Fated to Die to the Player, I’ll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!

Around the time Arthur was training with the girls, several figures gathered in the office of President Astoria. All of them wore matching uniforms—a telltale sign that they were part of the same organization: the Astoria Standing Army. "As the President predicted, the Meyers are moving fast." A brown-haired bulky man, bearing the insignia of a three-star general, spoke with urgency. "They've already assembled a fleet equivalent to our Standing Army—and they're still growing." "They're mobilizing quickly… almost as if they were expecting this beforehand," a woman commented, her slender fingers resting against her chin in thought. Her long green hair cascaded down her back, shifting as she tucked a strand behind one pointed ear—a clear indicator of her elven bloodline. "No," the last of them, a thin, purple-skinned man clad in an insignia-less uniform, with half his face concealed behind a mask—shook his head. "It's not that they were expecting us to wage war. It's that they were already in the middle of waging one." "What do you mean by that, you stinky demonoid?" the elven woman asked, her eyes narrowing sharply. The masked man sneered in return, a glint of amusement in his visible gold-on-black pupils. "Heh, if you don't know, then you must be getting old, you loli-grandma space elf!" "Oh?" The elf's smile didn't falter, but a dangerous glint flickered in her emerald eyes. "I was asking nicely, and that's how you respond? Did three months without seeing me give you a pair of iron balls~?" "Fuck you! Since when was mocking your former student considered 'asking nicely'?!" The two glared at each other, their tempers flaring—until the general let out a sharp breath, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Fresta. Grim. Enough," General Kiva ordered, his tone steady. Despite the calmness in his voice, both of them suddenly stiffened—as if an invisible blade had brushed against their throats. In perfect synchronization, the two quickly backed down and returned to their positions, acting as though nothing had happened. "Ah, General Kiva, please go easy on them." President Anderson chuckled wryly, waving a hand dismissively. "My old heart can't handle this much stress." Of course, Kiva knew that was a blatant lie. For someone like Anderson Phi Astoria, this level of killing intent was barely a breeze. Still, Kiva bowed his head slightly, offering a toothy grin. "Apologies, President. I'll make sure to teach them some proper manners later." "It's fine," Anderson replied with a light chuckle—before his expression darkened, returning the tension to the room. "But as expected, the Meyers are moving too fast. Kiva, will our preparations be finished in time?" "Yes, President!" General Kiva straightened, offering a crisp salute. "Currently, 55% of our forces have completed their tune-ups and resupplied their munitions. We estimate all preparations will be completed within the next 12 hours!" "Good." Anderson exhaled slightly in relief before shifting his gaze toward the masked man. "Grim, what about the traps? How's progress?" Grim scratched his head, pulling up a report on his personal terminal. "...We're behind schedule. Only 19.5% of the traps have been set," he admitted. "That said, the defense network and anti-warp systems are already in place. Trap deployment should speed up from here on." "So we're delayed." Anderson sighed, rubbing his temple. "Must be the Meyers' spies interfering." "I think so too, my dear." Fresta leaned back slightly, exuding an aura of effortless confidence. Despite her childlike appearance, her movements radiated the sensuality of an experienced predator. She gave a playful wink. "In our intelligence unit alone, we've already uncovered over a hundred infiltrators. That's approximately 5% of our total forces." That was bad news. The Intelligence Unit, under the direct command of Elven Overlord Fresta, was the pinnacle of Astoria's espionage and counterintelligence operations. If even they had been compromised at a 5% rate, then logically, every other department likely had a similar or greater percentage of spies lurking within. "...We need to round them all up before the war starts," Anderson said grimly. "Chief Inspector Fresta, can I count on you for this?" Fresta's lips curled into a smirk as she twirled a lock of green hair between her fingers. "Fufu, of course, dear. Consider it done~!" Though there was still over a day left before the declared time for battle, nothing prevented the enemy from launching a preemptive strike. Time was of the essence. With that, the meeting concluded, and the three departed to carry out their respective duties. Left alone in his office, Anderson leaned back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh as he stared at the ceiling. A million thoughts raced through his mind. "...The war's already begun." His frown deepened. "And we're already a few steps behind." After a moment of silence, he shook his head and reached for the drawer beneath his transparent desk. A secret compartment slid open—a space invisible from any external angle. Inside lay a single locket, its surface adorned with intricate gold carvings. Its chain, though translucent like crystal, carried the weighty clink of metal as it brushed against the table. Anderson traced a thumb along the engravings—softly, almost reverently. Pressing a small protrusion, the locket clicked open, revealing a single image sealed behind layers of crystallized protection. For a brief moment, his sharp eyes softened, flickering with emotions long buried. A memory. A regret. A promise. But it lasted only a moment. With a quiet breath, he closed the locket and returned it to the hidden drawer, locking it securely once more. "Right... Now's not the time to hesitate." Straightening his posture, Anderson stood up, his expression hardening. There was no time for sentimentality. He had work to do. After all, he now had "something" to protect. --- For the past 40 hours, I had been relentlessly busy. I had to accompany Cassandra and Eva for training runs on the practice track, offering suggestions and tips to shave down our lap times. However, since Cassandra lacked the stamina to last an entire race, we had to take breaks every five hours on average. And during those "breaks," rather than resting, I returned to the Range Falcon to continue the painstaking process of replacing our weapons. Even with the assistance of AI-controlled robotic arms, handling all the replacements alone was still grueling work. On average, it took me about 30 minutes to install a single turret. Of course, I could speed up and bring the time down to around 10 minutes per unit—but that would wear me out both physically and mentally. So instead, I chose the slow and steady approach. For now, I focused on replacing the most troublesome turrets first, leaving the broadside turrets and miscellaneous module upgrades for later. Those would be much quicker to install, so they weren't a priority. "Hmm?" While I was in the Hunter Frigate with the girls, a sudden notification from the Range Falcon appeared on my terminal. It wasn't an alert for incoming hostiles. Rather, it was a ping from the secondary firewall I had running—a background security program designed to divert hacking attempts away from our main systems. "A rat seems to have found its way in," I muttered, catching Eva's attention. "A rat?" She raised a brow, her lips curling into a deep frown. "Did Casey's father try to track us by hacking the Falcon?" I observed the intruder, watching as they attempted to install a suspicious package in the sandboxed environment I had redirected them to. Running a quick analysis, I identified it as a simple spying program—one designed to ping the ship's location to the hacker once every minute. "Yep, looks like it," I replied, nodding. "But don't worry. I already fed it a fake location. There's no way they'll find us with such a flimsy hacking attempt." Eva scoffed, rolling her eyes before returning to monitoring the training program. "Then that's good..." "Yeah—" I sighed in relief, only for my eyes to widen in alarm. "Wa, wa, wait, Cassandra! Asteroid up front! Watch out!" "Eh...?" She must've been listening to our conversation, distracted for just a moment. And that short moment sent us straight into a collision course with a 50-meter-diameter asteroid. With our current speed and the asteroid's mass, a crash would be deadly. Panic shot through me as I popped my seatbelt open and lunged forward, yanking control away from Cassandra. I quickly pulled the lever to the right, twisting my body around while flooring the pedals, forcing the ship into an emergency 180° turn with the thrusters burning at overdrive. "MMPH!" "A-Arthur...! Ahn~!" But of course, following the laws of physics, a sudden, sharp turn followed by rapid deceleration launched me forward—or backward, ship-wise. My face, completely beyond my control, landed squarely between two soft, warm peaks. I could hear Cassandra's panicked voice from above, her breath hitching—clearly troubled by the situation. Unfortunately, with over 20Gs of decelerative force pressing me down, I couldn't move. It was as if I had been nailed into place, trapped in a heavenly pillow prison. "...!" However, instead of pushing me away, I felt Cassandra's arms tighten around me, pulling me in even further. 'She... was hugging me?' The crushing force of deceleration against my body. The soft, intoxicating sensation on my face. The warm, trembling hands wrapped securely around my back. My brain struggled to process the situation—until finally, the ship jerked to a brief stop, its thrusters lightly grazing the asteroid before propelling us in the opposite direction. Thanks to my quick reaction, we managed to avoid a fatal crash. But for some reason, I had a gut feeling that the real danger was only just beginning. "A-R-T-H-U-R..." As the forces pinning us down faded, an ominous voice echoed from ahead. I couldn't see who it was—Cassandra was still holding me in a vice grip, refusing to let go. Chills ran down my spine. The longer I stayed in Cassandra's embrace... the shorter my lifespan felt. "MMPH!" I tried to mumble out a plea for help, but I was too deep in the soft abyss to form actual words. "H-Hmm~! Ah~!" All I could hear was Cassandra's erratic breathing and the occasional sweet moan escaping her lips. And then— It ended. As if I were a small kitten, Eva grabbed me by the back of my collar, yanked me out of Cassandra's hold— —only to shove me straight into her own chest. My mind blanked out. The sensation was completely different from Cassandra's, springy and soft, further muddling my already-fried brain. And before I could even begin to rationalize what was happening, I heard a small, almost hesitant whisper. "...Hands off! He's...!" "...?" But she never finished her sentence. The next moment— *WHAM!* A strong impact struck the back of my neck. Darkness swiftly overtook my senses. But before I blacked out completely, I made sure to etch the sensation of the soft heavens into my memory. I wasn't forgetting that, for sure.