Reborn as a Space Mercenary: From Salaryman to Galactic Legend

Ethan stood at the edge of the clearing, his eyes still adjusting from the glowing light of the monolith he had just encountered. The desert winds howled around him, carrying fine grains of sand that stung against his exposed skin. His hover truck was a distant memory now, swallowed by the shifting sands behind him. Here, in the heart of Kynara's southern desert, the world felt both ancient and alien.

He exhaled heavily, his breaths uneven from the oppressive air. The encounter with the monolith had left him rattled, his mind racing with questions that his AI, Iris, could not answer. The faint static in his ears from the electromagnetic interference persisted, gnawing at his nerves.

And then he saw him.

Out of the swirling sands ahead, a figure emerged, cloaked in the tempest. At first, Ethan thought it was a mirage, his mind playing tricks after hours of tension in this desolate landscape. But as the figure approached, clarity took hold.

It was the same man.

The pale, gaunt figure Ethan had encountered before saving the refugees from Outpost Gamma all those months ago. His hollow eyes and sunken cheeks gave him an almost skeletal appearance, and the strange, glowing tattoos etched across his face shimmered faintly even in the daylight. His long, tattered robes billowed in the wind, and his feet barely seemed to disturb the sand as he moved closer.

Ethan instinctively reached for the plasma dagger at his side, his fingers brushing the hilt. "You again," he muttered, his voice carried away by the wind.

The pale stranger stopped a few paces away, tilting his head in that same unnerving way Ethan remembered. His expression was neutral, almost serene, yet there was an intensity in his hollow gaze that made Ethan feel exposed, as though the man could see through every layer of his being.

"You have come far, Ethan Walker," the stranger said, his voice calm and otherworldly, carrying over the desert winds as if the very air bent to his will.

Ethan's grip on his weapon tightened. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

The stranger smiled faintly, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Who I am is of little consequence. What matters is that you are here, as you were always meant to be."

Ethan's frustration bubbled to the surface. "Stop speaking in riddles. I didn't come out here for cryptic nonsense. You told me before that the storm was just the beginning. What storm? What do you know about what's happening on this planet?"

The pale man didn't flinch. He simply raised a hand, gesturing toward the swirling desert around them. "This planet... it has secrets buried deep, forgotten by time and by those who claimed dominion over it. You, Ethan Walker, are part of its unearthing."

Ethan took a step forward, his voice firm. "Why me? I didn't choose to be here. I didn't ask for any of this."

The stranger's hollow eyes bore into him. "Fate rarely waits for consent. It calls upon those who are unprepared, unknowing, and yet... necessary."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "I'm no one special. I'm just a mercenary trying to survive."

The stranger's faint smile returned. "If survival were your only aim, you would not have come this far."

The winds around them began to pick up, whipping sand into spiraling tendrils that danced across the dunes. The stranger turned away from Ethan and began walking toward the horizon, his movements effortless despite the shifting terrain.

"Follow," he said simply, his voice cutting through the gale.

Ethan hesitated, every instinct in his body screaming to turn back, to leave this enigmatic figure and the unease he brought behind. But the pull he felt was undeniable. It wasn't just the stranger's words, it was something deeper, something he couldn't explain.

Gripping his plasma dagger tightly, Ethan followed.

The journey was surreal. The pale stranger navigated the treacherous desert as though he had walked its paths a thousand times before. Ethan struggled to keep up, his boots sinking into the soft sand with each step. The heat bore down on him, beads of sweat forming on his brow despite the cooling functions of his armor.

The stranger never faltered. He moved with an eerie grace, his feet barely disturbing the sand. Occasionally, he would pause, his hollow eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something unseen.

At one point, the stranger stopped beside a large rock formation, its surface etched with more of the strange symbols Ethan had seen earlier. He ran his fingers lightly over the carvings, muttering to himself in a language Ethan couldn't understand.

"What are these symbols?" Ethan asked, his voice sharp with frustration. "And don't give me another vague answer."

The stranger turned to him, his fingers still resting on the rock. "They are echoes of a civilization long forgotten. A people who understood the power of the mind, the energy of the universe, and the balance of creation and destruction."

Ethan frowned, his patience wearing thin. "What does that have to do with me?"

The stranger stepped closer, his hollow eyes piercing. "Because the power that slumbers within you is tied to them. The forces that left these marks have chosen you as a vessel now, whether you understand it or not."

Ethan's chest tightened. "What do you mean by power? What are you talking about?"

The stranger didn't answer. Instead, he gestured toward the horizon, where a faint glimmer of light could be seen through the swirling sands. "We are close. Come."

As they neared the source of the light, the air grew colder. The oppressive heat of the desert gave way to an almost unnatural chill, and the sand underfoot became firmer, tinged with an ashen hue.

The ruins emerged from the sands like the bones of some ancient beast, their jagged edges partially buried but still imposing. Massive stone pillars jutted skyward, their surfaces covered in intricate carvings that glowed faintly with an inner light.

Ethan stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. The ruins were unlike anything he had ever seen. Alien, ancient, and alive with an energy that made the air hum.

The stranger turned to him, his expression unreadable. "You have reached the threshold, Ethan Walker. What lies within will shape the path ahead."

Ethan's grip on his plasma dagger tightened. "What's inside?"

"Truth," the stranger said simply.

Before Ethan could press further, the stranger stepped aside, gesturing toward a narrow entrance partially concealed by fallen rubble. "Go. Some of your answers await."

Ethan hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The ruins seemed to pulse with a life of their own, and the air was thick with an energy that made his skin prickle.

When he turned to ask the stranger one final question, he found only empty air. The pale man was gone, his presence vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Ethan exhaled slowly, steeling himself. Whatever awaited him inside, he knew there was no turning back. With a deep breath, he stepped forward into the darkness of the ruins.