62. Laughter in the Dunes
Moon was still processing all the information when he turned to Kai and asked,
Moon leaned back, still digesting everything they'd learned over the past few days. His mind wandered, curious and restless as ever.
He looked over at Kai.
"So… do the other races ever get a real shot at becoming powerful?"
He paused, then listed a few.
"Like the Felis Catus, the insectoids, reptilians, pirates... I mean, do they just stay weak forever?"
Kai smiled faintly, as if he had anticipated the question.
"That same thought bugged me too," he said. "Especially after I started studying multiversal evolution and race dynamics. At first, it felt unfair. But there's more to it at least for the last 500k years ."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"You see… There's a reason why humans, dragons, and Gandharvas eventually collaborated to create what we now call the Mecha Race. It wasn't originally a race—it was a solution."
Moon raised an eyebrow. "A solution?"
Kai nodded. "Yeah. Originally, the Mecha protocol was designed as a last resort for crippled warriors or dying geniuses. Whether you were human, or even a minor race like the jellyfish-type Uboids—if your body was broken beyond recovery, you had one final option: transfer your consciousness into a mechanical body."
Moon's eyes narrowed. "So anyone can become a mecha?"
"In theory, yes," Kai replied. "The system doesn't discriminate. But—" he raised a finger, "—there's a huge catch. The process is brutally expensive. And I don't mean a few million credits."
Moon crossed his arms. "How expensive?"
"Let's just say… a basic full-body conversion starts at 70 million credits. And that's for a simple civilian-grade mech body. If you want military-grade, or a body designed for combat, space travel, or essence manipulation… you're looking at hundreds of millions. Some top-tier mechas are even auctioned off for billions."
Moon let out a low whistle. "No wonder the poor can't just 'upgrade' themselves."
Kai continued, "Exactly. Most of the lower races—like the Felis Catus or the reptilians—don't have the economic backing, political influence, or technical infrastructure to fund such transitions. Especially since the conversion requires more than just money."
"Like what?"
Kai counted off on his fingers. "Essence compatibility. Neural synchronization. Psychological stability. Legal approval. And, of course, access to DrewTech Mecha Chambers—which are only available in major galactic hubs."
Moon stared into the distance. "…So it's not just about being born weak. It's about not having a damn ticket out."
Kai sighed. "Pretty much. And that's where the Mecha Race became controversial. Because over time, the number of converted warriors grew so large—across so many different species—that the Interdimensional Federation officially categorized them as a 'synthetic species.' Thus, the Mecha Race was born."
Moon frowned slightly. "But if they're all from different origins… are they really one race?"
Kai smiled again. "That's the irony. They're more united than most based species. Why? Because they chose to be what they are. They don't care about race, gender, or origin. Once you're a mecha, you're part of the collective. You're upgraded, efficient, and durable. But…"
"But?"
Kai's tone dropped. "You lose something. Your Sensory feedback. Creativity. Even your dreams. Some say they're the price for perfection. Others call it... the cost of survival."
Moon was quiet for a while.
Then he muttered, "Sounds like a curse disguised as a blessing."
Kai nodded slowly. "It is. That's why most races only go through it when there's no other choice. For the rich and powerful? It's a path to immortality. For the desperate? It's a death sentence with a metal body."
Moon leaned back and exhaled. "Damn."
As twilight blanketed the sky in shades of violet and silver, Moon and Kai pulled out a sleek, metallic cube barely the size of a shoebox. It was unassuming—cold to the touch, matte-black, with faint blue circuit veins running across its surface.
This was no ordinary shelter.
It was a high-end automatic mechanical tent, a next-generation survival structure engineered by none other than Drew Industries, the leading tech conglomerate known for bending reality itself. The moment Kai channeled a trickle of his essence energy into the activation core, the cube began to unfold with a series of mechanical clicks and hisses—like a blooming techno-lotus.
Within seconds, the ground beneath it pulsed, and the tent expanded outward and upward in a smooth, fluid motion—forming a dome-shaped structure reinforced with reflective nanomesh fibers and shield plating. From the outside, it looked compact—no taller than a one-room hut. But once they stepped inside...
It was a different world.
The interior space defied logic, far larger than its external dimensions could ever suggest. There were two padded sleeping pods, a folding table, clean storage compartments, adjustable lighting panels, a temperature-regulated climate system, and even a built-in noise-cancellation field. It felt like stepping into a quiet pocket of peace amidst the hostile wilds of the Expanse.
This marvel was made possible by space distortion technology—a field so advanced and volatile that even top-tier interdimensional scientists had labeled it "unstable," "theoretical," or flat-out "impossible."
But Drew…
Drew had made it real.
Again.
The tent—officially called DomeSafe Model Zeta-9—was wildly popular across multiple dimensions, particularly among high-ranking hunters, explorers, and mercenaries. But its price tag kept it exclusive: 2 million credits, with no financing options. No refunds either.
It wasn't just shelter.
It was safety.
It was privacy.
And for many, it was the line between survival and oblivion.
That night…
Kai suddenly woke up with a full bladder.
Grumbling, he stepped outside the tent and walked about 50 meters away to relieve himself.
Just as he was finishing—
--
TUNNNNNN!
The notification sound wasn't loud—but in the dead stillness of the night, it felt like a blade slicing through silence.
Kai flinched.
His body froze for a second, then snapped into motion. He zipped up quickly, eyes narrowing. With a flick of his fingers, a coil of Hydro essence formed mid-air. Cold, clean water splashed into his palms as he rubbed them together, the chill grounding him.
His system interface blinked open—faint bluish light glowing on his face.
Then… he saw it.
A pulsing red dot on his map.
Coordinates: 850 km northeast from their location.
He tapped it, excited to see their first quest by system .
But what opened next... was anything but normal.
---
> ??????????
??????????
Visit the place to gain knowledge.
Quest Reward: ?????
Rarity: Extremely Rare
—System Notification
---
Kai's breath hitched.
There were no quest level tags. No threat level. No timestamp.
And no "Accept" button.
It was already marked.
"…Why would the system auto-track a location?" he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Every quest so far needed a trigger."
Then, something even weirder.
The system log history was empty.
No data. No memory of when the quest was generated.
His pupils dilated slightly. "That's… not supposed to be possible."
He opened the trace route of the data file.
> Origin: Unknown protocol. No source server.
What the—?
Suddenly, the air around him felt heavy.
Still.
Wrong.
A prickling sensation crawled up his spine.
And then—
He felt it.
A gaze.
From behind.
Not physical. Not sensed by vision.
But felt—deep inside his bones.
It was like his soul had suddenly become aware that it was being watched.
Slowly, Kai turned around.
The dunes stretched outward—silent, colorless under the twin moons.
Wind passed like a whisper.
Nothing moved.
No beasts. No signature. No movement in the soul field.
But still…
Something was there.
Somewhere just beyond what his eyes could reach.
Watching.
Waiting.
But the second he did, a faint pulse of static erupted in his mind. Like something didn't want to be seen.
His head throbbed. He instantly shut it off.
"...Nope." His voice was a whisper. "Screw that."
He turned back quickly, footsteps faster now as he made his way to the tent.
But the desert behind him…
It felt alive.
Like if he looked back one more time, he'd see something standing there.
Not physical. Not breathing.
But real, maybe some type of soul essence creature.
---
He entered the tent and sealed it shut behind him.
The interior lights flickered briefly.
Moon was asleep, one arm hanging off the bedpod. His breathing steady. The peaceful hum of the space inside should've been calming.
But Kai's heart hadn't stopped racing.
He sat near the curved wall, the back of his shirt sticking to his skin with cold sweat.
That red mark on the map kept pulsing in his mind.
Knowledge awaits.
But at what cost?
He lay down slowly, eyes still open, watching the flickering tent ceiling where constellations shimmered like scattered souls.
In the dark, something outside shifted.
Just once.
He didn't check.
---
Far away...
At 850 km, beneath buried sands, something opened its eyes for the first time in eons.
And smiled.
Next Morning
Moon and Kai packed up their food, utensils, and supplies, storing them back into their storage rings.
Moon glanced down at his torn shirt.
Kai noticed and, without saying a word, pulled out a brownish leather belt from his ring and handed it over.
Moon blinked, confused. "What's this?"
He held up the strange-looking belt—it was wider than normal, with sleek metallic fibers running through it, and tiny magnetic locks embedded into the edges. As he inspected it, Kai pulled out a similar one—except his was matte black with faint bluish circuitry glowing beneath the surface.
Kai gave a quick smirk and began strapping it on. "It's not just a belt. It's a modular shoulder holster. Hybrid tech—half military, half fashion."
The moment he buckled it around his chest, the gear snapped into place with a soft click. Straps uncoiled automatically, wrapping over both shoulders and connecting tightly across his chest and back. In the back of Kai shirt X like pattern and along his chest two horizontal designs along his chest . As soon as the setup completed, the fabric of his torn shirt shimmered—then repaired itself, stitching back together seamlessly. A cold, refreshing wave flowed over his skin.
Moon raised a brow. "It repairs clothes?"
Kai nodded. "Nanoweave response system. Auto-adjusts to body temperature, and even stabilizes minor injuries."
Moon quickly followed, slipping the holster over his shoulders. His was deep gray with silvery white trim and exactly the same design as Kai. The moment the straps locked, the same soothing wave washed through him, like cold water on a summer day. His torn black outfit rippled—and was fully restored.
"Holy shit," Moon muttered. "That white-haired engineer guy is a genius."
Kai chuckled. "Drew's personal design. Prototype series—only a few exist across dimensions."
The holsters weren't just aesthetic. Each came with two slots: one snugly fit for a high-density dagger and the other built for a compact plasma pistol. The material molded perfectly to their movements, giving freedom of motion while keeping everything secure.
Moon stretched his arms, testing the fit. "Lightweight. Feels like it's not even there."
"Exactly," Kai said. "Combat-ready, stealth-approved… and yeah, it cost a fortune."
Moon gave a grin. "Worth it."
Attached to the holster was a pistol—but not your typical sci-fi blaster.
It looked old-school.
Like a sleek, retro version of the Desert Eagle.
Moon blinked, confused. "What's this?"
Kai tapped the side of his own holster. "See this slot here?" he pointed. "Gun's modular. It condenses your essence energy into bullets—no need for ammo. Perfect for quick shots, silent takedowns, or charging up blasts if you've got the control."
Moon's eyes sparkled with interest. "You serious?"
Kai nodded. "And the dagger sheath—it's sharp. You don't need some fancy enchanted dagger. Anything sharp fits."
He glanced at Moon. "And you know how pulling a weapon from a storage ring or soul sea takes a couple seconds?"
"Yeah."
"Well, sometimes, we don't have a couple seconds."
That hit home.
Without a word, Moon reached into his storage ring and pulled out a curved, golden-edged dagger. He twirled it once and smoothly slid it into the sheath under his left ribs.
It locked in with a satisfying click.
Then he turned his attention to the pistol holstered at his side. Sleek, matte silver, lightweight but sturdy.
He gripped it, then focused—slowly infusing his essence energy into it.
A soft hum began. Lines along the barrel pulsed with his blue elemental energy, glowing faintly.
Kai watched from a distance, arms crossed. "Now fire."
Moon aimed at a nearby sand dune, squinting slightly—then pulled the trigger.
BOOM.
The pistol recoiled just slightly, like it had stabilization tech inside.
The dune, once standing a few dozen meters high, exploded violently—dust and sand flew in every direction, rising like a mushroom cloud under a rising sun.
Moon's green eyes widened. "What the hell…"
He holstered the gun with a smooth flick. "That thing hits harder than some mid-tier elemental techniques."
Kai smirked. "That's the compressed shot. You can charge it for a few seconds to increase damage—or rapid-fire if you just want to spam shots."
Moon shook his head, clearly impressed. "Why do I even get surprised anymore? This guy built tents that survive Expanse storms—and now pistols that vaporize hills."
He turned back. "How much did all this cost?"
Kai replied, "Holster and pistol combo? Around a million essence coins. But since we bought the tent together, they gave us a bulk discount."
Moon's jaw dropped. "Wait. A million?"
Kai leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with amusement. "Want to hear something crazier?"
Moon raised an eyebrow. "Always."
Kai grinned. "He designed both—the tent and the holster—when he was still a kid. Barely ten."
Moon nearly dropped the holster. "You what?!"
"Yup. Tent became famous immediately. But this gear? Still under the radar."
Moon chuckled darkly. "Honestly? If I had to pick between the tent and this…"
Kai raised a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Don't even bother. You'd take both."
Moon shrugged. "You're damn right."
Kai laughed. "Typical Moon."
To be continued…