Reborn as a Space Mercenary: From Salaryman to Galactic Legend

Ethan moved deeper into the heart of the ruins, his armored boots treading silently over smooth, polished stone. His HUD remained riddled with flickering static, the interference growing more frequent with every step he took. Iris had long since fallen silent, her connection drowned by the strange energies radiating from the ruins.

The air here felt dense, thick with a pressure Ethan couldn't explain. Every breath he drew seemed heavier, as though the very walls of the ancient structure were alive, watching him. The faint hum that had been his constant companion since entering had grown louder, resonating deep in his bones. It wasn't an external sound, it was something that vibrated within him.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, its walls lined with strange etchings. Symbols glowed softly, faint green light spilling out of intricate carvings that twisted in impossible patterns. Ethan traced his gloved fingers along the surface of the stone as he walked. It was smooth and cold to the touch, yet he felt an inexplicable warmth radiating from the symbols, like a heartbeat against his skin.

His helmet recorded every detail, but none of it made sense. The patterns shifted as though alive, rearranging themselves subtly when he wasn't looking. He'd glance back, only to find them different. Impossible, he thought. And yet it was happening.

"Still nothing from you, Iris?" he muttered, though he knew the AI wouldn't answer.

The silence was oppressive. No wind, no sound of life, only the hum, the soft glow, and the echo of his footsteps.

The further he ventured, the grander the architecture became. The corridors opened into vast chambers, their ceilings soaring so high that even his helmet's enhanced optics couldn't see their edges. Massive columns, carved with the same glowing symbols, rose like ancient sentinels, holding up the weight of forgotten centuries.

The stone beneath him seemed to drink in light. It reflected none of it, as though it belonged to another world entirely. In the dimness, shadows pooled in corners that shouldn't exist, stretching strangely along the walls as Ethan moved. He stopped for a moment, watching his own shadow lengthen unnaturally, reaching out toward the far walls like gnarled fingers.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He scanned the area, his breathing steady but his muscles coiled, ready for action. Nothing moved, yet the sensation of being watched intensified.

"It's like the place has eyes," he whispered to himself.

As Ethan moved into another chamber, a sudden wave of dizziness struck him. He staggered, reaching for the nearest wall to steady himself. The symbols beneath his palm flared brighter, their glow pulsating with his own heartbeat. His vision blurred, the edges of the room warping as though reality itself was bending.

And then it hit him, sensations not his own.

Whispers. Faint and fleeting, they slid through his consciousness like a breeze through tall grass. Words he couldn't understand, voices layered on top of one another, muttering in a language both alien and achingly familiar.

Images flashed across his mind: a towering figure cloaked in golden light, its hands raised as an unseen force rippled out in waves. A city of impossible spires, glowing under a crimson sky. Crowds of people with eyes that shone like stars, their minds linked as one.

Ethan gasped and tore his hand away from the wall. The visions faded, but the hum in his skull persisted. He stood there, trembling slightly, his breath coming in sharp bursts.

"What… was that?" His voice echoed back at him, unanswered.

Slowly, he straightened. His vision was sharper now, the edges of his surroundings more defined than before. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion, every detail suddenly clear. He turned his head, and the faint swirl of dust particles hanging in the air caught his eye as though frozen in place.

His reflexes had heightened once again, he could feel it in his body. The strange energy in this place wasn't harming him; it was resonating with him. It felt familiar, as though it had been waiting for him to arrive.

The next corridor was even stranger. It widened into an expansive hall, the floor sloping downward in an elegant spiral. Every wall was covered in carvings that danced with energy. Ethan walked cautiously, the hum intensifying, the symbols blazing brighter the closer he got to the center.

When he touched the next doorframe, another wave of visions struck him.

This time, he saw a civilization, vast and powerful. The people of this place moved with a grace and purpose beyond comprehension, their minds connected by an invisible thread. They created wonders, technology that blurred the line between machine and thought, tools crafted with raw willpower.

But there was darkness, too.

In a rapid flurry of images, Ethan saw the spires crumble under waves of destruction. The sky burned. The connected minds screamed as one, shattered by an unseen force. Figures fled into the deserts, their psychic powers dimmed, their cities falling into ruin. The final image seared itself into his brain: a blade of glowing silver, held high by a lone figure standing amidst the chaos.

Ethan staggered back, his heart pounding. The ruins weren't just ancient, they were a tomb. A monument to something that had once been magnificent and was now lost. The weight of it pressed down on him, filling him with awe and dread.

He turned his gaze forward, deeper into the corridor. Whatever had happened to this civilization, their legacy still lingered here. Waiting.

Finally, Ethan reached it.

The passage ended abruptly, opening into a chamber unlike anything he had seen so far. It was immense, circular and cavernous, its ceiling lost in shadow. At the center of the room, a raised platform stood bathed in emerald light. From his position at the entrance, Ethan could see the source of the glow.

The dagger.

It hovered an inch above a pedestal of black stone, held aloft by an invisible force. The blade itself was breathtaking. Carved with the same intricate symbols that covered the ruins, it shimmered with an otherworldly radiance, as though alive. Its edge was flawless, sharp enough to cut the air itself, while the hilt, smooth and flowing, seemed almost sculpted to fit the hand of its wielder.

Ethan approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the weapon. The pulsing light reflected off his helmet, casting shifting patterns across his armor. Each step he took felt heavier than the last, as though unseen forces were testing his resolve.

The hum was deafening now. It filled his mind, vibrating through his very core. And yet, it didn't feel hostile. It was a summons, a challenge.

Ethan stopped at the base of the platform, staring up at the dagger. He could feel its power from here, radiating like heat. The symbols etched into its surface glowed in time with his heartbeat, as though the blade recognized him.

He exhaled slowly. "What are you…?" he whispered.

For a moment, he simply stood there, the weight of the chamber pressing down on him. The walls seemed to close in, their symbols blazing brighter as though urging him to act.

Ethan placed his foot on the first step leading to the pedestal. As he ascended, the light flared, filling the chamber with a brilliance that chased away every shadow. The hum reached its crescendo, reverberating in the depths of his mind.

Finally, he stood before the pedestal.

The dagger hovered silently, waiting.

Ethan reached out his hand, hesitating only for a moment. The air around the blade buzzed with energy, the light so bright now that it almost hurt to look at. He lowered his hand slightly, feeling the charge crackle across his fingertips.

And then he paused.

Something told him this wasn't over yet. Whatever this dagger was, it wasn't going to let him take it so easily.

He pulled his hand back, his jaw set with determination. "Let's see what you're hiding," he murmured.

The glow intensified once more as if in response, and the hum beneath his skin quieted, replaced by an eerie silence.

Ethan stood there, staring at the weapon that pulsed like a beating heart, ready for whatever was to come.