World Tree Space Station

[This time! The Coordinators feared our offensive! That is why they chose to self-destruct the colony!]

Inside the barracks of the massive World Tree space station, Xu De stood among a crowd of soldiers, watching the Atlantic Federation leader deliver a mobilization speech in front of the parliament building on the screen.

The handsome youth with East Asian features let out a soft sigh in his heart.

The youth was named Xu De, thirty years old, a former fighter pilot.

Yet here, he was eighteen, having arrived as a transmigrator only yesterday.

Or rather, he had awakened his memories and merged with the original host.

But such complex matters were not important for the moment.

The original host's identity was a recruit of the Atlantic Federation.

His background was quite simple.

As an orphan created by the war, he had enlisted because he lacked money for food and desired to get ahead in life.

In his past life, such situations were as common as hair on an ox in certain places, let alone in this chaotic era.

The most critical issue was that he was not just any ordinary recruit; he was a recruit belonging to the newly formed Third Mobile Fleet of the Earth Alliance.

Everyone in this room was a reservist, the kind of recruit who had not yet been assigned to a specific unit.

However, this was not like the pilot training Xu De was familiar with.

The mobile suits here were relatively simple to operate; anyone who had completed technical training could handle them, making the barrier to entry very low.

Furthermore, the production cost of a Mistral was far cheaper than a Moebius, and with many retired from their previous roles as work machines, the inventory was massive.

In other words, as expendable assets, they were not worth much.

This was not his previous world, nor was it the Earth he once knew.

With a population of tens of billions, a few more deaths could even alleviate population pressure; in short, people like them were worthless.

Everything has value.

And their value was truly not high.

As for the intentions of the higher-ups, Xu De could guess a few things; they likely intended to use these recruits and the cheap Mistrals to probe the cards held by the Coordinators.

Especially since they lacked sufficient understanding of the Ginn's combat capabilities, and the enemy had fallen into a frenzy over the Junius incident.

It was against this backdrop.

As reservists who had only enlisted three months ago, after some simple training, these recruits were brought directly to the World Tree space station.

They were incorporated into the Third Mobile Fleet, which had just transitioned from the Council nations and was not yet at full strength.

Though they were called pilots, they were actually just expendable assets sent up to die in engineering vehicles; this was evident from the training duration and their military ranks.

That was exactly what the big shots above them thought.

Survival of the fittest, where the strong and the arms dealers colluded to exploit the weak.

Life, in their eyes, was merely a value represented by numbers.

Clearly, in this era, the average price of an ordinary citizen was much lower than in his past life.

The unprecedented population, the explosion in production capacity, and the further compression of military and material extraction costs for various reasons were all contributing factors.

When people are plentiful and guns are cheap, lives become worthless.

Shifting his gaze away from the fat-headed man on the television, Xu De looked out the window.

A massive blue orb hung suspended outside the reinforced blast-proof window.

This was a beautiful sight he had never imagined seeing, even as a fighter pilot in his past life.

He had participated in the selection for astronauts back then, but he had been cut.

He had thought he would never have the chance to see this view in his entire life.

He hadn't expected to get his wish now, though he had no heart to appreciate it.

This was the World Tree space station, destined to be destroyed and reduced to space junk.

It wouldn't even last until the main storyline began.

He had only been here for a day, but thinking about what he was about to face, Xu De felt a headache coming on.

This world was far more chaotic than the one he came from.

And it was not the same world as before, either.

If things continued down this path, the national strength and social conditions of his country would certainly worsen after the Neutron Jammers.

But these were not the most important things right now; what truly mattered was how to survive the upcoming battles.

This world was already bad enough, and he happened to be cannon fodder.

If he were piloting a Moebius, it would be fine, but he was piloting a Mistral.

It was the same type of engineering machine used for ice harvesting on the Archangel, with a heavy frame that, aside from its mechanical arms, carried only two Vulcan cannons.

It is nothing more than a space coffin, even more absurd than a Ball.

Furthermore, risking one's life for those merchants of death holds no shred of honor; having watched the animation, Xu De understands their various atrocities better than anyone else here.

Under such circumstances, ordinary workers and soldiers are forced into high-risk labor or conscription, while all the war dividends are held firmly in the hands of those merchants of death.

Even veterans' benefits are not guaranteed; the expectation is simply to work oneself to death under their command.

He has absolutely no desire to become one of them.

However, regardless of his feelings, he currently lacks the means to apply for discharge; after all, being penniless here—especially in the Federation—makes survival impossible.

In non-wartime conditions, one might survive as a drifter if the general environment is favorable.

Those merchants might even distribute some welfare to the homeless.

But in a state of war or under persistent government deficits, well, that is a different story.

Ordinary people are already facing tax hikes, let alone drifters.

As for having no money? That certainly doesn't stop one from creating value.

During wartime, the methods for squeezing people dry are far more numerous than in ordinary times.

[We shall make Earth rise again! We shall make Naturals rise again!]

[We shall let those heretics who have abandoned humanity know! True power does not come solely from the body and genes! It comes from our hearts and our wisdom!]

Accompanied by the roars of the many colleagues around him, Xu De's attention was pulled back.

"Sounds nice, 'hearts and wisdom,' when they have higher IQs than us to begin with."

Just as the person on the television finished that sentence, Hans, a blonde man with slicked-back hair wearing a standard soldier's uniform beside Xu De, whispered mockingly.

The voice was very soft, audible only to the two of them amidst the interference of the massive loudspeakers.

"You expect a puppet to speak like a human being..."

Regarding this childhood friend who came from the same orphanage, Xu De maintained the usual tone of the original host.

Yet, his heart was churning.

Their First to Third Fleet, just reorganized from the Council United Fleet, would soon be heavily damaged with countless casualties.

His own Third Fleet would be no exception.

The Bloody Valentine incident had just occurred, and they would be attacked in approximately one week.

Otherwise, they wouldn't be in such a rush to drag in raw recruits like them who had just finished training.

Xu De lowered his head in deep thought, not even noticing that the televised speech ahead had concluded.

Discharge is not a good option; after all, leaving the military might make the future even more dangerous.

Moreover, successfully discharging within seven days is quite difficult.

With a major war imminent, they would not let cannon fodder go so easily, and there is not enough time to prepare any self-inflicted injuries or escape plans.

But thinking in reverse, even if he is just cannon fodder, if he can survive this battlefield and perhaps even earn some merit, his rank and treatment would certainly improve.

While called cannon fodder, there is likely some intent of selection or "raising Gu" behind it.

After all, they currently lack elites capable of space warfare, and this method of "raising Gu" is the fastest way.

It is much faster than slowly cultivating any Enhanced Humans.

And with so many people here, the probability of this is not low.

Thinking this, Xu De clenched his fists.

He only slowly relaxed his grip when his palms began to sting slightly.

Although the rewards from the merchants of death are not exactly proportional to the life-risking effort required.

These are things one can strive for; a larger platform leads to more connections, and more connections lead to more opportunities.

When the time comes, he will have more leverage whether he chooses to leave or stay.

The most important things right now are strength and value.

Since they like to see value, he will simply cater to their preferences.

He has no intention of gambling his life on some ethereal golden finger or seed.

If that is the case, he needs to test his strength and potential as soon as possible.

Even if this battle holds no honor or responsibility, he has his own pride.

If he were to flee now, his transmigration would be meaningless.

Unable to grasp his own future, he would only be able to entrust his fate to others, becoming just another member of the drifting masses.

The Genesis in the sky, the Requiem, the Junius.

The Phantom Pain on the ground, the terrorist attacks, the riots.

Any of them could kill him by surprise.

And he had already endured so much hardship to make it this far.

Now that even something as inconceivable as transmigration had occurred, what else was there that couldn't be endured?

Thinking this, a small flame was rekindled in Xu De's heart.

His future could only be seized by his own hands!

He was not a person who gave up easily, whether in his past life or this one.

"Lind, let's assemble."

"I heard that the newly built Moebius have been delivered, and it seems they intend to promote one new pilot for the Moebius from our recruit camp of one hundred people."

"They only gave us the Moebius manuals two months ago, and we haven't even piloted them yet; I don't know if I'll have a chance."

The young man's grumbling pulled Xu De back from his thoughts.

"What!?"

Upon hearing this, Xu De excitedly grabbed Hans by the shoulders.

"What are you doing all of a sudden?"

Hans said with annoyance.

"Are you telling the truth?!"

"There's a spot?!"

Xu De gripped Hans's shoulders with such force that Hans's sturdy shoulders began to ache faintly.

"Of course it's true."

"Don't underestimate the intelligence-gathering ability of Little Informant here."

Hans looked at his good friend with a smug expression.

On the other side, listening to Hans's words, Xu De suppressed his excitement and a faint smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

What was this if not a pillow delivered just as one was nodding off?

If it were true, then he would have to fight for it no matter what.

Compared to the Mistral, the Moebius was far superior.

Although it still struggled to penetrate the armor of a Ginn, its advantage lay in its agility.

The survival rate would definitely increase significantly.

Moreover, and more importantly, if he could obtain a Moebius, he would no longer be cannon fodder, but an elite in training.