Destiny Among the Stars - Scifi - LitRPG - Adventure

Pink sunbeams sliced through the misty windows of the Peregrine like fingers trying to peel open a hangover. Luca blinked against the light, groggy and sore, already a little annoyed at how stupidly beautiful everything looked for a planet crawling with System mobs.

His arm? Dead. Not plasma-dead. Not acid-melted. Just dead-dead. Numb from shoulder to fingertips.

Emily was wrapped around him, her leg slung across his hip, head tucked under his chin. She breathed steadily and slowly, like she was dreaming of something safe. His arm was pinned under her body like a hostage.

Totally worth it.

Eventually, Luca managed to escape without waking her, kissed her forehead, and slid out of the bunk. He limped toward the kitchenette, stretching the numbness out of his arm.

Minutes later, he stepped outside into the morning light, folding chair creaking under his weight as he settled in with his multitool. The team was breaking down camp around him. Emily rolling up sleeping bags, Ryan packing gear, Danny muttering about water pressure metrics again.

But Luca's focus was on the interface flickering to life in his peripheral vision. He still had his Tool Mod reward to claim from the second portal, and now he had a chance for a second.

The upgrade promised power integration, and with the battery drain on his multitool, hell, on all the multitools, anything would help.

He focused on the interface and hit [Claim Reward].

A small black cube materialized in his palm, smooth and featureless except for barely visible seam lines.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, turning it over.

Zoe looked up from where she was cleaning her rifle. "You gotta split that cube."

"Split it?"

"Yeah. Twist the sections. It's like a puzzle box."

After a few minutes of fiddling, the cube came apart in four pieces. Following some instinct, Luca placed them in a square around his multitool. They snapped together with a soft click, blue lasers connecting each corner in a grid pattern that enveloped the device.

An hour later, when the light show finished, Luca picked up his upgraded multitool. Sleeker now, with a new cable port designed to connect directly to armor systems. TL9 armor systems.

Luca looked down at his tight Level 48 scout suit. TL8. Not backwards compatible.

"Shit."

Ryan's laughter echoed across the clearing. "Nice one, Captain. Got yourself a sports car with no gas."

Luca stared at the interface notification still blinking in his peripheral vision. Another Tool Mod reward waited to be claimed, but what was the point? He couldn't even use the first one.

"This fucking suit," he muttered, tugging at the too-tight fabric around his shoulders. "I swear, the second we find the rest of the Phantom armor, I'm burning this thing."

Emily looked over from where she was stuffing gear into a pack. "What's got you all worked up?"

"Got a second upgrade I can't even claim because this piece of shit Level 48 gear is from the stone age." He pulled at his sleeve and let go, a snap sounded as it hit his arm. "Can't wait to get some real armor. TL9, full compatibility, the works."

Ryan was still grinning. "Look at you, getting all ambitious. What happened to 'we're behind schedule' and 'everything's falling apart'?"

Luca stood up, stretching, that familiar cocky smirk creeping across his face. "Yeah, well, maybe I figured a few things out. Once I get proper gear, this whole operation's gonna run a lot smoother."

"There's the overconfident captain we know and love," Zoe called out, shouldering her pack.

"Damn right," Luca said, securing his multitool to his belt. "Just wait till I can actually use all this shit properly. We're gonna tear through these portals like they're made of paper."

Already up and nursing his coffee, Chris wore that same wistful stare he got after writing late into the night. By the stove, Ryan poked at the toaster while Joey rationed out coffee like it was liquid platinum. What the fuck was Ryan toasting? A chocolate chip granola bar?

"Water's low," Joey said. "Danny's fifteen-minute spa treatments are eating into our reserves."

Halfway through chewing something, Danny mumbled, "It's called self-care, jackass."

"Try sponge baths," Chris offered.

Zoe wandered in wearing her Phantom armor, helmet tucked under her arm, hair still a little damp. She gave Luca a nod and a smirk. "Morning, Captain."

Emily joined him at the counter, bumping her hip against his like it was hers to bump. "Sleep okay?"

"Eventually," Luca said. "Once you stopped kneeing me in the ribs."

She smirked, biting into a protein bar. "I seem to remember you enjoying it."

But the easy morning mood couldn't last forever. Luca set his mug down with a definitive click.

"Alright, war council. My first priority is water. We're low." He aimed his best 'I'm serious' look at Danny, who was still trying to scrub a spot off his warhammer and gave a distracted thumbs-up. "We need a source, and we need it today. That dictates our route."

Emily, ever the Ops Executive, immediately pulled the tactical display onto the main screen. Three routes glowed against the topographical map of New Dawn.

"Let's get this show on the road," Zoe said, leaning forward with a predatory grin, already bouncing her leg. "I vote for the Percival. Drop us right on the signal's head."

Ryan slammed his hand on the counter in agreement. "Zoe's got the right idea. A fast and furious orbital drop. Why crawl when you can fly?"

"Because flying is for idiots who don't read sensor logs," Chris grunted from his corner. "The EM field from that portal cluster will turn Percival's guidance system into scrambled eggs. You'd be lucky to land in one piece, let alone find a clean water source while plasma bolts are raining down."

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Ryan bristled instantly. "The Percival's shielding is rated for solar flares. A little System static isn't going to—"

"It's not static, it's targeted interference," Chris shot back, finally looking up with a withering glare. "Unless you've figured out how to re-route the entire avionics suite through a hard-line system in the last twelve hours, it's a non-starter. But please, lecture me on engine specs."

"Okay, boys, put them away," Emily said calmly. She highlighted the western route. "The ridge has streams, but they're seasonal. Scans show most are dry right now."

Joey, leaning against the med-bay door, chimed in. "And it adds two days to our timeline. That's two days of rationing what little we have left. From a medical standpoint, dehydration is a bigger threat than most mobs."

Danny finally looked up from his warhammer, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "The forest route has a river." He pointed at a thick blue line on the map. "And mobs. Lots of mobs. Lots of things to... survey... near the water."

"See? Danny gets it," Zoe cheered, clapping him on the shoulder.

Luca held up a hand, cutting through the noise. The path was clear now, laid out by his team's clashing priorities. Ryan and Zoe wanted speed. Chris and Joey wanted survival. Danny wanted a fight. And the map, with its glowing icons and stark blue lines, told the whole story.

"The Percival is out," Luca said, his voice cutting with finality. "Too much risk, and no guaranteed water. The ridge is a gamble we can't afford. That leaves one option."

He pointed a finger at the forest route, the path that led directly toward a portal icon.

"We take the Peregrine through the deep woods. We hit that river first, resupply, and then we push to this portal," he tapped the icon. "We get water, and we get gear. Full TL9 sets for everyone. Then, and only then, do we go for the signal. We go in strong, hydrated, and ready."

A moment of silence settled over the crew.

Ryan sighed dramatically. "So we're taking the murder-hike through the spooky forest because Chris's delicate sensors can't handle a little turbulence and Danny's thirsty."

"My 'delicate sensors' will be the only reason your ass isn't a charcoal briquette on the side of a mountain," Chris muttered.

Luca ignored them. "That's the plan. Everyone, gear up. We move in twenty."

Emily wrapped her arm around his waist. "That's the most coherent decision you've made in a week."

Luca shrugged. "I've had coffee." He turned to Ryan. "The good kind. Thanks, Joey."

"Anytime," Joey said, already refilling someone's mug.

They could've called down the Percival.

Hell, it was the obvious choice. Fire it up, hover over the worst of the terrain, land right at the base of the signal and figure out what the shit was making that noise.

But orbital scans had already shown what they were dealing with, and Zoe's little "nature walk" with Danny the night before had confirmed it. The forest ahead wasn't just untamed and overgrown. It was thick with old growth.

Two hundred-foot trees packed so tight even the birds had to squeeze, according to Zoe's breathless report that had made Danny turn three shades of red. Massive vine canopies arched over the ridgelines, dripping with post-rain humidity. And the forest floor? Forget it. Craters, sinkholes, bio-pits teeming with god-knows-what. The Percival could've made the trip, maybe, but the cluster of portals surrounding the signal turned the whole area into a System-choked kill zone.

Too many unknown spawns, too many roaming mob patrols, and most of them were armed with plasma-tier weaponry. One good hit and the Percival might not make it out. Even worse? System energy was already high enough to spike interference in their comms, and the Percival's onboard AI would likely kick into safe-mode the second it got too close.

So yeah, they did it the old-fashioned way.

Boots on the ground. Wheels on the dirt.

Chris had the Peregrine creeping forward at a steady five miles an hour, weaving through tree trunks so wide they blocked the sun for minutes at a time. The overnight sprinkle had stopped, but everything still dripped, steaming in the morning light. Massive red-leafed fronds brushed the roof, the wet hiss of forest noise curling around them like static.

Zoe sat atop the Peregrine, visor down, watching the treeline like it might move.

This wasn't unclaimed land anymore.

The System had sunk its claws into New Dawn. Hard. Mobs were everywhere.

Varnathi foot patrols prowled the undergrowth, Vexillari fucking insectoids had been fighting local beasts. And something else, something none of them had seen before, was prowling the high canopies. Something that left clawed marks in tree trunks.

They weren't alone.

Which is why Luca and Ryan took the Specter ahead.

"Keep it light," Chris said over comms as they mounted up. "No heroics."

"Luca's allergic to heroics," Ryan muttered, sliding into the gunner seat. Asshole.

Luca grunted, chest still aching from the last portal. "Tell that to my ribs."

The Specter lifted, butter smooth, and they shot forward through the vines, clearing the way and mapping the safest route possible for the Peregrine. Ryan scanned movement markers on his HUD, eyes flicking to the new heat signatures.

"Yeah," he said. "We've got company."

Luca just adjusted his grip on the controls and pushed the throttle forward.

They pushed deeper into the forest, the Specter coasting forward just a few feet off the ground, repulsors humming low as they followed the narrow path through the densest part of the forest. Below them, the vines curled and twisted, half-mud, half-roots, thick enough to snap ankles and swallow whole tires. Chris had to weave the rig through the trees by hand, like threading a tank through a sculpture garden.

Luca kept them tight on the nav path. Altimeter held steady at 4.6 feet, low enough to stay quiet, high enough not to bottom out on the crap below.

"Hold up," Ryan said from the rear gunner seat. "Left ridge. Thirty meters. Movement."

Luca tapped the thrusters once and let them drift. The Specter glided to a slow crawl. His visor's heads-up display flickered, rain interference, but then cleared.

There. Between two moss-slick trunks, a shape detached from the foliage.

Luca frowned. "Sixty-two?" he muttered. "That's not possible."

On Earth, even after the System settled, the biggest thing they ever saw above thirty-two was a freak incident. Sixty-two meant this thing had been leveling fast. Way too fast. Which meant it was killing. A lot.

It was standing there, just staring at them. Just eyes. Staring straight through the canopy glass.

And for a moment, just one flicker, Luca felt it.

Awareness.

Not intelligence. Not in the "it's gonna quote Shakespeare" kind of way.

Then, as if the rain itself had swallowed it, the thing blinked slowly and deliberately, slipping backward into the foliage. Gone. Just vanished.

Like it had never been there.

Ryan let out a slow breath behind him. "That's the highest-level beast we've seen so far."

"Yeah," Luca said. "And it wasn't even hunting us."

"Maybe it will be next time."

Luca didn't answer.

The Specter coasted forward again, silent and smooth, and behind them, he could see the Peregrine pushing through the trees, one stubborn kilometer at a time.

Whatever that thing was, it wasn't a mob.

It was New Dawn leveling up.

Twenty minutes of tense navigation later, they found what they were looking for, a slow, shallow ribbon of clean water threading between root beds and steam-choked ferns. Clear enough to see the riverbed. Chilly enough to sting your fingers. Not perfect, but it would do.

Joey and Emily were the first out. They set up the pump in silence, working fast, hoses unfurled and filters slotted in with the kind of smooth repetition that came from drills and paranoia. Nobody said it, but they all felt it: don't linger.

The ground was too damp to sit. The canopy too wet to start a fire. Everything dripped. Everything steamed. Even the trees felt like they were holding their breath.

Zoe climbed up first, settling into her sniper perch atop the Peregrine, scope trained on the treetops. Luca followed.

They didn't even need to talk. Just laid down beside her, rifle steady against his shoulder, eyes sweeping the green like it might reach out and grab them.

Ryan kept the Specter parked a few meters out, plasma cannon humming low. He pivoted slow, scanning the perimeter. Chris walked a loose patrol, every couple steps glancing up like something might drop from the branches. Even Danny, who usually bitched about watch duty, was dead silent, eyes twitching toward the underbrush with every snap of twig or flick of shadow. He'd gotten the Plasma Chainsaw out and was standing by the pump with it.

They didn't crack jokes and didn't say it out loud. But they all felt it.

They were being watched.

Six minutes felt like an hour before Joey finally called it.

"We're good. That's enough. Let's move."

Nobody complained. They just packed the gear, stowed the hoses, and climbed aboard.

The silence held until they were sealed back inside the Peregrine. Then Danny muttered under his breath as they slammed the hatch shut. "I swear to God, I'm not taking another shower until we're back on the Triumph."