"Captain Sara, your mission in the Teleportation Interface, Level One, is to rescue the Golden Phoenix on Venus. Upon completion, you will be rewarded with one thousand and five hundred group points. Additional rewards include:
1. Area of expertise: System-selected upgrade.
2. EXP: two hundred points for each participant.
3. Combat skills: A twenty percent boost for each participant.
4. Rank: Advancement by ten levels, subject to participant level.
5. Title: Upgrade or new title assignment.
6. Lives: Preserved if survival conditions are met.
7. Net worth: Ten thousand dollars for each participant.
8. Special powers: Randomly assigned by the system.
9. Match record: Wins and losses logged accordingly.
Note: This interface has a death match mode. Good luck!"
"Team, our success depends on precision and collaboration," Sara addressed her crew.
"We can't make any mistakes. Now, enter your codes for teleportation!"
Sara pressed the button, and in an instant, she found herself onboard in the Zencra airship, soaring through the Milky Way Galaxy.
In less than ten minutes, all the team members were on board.
"Alright, team," Sara said with determination.
"We will soon be on the land of Mars. This is a must-win mission, and remember—don't die. Most importantly, have fun. Let's rock and roll!"
"Rock and roll!" the crew echoed in unison.
Miles, a bubbly and overly curious scout, was the first to chime in as they approached Mars, "Captain, we're breaching Mars's stratosphere." "It is so peaceful, no resistance in sight!" He paused, then added teasingly, "Hey, Captain, do you have a boyfriend on the outside?"
Sara shot him a sharp glare. "Stay focused, Miles."
Miles grinned sheepishly but didn't respond.
"Sargent Madison," Sara called, switching her focus. "I need two pairs of your eyes on the ground."
"You got them, Captain," Madison responded with military precision, already scanning the landscape with his binoculars.
Cipher, who had been silent since teleportation, suddenly caught Sara's attention. "Cipher, everything okay? You've been quiet."
"All good, Captain," Cipher replied. "I'm ready for what lies ahead." It was her first mission, and she felt a mix of anxiety and excitement.
"Good," Sara nodded. "Stay sharp."
As the Zencra airship descended toward Lovedrake city, Miles announced, "Captain, we're landing. There's nothing but dense forests in the distance."
"Alright, everyone," Sara commanded, unfolding a map.
"We've got fifteen minutes to reach the safe house and thirty minutes to get to Dragons Village. Let's move!"
The crew disembarked in a single file, sprinting toward the forest. They were halfway to their destination when a sudden sense of danger gripped them all.
"It's a trap!" Sara shouted.
"We've been ambushed! No retreat—advance forward!"
The air filled with chaos as a missile struck the Zencra airship, sending the team sprawling across the sand. The explosion left nothing but a cloud of dust and debris.
"Is everyone alright?" Sara called out, her voice edged with worry.
"We're surrounded!" Sargent Madison shouted, taking aim as enemy fire erupted around them.
Cipher, in the chaos, managed to slip away unnoticed. Her heart raced as she darted toward the forest. She activated her comm device, desperation in her voice. "Team! Can anyone hear me?" Silence. "Captain Sara?" No response. "Sargent Madison? Miles?" Still nothing.
Cipher slowed her pace, forcing herself to stay calm despite the growing fear. The only sounds were the faint crackle of static and the distant footsteps of their enemies.
"This can't be happening," she whispered, pushing herself to move faster. She knew she had to reach the safe house.
Meanwhile, in Dragons Village, chaos reigned. A crowd had gathered in the central square, their chants filling the air: "Burn them! Burn the witch!"
A family stood bound in the center, pelted with stones and rotten fruit. The king's right hand, Marcus Cretan, raised his hand I'm silence. The crowd fell quiet as he spoke.
"Rutherford! You and your family stand accused of practicing magic in the land of Dragons Village. Do you plead guilty or not?"
What happens next? Will Cipher survive? Will Rutherford's answer change his fate? The journey continues...
"Not guilty, my Lord!" Rutherford declared, his voice hoarse but resolute. Blood dripped from a gash above his brow, painting a tragic image of defiance as he stood shackled in the center of the ancient Dragons square.
Overhead, the burning sun cast the city of Dradoma in a relentless light, illuminating its timeworn cobblestone streets and the crude gallows hastily erected in the square.
The architectural style of Dragons was a blend of utilitarian stone fortresses and elegant arches, relics of a forgotten golden age now overshadowed by superstition and fear.
At the front of the square, Marcus Cretan stood tall on the raised dais. His stern demeanor, etched with lines of age and authority, was made all the more formidable by his attire—a crimson velvet robe lined with thick ermine fur, signifying his role as both judge and executioner.
"What is the basis of your plea, Rutherford?" Cretan's voice boomed across the square, silencing the murmurs of the gathered mob.
"My Lord," Rutherford began, his voice gaining strength despite his visible injuries.
"My family and I have done nothing wrong." "We have only sought to save the people of Dragons from their suffering—curing illnesses, mending wounds, and protecting them from plagues that threaten their lives."
In the crowd, many wore crude woolen cloaks and weathered hats, their faces smeared with grime from years of labor. But despite their own struggles, their eyes burned with hatred.
"He is not telling the truth!" a voice from the back of the crowd yelled, echoed quickly by others.
Cretan's brow furrowed as he paced slowly across the dais, his polished leather boots clicking ominously against the stone.
"Rutherford," he said with deliberate precision, "the villagers claim your so-called medicine is no medicine at all. They accuse you of wielding dark magic—of raising the dead. Do you deny this?"
"Dark magic?" Rutherford scoffed bitterly.
"No, my Lord. I am a doctor and scientist by profession. I have used nothing but the advancements of modern medicine and science—tools to heal, not harm. I reject these baseless claims."
But the crowd erupted again. "Burn the witch!" came a shrill cry from an elderly woman draped in layers of patchwork fabric, her gnarled hands clutching a carved staff. Her call was quickly joined by others, their cries escalating into a cacophony of anger and fear.
Marcus raised his gauntlet hand, and the mob quieted instantly. His expression grew colder, like the stillness of a storm. "Rutherford," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "The words of the people are evidence enough." "Therefore, by the power vested in me by King Zylath Ghanda, ruler of Planet Mars, I, Marcus Cretan…!"