The next few days passed by in a flash. Zion trained hard in his new, luxurious room, only taking breaks when Uriel forced him to.
Whether they were basic strength exercises or the usual simulated battles against the shadowy figures, Zion didn't complain about his sweat, pain, and fatigue even once.
[Host, that's enough for today,] Uriel's voice echoed through Zion's mind.
"Mhm," Zion murmured, sweat still dripping off his face. "I'll go take a nice hot shower then."
[Affirmative,] Uriel said, its voice soft. [Also, don't forget to charge us up later. The current energy levels hit just below thirty percent.]
"Oh, thanks for reminding me," he said, tossing his clothes aside as he stepped under the shower. "Truly don't know what I'd do without you."
Warm water poured over Zion's head, steam filling the spacious shower as the tension slowly drained from his muscles.
"Uriel, can you show me the progress I've made these past three days?"
[Affirmative.]
Within a second, a blue screen popped up inside Zion's eye, showing him three progress bars.
[Neural synchronization rate: 37.9% -> 50.2%.]
[Muscle integration: 17% -> 25.1%.]
[Physique: 24.1% -> 30.4%.]
Zion stayed quiet for a moment as he took in the numbers.
"How did my Neural Sync increase so much?" he muttered, surprised. "I remember the last time I trained on Ravel's ship, it was only like thirty-two percent."
[Because Host engaged in high-stress combat during the assessment and the encounter with Ravel,] Uriel explained calmly. [Those events contributed approximately six and two percent respectively.]
"Ah," Zion said, nodding as he turned off the water. "I remember you telling me something like that before."
[Affirmative,] Uriel responded. [Though Host's mind was occupied with far more important things back then.]
Zion nodded once more, his mind going back to the death planet.
'That was something,' he thought, shaking his head as he stepped out of the shower. 'I really wouldn't have been here without Uriel's help…'
As he walked through his spacious room and dressed himself, he couldn't help but stare out of his large window. Down below, an endless number of people, cars, and even ships moved through the city.
Compared to what he'd felt on the death planet, this place looked… peaceful.
Zion watched the city for a few seconds longer before turning away from the window.
"Uriel," he said after a moment, "have you found any missions worth checking out?"
There was a brief moment of silence before Uriel replied.
[There are missions available that fit our objectives,] it said. [However, several contain incomplete intelligence, irregular reward structures, or threat discrepancies.]
Zion's expression didn't change.
"Like expected…" he mumbled to himself. "We'll have to sort out the bad apples ourselves."
Zion let out a quiet breath. Encountering creatures far above the listed danger was the last thing he wanted to happen.
"I'd much rather deal with unreliable people than unreliable information."
[Affirmative. Mission data can be falsified or incomplete,] Uriel replied. [Human behavior, while unreliable, can at least be observed.]
Zion nodded once, a small smile on his face.
"Let's look at some crews first then."
[I have identified several crews currently operating on short-term contracts,] it replied. [Most lack long-term cohesion but possess acceptable survival records.]
Zion walked toward the desk, pulling back a chair.
"Good," he said, still smiling. "That's exactly what we are looking for."
As he sat down, Uriel projected a long list with nearly fifty different crews in front of him. Each listing was accompanied by a set of performance metrics showing recent mission counts, casualty rates, and contract completion ratios.
Zion leaned back, scanning them in silence.
'Quite a few with high casualty rates,' he thought, frowning. 'But those aren't necessarily bad…'
Instead, the crews he removed without hesitation were the ones with consistently low to mid-level casualty rates.
"Those are easy to spot," he muttered, shaking his head. "Most have good teamwork but likely kill the newcomers or use them as bait."
While he was prepared for a crew turning on him, he preferred it to be a small one rather than a well-oiled team.
One by one, Zion filtered out entire categories, removing those with suspiciously low completion rates and even those with flawless but low mission counts, since they were too organized for him to blend into.
"This is all that's left, huh," he muttered, glancing at the seven remaining crews. "None of these seem too organized or too sketchy. All that's left to do is send them a message."
Zion sent out the messages one by one, keeping them short, with a few basic questions and his purpose for joining.
When he was done, the interface faded away.
"That's it," he said. "Now we wait."
[Affirmative,] Uriel replied.
Zion leaned back in his chair for a moment before standing up again.
"Let's get back to training then," he said. "The answers will probably take a while."
The rest of the day passed quietly.
Zion recharged the suit, ate a proper meal, and ran through a lighter training session focused more on recovery than progress.
When he woke up the next morning, there were still no alerts waiting for him.
Zion didn't let that bother him, having somewhat expected this since he didn't have any mission completions to his name yet.
It wasn't until later that afternoon, while he was halfway through another training cycle, that Uriel's voice cut in.
[Host, we have received a response.]
Zion slowed his movements but didn't stop.
"Which one?"
[The Blue Mane crew,] Uriel replied. [They are requesting a meeting for tomorrow, but…]
Zion exhaled softly and straightened.
"But what?"
[Their meeting location is unusual,] Uriel said, a trace of hesitation in its voice. [They are requesting to meet at their warehouse on the city's edge rather than here.]
Zion paused, weighing the implications.
"That's fine," he finally said. "We'll just need to prepare well."