A Sanctuary in the Ashes
The cockpit window showed the terrain of the Kronos Mercenary Group base behind me growing smaller and smaller.
“Huuu…”
I let out a long sigh.
The tension drained away, and the exhaustion piled up in my body rushed forward all at once.
We made it. I really had escaped.
It had been an insanely risky gamble, but the result was freedom.
Now I’m no longer Cog 7.
I’m Kang Jinwoo. A free mercenary with no affiliation.
That truth hit me with a heavy sense of responsibility alongside the relief.
Everything had to be decided and taken responsibility for myself.
Right now, the problems right in front of me.
I restarted the system diagnostic program.
The result was as expected—total chaos.
Excessive maneuvering and booster usage during the escape had left my energy reserves razor-thin, and the reactor temperature was still dangerously high.
In this state, I couldn’t even do a proper long-range flight, let alone engage in combat.
I need a safe place to repair and maintain… and information too.
Being out of Bulldog’s grip wasn’t the end of it.
He would definitely start hunting me.
I also had to avoid the surveillance networks of other corporations.
I needed a sanctuary and a new base of operations.
That was when the memories of Galaxy Titans surfaced.
Terminus!
Yeah, that place! It was called the holy land of free mercenaries in the game.
A self-governing autonomous zone of this planet outside the control of any specific corporation or government.
An outlaw district and sanctuary where all kinds of information traders, arms dealers, and skilled free mercenaries gathered.
According to the game settings, it was hidden in the desolate, dangerous barren land deep in the Grey Wasteland, far from the temperate region where the Kronos base was located, a place where almost no human foot had ever reached.
Will it even exist in this world?
I couldn’t be certain.
But right now, it was the only hope I had.
I turned on the Bugbear’s navigation system.
I pulled up the planetary map and input the expected coordinates of the Grey Wasteland by searching through the game memories.
The system displayed warnings about unidentified danger zones and extreme environmental conditions, but I ignored them and set the destination.
The distance was considerable, but with atmospheric flight it should reach in about a day or two.
[Automatic flight system activated. Destination: Grey Wasteland. Estimated arrival time: 23 hours 12 minutes.]
From now on, this would be a boring and lonely flight.
I checked the automatic flight mode and let go of the control stick for a moment.
Outside the window, the vast continental landscape slowly passed by.
Thick forests and plains gradually disappeared, and arid, rough ground began to appear.
Exactly as depicted in the game—the Grey Wasteland.
Here, corporate surveillance would never reach easily.
How many hours had I been flying?
Finally, the navigation system announced that it had reached the vicinity of the target coordinates.
Still, around us were only desolate grey rocks and deep canyons.
Was the memory wrong? Or did Terminus Station not exist in this reality?
Just as unease began to creep in.
The sensors picked up a faint but regular artificial signal.
It was an encrypted communication signal barely caught amid powerful radio jamming and atmospheric interference.
Following the direction the signal was coming from, I turned the ship and headed deeper into the canyon beside the giant volcanic rock cliffs, and an unbelievable scene unfolded before my eyes.
Artificial structures carved out like a crater floor or dug into the cliffs.
Camouflaged cleverly with the surrounding grey rocks, but upon closer look…
They were massive entrances that looked like mechanical hangars, landing pads with several transport ships and mechs coming and going, and faint artificial lights seeping out through the dusty atmosphere.
…I found it!
Along with a sigh of relief, a faint smile appeared on my face.
But I couldn’t let my guard down.
This place was both the land of opportunity and the den of outlaws.
I reduced the Bugbear’s speed and sent the standard identification signal requesting landing permission at the area that looked like the station’s control tower.
[Warning: Strong scan detected. Source: Terminus Station.]
They had already noticed me.
And they were scanning my ship from head to toe right now.
The Bugbear’s pathetic armament meant all my info was being passed to their scans.
It was unpleasant, but there was nothing I could do.
It’s fine. This is the holy land of free mercenaries. They accept any machine, any story.
I comforted myself by recalling the game information.
Of course, they wouldn’t accept for free.
Freedom here came with its share of danger.
If I were rejected or shown hostility here, I might end up wandering the Grey Wasteland until I died.
Right at that moment, a new message finally arrived on the communication system.
Not a voice communication, but a cold, dry text message appeared on the cockpit screen.
[Unidentified vessel. Identification code mismatch. Proceed to Landing Zone 7. Follow the designated guidance signals. If you deviate from the route, you will be immediately destroyed.]
Concise and threatening, but clearly permission.
I let out a sigh of relief.
The first gate had been passed.
The screen began displaying a blue guidance signal heading toward Landing Zone 7.
Landing Zone 7 looked the most remote and rundown among the station’s multiple landing pads.
Nevertheless, various types of cargo ships and modified mechs had landed, and workers moving busily and armed guards were visible.
I tried to land as smoothly as possible, but the damaged ship eventually crashed down with a loud thud.
I opened the cockpit hatch and stepped out, and a burly man in thick, oil-stained work clothes approached together with two armed guards.
He scanned me from head to toe and asked in a voice like scraping metal.
“You’re a rookie, huh. What’s your name?”
“Kang Jinwoo.”
“What brings you here?”
“I need repairs. I also want to get some information and find work.”
The man looked me and the Bugbear up and down, then let out a derisive laugh.
“Hah, another ambitious kid. Fine, Kang Jinwoo. Welcome to Terminus… but this place isn’t free. Unregistered free mercenaries have to pay 500 credits in advance for landing and overnighting. No negotiations.”
I transferred 500 credits from my personal terminal.
The man nodded his head.
“Good. You’ve got Bay 48 for 48 hours. If you go over that time, I’ll dismantle that scrap pile of yours and sell it. Remember that. Repairs are in the scrap alley in the Gamma corridor over there. For lodging, the Zero-G Inn downstairs is cheap. Information… well, you’ll have to get it yourself. Check the bulletin board or look up info traders. Watch your back.”
He pointed with his chin toward the hangar exit.
“Left side when you go out. And don’t cause any trouble.”
With those words, he left.
Stepping out of the hangar, the wide corridor was filled with people of all kinds mixing and rushing about frantically.
Unintelligible dialects and slang, loud music, machine operating sounds, and shouts echoed endlessly.
The walls were covered with crude holographic advertisements and graffiti, and stalls selling unidentified goods and shabby shops lined both sides of the corridor.
This place is completely different from the Kronos base.
I tightened my collar and kept a wary eye on my surroundings.
Right now, the urgent thing was to find a reliable repair shop and get a room.
But before that, I was in extreme fatigue.
Night-shift work, simulated training, escape, flight—almost two days of non-stop.
With this state, it was hard to make proper judgments.
Yeah, for now, rest.
I decided to head to the Zero-G Inn instead of the scrap alley sign.
According to the information terminal nearby, the inn was located in the lower section, about two floors down via elevator in the central corridor.
The deeper I went, the atmosphere grew darker and more gloomy.
The corridor narrowed, the lights became dimmer, and the passing people looked increasingly shabby or dangerous.
Finally, I found a rundown inn with a sign reading “Zero-G Inn,” half of it burned out and flickering.
Inside, faint lighting filled the air with a stuffy atmosphere.
In the corner of the lobby, someone looked drunk and passed out.
Behind the counter protected by reinforced plastic, a skinny old man with a bored expression was sitting, leaning on his chin and staring at a cheap datapad, only glancing at me once.
“One room. One day.”
I spoke first.
The old man looked me up and down, then yawned and said,
“100 credits a day. Prepaid. No questions, and if you cause trouble you’ll be thrown out.”
When I sent the 100 credits, the old man tossed me an old plastic key card.
“Room 3B. Right at the end of the corridor.”
I took the key card and headed down the narrow, dark corridor.
When I opened the door to Room 3B, a narrow space appeared.
Metal walls, a bed fixed to the wall, a small sink-and-toilet unit, flickering lights. No windows.
Just enough space to sleep for a while.
As the tension in my whole body loosened, extreme fatigue rushed back.
I unbuckled a few combat suit fastenings, removed only my boots, and collapsed onto the bed.
It was hard, but it felt more comfortable than any luxury bed right now.
When I closed my eyes, the events of the past few days flashed by like a slideshow.
Yuna, Bulldog, the escape, and now this Terminus Station, my mind was complicated but I had no strength left to think.
From behind the inn room wall, the noise of Terminus Station faintly leaked in.
Within that noise, I finally slipped into deep sleep after a very long time.