Union Base B-45
Union Base B-45. This is Union Base B-45. Right now, the Galactic Union divides up the cosmic territories under their control for management. Zone B encompasses about 10 superclusters. The region's diameter spans roughly 3 billion light-years. An unimaginably colossal expanse, yet even here, only 45,897 galaxies fall under the Union's direct oversight. They're constantly pushing into new space, developing it, so the count keeps climbing—but that's still the reality.
Put together all the galaxies across those 10 superclusters, and you're looking at around 400,000. So, barely a tenth. That explains why the galaxy housing the Skull Nebula—B-02345—has five digits in its designation.
...Wow, even the precise numbers are lodged in my head. Outer Gods really do know everything.
Just imagining cramming universe-spanning data like this into a normal human brain... Shudder. Terrifying.
Anyway, to manage these 45,897 galaxies, the Union sets up multiple bases per zone. Zone B hosts about 1,000 of them, and this is one: Union Base B-45. In simple terms, the 45th base in Zone B.
It's not a planet—just a rogue asteroid retrofitted into a massive space fortress. Buildings dot the surface, all encased in a gigantic sphere. Power seems to come from converting energy from massive stars scattered across space and cosmic radiation. For them, the universe is practically infinite, so resources might as well be endless.
Gravity field tech keeps it locked to galactic coordinates, drifting with the cosmos. The asteroid forms the core, but they've engineered a sphere that nearly swallows it whole, plus total overhauls inside and out to make it a base. Artificial gravity and oxygen levels inside the sphere are perfectly tuned.
Truly SF stuff... A hyper-advanced civilization beyond anything from my old world.
"This way, please."
I wanted to explore this SF space base to my heart's content, but to roam freely, I needed an identity. So I followed Grandpa Yupiter toward base HQ.
Sure, the layout, tech details—all that was already in the main body's head. But seeing it firsthand? That's a whole different thrill. Like revisiting a classic masterpiece—you know the plot and ending, but you dive back in anyway.
"Who are you? This area's restricted to authorized personnel... Gah?! L-Lord Yupiter! Welcome!"
As Grandpa Yupiter, me, and Rowi Hendrick approached base HQ, the guards blocked us—then spotted his credentials and jumped, swinging the doors wide.
"Th-the folks behind...?"
"My disciple, Rowi Hendrick. And this is an important guest."
"Ah, yes. Understood."
No ID check for the "important guest"—just waved us in. ...Same as my old world or this one: clout opens doors.
Letting in someone without proper verification, though. Good for me—makes forging a solid identity a breeze.
"Oh, right—your name. I still don't know it. We need one for registration."
True. Hadn't introduced myself yet.
Name, name... What to pick? Nothing planned. Something Terra-like? Real name? But who knows if Korea exists among Terra here... Game-character cool?
"Yujin. Yujin's fine."
The most plausible one that popped up. Eastern vibe, Western too.
"Yujin, is it? A fine name."
"Thanks."
Yujin of Terra. My first official identity in this world, forged in that moment.
Registration done, ID card in hand—a electronic panel like my past life's resident card, but the card itself was a touchscreen device. Swipe for details.
Species: Terra. Name: Yujin. Photo attached. Swipe for address—left blank for "space adventurer" concept. Notes: Currently active as adventurer.
The Union manages everyone this way, tracking info for quick response to crimes or issues. Familiar from Korea—no big deal.
Digging my head's history files: Plenty of species rebelled against ID mandates. All got crushed or beaten into submission.
Rubaran must be insanely strong. Makes sense—with gravity fields for bases, Dyson-sphere black hole energy tech. They could sweep lesser races with basic gear.
"Pleased with it?"
Grandpa Yupiter grinned, watching me ogle the card.
Aww, yeah—total freedom now. Heh heh heh. Hyper-civ space base! Body itching to explore.
"...We have business at HQ. Feel free to sightsee outside."
Gah! This sharp old man beat me to it.
"Sounds good."
"Yes. Register my ID here—it doubles as contact via unique code."
Beep—
He tapped his card to mine; machine chimed, code registered.
Ooh... Knew the feature, but seeing it? Cool. Like Bluetooth contact swap.
"I'll reach out later."
Codes swapped, we parted. Heh heh—free at last. Time to roam.
"...Master."
After Yujin left to tour the base, Rowi Hendrick eyed his master Yupiter, baffled.
"Why go so far for him? Sure, he lifted the mental corruption... but using your elder status to ID a total unknown?"
Yupiter had downplayed Yujin, so Rowi stayed quiet—but it made no sense. Mental cleanse or not, the guy was a no-ID mystery. Space pirate? Erased criminal? Anti-Union rebel?
Granting ID to such a person? Tons of proofs needed, months of process.
Yet Yupiter leveraged elder authority, pressuring HQ chief for instant approval. Word to the elder council could mean suspension, years off-duty.
All for a mind-fix? Rowi couldn't fathom it.
"That 'god' talk from before? It wasn't ordinary, but still..."
Back at Union HQ, machines or treatments could've normalized them. Rowi didn't see it as that huge a favor.
"Enough."
Yupiter cut him off.
"Rowi, you may not grasp it. But our very existence—intact—owes him gratitude."
"...???"
Rowi frowned, more confused. What?
But he knew: His master, great Meias elder and top mage, was profoundly wise—never spoke idly. Every word had weight. No action without reason.
He's withholding answers on purpose. Wants me to think, conclude myself.
Yupiter always taught self-discovery, self-action.
Sudden mental assault. A "god" that terrified even his master on sight. And Yujin...
"...!!"
Deep reflection led Rowi to the truth easily. Chills erupted across his skin.
Outer God. Beings whose mere presence shatters minds, plunges worlds into terror.
Yujin might be one... or an avatar.