The ground was cold.
That was the first thing Orion Vale registered as consciousness settled fully into his body. Not freezing, but harsh—like stone that had never known warmth. Ash scratched against his skin as the wind dragged fine black dust across the land in endless waves.
He lay still for several seconds, listening.
Wind. Distant rumbling. Nothing else.
Good.
Moving too fast in an unknown place got people killed.
Orion slowly flexed his fingers. Strength answered the motion. His muscles were lean, tighter than his old Earth body, conditioned by years of survival he hadn't lived—but this body had. Calloused palms. Scarred knuckles. A faint ache in his ribs, old and healed wrong.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position.
The sky was worse up close.
A red haze stretched endlessly, broken only by a dark, swollen star hanging low in the heavens. It radiated little light, more pressure than warmth, as if its gravity reached into the mind as much as the land.
Ashen Star Planet.
The name surfaced naturally, accompanied by fragmented memories—running through ruined scrapyards, scavenging metal bones of old machines, hiding from creatures that hunted by vibration and heat.
This body had grown up here.
A harsh world bred harsh people.
Orphans didn't last long.
Orion exhaled slowly, syncing breath to thought. Panic was useless. Confusion was dangerous. He needed information, shelter, and food—in that order.
He stood.
The gravity was heavier than Earth's, but manageable. His balance adjusted quickly. He took a few steps forward, boots crunching against ash and broken mineral shards.
That's when his stomach twisted.
Hunger.
Real hunger. Deep. Gnawing. Not the dull ache of skipping meals, but the kind that hollowed you out and made decisions desperate.
He didn't like that.
Hunger pushed people to mistakes.
Orion scanned the area. The landscape stretched into jagged hills of dark stone, with scattered wreckage half-buried in dust—ancient machines, maybe ships, long stripped of anything valuable. The air smelled metallic, dry, with a faint burn that clung to the lungs.
No obvious shelter nearby.
Then he heard it.
A low vibration beneath the ground.
Orion froze.
The memory wasn't his—but the instinct was. Something moved beneath the ash, large enough to disturb the surface in slow ripples.
Burrowers.
The name surfaced immediately.
Predators that hunted by sensing footsteps.
Orion lifted one foot and slowly lowered it again, redistributing his weight carefully. He stopped moving altogether.
The vibration paused.
Then shifted direction.
Away.
Only then did Orion allow himself to breathe again.
"First lesson," he muttered quietly. "This world listens."
He needed high ground. Visibility. Somewhere solid.
He spotted a broken stone ridge rising several dozen meters away, its surface jagged and uneven—bad for burrowers. He moved toward it slowly, steps deliberate, minimizing vibration.
Every sense stayed sharp.
By the time he reached the ridge, sweat clung to his back despite the cold air. He climbed, fingers digging into rough stone, muscles burning slightly. The body was strong—but underfed.
At the top, he crouched low and surveyed the land.
Far to the east, smoke rose from the horizon.
Settlement.
Or ruins.
Either way, people meant danger—and opportunity.
He weighed the options calmly.
Staying alone meant starvation. Moving toward others meant conflict.
Conflict was survivable.
Starvation wasn't.
Decision made.
As Orion rose, a sharp pain stabbed through his temple. He staggered slightly, teeth gritting as pressure built behind his eyes.
Then—
A presence.
Not a voice. Not a sound.
Awareness.
Information slid into his mind with cold clarity, structured and precise.
[Initialization Complete][User Identified: Orion Vale][System Status: Stable]
Orion didn't react outwardly.
No shock. No disbelief.
He had already accepted the impossible when he woke under a black sun.
He focused inward, testing the sensation. It felt… restrained. Controlled. Like a sealed engine running beneath a locked casing.
"Show me what you do," he said quietly.
There was a pause.
Then information surfaced—not commands, not promises.
Data.
[Current Physical State]Condition: MalnourishedInjuries: Minor (Healed fractures, scar tissue)Overall Combat Readiness: Low
[Environmental Threat Level]Planet Classification: High-Risk Survival WorldLocal Fauna: Extremely HostileHuman Mortality Rate (Outer Regions): 68%
No power boosts.
No free strength.
Just reality, presented cleanly.
Orion's lips curved slightly.
"Good," he said. "No lies."
The pressure receded, settling into the background of his awareness.
He turned his attention back to the horizon and began his descent.
The settlement was worse up close.
Crude structures built from scavenged metal and stone clung together around a massive drilling rig that no longer functioned. Ash coated everything. People moved through narrow paths, armed, alert, eyes sharp with suspicion.
No guards at the outskirts.
That meant one thing—anyone entering was either strong enough to survive or too weak to matter.
Orion walked in openly.
Several heads turned.
He felt their gazes crawl over him, assessing clothing, posture, hands. He kept his movements slow, controlled. No sudden threats. No submission either.
A man stepped into his path.
Broad shoulders. Augmented right arm, metal plates visible beneath torn fabric. His eyes were hard, calculating.
"You new?" the man asked.
"Yes," Orion replied.
No lies. No extra words.
"Food costs," the man said. "Protection costs more."
"I'm not asking for protection."
The man smirked. "Then you won't last long."
"Maybe," Orion said evenly. "But I'll eat today."
The man studied him another second, then jerked his chin toward a nearby stall. "One meal. Work after."
Orion nodded once and moved past him.
The food was barely edible—a thick, gray paste made from processed fungi and protein scraps. He ate slowly, controlling the urge to devour it. Energy flooded back gradually, sharpening his thoughts.
As he finished, shouting erupted nearby.
Two men argued over salvage rights. Voices rose. Weapons came out.
Orion watched.
One man hesitated.
The other didn't.
A blade flashed. Blood hit the ash.
The crowd didn't react.
The body was dragged away.
Law follows power.
The rule fit perfectly.
Orion stood, wiping his hands clean.
This world wasn't cruel.
It was honest.
As night fell, the red sky darkened further, the black sun dimming to a faint outline. Lights flickered across the settlement, weak and unreliable.
Orion leaned against a metal wall, eyes half-lidded, mind already planning.
He would grow stronger.
Slowly. Steadily.
No trust. No mercy wasted.
Only results.
Somewhere deep within, something ancient observed silently.
And Ashen Star continued to grind the weak into dust.