02-02-2345 Celestial Era06:00
"No one is to say anything during the evacuation process or within the colony — as stated in the confidentiality agreement!" said Asterius firmly.
Once again, Revan let out a long sigh, closing his eyes as the weight of exhaustion overtook him. He had only managed to sleep for about seven hours, and his body still ached from fatigue.
"Hey, wake up! Mr. Asterius is furious because of all our stupidity," Kiana whispered frantically.
Revan ignored her, continuing to rest while leaning against the marble wall, half-asleep. Beside him, Kiana stood with a worried expression.
"Come on! Wake up, or he's going to explode!" she hissed again, panic in her tone.
Her shouting drew the attention of everyone inside the grand hall — a massive chamber with white marble walls veined in black patterns that rippled like waves. At the front, enormous glass windows, nearly ten meters high, revealed a skyline filled with towering skyscrapers that stretched endlessly upward.
Hundreds of people were gathered in the hall, all with anxious and confused faces.
"What's the commotion over there?" Asterius asked sharply.
"My apologies, sir — my friend here is sound asleep. Honestly, how can a normal human be this undisciplined?" Kiana asked nervously.
"Records indicate he's been awake for thirty-four hours without rest. He's not an augmented human — no anti-sleep implants — yet he managed to fall asleep while standing. I find that more intriguing than this disturbance," Asterius replied evenly.
With calm precision, Asterius began walking from the edge of the hall. Every step echoed with authority, and the crowd instinctively fell silent in his presence. He reached the center of the room before speaking again.
"The good news is this," Asterius announced, his voice resonating clearly. "Accommodation has been arranged — a hotel managed by the Astral Foundation itself. It will serve as temporary housing and compensation until your return transport to your homeworlds. That process will take approximately one month."
The crowd exchanged confused looks until one young man stepped forward, glaring defiantly.
"Are you kidding us? You're letting us stay in a hotel for a month? Who do you think you are — how rich must you be to flaunt wealth like this?" the young man asked sharply.
Asterius's expression didn't waver. "A fair question. Let's just say a month's expenses are about the same as my daily allowance. My business revenue averages thirty million bits per hour — all from my own Astral Gear innovations. If you call me rich, you underestimate it — I am beyond any millionaire."
The young man froze, his defiance replaced by awkward silence. Then, a middle-aged man stepped forward, his expression stern.
"Wait a second. Some of us can return home, but others are from Earth. We're immigrants — ordinary humans without implants. We only came here to support our families back home, who are already in debt to the Steiner Estate," the man said resolutely.
"Unfortunately, I can't fulfill such requests. That goes against my principles," Asterius replied coldly. "If you can provide something of equal value, I'll compensate you accordingly. But if you came to this planet seeking sympathy, you've chosen the wrong one."
The man straightened his back. "My grandfather once said — you must work for what you want. I'll clean this building, do any job you ask, as long as you'll pay us fair wages to sustain our families."
Asterius smiled faintly. "A complicated request, but fair enough. Based on my calculations — apartment rent averages 2,300 bits per month, with food costs around 100 bits per meal, three times a day — that's about 9,000 bits monthly. So, twenty thousand bits a month should be your fair wage. You'll clean this building. Do you agree?"
The man blinked in disbelief, then smiled awkwardly.
"Wait… what about the administrative fees? The Avalon Group demands a special tax from immigrants — for 'protection' purposes," the man asked cautiously.
Asterius's gaze sharpened. "What are you talking about? The national tax is twenty percent of monthly income. That's the only legal requirement. Are you saying someone's been exploiting that system to extort civilians?"
"Of course," the man said bitterly. "Isn't that normal? The higher-ups always take their commission."
"Absolutely not," Asterius snapped. "I'm already wealthy — extortion would only corrupt the economy's balance. You mentioned Avalon? How interesting… I've heard rumors, but now this makes things far more entertaining."
Without realizing it, Asterius began to grin — then burst into loud laughter, a sharp, villainous sound that echoed throughout the hall. His laughter rolled off the marble walls, startling everyone present.
The great doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a heavy metallic sound, and a group of officials dressed in formal uniforms entered briskly.
"What's so funny here?" one of them demanded in a firm tone.
"A rather amusing joke," Asterius replied, his smile fading into a cold, commanding expression. "A so-called Avalon tax for immigrants. Imagine that — people born on the same world extorting their own kin. Welcome, gentlemen, to the grand hall of the Astral Foundation."
The leader of the new arrivals stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce myself. We are part of the oversight division assigned to handle the crisis that destroyed Astral Foundation facilities. I am Markus Harrison, Head of the International Relations Bureau. I'm here as a representative of ordinary humanity — to ensure their voices are heard."
All eyes turned toward Asterius, whose expression grew even more severe.
"Judging by their expressions, it seems they don't trust you," Asterius said icily.
Markus adjusted his glasses. "Of course not. They don't even know who I am. But this matter concerns humans and humans — and they lack the intellect to speak on equal terms with you, Lord Asterius."
Asterius narrowed his eyes. "Then we'll need confirmation from someone else…"
Before he could continue, a dull thud echoed. Revan's body had slumped sideways to the floor, still asleep.
"When he falls asleep, nothing can wake him," Kiana said awkwardly.
Markus scowled, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "That black-haired boy — damn it, he's the one tarnishing our fraternity's reputation."
The sound of his voice stirred Revan, who slowly opened his eyes, letting out a massive yawn. He looked around groggily, blinking.
"Oh, great. Fell asleep again. Ah— that bed earlier was way too comfortable," he muttered lazily.
He stretched his arms upward and let out another yawn, his gaze drifting toward the hall's grand entrance.
"Oh, crap. We've already reached Crosspoint!?" he exclaimed in sudden panic.
Asterius crossed his arms. "Do you know who these people are?"
"Of course," Revan replied wearily. "I grew up among immigrant communities. These guys love calling themselves conservatives. They organize every immigrant generation into roles that benefit their own council. Harrison— huh, so he made it big now, huh? Always used to bully me just because I didn't have implants."
"So they do have implants," Asterius said sharply. "Then they can't really be considered 'ordinary humans.'"
Asterius's gaze shifted toward the black-uniformed men standing near the doorway. Their posture was rigid, their expressions grave.
"We are the Youth Order of Earthborn Immigrants," one of them declared proudly. "We represent order and discipline. And in case you're wondering, we have military contacts. If you refuse our demands, they'll come for you."
Revan's tone turned cold. "I don't care. You're not my friends, and you're definitely not my superiors."
At that moment, the glass doors slid open again, revealing a man in a crisp military uniform. His boots clicked sharply against the marble floor as he approached.
"Revan Corvus," the soldier said firmly, "we require your assistance with something important."
Revan blinked once, then nodded casually. "Alright. But I'm taking a shower first — over there."
His nonchalance left everyone in the room speechless. Even Markus, who moments earlier had tried to assert control, was now standing frozen, unable to comprehend the young man's complete disregard for the tension that filled the air.
Kiana covered her face, muttering under her breath. "Unbelievable… we're about to get executed, and this idiot wants to bathe first."
Asterius, however, smirked faintly, intrigued by Revan's unshaken composure. "Sometimes," he murmured, "the ones who act like fools are the only ones not bound by fear."
Markus frowned deeply, the tension between him and Asterius thick enough to silence the entire hall. The division between the powerful and the powerless — between the augmented elite and the unmodified humans — had never been clearer than at that moment.
Outside, through the towering glass windows, the sun of the new day rose over Crosspoint, glinting against the endless metallic towers of the colony. But beneath that light, unease continued to simmer — a fragile peace stretched thin between rebellion and authority.