Raiders of the Raiders
Stories about the space age had been circulating since the early 21st century.
By the 2020s, discussions about space had kicked into high gear, leading people to conclude:
"Even in the space age, America will just eat everyone alive!"
That prediction wasn't far off.
As time passed, the technological gap between the United States and everyone else only widened.
But then Doctor Space appeared, and everything changed.
His tech was like dropping "This is a gun. Shoot it, and they all die" into a stone-age brawl between cavemen with sticks and axes.
In the space age that began with all technological edges rendered meaningless, only two things mattered.
How much manpower did you have?
And how ruthlessly could you expend it—how much could you ignore human rights?
"The space age belongs to China and India!"
No country on Earth could compete with those two in that regard, and reality proved it.
China and India formed a powerful dual-top regime in the space age.
Thanks to them, humanity got to witness:
"I never imagined a world where China comes out on top could be this fucking awful."
A era worse than anyone had dared imagine.
Anyway, China was incredibly powerful in the space age—and just as incredibly prone to outrageous bullying.
Stealing from other countries was child's play compared to their usual antics.
Vroooom!
The three Chinese soldiers riding in a military truck barreling across Amotia Planet were no exception.
"See? This is why you gotta live right. Who'd have thought we'd score something like this!"
Part of the Chinese People's Space Army, they grinned with unbridled joy at the massive metal crate in their truck bed.
The Korean flag was blatantly stamped on the box, but they didn't care.
They knew full well it belonged to a psyker—something no ordinary grunt should touch.
"Psyker supplies... wonder what's inside?"
In fact, that was exactly why they'd driven all this way to steal it.
"But isn't messing with psyker stuff kinda dangerous?"
"Dangerous?"
They were utterly confident.
"What the hell can those Korean punks do about it?"
Arrogant certainty that Korea couldn't touch them.
"They won't even know we did it. Heard the rumors? Something big went down at the Korean HQ on Amotia Comet. We've got one worry: how to crack this lock."
"Can we even crack it? We couldn't open the last one we nabbed."
"Fuck it, blow it open with explosives if we have to."
"Sergeant, about those psyker supplies at the workshop... they say it's Hawk Eye's gear. That true?"
"What bullshit. Why would Hawk Eye come to a shithole planet like this?"
Boom!
Suddenly, an explosion rocked their truck, sending it swerving wildly.
"What the—?!"
The driver, Xiao Feng, yelled over the chaos.
"S-Sergeant! T-The tire blew!"
The other two scowled.
That was it.
"Goddamn shitty luck!"
They didn't think much of it.
On rugged Amotia, tire trouble was par for the course.
"Why do other countries' tires hold up fine, but ours blow every other minute?!"
Chinese tires were notoriously crap, so no big surprise.
Nothing worth freaking out over.
"I'll slow down."
No military used trucks that stopped for a single flat.
They kept rolling fine.
Pop!
"Argh!"
But when the rear tire blew too, that changed everything.
Driving became impossible.
Screeech!
They slammed to a halt. All three piled out to swap tires.
That was when it happened.
As they grabbed the emergency repair kit for the rear wheel—
Crack!
A battle suit helmet shattered. Blood sprayed from it.
"Gaaak!"
A scream followed.
He hadn't died from the bullet—lucky on Earth.
But this was Amotia Planet, where the atmosphere was poison to humans.
"Gurgle... hack... guh!"
The instant he inhaled, a grotesque choking sound erupted.
Thud.
His body hit the dirt.
The remaining two whipped around, scanning wildly.
"Wh-Who's there?!"
"W-We represent the People's Republic of Ch-China!"
They stayed vigilant, but saw nothing.
Of course not.
Their attacker, Kim Seo-jun, was a kilometer away, scope trained on them through his rifle.
It felt awkward to him, honestly.
Most Space Marines didn't bother with scopes.
Simple reason: Mogs that far out were best left alone. If it came to a fight, they'd close in close enough for iron sights.
Seo-jun was no different.
First time for this.
But it wasn't hard.
Sniping's a breeze.
Hitting a target a kilometer off was child's play for him now.
Thwip!
He squeezed the trigger again. Another Chinese soldier dropped in the scope.
Thwip!
One more shot, then he eased off, scanning through the optic.
Finally, he spoke into the silence.
"Looks clear. Safe to approach."
No reply.
Just stunned stares from the other two.
"Major, orders."
"Ah."
Only after he addressed Lee Hye-na did she snap to.
"A-Approach."
"Yes, ma'am."
They advanced on foot, not driving—watching for any Chinese ambush.
"All clear."
Seo-jun swept the area, signaled safe.
But the other two barely heard.
How is this even possible?
They gawked at the corpses.
Seo-jun got it. Even he found it ridiculous; to outsiders, it'd be miraculous.
Meanwhile, his body kept moving.
No time to dawdle here.
He clocked the highest rank: sergeant.
No way a sergeant pulls this off solo.
Even with China's space-age arrogance, psyker gear wasn't sergeant-level theft.
Impossible for one to snag this intel alone.
Meant higher-ups involved. And they'd have contingencies for botched deliveries.
So he said:
"Private Park Bo-seop, fetch the vehicle."
"Huh? Oh, yes, sir!"
As he sent Bo-seop off, he turned to Major Lee Hye-na.
"Major, can you crack the lock here?"
She didn't question it.
Just slotted her key.
Hiss!
The 1.5-meter crate popped open with a harsh grind.
First thing inside: a suit.
Looked like standard Space Marine battle suit—earthy ochre, perfect camo for Amotia.
But Seo-jun knew better.
Agent Suit.
One could fund five lifetimes of his money-grubbing existence.
Insanely expensive, packed with features.
Behemoth scale alloy.
What jacked the price most: materials from the Behemoth.
Impossible not to stare.
Next: axes.
Not one, but three. Plain-looking, but off somehow.
Then:
"I want to suit up now."
"One moment."
Seo-jun yanked an air tent kit from his pack.
Hiss!
As it inflated, Hye-na grabbed the Agent Suit, axes, and other supplies.
That's when:
"Sergeant Kim Seo-jun."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Use it if needed."
She nodded at something while packing.
Seo-jun's eyes widened.
"You mean... the Gauss rifle?"
Official name: KG-16, aka Gauss rifle in space.
No gunpowder—coils hurled projectiles with insane magnetic force.
Power levels beyond standard Space Marine rifles.
Price tag matched.
A private'd need five years' unspent salary in a decent fund to afford one.
And even then, hard to buy.
"I'm no good with rifles. You'd make better use of it, Sergeant Kim."
Hye-na handed it over without hesitation.
Seo-jun didn't agonize.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Turning down a superior's gift in the army? Rude.
About then:
Vroooom!
Private Park Bo-seop arrived, hustling to transfer the Chinese truck's loot to theirs.
As he finished, Major Lee Hye-na emerged in the new suit.
Seo-jun felt more secure than ever.
Her combat power now dwarfed what she'd shown against those fly-class Mogdogs hours ago.
And me too.
Gauss rifle in hand, he was confident in a huge upgrade.
Survival odds on this apocalyptic rock just skyrocketed.
So:
Time to lock it in.
Seo-jun spoke.
"Major Lee Hye-na, one question?"
"Go ahead."
"No other missions besides the Queen?"
Her eyes narrowed.
But he pressed on undaunted.
"Killing the Queen is critical. But Amotia isn't doing Korea any favors. Risking a psyker agent for it feels like overkill."
He'd wondered this since first laying eyes on her.
And he'd half-answered it himself.
"Unless there's a Prophet's Relic on the line."
She nodded without hesitation.
"My god."
Park Bo-seop, eavesdropping cautiously, freaked.
A Prophet's Relic here?
Hye-na had a fragment in her—standard for agents.
But this was the raw gemstone.
Fragments were priceless; the full relic? Infinite value.
Not buyable with money—a national strategic asset.
Worth deploying agents to Amotia sans HQ.
That was why he'd risked the touchy question.
"...Yes."
Hye-na confirmed it readily.
Shocking—and proof she trusted Sergeant Kim now.
"Thank you for the answer."
Seo-jun meant it.
But his expression darkened.
Psykers crawling all over Amotia now.
Survival difficulty just spiked again.
My life's a real shitshow.
He sighed inwardly.
No time for dwelling, though.
"Next orders, ma'am."
Whatever the situation, thrashing for survival stayed the same.
And he'd half-expected this, so no shock.
"Your opinion?"
She asked; he was ready.
"Their truck had coordinates loaded. Probably a stash point for stolen goods."
Bo-seop and Hye-na nodded.
Even arrogant China wouldn't haul loot straight to HQ.
Not conscience—just trackers on supplies needing laundering.
Common knowledge.
So why state the obvious?
"We raid it. Best move now."
"What?"
"Pardon?"
Predictable shock.
Steal now?
To the stunned pair, Seo-jun explained.
"It's a crime, sure. If caught, punishment's harsh—national incident level."
He knew it wasn't noble.
"But we struck first. Everything after is self-defense in the big picture."
They had justification now.
"In a supply crunch, a shot at bulk gear with legit cover doesn't come often."
No picking clean vs. dirty water now.
Crucially:
"Any punishment comes after rescue ship hauls us to Earth."
Bo-seop looked more flustered than ever.
He got it—agreed deeply, even.
Issue was Hye-na's reaction.
Telling a noble psyker agent to turn thief?
Bo-seop was enlisted, Seo-jun NCO—but agents were elite.
Theft on a career? No promotions ever.
Her response would be wild.
She might execute us on the spot!
As Bo-seop fretted:
"Sergeant Kim Seo-jun."
"Yes, ma'am."
She met his eyes, then said:
"From this moment, all command authority transfers to Sergeant Kim Seo-jun."