In a galaxy where dying stars write humanity's obituary, 17-year-old Kael bears luminous scars mapping humanity's forgotten exodus. The last inheritor of the Noah Project's genetic legacy, he navigates fractal labyrinths of molten rock by day and de...
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Already, he had scavenged five precious drops of water. Just one more, and he would possess the strength he needed for his next escape. On this barren, lonely planet—where life was naught but searing heat and restless fury, icy cold and silent death—he had nothing. Since the moment of his birth, nightmares had clung to him like a second skin.
He was the last child of this forsaken world, watching through the long years as his kin faded, one by one, into oblivion.
The chill of night was slowly banished by the ever-wilder sun, and waves of heat began to seep into the cave. Caught between the clash of cold and warm currents, he stumbled upon a stroke of fortune: three more drops of water. Joy surged within him. With these, he would have the vigor to flee to the "melt pool" atop the high mountains when the next firestorm struck—a sanctuary from disaster.
With the tip of his tongue, he gathered each droplet, drawing them into his body with deliberate care. Here, nothing mattered more than survival.
To run for life was the truest testament to the unyielding spirit of humankind—and the only thing he could do, the only thing he must do.
Etched deep within the resilient, singular code of his being was the knowledge of survival in this merciless realm. Once, long ago, the cave would brim with dew at dawn, and firestorms were a rarity. Now, they raged daily. He had heard tales that, before his birth, the cavern had even known the miracle of mist—enough to bring tears of wonder to the eyes.
Sated with water, he stretched out on a cool slab of stone, letting his mind sink into the quiet depths of his soul. His heartbeat stilled. His pulse ceased.
From beneath the earth came a faint rumble, a warning tremor that whispered of another firestorm brewing in the planet's core. In his heart, he roared, "Bring it on! I'm ready."
A colossal spaceship, five kilometers long, burst into existence a million kilometers beyond the Sagittarius system. This was the Predator, a "Mothership"-class battle cruiser of the Galactic Federation, second only to the mighty "Flagship" class in its arsenal—boasting Level Two combat prowess.
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