Apocalypse Gachapon

The spacecraft circled in the sky for a while before slowly descending through a glowing passageway. Through the viewport, Ye Zhongming could see they were moving within a tunnel of light.

Waking up from dimensional travel was never pleasant. Initially, Ye Zhongming had assumed they were in some pocket dimension, but the surrounding scenery confirmed they were simply in another corner of the universe—though how far from Survivor Fortress No. 5 remained unclear.

Closing his eyes, he adjusted his breathing, feeling his bodily functions gradually stabilize. He was quite satisfied with his physical recovery.

“Drink this. We still have over an hour before reaching the base camp.”

Aslan handed out several vials of medicine to Ye Zhongming and the others—likely some kind of restorative. The rest drank theirs immediately, but Ye Zhongming stowed his away in the spatial backpack he’d obtained from the Star-Eye Clan.

“Dimension tunnels aren’t kind to living beings. You shouldn’t rely too much on your body’s natural recovery,” Aslan advised, seeing his reluctance.

She had far more experience in this than Ye Zhongming, who knew nothing about dimensional travel.

But she didn’t understand Ye Zhongming’s circumstances. He merely waved her off, signaling it was fine. The female birdman could only sigh in resignation.

Right now, she had no authority over him. Among the other three, Jie Kui seemed to want to say something but held back after seeing Ye Zhongming’s attitude. The remaining two—Bu Lanuo and Shi Kangbo—wore cold smirks, clearly thinking he was just being arrogant.

“Why so long? The Novice Battlefield planet shouldn’t be that far, right?” Bu Lanuo frowned as he looked outside.

Both he and Shi Kangbo were tall, slender lifeforms with long tails usually coiled beneath their clothing, making them inconspicuous. Their most striking feature was their eyes—pupils that constantly shifted between vertical slits and perfect circles.

Aslan’s expression tightened slightly at Bu Lanuo’s words, which carried an undertone of impatience and… resentment.

“Our Star-Eye Clan has low status. We’ll be among the last to enter. The planet hosts extremely powerful lifeforms—getting too close risks attacks in outer orbit that are nearly impossible to evade. The only safe approach is through the Reina people’s Light-Splitting Passage.”

Bu Lanuo said nothing more and simply returned to his cabin to rest. Shi Kangbo remained but sat down in silence, eyes closed.

Ye Zhongming shrugged, unsurprised by this dynamic.

At the end of the day, none of them were native Star-Eye Clan members. Maybe someday, through some arcane method, they’d be infused with the clan’s bloodline or granted its legacy. But for now? Impossible.

Low sense of belonging wasn’t something that could be fixed with small favors or polite requests.

Fundamentally, they were just hired muscle—the only difference being that major clans treated their mercenaries like tools, while minor clans like the Star-Eye Clan had to be more accommodating.

That said, many Star-Eye Clan members clearly didn’t grasp their race’s dire straits. The masked escorts casually killing “trash” trainees earlier proved they still looked down on these warriors.

So if these outsiders lacked loyalty now… well, who could blame them?

Even Ye Zhongming himself, despite Jikesu’s sincere overtures, still considered himself first and foremost the King of Cloud Peak—Ye Zhongming of Earth.

Probably, even the weakest among the spacefaring races wouldn’t welcome newcomers muscling in on their already scarce resources.

While waiting, Ye Zhongming remained by the viewport. Aslan stood with him for a while, pointing out which ships belonged to which races and explaining their circumstances. Eventually, Jie Kui joined them to listen—this was valuable intelligence. Even Shi Kangbo cracked an eye open, eavesdropping.

Soon, the Star-Eye Clan’s ship received docking clearance. The spacecraft slowly entered the Light-Splitting Passage and began its descent toward the Novice Battlefield planet.

Upon entering the planet’s atmosphere, even mentally prepared, Ye Zhongming was stunned by the sight before him.

The air was murky, like moderate smog, tinged a faint pink—who knew if it was toxic? Distant flashes of light flickered intermittently, their source unclear. As they neared the ground, a massive pentagonal city came into view—towering walls bristling with weapons, patrolled by numerous guards. In several spots, intense bursts of light suggested ongoing battles.

“This is the base camp—your headquarters for the foreseeable future.”

Aslan finished speaking and told everyone to wait while she stepped out, likely to handle formalities. When she returned, her expression was grim, but she motioned for them to follow.

Exiting the spacecraft, they were immediately hit by a faint, acrid odor—not overpowering, but living here long-term would surely shave years off one’s lifespan.

Aslan led them to the northern sector’s encampment. After registering in a small building, Ye Zhongming and the others received a compact case.

“Three bell tolls will signal the Novice Battlefield’s commencement tomorrow. You must don the equipment inside these cases, then assemble at Desolation Square with your supplies. Anyone late will lose their head.”

A lion-headed being roared these instructions at them.

Though this wasn’t Shadowstripe City, they still used Shadowtongue. But compared to that city’s fusion of aesthetics and technology, this place was as crude and dilapidated as a medieval village.

Ye Zhongming studied the lion-man, sensing an overwhelming aura of bloodlust.

By now, Earth’s apocalypse had lasted nearly seven years—plenty of time for countless evolved humans to develop palpable killing intent. Even Ye Zhongming himself, when enraged in battle, exuded a ferocity that most couldn’t withstand.

But compared to this being? It was like comparing a candle to a wildfire. Just how many lives had he ended to accumulate such dense, tangible malice?

Carrying their newly acquired supplies, the Star-Eye Clan group turned to leave—only to nearly collide with another squad of twelve.

Perhaps because the base camp prioritized function over form, its architecture embodied minimalist practicality, sacrificing beauty for security.

Every structure was built like a fortress.

This room was no exception. One look, and only one word came to mind: impregnable.

The trade-off? The doorway wasn’t particularly wide. With the unsealed metal doors taking up space on either side, only about three meters remained for passage.

For humans, that could fit several people abreast. But among the spacefaring races, not all were so slender.

Like the group approaching now—each member hulking like a small mountain. Just two walking side by side nearly blocked the entire exit.

The two parties met right at the doorway, forcing one side to yield. Aslan had entered first but was now at the back of their group. By the time she realized the situation, it was too late—her warning died unspoken as one of the beings outside suddenly threw a punch at the person in front!