Liam Lee, male, 24 years old, a citizen of Cathay. He enlisted in 2170 and retired in 2173.
Joining the military had always been a thorn lodged deep in Liam's heart. As a member of the first generation born after Cathay's postwar rise, his life could only be described as that of a winner.
The Lee family had produced soldiers for three generations. By the time it reached his father's generation, among the three brothers in the family, one had died in the war, while the remaining two both rose to the rank of colonel.
When Liam was not even six years old, his family moved to Brightshore, following his father's reassignment. As the son of a stationed officer, Liam grew up accustomed to the privileges of a special class. In education, food, and lodging, there was always a clear gap between him and the local children.
By the time he entered high school, Liam's life was the picture of brilliance. Blessed with exceptional physical genetics inherited from the Lee family—rumor had it that his grandfather had secretly participated in Cathay's first-generation human enhancement experiments—he not only excelled in every subject, but also dominated every athletic event in his grade.
There's a saying: "One should enjoy life to the fullest while fortune lasts—because disaster might strike when you least expect it."
One day, while taking two of his girlfriends to a ramen shop downtown, Liam ran into his father, John Lee who happened to be eating there with several others.
It's hard to imagine John's state of mind at that moment. Among his companions were two of his former superiors, now holding the rank of lieutenant general, and another man named Lipton Bane—his old political commissar from wartime days. The group had come to Brightshore on a secret mission to deal with an extremely sensitive emergency.
And yet, the brief moment they slipped out of the military compound for a quiet meal turned into a humiliation—because of him. From the shop owner's calm demeanor, it was obvious this wasn't the first time his son had brought company here.
John snapped his chopsticks in half on the spot. If not for his adjutant, Willis, restraining him, he would have beaten this disgrace of a son to death right then and there.
The next day, Liam's carefree days were over. His father, John, personally issued a transfer order through Commissar Lipton, sending him straight into a military training camp.
For Liam, that period was pure hell. Endless drills and exercises from dawn till dusk. His once-proud physique barely kept him from falling behind. The instructors were cold, emotionless, almost mechanical in their ruthlessness.
Not a single night of peaceful sleep. Once the system detected that 80% of the recruits were asleep, mechanical sentinels would launch surprise attacks.
Countless times, just as he began to dream of his easy life in Brightshore, a reinforced skunk bomb or a biological shock grenade would be thrown into his barracks.
The former would make him reek worse than an actual skunk for an entire month. The latter would rob him of balance for three days straight—making him vomit until he was dehydrated.
Only when he finally developed an instinct to sense danger before it struck did the midnight ambushes stop. For two full years and 700 days and nights, Liam never had a single night of peaceful sleep. Even now, within the virtual world of the game, he still sleeps wearing armor out of habit.
By the time the ever-solitary Liam realized that he hadn't been sent to an ordinary training camp, he was already aboard a Rising Dragon-class orbital assault ship.
"You're telling me I have to jump from here wearing this thing?" Liam's muffled voice came through the fully enclosed orbital drop armor.
His captain gave a silent nod. Through the black visor, Liam couldn't read his expression. "You're sure about this?" he pressed on stubbornly. "We're four hundred and fifty kilometers above the ground! And you want me to jump and land on a space barely the size of a basketball court? What if this thing malfunctions? What if I land in a volcano?"
The captain, eyes fixed on the countdown on his helmet's display, replied calmly, "When you jump, pay attention to your posture. At an orbital altitude of 397 kilometers, there's an EU space station drifting by. If you happen to hit it, it might affect your descent trajectory."
"What did you just say? I might graze a space station?" Liam's face twisted in disbelief.
"The Netherfall-class orbital drop exosuit you're wearing," the captain continued, "has had only two recorded fatal crashes in its last 30,000 drops, both caused by direct hits from anti-air fire. So, there's no need to worry."
As his voice came through the earpiece, Liam noticed his armor sealing itself shut.
"Wait, wait! I still have something to say to my father! I was wrong! I won't waste my youth anymore! I repent!" Liam's voice came straight from the heart.
But it didn't move the man in front of him. "By the way," the captain said, "if you do happen to fall into a volcano, your armor is strong enough to keep you alive for twenty minutes before you roast alive from the inside. When we recover the suit, we'll have to scrape out your remains before issuing it to the next recruit. So… please make sure your landing coordinates are accurate."
Before Liam could protest further, the captain opened the hatch and kicked him out of the ship.
"For victory! Let us meet again in the underworld! That's the motto of the Netherfall Orbital Assault Unit—don't dishonor it! Oh, and one more thing, I'm not your captain. I'm Commissar Lipton Bane!"
Liam's scream drowned out the rest. He had no time to care about Lipton's words or see the expression hidden behind his visor.
He was too busy adjusting his trajectory, barely scraping past the EU space station by mere centimeters. Amid the panicked shouting and cursing of the station's crew, Commissar Lipton was laughing heartily.
After that successful landing, Liam completed the minimum service term required and left the army. Unable to bear the disappointment in his father's eyes, he secretly applied to join the Pioneer fleet's volunteer program and left Gaia behind.
…
Now, as Liam gazed at the player standing before him, memories of those years resurfaced. The player's posture reminded him of the commissars who once oversaw his every move during training—each of them identical, as if produced on an assembly line.
Instinctively, he tightened his stance, standing straighter without realizing it. If not for the weight of the spiked mace and shield in his hands, he might have saluted out of habit.
"What the hell are you doing?" barked the goblin standing behind Aldric, who noticed his companion spacing out while dodging the player's attacks.
"Watch your mouth, goblin—or I'll use it to decorate my shield!" Liam shot back, gripping his weapon and charging into the fray. After all, fighting one-on-one just wasn't the pirate way!
(End of Chapter)