Apocalypse Forecast

At this moment, on the Moon, amidst the vast expanse of space, as the orbits converge, the Mitra and Liberty Goddess space stations meet once again in this desolate void after six months.

Even when closest, they are over two hundred kilometers apart.

As their armor opened and gradually moved closer, everyone’s expressions turned excited, as if welcoming a war.

Indeed, it was a war, no mistake...

When the scene from the opposite cabin window projected before Huai Shi, he was utterly stunned.

Hundreds of burly men, their faces painted, hair either tied or shaved, baring their upper bodies adorned with countless fierce body paintings and hair.

Holding mop sticks or spears and battle axes temporarily made from steel, their eyes wide with fury, led by the foreman at the front, they roared angrily at the Romans on the opposite space station.

The telecommunications signals from space delivered that thunderous sound without any reservation.

The leader at the forefront even held a live, squawking chicken, which he chopped up on the spot, smearing blood on his face as he loudly demonstrated against the Romans across.

Immediately, the Roman infantry’s hundred-person phalanx began to demonstrate back, returning the display.

They shouted "Rome and Caesar!" in unison.

Then, they proudly raised their voices to sing military songs.

For a moment, voices echoed between the two sides’ communications.

A distance of two hundred kilometers apart, the staff of the two research and observation space stations greeted the long-awaited travelers.

Until three brief minutes passed in an instant.

The stations crossed each other on the orbit.

In the final moments, the foremen waved goodbye, arranging a reunion in six months.

Then, the once mighty soldiers began busily cleaning up the garbage and stuff dropped in the cabin.

Huai Shi stared dumbfounded the entire time, sipping on the empty watermelon jelly in his mouth.

"Please pardon us; during long periods of travel in space, it’s rare to see outsiders. Sometimes, when we encounter something, everyone gets overly excited."

The foreman removed his helmet and proudly explained to Huai Shi, "But those Americans lost again! How can their cosplay compare to our real thing? This year’s Space Warrior Cup is surely ours on the Mitra!"

"Amazing, you even have competitions!"

"Yeah, it’s initiated by the Egypt Bastet Space Station, an annual event, with the Current Circumstances Spaceflight Council awarding prizes. It’s truly an honor for every astronaut!"

Isn’t it a bit excessive to have a trophy for space role-playing?

Huai Shi could only offer a round of applause in admiration.

You’re the ones who know how to have fun.

But not knowing how to have fun is not an option...

In a place where everyone’s term is generally one year, sharing cramped quarters with twenty people, where queuing is required for using the toilet and shower water is reused, if you don’t know how to have fun, you’ll be driven mad facing a heap of instruments and data every day.

It’s nothing more than finding joy amidst hardship.

No soft drinks, no privacy, not even any adult content; with hundreds of people living in an iron box, amidst endless work and data handling, even the most homebound otaku wouldn’t tolerate it.

Pioneering in Hell would be a bit better than this job.

At least you can go outside.

Going outside here, once you run out of oxygen, it’s instant death.

The void of the universe is overwhelmingly vast; even traversing between the Earth and Moon system is lengthy enough to numb one. By comparison, everyone is merely an ant curled up inside a box.

The melancholic mood didn’t last long.

Just as the space station was about to turn past the dark side of the moon, in the external projection, everyone saw, at the end of the lunar surface, something rise—a slender light beam, like a sharp iron needle piercing from the inside out, breaking through the Moon’s crust, pointing toward Current Circumstances.

"What’s that?"

Huai Shi scratched his head, peering: "Fireworks? A Moon festival?"

"That’s a secondary emergency alert, sir—" The foreman’s expression turned serious: "Something may have gone wrong at the prison, warning everyone to beware of escapees."

"Escape?"

Huai Shi was stunned for a long time, finding it difficult to imagine.

In such a place, buried under the lunar surface, where one would suffocate if oxygen supply is cut, someone managed to escape? This isn’t anywhere you can just snag a protective suit and run.

Leaving aside the layers of internal defense, the harsh external conditions alone would be enough to drive all escapees to despair.

A thousand kilometers of uninhabited territory could trap any escapee.

Hypothermia, death; suffocation, death; starvation, death...

And the nearest supply station is 2,100 kilometers away. Mathematicians have precisely calculated monthly supplies, down to every starch and screw.

Since the construction of the lunar prison, four Fifth Stage Sublimators have served time there, along with countless scholars and alchemists, even some creators and great grandmasters among them.

No one has been able to leave.

Among the exceptions, no one has seen their release day.

"Mr. Huai Shi, I’m afraid your journey is going to be impacted."

After putting down the communicator, the foreman brought bad news: "Now every launch on the lunar surface requires approval from the Management Committee before proceeding. Our aircrafts all have missions, and without permission, it will be difficult to send you down.

We’ve confirmed with the Kepler Valley Base; all their vehicles must ascend within two hours or stay to cooperate in the investigation—"

He paused for a moment, looking over sympathetically: "Meaning if we wait for the committee’s approval for descending and launching, you might miss the Stone Pot Society’s ship."

"What should I do?"

Huai Shi was dumbfounded, glancing down at his phone.

The pre-scheduled itinerary was strict with time—two hours left, supposedly enough for Huai Shi to descend, verify, meet the Stone Pot Society team, and leave leisurely.

This is simply, a disaster from the skies!

There’s been a breakout at the Dark Side Prison, and with just a flap of tiny wings, the entire schedule of launches on the Moon has been disrupted.

Now allowing Kepler Base’s ships to take off is probably because the Stone Pot Society has enough influence, and they are almost on the opposite side of the Moon, so the escapees can’t traverse such a long distance in a short time.

"Uh, that’s the issue here."

The station chief said this, his expression becoming awkward: "Although aircraft can’t take off or land, we do have drop pods used for drone sampling..."

He coughed dryly and said apologetically, "If you don’t mind, it’s actually something you can make do with."

This suggestion isn’t exactly reliable.

If Huai Shi weren’t a renowned Sublimator, he probably wouldn’t have mentioned it at all.

It’s no different than stuffing someone into a torpedo and firing them out, things that once sent out can’t be retrieved.

The drop pods loaded with drones were originally disposable consumables, tools used to detect large meteorites and conduct rock sampling and analysis.

They still carry landing gear and cushioning devices prepared to ensure the drone’s integrity, but they won’t have fuel to escape the Moon’s gravity and return.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t bypass the current launch regulations on the Moon.

And apart from that, the only vehicle at the Minerva Space Station capable of transporting people is the space shuttle used for regular transport and supply receptions.

Who knows how long the flight control on the lunar surface will last?

Space travel is not just a casual outing. If the thing can’t get take-off permission once it’s dropped, the operation of the Minerva Space Station would be affected, perhaps even resulting in a food shortage.

Thus, when the choice is between being sorry to the crew or Huai Shi, the station chief had no choice but to feel sorry for the little brother tagging along for a ride.

And Huai Shi, after carefully understanding the situation, also felt... this might actually be a solution.

"This drop pod of yours..." Huai Shi pinched his chin, asking tentatively, "Is it safe?"

"The drop pod and the escape pod on the Minerva Space Station are configured similarly, even more spacious and secure, since even consumable drones are far more precious than human bodies."

"Sounds like it could just about work."

Huai Shi immediately sighed in relief: "As long as it doesn’t explode halfway."

Isn’t it just a black-market taxi?

It’s not like I’ve never taken one before...

Even the Hell driver Raymond’s truck didn’t make him wear a seatbelt, just delivering himself intact is enough.

It’s better than standing here waiting for a missed ride.

After getting Huai Shi’s consent, the station chief immediately relaxed, feeling more and more guilty.

Fifteen minutes later, overtime on the outer layer, on the launch platform of the drop pod, Huai Shi saw the ready vehicle and all the tools prepared for him.

Including three layers of impact protection measures, compressed food enough to sustain for more than two days, and water that can last a week if conserved, which can be used as oxygen-producing material if necessary.

A small air-cushion buffer device nested inside the drop pod.

A specially modified handgun that can be used in a vacuum, with a magazine of Alchemy Bullets.

An emergency contact radio.

A supply of human Source Substance, a medical kit, and even a maintenance box filled with a full set of maintenance tools, with a whole set of the most striking bright red spacesuits to facilitate search and rescue in case of any accident.

And the innermost, top-tier safety-grade liquid layer cushion clothing.

Even the dog had a set!

"Uh, there’s no need for so much..." Huai Shi watched himself being wrapped into a ball, dumbfounded: "With this much stuff, I can’t take it all."

"If you can’t take it, you can just leave it behind."

"Isn’t dumping trash prohibited on the Moon?"

"No problem, the cost of the subsequent recovery and cleanup work will be covered by us," the station chief said straightforwardly, "these are necessary reserves."

Seeing their serious and careful demeanor, Huai Shi even began to suspect if these people were more nervous than he was?

And the station chief seemed to notice his confusion and asked, "Mr. Huai Shi, this might be your first time conducting operations in outer space, right?

As researchers, we have nothing to advise Sublimators on, but if it’s survival experience, we do have some say."

He solemnly said, "Here’s a piece of advice: out here, you must always prepare for the worst and plan tenfold. Waste is never the problem, the problem is having no opportunity to waste."

"This place is an absolute ordeal where you can’t survive without tools." He told the man before him, "Under any circumstance, you must ensure you can survive until rescue arrives after an accident."

And so, they tightened the straps around Huai Shi, hanging the handgun on the outer backpack.

In an easily accessible place at any time.

After the third inspection of the drop pod, the station chief stepped back, waving goodbye to Huai Shi.

"I sincerely hope we’ll meet again on your return."

He said, "Goodbye, Mr. Huai Shi."

Accompanied by the countdown.

The drop pod suddenly shook, sliding along the track outwards, finally detaching from the space station, and under the ejection’s acceleration, falling towards the eternally pale foreign land below.

Without the friction of an atmosphere, neither the resistance of air, there was no violent jolt felt, nor any anomaly.

Only the distant gravity gradually strengthening, telling Huai Shi: he was falling.

It was at that moment, his vision turned black, feeling a piercing chill.

Death Perception erupted.

For in the distant black universe, cold brilliance appeared.

——Like stars coming to attack!