Chapter 16: The oasis market of alien worlds

After a long search, Nova finally found the last skill he wanted. It belonged to a humanoid creature covered in a black shell that resembled full-body armor. The shell featured intricate 3D tribal designs on the front and sides, while its back extended outward like stalactites, stretching from top to bottom.

“How many clones can this monster make?” said Nova, evading attacks from the clones the creature had created.

The creature could shoot fist-sized bursts of energy from its hands. Any object or weaker living being hit by the energy would turn into one of its clones. A small black shell would begin to grow on their skin—or on the surface of the object—expanding until it fully enveloped them, forming a body identical in shape and size to the original creature.

"Do you want to become annoying, big bro?" said Cyre, cutting and mincing the clones in frustration.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Nova as he spun his body and knife, slicing the heads off the clones surrounding him.

"You’re trying to get a skill from the creature that annoys me this much! These things keep popping up, and we can’t even get close to the main body!" shouted Cyre. She kicked and punched through the swarm, sending clones flying in a straight line—crashing into others and launching a whole cluster of them hundreds of meters away.

They were surrounded by hundreds of clones, the main body hiding behind the furthest one in the distance.

“No, this annoying skill is actually kind of nice. But did you notice how it keeps absorbing some of the clones it creates and getting stronger over time?” said Nova, standing back-to-back with Cyre. “Now that I think about it, if this keeps up, we might not be able to beat it later.”

Realizing this, Nova grabbed Cyre and threw her toward the main body.

Cyre soared through the air, closing in fast. But just before she reached the creature, all the clones melted, and cracks began to spread across the main body’s shell. It collapsed to the ground—completely still. It was dead.

Cyre landed safely beside the fallen creature, then turned her gaze toward Nova.

Nova, running over to her, noticed the look and said, “Looks like it couldn’t handle everything it absorbed.”

“See, big brother? That’s what happens to an annoying people,” Cyre said with a serious face.

…

About five months had passed since the catastrophe began. Nova and Cyre now stood in front of the portal at the top of the stairs, where a unique screen appeared before them. A new stage—one they had never encountered before—was displayed along with its explanation.

The screen stated that in this new stage, people could stay for as long as they wanted. The one-month-per-stage time limit had been lifted. However, there would be no source of food provided.

It also explained why the stage had only appeared for Nova and Cyre after so much time had passed.

The reason was to keep strong individuals motivated to continue striving toward becoming Severers, rather than slacking off. For weaker people, however, the screen would appear earlier—for the sake of their mental health—with the hope that they’d eventually move forward and keep pushing to grow stronger.

The aliens seemed to have a way to gauge each person’s abilities—whether someone had defeated a powerful boss, advanced quickly through stages, or already reached a high-level stage.

Without hesitation, they chose the new stage and stepped inside.

They were greeted by two guards standing beneath a wooden gate, which connected to a waist-high wooden fence surrounding the settlement behind it.

All of it stood atop a flat, white, grid-patterned ground. The surrounding walls and ceiling were plain white, giving the whole place a sterile, artificial feel.

The guard demanded to take their picture and collect a drop of their blood. After that, they were allowed inside.

As they came inside, they saw market stalls stretched out in neat rows, surrounded by a crowd of people browsing the displays.

Nova’s eyes gleamed as he took in the sight before him, while Cyre bounced with excitement, swinging Nova’s hand and pointing at the food stands and the strange—but—fascinating things on display.

“Alien delicacies! Come and taste something you’ve never experienced before!” shouted an old man, tossing a wok in his hands. A line of curious people had already formed in front of his stall.

“Beds made from alien parts! Even hammocks for your next adventure! We’ve got houses ready too—come take a look!” called out a young woman dressed in a tight outfit that accentuated her figure.

“Free food here! HYDRA—slice it for unlimited portions! One per person, completely free!” said a cheerful young man with a smile. He placed a transparent jar on the table, inside of which floated a swarm of tiny jellyfish-like creatures with long, slender bodies.

“Market-priced potions! New and credible! Come and get them—limited stock!” shouted an old man wearing glasses who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Within seconds, people swarmed his stall.

Nova snapped back to his senses the moment he heard the word potion. He panicked, eager to buy something that already sounded useful just by name alone. But seeing how crowded the stall was, he immediately gave up.

There were many more stalls—blacksmiths, bookstores or archivist booths, skill sellers, buyers of alien body parts, and even idol merchandise stands. Apparently, idols were still in demand, even in desperate times like these.

But more than anything, what surprised Nova and Cyre the most was the pathfinder stall or send home service stall.

Nova didn’t bother with the bookstore—his own experience was enough. He didn’t need the skill sellers either, since he could just use the reset stone. As for the blacksmith, Nova could craft his own equipment. Sure, his work looked rougher compared to the polished gear on display, but it probably functioned just as well.

More than anything, he didn’t have any money.

Nova thought about heading to the guide stall instead, but after a moment of consideration, he decided to check out something else first and come back later.

“Hey, let’s take a closer look at the idol merch, Cyre,” he said.

Without saying a word, Cyre grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the idol stall. Instead, they walked toward the send-home service stall.

When they arrived at the stall, a man was facing away from them, working at a table behind the counter.

Laid out on the table was a piece of furry alien skin. The man held a square-shaped device in his hand, moving it across the surface in a precise pattern. As he moved, tiny worm-like creatures followed the path of his hand, opening their mouths and devouring the fur in their way. He was carving a map.

“Uncle! Morning!?” Cyre called out cheerfully to the man at the guide stall.

“Haha! We don’t really have clocks or a way to tell time here, little girl—good one,” the man laughed as he turned around. After spotting the scruffy facial hair on Nova’s face, he added, “So, what brings two young adventurers like you to me?”

“You're so creative, Uncle—making a map out of something like that,” said Nova.

“Nah, this is just how it’s done around here. Take a look around!” replied the man.

Nova and Cyre did as the man said.

Far behind the pathfinder stall, they saw a washing machine made from alien body parts spinning as energy was channeled into it.

They were then drawn to the sound of pounding. They saw people building houses and stalls using alien parts. A batch of nails was poured into something that looked like a pistol magazine, then attached to the alien tool. When energy was channeled into it, the tool fired the nails with precision, driving them deep and clean in one shot.

Afterward, they saw a young man pass in front of them, riding an alien device used for mobility and delivery. The cart was made from alien parts—some could even move like motorcycles when infused with energy after someone hopped on.

“You are right, uncle.” said Nova.

“Hey, big bro, I know it’s better if we walk to train our stamina. But can you buy the cart so we can play with it?” said Cyre, her eyes gleaming. Nova turned his gaze to Cyre.

“Wait aren’t you guys the duo saints?” asked the man.

“Duo charming?” replied Cyre, touching her cheeks with both index fingers.

“Am I charming, uncle?” asked Nova, glancing back at the man.

“You two have become legends to us,” the man said, ignoring their antics. “You’ve left so many messages behind to help people survive—even giving advice based on personality traits and how to identify them. For example, for people with good accuracy, those who can hide well, straightforward types, or the calculating ones—you gave tips on which next stage would suit them best.”

“Hey, big bro, he ignored us. I don’t really like him. He’s not funny. But I don’t hate him either,” said Cyre, turning to Nova with a serious face.

“Mmm, well, he’s an uncle after all. Uncles have a lot on their plate, Cyre. Be kind to him.” Nova replied. “Anyway, it’s an honor for us to receive such a compliment, uncle.”

“No, no, that compliment was nothing. As thanks, we already did a little something for you saints. We heard your belongings were stolen by some thugs before. Even the black market boss got angry when he found out they stole from the saints—especially after all the times you helped people, including him, by leaving messages all over the place,” the man said with a wide smile. His expression then shifted to a more serious one.

“Now those thugs have been made to work in the storage,” the man said, pointing toward a house with a large sliding door in the distance.

Nova and Cyre could indeed see them inside, carrying heavy items.

Cyre’s forehead tensed, and her face turned red as she tried to charge toward them, but Nova caught her by the collar of her shirt.

“But don’t worry,” the man added, “if they repent and change their hearts, we’ll release them later.”

“Also, I have a message from the higher-ups for you saints,” the man continued. “All your previous belongings had to be used in desperate situations. Some are already broken, and others are still being used by our people to venture through the stages. But don’t worry—you can receive compensation in money if you visit the minister’s office. And as a bonus, young saints, you also get this ticket for free.”

He handed them a stone that seemed to carry some sort of usefulness.

“Give it to me, Uncle! What kind of ticket is this?” Cyre asked, holding out her hands, palms up.

“Did you know that we can go back to Earth? This ticket can be used to return if you throw it into the portal. It’s very limited and hard to obtain, so please be careful not to lose it,” answered the man.

“Is this related to your stall?” asked Nova.

“Correct. Since there are still many people who want to return to Earth, but only a limited number of tickets have been found, this kind of job appeared,” explained the man. “There’s a stage that may appear after this one, called the Earth Stage. But some people—those who’ve lost confidence, can’t move forward anymore because… maybe lost parts of their bodies—will hire people like me who run stalls like this.” He handed them a piece of paper that looked like a menu from a restaurant.

Cyre accepted the paper, then leaned toward Nova so he could easily see it. Nova lowered his head to look at the menu with her.

“This is interesting, Uncle. But the prices are pretty cheap—only sixty thousand for the most expensive one,” said Cyre.

“No, Cyre, that’s sixty thousand dollars. That’s actually really expensive. But I guess it’s not a big deal for us since we have this ticket,” Nova explained. “Wait… if this ticket is so rare, doesn’t that mean its value is super high?”

“That’s also a good choice, Saints. I can see you’re strong enough to survive here, so I don’t think there’s a problem if you decide to sell it,” the man said with a soft smile toward Nova and Cyre.

“Ah, one more thing. This might be common knowledge, but since it’s your first time here, I should mention it—everyone who contributes to society during this catastrophe will receive some kind of reward from the government. Once you reach the city, you’ll probably also get one,” he added.

“Society and government, huh? Aren’t they doing something about the dirty people over there?” Nova asked, pointing to a group of individuals sitting in rows. Some of them were skinny and had lost their limbs. They had thin, ragged mats under them, their clothes torn and bodies untidy. Their heads hung low, their expressions heavy with despair.

“As you can see, some of them have already lost their limbs. Others have lost their families and friends. There's not much we can do if it's a matter of the heart. As for food and water, we provide them for free, three times a day. The place itself doesn't have rain, and the temperature is constant, so the housing isn’t an issue. But sending them home—that’s not possible, as this is a business. The truth is, I want to help them too, but my time isn't really mine to control. I’m just a worker here. It’s our boss’s decision, and even now, we’re short on staff for this business. Even I'm here today just by chance, since the requester hasn’t come yet.” explained the man.

"What about the people who look depressed but seem clean and tidy in there, uncle?" asked Cyre.

"They... lost their equipment and their confidence to move forward. And they don’t have the money to buy a new one. From what I’ve heard, they're also worried about their kids. The alien broadcasts showed that the children were sent to a kind of military school. The kids were given basic physical training, similar to military drills but adjusted to their level. Even though the videos showed they were safe, unlike the adults who feared being eaten by creatures, the parents still worry that their children will feel lonely, and in a way, they themself miss them." explained the man.

Hearing the last thing they wanted to hear, and finally understanding why those people were so depressed, Nova and Cyre ran toward them. They gave all their unused equipment to the ones who had lost confidence in surviving the next stage. They handed over their ticket to the city to those who had lost their limbs. Coincidentally, the ten people who had lost their limbs perfectly matched the ten-person limit per ticket.

Nova and Cyre gave away everything they didn’t need—each item carefully matched to their needs. They didn’t even care what race or country someone came from. The thought that they might be a different kind of human never even crossed their minds—not when they saw different skin tones, hair colors, or their eye colors. It was the kind of cultural inclusivity they practiced without even realizing it.