Sylar felt a bit awkward as he entered the room, uncertain how to properly address the people before him. They were super soldiers, and he still wasn't sure where he stood among them. After a brief hesitation, he clasped his hands together and bowed respectfully.
Although everything that had happened so far had been beyond strange—and he had been forced into the path of a Shooting Star—there was no denying that these people had saved his life and given him the means to become stronger. That alone was reason enough for gratitude and respect.
Captain Benjamin gave a faint smile at Sylar's gesture, then motioned toward the other two Shooting Stars in the room. "They are Lieutenant Astro and Lieutenant Oscar."
Sylar turned to the scarred man and the golden-haired officer, giving each a polite nod, which they returned with faint smiles. With introductions complete, Benjamin gestured for him to sit.
"Now," the captain began, "I'll answer some of your questions. However, there are things you won't learn until you've become a full-fledged Shooting Star."
Sylar's curiosity burned. Ever since waking, he'd wanted to understand this vast and terrifying universe he'd suddenly become part of. He sat down, trying to organize his thoughts. There were many questions swirling in his head, but one came to the forefront first.
"What happened to my body? Lieutenant Birk said it was only six months, but how could my body change this much in such a short time?"
Even now, he still struggled to adjust to his new form. His limbs felt longer, his muscles denser, his senses sharper—everything about him had changed.
Amused expressions appeared on the soldiers' faces. They had all felt the same strangeness once. Benjamin, however, didn't keep him waiting.
"After your transformation with the Omega Compound," the captain explained, "your body entered a state of complete genetic awakening. The limiters on your genome were removed—growth, regeneration, even metabolism. To stabilize you, we placed you in a healing pod filled with nutrient gel. Your body absorbed everything it needed to grow to its optimal biological range."
He paused, then continued in his calm, authoritative tone. "Your development isn't complete. You'll continue to grow stronger as you mature, especially after you survive the Star Crucible."
"The Star Crucible?" Sylar repeated.
Benjamin nodded. "It's the next stage of your journey. You and other recruits from across the galaxy will be sent to a Death World—a planet specifically chosen for its hostile environment. There, you'll learn to fight, to adapt, and to control your powers. You'll also face trials that will determine who advances to the next stage."
Lieutenant Oscar leaned forward with a grin. "Think of it as a military training camp—but on hell mode. If you don't duck fast enough, a bullet might take your head off. Or maybe a twenty-meter-tall beast decides you'd make a nice snack."
Sylar's eyes widened, his lips tightening in disbelief. Before he could respond, Astro cut in, his voice calm and measured. "Don't listen to him."
Relief briefly washed over Sylar—until Astro added, "The big beasts aren't the problem. It's the small ones that'll get you. During my trial, a wasp-like thing decided to nest in my femur. I still feel phantom pains sometimes."
Sylar's face twitched. "So… stray bullets, giant monsters, alien insects building homes in my bones. Anything else?"
Oscar grinned. "A rain of fire that lasts for days."
"Plants that secrete neurotoxins strong enough to make you puke blood until you die," Astro added casually.
"And gases that make your lungs explode from the inside," Oscar finished, nodding sagely.
Sylar slumped in disbelief. "Great. Wonderful. Can't wait."
"Enough," Benjamin said sharply. His commanding voice cut through the banter like a blade. The two lieutenants fell silent immediately. Turning back to Sylar, the captain's gaze softened slightly. "They're not wrong. The dangers are real. But as long as you stay focused and disciplined, you'll survive. You've already proven you can endure more than most."
His tone grew firm again. "You're strong, Sylar. Stronger than anyone your age has a right to be. But never grow complacent. Even the most powerful can fall if they underestimate the enemy. Remember, you yourself are proof of that. You killed a Grade 2 lifeform when you were barely at the level of Grade +4. That shouldn't have been possible—and yet, it happened."
Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Grade?"
He had heard that term before—the Nemesis System used a similar classification—but it seemed the human military used it too. Benjamin nodded, taking the question as a cue to elaborate.
"It's a galaxy power ranking system," the captain explained. "It ranges from -5 to +1. A normal person sits at -5. A trained soldier—someone who's spent decades perfecting their skills—might reach +5. From there, the scale resets. Grade 4, Grade 3, and so on, each step exponentially stronger than the last."
Oscar grinned and spoke proudly. "Astro and I are both Grade 2." He then turned to Benjamin, his tone carrying clear admiration. "But the Captain here… he's a Grade +2. His strength borders on the next tier already."
Sylar's mouth fell open. "Grade 1?"
The mere idea left him stunned. Grade 2 warriors could move faster than the eye could follow, generate sonic booms just by sprinting, and crush buildings with their bare hands. What could a Grade 1 even be capable of? The thought made his pulse quicken.
Yet, confusion soon replaced his awe.
Oscar seemed to notice Sylar's troubled expression and, as if reading his thoughts, spoke again. "If you're wondering why the Captain was almost defeated by that abomination, it's because he was already exhausted after killing a Grade +2 member of the Luminarchs."
Sylar's eyes widened with awe and admiration. Captain Benjamin had killed a Grade +2 lifeform—and even after such a feat, he had still fought with astonishing power and precision. The boy could hardly imagine the kind of strength required to accomplish something like that.
Yet, as Benjamin saw the admiration in Sylar's eyes, his own gaze hardened, his tone turning sharp and cold.
"Remember this, boy," he said firmly. "If you hadn't appeared when you did, I would be dead. It doesn't matter if I was exhausted or injured—excuses won't bring you back to life."
The words hit Sylar like a hammer. For a brief moment, he said nothing, then gave a deep, respectful nod. Benjamin was right. On the battlefield, circumstances didn't matter. The only thing that decided the outcome was who lived and who died. It was brutal—but it was also the truth.
Silence lingered for a few seconds before Sylar spoke again, his voice quieter but full of intent. "Who were those entities that attacked my world? The abomination, the spores that infected people… and those strange machines?"
Although the Nemesis System had revealed fragments of information, he still lacked a clear understanding of their true nature.
Benjamin considered his question for a moment, then nodded. "I'll give you a simple explanation. If you want the full truth, become a Shooting Star." He folded his arms before continuing.
"First, the infected. They are part of a collective intelligence known as the Myceliarchy—the Thinking Rot. It's a vast hive mind that infects anything composed of biomass, though it especially hungers for sentient life. It spreads through fungal spores, acting both like a virus and a parasite. Once infection begins, it replaces the host's tissue with fungal matter, fusing flesh and rot into something new. The result is the monsters you fought—creatures that can grow endlessly, some even reaching the power of a Grade 1 lifeform."
Sylar felt a chill crawl down his spine. The description alone painted a picture of something nightmarish—an enemy that consumed worlds and turned the living into its puppets.
Benjamin continued, his tone grave. "Then there are the machines you encountered. They belong to the Luminarchs—a race of sentient artificial intelligences that inhabit advanced mechanical bodies. Their technology surpasses even that of the Kingdom of Man. To them, flesh is weakness, an abomination against the natural order. They see metal and circuitry as the next stage of evolution."
Sylar's unease deepened. He could feel the weight of Benjamin's words pressing down on him. An intelligent virus that devoured life and a machine civilization that sought to erase it—both sounded like horrors humanity was never meant to face.
"And then," Benjamin fell silent for a moment, his expression darkening as he spoke the last name, "there are the abominations. They are called Apostles. Once, they were human. But they sacrificed their minds and souls in exchange for the power of Paradise."