..... The atmosphere of the planet was no longer air; but it was a pressurized soup of ozone, scorched metal, and the terrifying scent of alien musk. High above, the sky crackled with the death throes of human dreadnoughts. Huge and Massive ships, which are miles long, were being snapped in half like dry twigs by the brute force of the Rakshasa fleet. On the ground, the capital city was a graveyard of glass and destruction. Among the ruins, the Rakshasas race moved like mountains made of flesh. They were colossal in size, easily twelve feet tall, with human-like skin and muscles that looked like bundles of steel cables. Their hair was the most striking feature. It was long, wild manes that defied gravity, floating in the air like golden flames. On each of their forearms, three jagged bone-spikes pulsed with a rhythmic, and sickening light from their battle suit. CRUNCH. A Rakshasa soldier brought its massive foot down with force, flattening a main battle tank as if it were a sod

.....SNAP.The sound was sharp, like a dry branch breaking in the winter. But it wasn't a branch. It was actually Mo Seven’s shin bone.Seven’s right leg bent at a sickening, and impossible angle. The moment his foot had connected with the Rakshasa’s heavy metal gauntlet, the physics of the world had reminded him of a very cruel truth: he was a human with no Divine Essence, and he was kicking a mountain."Agh!" Seven let out a strangled gasp, he felt his lungs catching in his chest. Hiss... huff...He instantly realized that he was completely outmatched. The Rakshasa hadn't even tried to block his kick. The alien had been moving its hand "gently" by its standards, yet that gentle movement was enough to shatter a human’s limbs. This was a Black-Haired Rakshasa. And According to the data Seven had memorized from school, the color of their hair showed their rank or levels. Black hair meant this soldier was a soldier rank, easily stronger than an Advanced-rank human cultivator. Which

.....His room was not a room. It was a concrete box that was located at the far end of the Mo estate’s basement, right next to the humming cooling pipes of the house’s central core. There were no windows. Neither were there any beds. There was not a desk for his schoolwork.In the corner of the room lay a pile of worn-out clothes, smelling of dust and old sweat. And In the center of the floor, there was a single thin, and gray sheet that served as his bed.Creak... groan...Seven sat down on the sheet, his body felt like it was made of lead. He slowly peeled off his torn uniform, the fabric sticking to the wet blood on his back from his mother's whip."Nnngh... hiss..."He looked over his shoulder at the long, and red welt left by his mother’s whip. It was angry and swollen, a physical mark of her "Gravity Field" reinforced strike. He blew on the wound, the cool air providing a tiny second of relief.“It’s nothing,” Seven thought to himself, his jaw tightening. “Compared to the fire

WHOOSH.The universe hadn't just shifted; it had folded. One moment, Mo Seven was still standing on a metallic pad in a crowded, and noisy station on Planet Hig17. The next, the high-pitched ringing in his ears had snapped into a heavy, and pressurized silence that felt like being underwater. The blinding blue light of the portal slowly faded, replaced by the dim, and cool glow of a small, square room.Seven stood perfectly still, with his heart drumming against his ribs. With a strong thump-thump, thump-thump. He didn't move a muscle, he was waiting for the "wall" to hit him, or waiting for the portal to realize it had made a mistake and spit him back out into the human overworld. But the rejection never came."I'm... I'm actually here," he whispered to himself. His voice sounded thin and raspy in the small space. Huff. Puff. He slowly looked around. The room was a basic room with nothing in it. about ten feet wide with smooth, and seamless walls that looked like polished obsidian. T