Chapter 624

In the two‑and‑a‑half‑month human‑necrotic war, nearly 440 billion Empire residents have had their souls return to the Sea of Souls.

Four hundred and forty billion, not four hundred and forty million; this figure was perfectly normal for the Zero Three Universe a century ago, since in the eyes of the Zero Three Empire, mortals are merely a consumable "resource".

However, human lives are not worthless; they are the Empire's "currency".

The Zero Three Empire's star‑realm war can casually lose tens of billions, even up to trillions.

Yet the Human Empire of the main universe, although its residents are also "currency", each is "priceless".

Having been incorporated into the main universe's territory early on, the Zero Three Universe, after a century of reform and the promotion and popularization of Human Truth, no longer regards OriginalBody and Astate as demigods or angels, nor does it view the Human Emperor as a deity.

Moreover, the native residents of the Zero Three Universe have received comprehensive "upgrades".

Previously, D-1999 fought in an alternate dimension; its stature is indeed too short for an Astate, yet within the entire Empire, D-1999 cannot be called unremarkable.

It should be noted that after D-1999 returned from hell, its body stats are 210 cm and 150 kg; just looking at that, no one would think D-1999 isn't a hunk.

Even auxiliary troops of the legion camp, without power armor, are usually around 2.2–2.3 m tall.

However, among Empire residents, especially male residents of the main universe, the average height is already 184 cm and average weight 92 kg.

Female residents average 177 cm in height and 66 kg in weight.

Advanced nanotechnology and a well‑balanced diet ensure that naturally born children receive optimal nutrition, their physical quality far surpassing the average human levels of the late twentieth and early twenty‑first centuries.

As for lifespan?

Without any modification or prosthetic surgeries, theoretically one can live to about eight hundred years.

But even the Empire's officials cannot calculate the ultimate lifespan limit of today's Empire residents, because free of disease, the Empire has gone a continuous 120 years without any natural deaths.

Of course, residents from other universes newly annexed into the Empire, before receiving nanobot implants and Imperial medical technology, still experience death from old age or illness.

These all demonstrate that the Zero Three Empire and the main‑universe Empire differ qualitatively, namely…

"Wealthy."

It's not that the Zero Three Empire doesn't want to; it's been tormented by alien and chaos to such an extent that it has no chance to breathe.

Yet these are not the main differences between Empire residents and the former Zero Three Empire, or other human civilizations; what truly sets the Human Empire apart, baffling alien and chaos, is—

"Abundant martial virtue!"—

…

In the dimly lit evening.

Tap! Tap! the crisp gun sound unique to the pulse rifle.

Whoosh! Whoosh! and the whir of the necrotic gauss as it charges and fires.

The street resounded with noisy gunfire and artillery, and muzzle sparks and green beams flickered between the massive structures on both sides.

All of this shows that the human‑vs‑necrotic war here is quite intense.

However, the ones engaging the necrotic warriors are not the Empire's army, nor the camp auxiliary troops, but Empire civilians in varied attire.

Among them are a middle‑aged man in a floral vest and shorts, clearly out to relax and head to a tavern, and a freshly off‑work corporate female white‑collar in a fitted suit.

The civilians wield semi‑automatic pulse rifles, using the greenbelt's partition walls or ground vehicles as cover, firing at the slow‑moving metal zombies.

"Dammit! Ruining my mood! All of you, go die!"

"I haven't even fed my kid yet! Ah!! Damn!!"

The street is filled not only with gunfire and artillery, but also the angry shouts of the civilians.

Bang! Bang!

When a 10 mm Shellless Pulse Ammo hits a necrotic warrior, a micro‑explosion occurs, ejecting ultra‑fast, tiny steel beads outward.

Clang! Clang!

The steel beads violently collide and impact the metal bodies.

A single Shellless Pulse Ammo has negligible effect on a necrotic warrior, but enduring hundreds or thousands eventually turns one into cannon fodder.

It should be noted that even before the Human Empire was founded, the United Government had already fully legalized semi‑automatic weapons, with countless types of ammunition.

Anyone willing to pour money into this can obtain any weapon or ammo, including custom pieces; for example, the female white‑collar uses a pink, competition‑style pulse rifle.

Coupled with the martial culture, the Empire's officials, as the biggest arms dealer, are raking in profits.

Nevertheless, the civilians suffer equally heavy losses.

Walls and vehicles used as cover disintegrate when hit by gauss beams; once cover is gone, civilians without power armor or energy shields die instantly upon contact.

Even so, the vast majority of civilians remaining on the street show no fear, each acting as if "if I die, so be it" or "I must take one down with me", utterly unafraid.

The reason for this mindset is simple: long‑term exposure to slogans like "Eradicate the alien" and "Annihilate the specter" naturally breeds abundant martial virtue, making them fearless.

When they die, their souls return to the Sea of Souls; after a while they reincarnate back into the material universe—these claims have "scientific basis" and are clearly written in the 9th edition of Human Truth.

Moreover, with a Human Emperor in existence, souls are utterly unafraid of chaos's influence.

No memories or identity from a past life?

Although the Empire is a "feudal" system, its welfare is unbelievably excellent.

Thus, gradually, death and rebirth become like deleting a character and restarting.

However, to prevent Empire residents from "dying for the sake of dying" or "tired, create a new account", the Empire's law is quite strict on suicide.

If, through big‑data analysis, a resident is found to be merely curious about the appearance of the Sea of Souls after death or what new face they might reincarnate into, they shouldn't blame the Empire for being ruthless.

At that point, the Empire's regulatory department intervenes, deploying a dedicated Spiritual User to directly bind the specific soul that has already entered the Sea of Souls, detaining it as appropriate and imprinting the soul.

When that specific soul is finally "released after serving its sentence" and reincarnates, a distinctive birthmark appears at the left temple.

Anyone bearing the special birthmark cannot hold an official Empire post, cannot join the Empire's army, let alone the legion camp.

The Empire's actions constitute blatant discrimination; political correctness simply does not exist in its social system.

Facing such punitive outcomes, naturally no one dares to tempt fate.

Even abundant martial virtue cannot repel the seemingly endless necrotic horde.

"Aaa!!!"

Suddenly, an elite Sangheli wearing pajamas and a nightcap let out their tribe's unique roar, shattering glass, leapt from the third floor, and charged into the street block teeming with undead warriors.

Buzz—! Buzz—!

The elite, gripping sword hilts in both hands, swung his arms violently, unleashing two energy blades that emitted a faint pink glow, and began a one‑sided slaughter among the undead warriors.

The destructive power of the ultra‑hot blades could not be matched by Shellless Pulse Ammo; combined with the elite's agile physique and brute strength, he easily sliced and cleaved the metallic bodies.

Buzz! Sizzle! Buzz!

After a whirlwind of red light, the ground was littered with metallic limbs, heads, and bisected upper and lower bodies.

It seems that against the slow‑moving, clumsy undead warriors, engaging them at range is unwise; only melee can reliably "earn a clean record."

Howl! Howl!

"For the Empire! For glory!"

Moreover, during this time, many elites dressed in various casual and formal attire also joined the fight.

Soon after, a transport craft painted primarily black with white trim flashed red and blue lights as it flew over the street, then made a sharp turn and positioned itself at the front of the civilians' defensive line.

The hatch opened.

A special squad of twenty‑four members, clad in black‑painted power armor and equipped with standard laser rifles, immediately jumped into the craft.

"This is Squad Fourteen, we have reached the target block and are ready to assist our civilians."

"Spread out, spread out, advance forward in a counter‑attack formation, and don't forget your training!"

The moment they touched down, the special squad split into groups of three‑three‑one, forming a "pin"-shaped formation in the street's center, then launched a counter‑attack against the Gauss beams.

Buzz! Buzz!

Crack—!!

However, the energy shield supplied by the sheriff‑type TPS Power Armor collapses outright after absorbing one or two Gauss beams.

Some, when hit by the second beam, have their shields shattered; the beam remains unmitigated, strikes the power armor, and then…

"Ah…!!"

Accompanied by the squad members' cries of pain, their power armor and bodies disintegrated, turning into a pile of faintly green debris.

The counter‑attack was stalled.

There's no choice; if we pull the viewpoint upward… upward…

From several thousand meters up, the colonial metropolis with its massive megastructures stretches out, everywhere lit by the rising smoke and the firelight of explosions.

The sky is filled with countless dented discs and scorpion‑shaped undead aircraft darting about, indicating that the human side has lost air superiority and that the Empire Navy stationed to defend the colony cannot withstand the undead tombs' onslaught.

In fact, the colony is called "Morning Star," located in the Orion Arm's sector, not within the most intense assault zone of the Trapped Stars.

Because it lies relatively close to the political and economic core of the Zero‑Three Universe, i. e., the Solar System, Morning Star's total population reaches 30 billion.

At the same time, this shows that the Empire's army, navy, and Krig stationed on Morning Star number two to three times those of other colonies, totaling about 40 million.

In low Earth orbit and within Morning Star's stellar system, over a hundred vessels of various classes are deployed, including four 20‑kilometer‑long Dauntless‑class carriers.

Moreover, this is the recruitment homeworld of the Dark Angel's 16th Battalion; although it cannot match the affluent colonies in the Extreme Star Zone, it is certainly prosperous by Zero‑Three Universe standards.

After the Human–Undead War broke out, Rog dispatched six companies of Astate reservists to temporarily garrison Morning Star; in terms of defensive strength alone this should be sufficient, especially since Morning Star has not been touched by the war.

What no one expected was that Morning Star suddenly spawned an incalculable number of undead tombs, each of massive scale…

They were flying pyramids filling the sky.

Facing the seemingly endless metallic tide, only the fleet directly under the 16th Battalion held the line; however, a single tree cannot support a whole forest, and within two hours the human side lost most of its air superiority and low‑orbit control.

Moreover, before the undead tombs even broke the surface, Morning Star had already lost contact with the outside, a situation even more severe than that of Caron Tower back then.

Clearly, the undead tombs buried deep beneath Morning Star's surface likely belong to a hegemon's dynasty, far more powerful than the Sa Er Ke Si·Yi Sai Er dynasty.

Thus, against the metallic tide, Morning Star's native forces alone are insufficient.

This explains why, on that earlier street block, only civilians and the sheriff faced the fight, as the military and battalion headquarters had no time to attend.

However, at present the rear is overseen by Rog; as the OriginalBody capable of perceiving the entire galaxy, he naturally knows Morning Star's sudden change, and support is presumably already en route.

That street block at this moment…

"Howl! Guys, give it your all!!"

"Howl! Die! Die!"

Seeing the special squad unable to hold the front, a group of elites increased speed and force in the area where undead warriors clustered, attempting to relieve the pressure on the special squad.

"Whoosh! Whoosh!"

"Boom! Boom!"

At that moment, a barrage of dense plasma cannon fire streaked across the street sky, instantly taking out the undead warriors suppressing the special squad.

However, the source of those plasma cannons was "completely empty."

It turned out to be a few members of the Iron Blood clan, wearing hunting armor equipped with shoulder cannons, wrist blades, and telescopic spears, using Optical Camouflage to glide between low buildings and trees, conducting guerrilla actions and support.

Elites and Iron Blood are also humans of the Human Empire, but they have no special status; they can purchase their preferred versions of weapons and armor, yet buying weapons and armor from the human side is prohibited, and the same applies vice versa.

As for the most useless among the crowd, it must be the Velyn tribe, with their slender ears and handsome appearance.

Because they excel at Spiritual Energy, they are completely countered by the undead side.

"Dong, dong!"

What deepened the despair of everyone present was that, as the ground trembled violently, several "three‑legged scorpions" equipped with super‑phase blades entered the block and launched an attack on the front‑line elites.

But what no one knew was that a meteor shower began to fall in the dim sky…

It was the intense friction of a drop‑ship breaking through the atmosphere, its firelight slashing the night sky.

(End of chapter)