books44 Chapter 466 [Empire] Arrangement
Chapter 466 [Empire] Arrangement
The silence of the night is intoxicating. I cradled the young green seedling in my arms, feeling its subtle throbbing of life. The faint glow of its branches and leaves flickered in the darkness, a touch of warmth on this lonely planet. A transparent young vine occasionally flickered nearby, its chill seeping through, momentarily solidifying the air. But it quietly clung to the young green seedling, adding a strange touch of life to this lonely silence.
I gazed down at the plant in my arms, a wave of thoughts welling up in my heart. Those days on the Capital Planet, the unfettered daily life, suddenly flooded back. The bustle of the mercenary streets, the thrill of missions, the feeling of fighting alongside my comrades... Those days, though fraught with danger, were each moment so real, so powerful. Whether it was the tension and excitement of carrying out a mission, or the moments afterward when I sat around with my comrades discussing and even casually sharing our own thoughts—those seemingly insignificant fragments suddenly became so precious.
Back then, I perhaps didn't understand the meaning of responsibility, or even realize how I was growing stronger with each mission. After each mission, on the way back home with Nightingale, we'd have a simple meal, joke around, and, amidst our tiredness, exchange our thoughts on the future. Those times weren't as burdensome and complicated as they are now, nor were I burdened by excessive "responsibilities." I simply pursued a life of freedom and excitement.
But now, everything seems to have changed. Although the training here has new goals and meaning, it still can't mask the emptiness deep within me. This new environment has given me a brand new identity, but it has also brought more complex relationships and inescapable constraints.
I closed my eyes, feeling the stabilizing aura of the young green seedling in my arms. Though it symbolized supernatural power and carried unknown dangers, its very existence, in a sense, gave me a sense of sustenance. At the very least, it never questioned my decisions; it was a part of my strength. And my thoughts gradually calmed with the cool night breeze.
Perhaps the road ahead is destined to be lonely, and I will still have to face unpredictable challenges. But at least, under this starry sky, I still have these miracles of life, and they will continue to accompany me on my journey.
"Nightingale..." I murmured unconsciously.
Whispering the nightingale's name softly, I felt an inexplicable pull. The man who had guided me through the darkness, who had led me through peril after peril, seemed to still be somewhere, hidden deep within my heart. Despite the complexity of our relationship—not merely one of mentor and apprentice, but more like a crisscross of fates and mutual dependence—I knew he was my only hope in these unfamiliar streets.
Nightingale always appeared so resilient, as if never allowing anyone to see through his inner fragility. After each mission, he remained calm and composed, seemingly unwavering in his resolve, no matter the adversity. Yet, I knew that beneath that outward toughness lay hidden loneliness and pain.
I suddenly missed his face with a frivolous smile. Although he always acted so naughty, whenever danger came, his eyes would always show a kind of courage and determination. That was the kind of sharpness that only those who had personally experienced life-and-death struggles could possess.
"Nightingale..." I repeated it again in a low voice, as if this could call his figure back to me.
At this moment, I suddenly longed to fight alongside him again and find the strength and courage I once had in his familiar figure.
The optical computer on my wrist lay quietly, as if cut off from all external contact. The moment I turned it off, a complex wave of emotions welled up in my heart. It had been a gift from Nightingale, an object that had accompanied me through countless dangers and conspiracies, carrying with it all the memories between him and me.
I remember Nightingale smiling as he handed it to me, a look of unspoken meaning in his eyes. He didn't directly state the information, but through that optical computer, he gave me a new identity, a disguise, a passport to survival in the interstellar world. It temporarily freed me from certain constraints and brought me a sense of temporary security.
But the moment I stepped onto the military starship, I could no longer carry it with me. Every soldier here possesses their own identity system, and that false identity was unacceptable here. Though silent, it could easily reveal something strange about me. Furthermore, the identity Nightingale had given me was inherently dangerous from the start. Bringing it into the military zone would mean exposing my past, potentially leading to unbearable consequences.
As I discarded the laptop, I felt an inexplicable sense of loss. It felt like a connection the nightingale had given me, and now, that bond had been severed by my own hands. Although I knew this connection was no longer suitable for me to carry around, the feeling was like a tidal wave, difficult to shake.
The standard optical computer implanted in my collarbone, coldly embedded in my skin, represents the military's official recognition of me and perhaps the key to my survival here. But it contains no contact information for Nightingale. There's no way to contact him; even a simple greeting feels out of reach. Perhaps this is the loneliness I must face in this unfamiliar environment, an inescapable reality.
However, despite this, I still silently missed the nightingale who had helped me through the dark days. That familiar care, that unspoken dependence by his side, I suddenly found that I had never been so eager to be with him again.
Since I entered the military zone, the standard optical computer in my collarbone has been upgraded. It all happened incredibly quickly. I initially thought it would need to be removed and re-implanted, even bracing myself for the dull pain of the procedure. But that wasn't the case. The upgrade process was surprisingly painless, with virtually no discomfort, thanks to external instruments debugging and data adjustments. It was like a cold slate, slowly embedding itself into my bones and skin, yet instantly becoming my connection to the world.
The upgrade to my optical computer meant I was completely integrated into the military, leaving me with few options within this environment. The military optical computer was no longer simply a communication tool; it not only carried my identity but was also directly connected to all aspects of military affairs, becoming my sole channel of communication with the outside world. This meant, in a sense, that I could no longer escape the constraints of the military.
Before, on the Capital Planet, I had a certain degree of freedom. As a "new man," while my identity was somewhat artificial, it wasn't a soldier, so I could participate freely in certain fringe activities. But now, this computer not only represents my military identity, it almost reminds me: the future path is only one: military service. It all seems preordained, with no escape.
"After the upgrade, you'll enjoy more military resources," the official said with resignation, "but it also means you won't be able to leave the military. The only future for cadets is to join the military."
I was stunned. I had thought this was just a formal change; at least like other new men, I could still have a certain degree of freedom to choose whether to join the military. But now, I suddenly realized I was locked into this path. This wasn't just a change of identity; it effectively bound me completely to the military system.
The consequences of this change slowly fermented in my heart.
Although the military district provided numerous resources and guaranteed training conditions, the implicit sense of constraint left me feeling an unprecedented sense of oppression. Now, my identity was no longer that vague "new man," but a military cadet with clear responsibilities and a mission. This path almost doomed me to no return.
My future has almost only one choice: become a soldier and fight, either on the front lines or providing support behind the scenes.
At this moment, I unconsciously touched the laptop on my collarbone. The cold touch reminded me that all these changes weren't accidental, but rather the product of a deeper decision. I had already chosen this path, but I hadn't fully realized it before.
Without any explanation or choice, I was simply "made" a soldier.
It felt like being suddenly stuffed into a sealed container. The air around me became oppressive and heavy, with no way out. The person who arranged all this hadn't even seen me. It was like I was a tiny part of this huge machine, being systematically pushed onto a track with no choice.
Every step was meticulously orchestrated, and I felt like an outsider, forced to passively accept it. The moment the military computer activated, I knew I was completely bound to this path, but I had no chance to question it, no chance to choose. No one even said "welcome" to me, no one asked if I was willing to accept this. And so, I was "placed" into a system, becoming a military cadet, and forever disconnected from my past.
I don't know if it's fate, or if someone is secretly manipulating all this. Regardless, this path is inescapable. Whoever "arranged" me, for whatever reason, seemed to have determined from the very beginning that I would enter this military academy and become part of their team. Without even showing their face, they'd already sealed my fate.
I once fantasized about controlling my own destiny, about making choices. But now, all my choices seem predetermined. No matter how much I try to resist, I'm afraid it's futile. I want to know who orchestrated all this, who determined that my life would be so closely tied to this military academy and this path as a soldier. But no matter who it was, I never had the chance to confront them.
Now, I can only go with the flow. Every training session, every combat encounter, makes me realize that I'm no longer a free individual, but a member of the military. My former dreams and goals are now obscured by this thick fog.
No one invited me to join a team, and I know that this took a lot of courage for them. I was also afraid, but I was able to take it calmly. After all, in this environment, who wouldn't want to stand with strong teammates? Although I wasn't weak, they knew that I was an "outsider" in the special ability class, without offensive special abilities or direct combat advantages. This situation made me a "risk point" in their eyes. Even if they didn't have any bad intentions, they couldn't fully trust me. After all, everyone was fighting for their own place, and no one wanted to let an unstable factor fall behind.
However, I understand. After all, I was "placed" and my future seemed to be limited to the military. I had no choice here, so they weren't entirely willing to get too close to me. Whether it was out of personal considerations or a desire to avoid shouldering too much responsibility, I accepted the situation calmly. This didn't mean they truly looked down on me, but rather a fear of the unknown and a reluctance to shoulder responsibility.
However, not everyone is so thoughtful. The subtle glances some boys occasionally give me, even hints of curiosity or sympathy, can actually give me a headache. I don't need their sympathy, nor do I want them to point fingers behind my back. After all, the mere presence of those two special "powers" in my backpack already dictates my unique role in this small group. While I can take it all in stride, even feign indifference, there are always those times when a glance makes me feel uneasy.
What is more troublesome is the subsequent arrangements.
I know that I will eventually be brought to the front lines, and may even be involved in more dangerous missions. But for now, I can only remain a "spectator" in the battles of this group of new men.
Being "arranged" into this situation, I knew I had no other choice but to be patient, wait, and even take advantage of every opportunity in front of me to constantly adjust my pace and find my position.
As the roster deadline approached, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, and everyone's choice seemed increasingly crucial. Those who had already formed teams might appear relaxed, but I knew they were deeply concerned about whether they had chosen the right teammate. For me, however, the situation seemed less urgent. While others hesitated about my situation, I knew I didn't want to cause any trouble.
It's not that I don't have my own ideas, but I know that my current situation leaves me with limited options. Among these elite students, I don't want to force myself or compete with anyone for anything. Even if I'm not selected this time, perhaps I can use this opportunity to quietly wait for the next opportunity in a corner. Perhaps it's because I'm not in a rush and don't want to make any overly radical moves at this critical juncture.
I waited in silence, watching those around me hastily form teams, engage in heated discussions, and even engage in arguments. I didn't join in, but instead quietly observed each person's choices, feeling the dynamics of it all. Despite a sense of emptiness and loneliness, my detached observation allowed me to more clearly discern their inner anxieties.
I know this doesn't mean I'm incapable of participating, but rather that I don't want to rush into a pointless struggle. Since everyone is hesitant about my existence, let them decide for themselves. I'm not in a rush, and I won't change this rhythm that doesn't belong to me.