.]
But I felt a chill run down my spine anyway.
If this were Galaxy Titans, every such spot would’ve been packed with events.
It was just too quiet, like something was waiting to ambush us.
We reached what looked like the central processing hub—a colossal chamber with a ceiling that had to be dozens of meters high.
Giant mining machines rusted in place around us.
Dark tunnels branched off in every direction, like the maw of some giant beast.
“This is the last search point. Split up and cover your sectors…”
Before Cog 4 even finished, the flash and boom came from two directions at once.
Ceiling vents and side tunnels erupted in white light.
Cog 4’s machine screamed once—then disintegrated into scrap.
[Ambush! Hostiles! They’re everywhere!]
[Son of a—where the hell did they come from?!]
Red warning lights flashed wildly across my panel.
Radar lit up with six hostiles in a split second.
[KRRAAAK!]
Sparky’s ride took a full barrage and slammed into the wall. No explosion, just shutdown.
Jinx fired his Vulcan wildly for cover, but two pirate ships latched on in seconds and turned his machine into a rag.
“Jinx!”
I called out his name without thinking, but he didn’t answer.
Why was this rotten world always picking on me?
“Shit, I’m screwed!”
I slammed the throttle and dove behind the nearest pile of wreckage.
Even the Vulcan cannon was dry—only a pathetic beep for ammo shortage.
The laser rifle was still a brick.
Beams and bullets rained down on the cover I was hiding behind.
Two pirate ships were cautiously closing in.
This was it. The cover would shatter soon enough.
I scanned desperately for anything useful.
Right next to me lay the shattered remains of a drill that had been chipping away at a massive rock.
A tungsten-carbide drill bit, easily several meters across, was still impressive despite the dust and rust.
…That’s it!
It was insane. But it was the only thing I had.
I had to recreate the movement that had worked in the game and looked impossible in reality.
I extended Bugbear’s left arm and clamped the drill bit’s end.
Skreech—
The heavy weight transferred through the frame with a sickening grind, and the whole machine swayed.
[Overload warning! Limits exceeded!]
“Shut up.”
Not the time to worry about limits.
I burst out from cover and swung the drill bit with everything I had at the nearest pirate ship.
It flinched for a split second at the unexpected blow.
Then I put every ounce of strength into it, feeling the joints scream, and drove the drill straight home.
KWANG—CRUNCH!
The dull, hideous crash of metal on metal.
The drill bit punched clean through the pirate’s cockpit.
Sparks exploded from the crumpled armor, and the ship dropped like a stone.
“Hah… hah…”
Breathing hard. I’d done it. With this scrap heap.
But I didn’t have a second to rest.
The last pirate ship came roaring in, furious at its dead partner, cannons blazing.
I used the wreckage of the first ship as a shield and barely dodged, then grabbed the drill bit again. My palms were slick with sweat.
This time it was faster. Deadlier.
For some reason, the pirate’s attack pattern and next move were crystal clear, like I’d fought it hundreds of times in the game.
“Like I’ve killed you dozens of times already!”
Dodge. Rush. And then one final, all-or-nothing strike.
KZRRRICK!
The second pirate was obliterated by the drill bit.
The huge chamber fell into heavy silence.
Only two pirate wrecks, still sparking, and a battered Bugbear puffing smoke remained.
I slumped back into the pilot seat, chest heaving.
My whole body was soaked with sweat and trembling.
I’d survived again.
At that moment a small notification popped up in the system window.
Hostile destroyed x 2
Mission contribution increased
Special bonus: Close-combat achievement +1000 CR
[Close-combat achievement bonus?]
I stared blankly at the words.
Swatting a few cheap Vulcan rounds had earned me way more than this.
Maybe the rules of this world weren’t so different from the game I’d known after all.
The thing I was best at—my obsession—might be exactly what kept me alive here.
I gripped the cracked controls of Bugbear tighter.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Yeah. Nothing left to lose. Let’s see how far I can go the way I know best.