Michael considered the system's offer. The help was tempting, but the concept of a future debt gave him pause.
"How many points will you deduct? And how long will I have to pay it back?"
[Host can be assured, the system exists to facilitate your growth. The points will not be difficult to earn. You need only break through to the Star Realm to trigger the system's update and settle the debt.]
After a moment of contemplation, Michael made his decision. "Okay. But first, I need to leave this battlefield. It has nothing left to offer me."
His path back to the base was a straight line. He moved with purpose, dispatching any beast that crossed his path with detached efficiency. He no longer sought them out; they were merely obstacles.
Within hours, he stood before the Golden Rise Group branch once more. This time, he didn't return to his apartment, heading directly for the building where Mike was already waiting for him, an invitation in hand.
Michael was ushered directly to the top floor.
"Mr. Mike, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Michael said as he entered.
Mike observed him, noting a subtle shift in his demeanor—a sharper, more focused intensity. "Not at all. A valued client like you is always a pleasure," Mike replied, his tone more deferential than before.
Michael noticed the change. He was no longer being treated as the lost 20-year-old Mike had once mentored, but as a powerful warrior and a scion of a prominent family. Respect, it seemed, was dictated by strength.
"I have more spoils to sell," Michael stated, getting straight to the point. "And I need your help to secure immediate passage back to Blue Star."
Travel from the space battlefield was strictly controlled by the Federation military. While every warrior was required to book a return ticket, the process involved long queues and bureaucratic checks, contingent on fulfilling one's military merit quota by killing a set number of beasts. Michael, who had arrived five years ago with no intention of returning, had never booked one. Now, with his true power concealed, leveraging Mike's connections was the most discreet option.
"That can be easily arranged," Mike assured him. "Which superbase?"
"Starlight Superbase." Michael's answer was deliberate, the name laden with unspoken history.
Mike didn't react, though he noted the weight in Michael's voice. He knew better than to pry into the affairs of such a family.
"I need to leave today," Michael added.
"Consider it done. Our group has special logistical passes for transporting goods. We can have you on a platform within the hour." Mike then produced an elegant envelope. "This is for you. An auction hosted by one of our subsidiaries. You might find something there to aid your advancement."
Michael accepted the invitation, a strategic advantage he appreciated. "Thank you," he said, his voice lowering. "Not just for this, but for all your support over the years. I mean it. If you ever need aid, or find yourself in trouble, call on me. Even if I am estranged from my family, I will become powerful in my own right. This world is ruled by strength, but I do not forget those who offered a hand when I had nowhere else to go."
The words were as much a vow to himself as a promise to Mike. They were a reminder of the cold truth: with power, you are a king; without it, you are forgotten.
Mike was taken aback by the raw conviction and the sudden, overwhelming killing intent that briefly radiated from Michael—an aura that could only be forged in countless life-or-death struggles, not mere hunts. For a moment, he felt a genuine chill.
Michael reined in his emotions. "My apologies. I let my past get the better of me."
"It's quite alright," Mike said, recovering his composure. "And I thank you for your recognition. I will not hesitate to call if needed."
As they spoke, Mike's secretary returned with an appraisal. "Sir, the spoils include 30 Warlord-level beast and alien corpses. The total comes to 3 billion credits."
Mike authorized the transfer. Michael's account balance now swelled to over 20 billion credits—a fortune accumulated over five years of ascetic living in the wilderness, with nothing but his equipment to spend on.
Mike then escorted Michael, along with a team transporting the goods, to the heavily fortified military complex that housed the teleportation array—the base's most secure location and its only lifeline to Blue Star. A memory, sharp and bitter, surfaced in Michael's mind: in his past life, a military traitor had destroyed this very device, dooming everyone to die without escape. His trust in the Federation was, and would always be, non-existent.
They entered a vast hall dominated by the teleportation array itself—an enormous arc forged from mysterious, humming alloys, a gateway between worlds. Its origins were a secret known only to the highest echelons of human power.
With a final nod to Mike, Michael stepped onto the platform alongside other travelers. A brilliant light flared, engulfing them, and when it faded, they were gone.