"You've wounded my soul."
Dan Heng said to Caelus.
"Sorry, I'm guilty."
Caelus admitted his fault at lightspeed.
When the icy current turns into warm credits, who wouldn't be dizzy with joy?
[Hahaha, workplace injury! This is definitely a workplace injury!]
["About My Boss Electrocuting Me for the Sake of the Stream"]
[Wait, look, this…]
"Sorry, our company has no rule allowing harm to employees; the boss can't intentionally hurt staff—so, these credits… this shock, let me take it instead."
Of course, Caelus tossed Dan Heng out of the tub.
Hah, naive!
Did you really think Caelus would let Dan Heng get zapped?
Are you kidding? That's a therapy session costing hundreds of millions per go.
Yes, it's electro-therapy!
[This is straight-up genius-level artistic bacteria.]
[Add fuel, add fuel!]
[Streamer, streamer, this is hilarious—followed!]
Caelus lay elegantly in the tub; if you ignored the fact he was fully clothed with dripping hair, he actually looked pretty hot.
"Some viewers want to know what our employees are like? Why, it's hellish torture, of course."
Caelus's hair stood up like a Super Saiyan's.
"Captain, your hair's standing…"
"No big deal—credits, I mean, a little electricity makes the body healthier."
Caelus waved a hand.
[This boss is real—when there's juice, he takes it himself!]
[Followed, followed—respect for that professionalism.]
[So, streamer, will you zap colleagues from now on?]
"Zap colleagues? Absolutely not!" Caelus declared righteously. "Our company bans workplace bullying; whoever bullies a coworker, I'll pin them in the Talia Star System, rear half outward."
[Can't zap colleagues, so can we zap the boss?]
"Tsk, how could you say that?"
Caelus slicked his hair back, styling it into a disgraceful mess.
The bullet comments fell silent for a few seconds.
[Fake, fake, must be a scam company.]
[Come on, no way a job this good exists; if it did, would it even be my turn?]
"What do you mean good treatment? This is our bottom-tier package."
Caelus cackled.
"Don't think we're some paradise—life at the bottom is brutal: only one and a half days off a week, and no midnight snack with the three meals!"
[Three meals… and they expect midnight snacks too?]
[This… this is almost too good.]
[Fake, fake, must be punishment gruel every meal.]
[I'll eat punishment gruel—4,000 credits a month in Talia is crazy high…]
"Only two team-building trips a year, and if we go to Penacony, only those with perfect daily attendance can go—*top-tier bubble voice*."
[What did he just say? Is my synesthetic beacon broken?]
[111… wait, I swear I saw him at Penacony's front desk… with three people, the streamer really was one of them.]
[No way, he actually treats his employees?]
[I don't believe it, impossible.]
"Our Cosmic Junk Company's creed: use the cruelest treatment to filter the toughest, most capable workhorses! Can't take it? Get lost early!"
[Tough talk! Boss is bluffing!]
[Screenshot—three parts disdain, seven parts guilt.]
[Exploiting employees? More like exploiting the boss (doge).]
[Got the employee emoji pack √]
[That look—totally a real employee, I buy it.]
"Heh, can't handle this? It's just the appetizer. Next comes real torture." Caelus chuckled. "Half a system hour of forced entertainment after work, only one counseling session a week, and a measly two-month annual leave!"
"And the most terrifying, inhumane event—the year-end talent show! Every employee must perform on stage; slackers get bonuses docked! That's the soul-crushing torment!"
[Two months of annual leave?! My ears okay?!]
[What kind of hellish torture—haven't performed since elementary school!]
[Boss, look at me—more workhorse than a mule!]
[I have to join the Cosmic Junk Company right now!]
The stream's popularity skyrocketed, live viewers hitting an all-time high. The quirky name "Cosmic Junk Company," along with keywords like "shock-the-boss," "two-month leave," and "forced talent show," spread like wildfire across Talia Star System and nearby interstellar nodes.
Watching the follower count explode and his inbox about to burst, Caelus scratched his head and ended the stream.
Are these people all masochists?
March 7th hugged the gear, eyes still glued to the astronomical donation numbers and follower surge, feeling like she was dreaming. "Captain… are we… famous?"
"Famous? Of course—clearly they've never seen anyone exploit employees' value like me."
No, they've never seen such a kind boss.
March 7th muttered.
She now had some grasp of cosmic hardships.
Someone like Caelus… could only be described as a philanthropist among philanthropists.
A super-saint.
"Next we conquer another planet—our new junkyard will be ready soon."
"Sigh—why won't this company just dump trash? All it does is tidy the place up."
"No idea. But the boss has been handing out free food for a whole month. Think he's got some other motive…?"
"Don't overthink it—maybe he's just a nice guy."
"No way. I've seen him smack his people around, and they still have to smile while he does it…"
"Look at what he's hitting them with—he's literally flinging credits at their heads."
His companion gasped; even the nutrient paste in his hand lost its flavor.
"What boss throws credits at employees? That's humiliation!"
"…but he pays so much." The companion stared as the worker who'd just been "slapped" with a thick wad of credits didn't get angry—he grinned, scooped up the scattered money, counted it, then charged off to haul heavier scrap.
"Plus," the companion added, "have you noticed? They keep the usable stuff and process the rest with some machine. My nephew in the transport team says the boss calls it… garbage sorting."
"Say what?"
"No clue, but it sounds impressive."
Conversations like this echoed across every corner of this fringe planet in the Talia Star System. The arrival of the Cosmic Junk Company was like a stone tossed into stagnant water, sending ripples everywhere. Free, regular food handouts gave scavengers and exiles on the brink of starvation a chance to breathe.
Of course, some worlds in Talia were still backward.
So… "Hey hey hey, what are you doing? Why are you draping yellow robes on me—what's going on?"
Caelus was surrounded and cloaked in yellow.
"For the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor!"
What? I'm the Emperor now?
The sudden "coronation" left Caelus bewildered.
"Hold on!" He tried to tug the robe off, but the crowd pressed him down, eyes blazing, shouting "For the Emperor!" until his ears rang. "What emperor? I'm just a scrap collector—you've got the wrong person!"
"No mistake, Your Majesty!" An elderly leader dropped to his knees, arms high. "It's you! You brought food, drove off the lurking Plunderers, your steel titans are invincible! You are the foretold sovereign who will restore Talia's glory!"
Caelus: "…"
He glanced at the rusty rod in his hand, then at the rugged zakus parked nearby, and recalled how, while "cleaning" trash this month, he'd also swatted a few stupid beasts.
…Maybe it did look a bit suspicious?
"Listen, let me explain…" he tried. "Our Cosmic Junk Company specializes in waste recovery and resource recycling, plus basic community services—handing out near-expiration energy bars and food. We're not here to rule you; we're here to do business!"
Another elder, tears streaming: "So mighty yet so merciful! You protect us and feed us! This must be the Emperor's benevolence! We will follow you!"
"For the Emperor!"
"Your Majesty, guide us!"
The crowd's roar rose like waves.
Caelus:?
I'm not any emperor!
Are you all Erdolon or something!
Dragons are symbols of the Emperor, after all ()
Seeing Caelus still "humble," the old leader grew even more ecstatic, smashing his forehead to the ground with a dull thud. The crowd behind him followed suit.
"Inference: based on recent material aid and armed protection, combined with local apocalyptic prophecy culture, the natives have deified you and spontaneously formed a cult," Prometheus replied, amusement in its voice. "Suggestion: firmly refuse, or accept and build a management structure to boost resource-collection efficiency."
Caelus: …Meow?
"Captain, this…" March 7th tugged his sleeve, whispering. Her big eyes were full of confusion as she looked from the kneeling people to her yellow-robed, despair-faced captain, unsure what to do.
"Prometheus," Caelus called helplessly in his mind, "can I abdicate right now?"
"Emotional analysis indicates forcible refusal may turn worship into extreme disappointment and provoke unrest. Acceptance would swiftly integrate the planet's manpower and resources, greatly increasing recovery efficiency. Decide," Prometheus answered, its calm tone laced with schadenfreude.
Caelus drew a long breath; he knew he was roasting on the fire.
"Your Majesty, look!"
Someone dragged over a bruised, swollen beast.
"This creature actually spoke, saying: Long live the Emperor, Scrap King!"
He looked at the animal.
"Em-emperor live, Scrap King…"
"Stop! What are you doing to that poor thing!"
Caelus rubbed his temples.
He darted forward and rescued the dazed, talking beast from the over-zealous believer. It looked like a mutated local rodent, tiny paws covering its face, shivering.
Caelus: "…"
He lifted the "auspicious creature" by the scruff and met its terrified bean-sized eyes.
"Long live the Emperor."
Furious, Caelus almost crushed the shill. He swallowed his rage and tossed the beast to the stunned March 7th: "Take care of it—don't let anyone stew it."
Then he turned to the even more fanatic crowd, head throbbing.
"How merciful is the Emperor!"
"The Emperor's mercy is as vast as the star-sea!"
The more he denied, the firmer they believed—he felt himself sinking into something indescribable.
Caelus ground his molars. Looking at the gaunt yet hopeful faces, then at the mountain of garbage waiting to be processed, a wild but oddly workable idea popped up.
"…Sigh, why do you force me so!"
With a world-weary air, Caelus draped the yellow robe across his shoulders.
"You've truly wronged Your Majesty!"
"In the universe, nothing is perfect; everything is flawed…"
Caelus was delivering his "proclamation of ascension" when he felt a gaze upon him.
"Spying on me?"
He snapped his head aside with a reflex that would make Kennedy jealous.
The gaze locked onto his ship, the scrap iron.
"Why is balance looking this way right now?"
Yet balance never returns empty-handed; if it couldn't see Caelus, it would settle for something else.
"The ship's standing up!"
The crowd shrieked even louder, their eyes lifting to Caelus as if to a true god.
Caelus: "…"
Watching the scrap iron creak and unfold in front of everyone until it towered over the ground, he felt his blood pressure spike.
"Hu, what are you doing with those potions?"
"This isn't Prometheus's work… my scrap iron can only turn into the Ox-Gundam!"
"Master—beep—Omikron—beep—pledges allegiance to you."
Caelus's temples throbbed.
There stood a colossal robot among the garbage mountains, its cold metallic sheen utterly alien to the scrap iron's scrappy aesthetic, crackling the words "Omikron." A terrible premonition washed over him.
This thing… is from the wrong picture book!
The giant robot knelt, its weight slamming into the ground and shaking the earth. Its angular metal head bowed, scarlet optics locking on Caelus.
March 7th's mouth fell open; her "Lucky Beast" nearly slipped from her hands. Dan Hung folded his arms, frowning at the unfamiliar machine.
After a stunned silence, the natives erupted in wilder cheers: to them this was another steel titan of the "Emperor," further proof of miracle.
"For the Emperor!!!"
The roar nearly tore the sky down.
"Your Majesty, is this your loyal mechanical servant?" the elder's voice shook with joy. "Indeed! You are the prophesied leader; the Machine Spirit answers your call!"
He rubbed his brow, wearing a mix of resignation, acceptance, and a hint of "fine, let's roll with it."
"Fine, fine…" He waved a hand. "Emperor it is, then. What's this planet called?"
"Terra!"
"…?"
Caelus froze mid-gesture.
Ta-what?
"It's merely pronunciation. Our world may be called Terra; now that You—you—have arrived, it shall be renamed… Holy Terra!"
Caelus: …Damn!
Holy Terra, seriously!
The déjà vu made his scalp tingle; he glanced skyward half-expecting a rift in space.
"Your Majesty?" the elder asked cautiously, seeing his shifting expression. "Is the name… unsuitable?"
"…Suitable, very suitable." Caelus ground the words out. "Terra it is. Nice name."
What else could he say? Explain to these natives that he wasn't their "Emperor"?
His gaze returned to the kneeling giant. It stayed bowed, cold plating glinting hard under Talia's amber sun, out of place among the wasteland yet radiating stern majesty.
"Where's the scrap iron?" he asked with fading hope. "I mean my ship?"
"Main structure—beep—integrated into me—beep—Omikron." The chest armor slid open to reveal intricate internals; among them he could still spot a few familiar pipes and cables from the scrap iron. "Per—beep—highest-priority directive—beep—'Survival & Adaptive Evolution'—beep—current form—beep—offers superior tactical—beep—advantage and deterrence."
Caelus's vision darkened.
My scrap iron—where's my scrap iron!
My home! My home is gone!
balance, I'm not done with you! Just you wait—
He wanted to bawl and throw a tantrum, but the crowd's frenzy below and the kneeling robot awaiting inspection left no room for grief.
"Your Majesty, do not sorrow! Under your guidance we shall rebuild and flourish anew!"
The great Emperor shall descend upon his loyal Talia Star System.
The natives raised their hands and cheered.
"Terra! Terra! Terra!"
Their chorus shook the heavens.
"But!" He raised his voice above the roar. "The creed of our Cosmic Junk Company remains: recycle trash, turn waste into treasure! Everyone who wants food and credits—move! Bring every 'worthless' scrap to the designated depots, sorted and labeled! Anyone caught littering or slacking…"
"Oooooh—!"
"…Huh? I was just late with the ship, how did the whole Talia Star System suddenly have Order…"
"Kids, I've joined Cosmic Junk Company; the pay's paradise compared to the Corporation."
"What the—? You get 5,000 base pay for 4 system hours? I pull 8 system hours of ultra-high-pressure work for 6,000 credits!"
"Means your effect-resistance is high, you little glutton."
Yet because the company was still small, Caelus closed recruitment early.
He'd reopen hiring when they were short-staffed again.
As for income sources—he had plenty.
A space-station sugar-momma backed him; her daily pocket money alone covered Cosmic Junk's expenses, her only demand being first pick of any ultra-rare junk.
After all, supplier Caelus's goods, though riddled with bizarre defects, could fetch anomalies neither Interstellar Peace Corporation nor Intelligentsia Guild could locate.
Selling those anomalies to anyone else could trigger disasters, so—wanting them controlled yet secret—she resorted to… money power.
Asta simply unleashed money power on Caelus, demanding priority supply to Herta Space Station.
Though reluctant at first, he caved: the amount she offered was obscene—black card delivered straight to his door.
Well then—priority intel it is.
Squeak, this is Cosmic Junk Company, agent 250, Customer Service Sylvia, extremely unhappy to serve you."
The little blue-furred critter had now joined Cosmic Junk Company as the mascot-slash-customer-service rep for its Terra Star branch.
It drew an actual salary—though the tiny thing didn't want credits, only food of equal value.
Enough to last a lifetime and then some.
When Caelus passed by he casually plopped a blue twin-tailed wig on the animal's head and christened it Customer Service Sylvia.
"Um… does your company really provide room and board, four thousand credits a month, only eight hours a day?" a timid voice crackled through the communicator.
Xiao Xiang yawned, pawed at the cue card, and read aloud: "Squeak… yes, but it's hell on earth: one and a half days off per week, no midnight snacks, just two team-building trips a year, a talent show at year-end, and the cruelest part—raises only every five to six months. The post is nearly full, so if you sign on we can offer five thousand credits tops."
Before it finished, the other side burst in excitedly: "I'll take it! I'll walk into hell! How do I apply?!"
Xiao Xiang: "…squeak? Send your details to this channel and wait for notice."
After cutting the call, Xiao Xiang scratched its head, the wig almost sliding off, unable to fathom why humans yearned for "hell." It only had to sit here, squeak a few times, and got endless food—wasn't that paradise?
"Looks like the stream's buzz keeps growing… need Lancelot to speed up the zaku line or the new hires will have nothing to pilot."
Caelus rubbed his chin in thought.
Terra would be revamped first, shoving its people into the industrial age.
The local tech tree was woefully backward.
Only the natives called Caelus "Emperor"; everyone else used whatever title they pleased.
"How's it feel, Your Majesty?" March 7th had wandered over.
Caelus snapped: "Call me that again and next month's bonus is gone."
"Don't be like that, Captain!" March 7th switched at once. "Fine, fine, stingy much?"
"The pressure to survive and the hope of a full stomach are the best teachers," Dan Heng said from behind, holding Prometheus's fresh preliminary resource survey of Terra Star. "The planet's crust is stable, groundwater adequate, and soil in some regions can be improved for farming. With basic industry and agriculture, self-sufficiency is possible."
Watching people work, Caelus propped his cheek on one hand.
"Speaking of which, Captain, I found this on the ground… is it yours?"
March 7th waved the object.
"Yeah, mine."
Dan Heng's sharp eyes recognized it: a ticket.
"That's a Trailblazer's ticket."
"Trailblazer? What's that?"
March 7th blinked.
"…A thousand years ago the star god Akivili walked the worlds, laying silver rails between the stars and linking world after world. Travelers called themselves Trailblazers, riding the train Akivili built. Though the god of Trailblaze is dead, Trailblazers still cross the galaxy."
Dan Heng frowned, feeling something off.
"So, Captain, you used to be a Trailblazer?"
March 7th gasped.
"Mm, sort of."
"Whoa! Captain, tell us what the journey's like!"
March 7th asked; Dan Heng's stare made Caelus want to vanish.
"Trailblazer's life, huh…" Caelus gazed into the distance, nostalgia and toothache mingling on his face. "Basically: board, disboard, run errands, fix trouble, occasionally get sucked into galaxy-ending crises that somehow fizzle out, and scavenge treasure from roadside trash cans."
He added, "Main income? Digging through garbage."
March 7th: "…Captain, are you for real?"
"Think about it—the Astral Express runs along the star rails, passing so many worlds. Each world has its own customs and price levels, but there's one thing they all share—they all have trash cans! And the stuff inside is bizarre. If you're lucky, you can dig up antiques left from the previous civilization era and flip them for a huge pile of credits! It's a vital source of funding on the Trailblaze journey!"
March 7th believed him, but Dan Heng wasn't completely swayed. He caught the fleeting hesitation in Caelus's words and the overly dramatic performance. He watched Caelus in silence, the sense of dissonance in his heart growing clearer.
Everyone has a past they don't want to touch, even this seemingly heartless captain.
Caelus hadn't asked about theirs, so they naturally didn't need to pry either.
"I'm so excited! I just know that if I became a Trailblazer, I'd definitely be the super amazing, super famous kind."
March 7th laughed with her hands on her hips.
"Mm."
"Captain, you're not even refuting me?"
"You can become one."
"Wow, Dan Heng, did you hear that? The captain praised me!"
March 7th leaned against the railing.
"Wow~ if I could become a Trailblazer… I really want to try."
"All right, then…" Caelus reached out and pinned his own Astral Express ticket to March 7th's clothes. "Now you're a Trailblazer."
"Eh?!"
March 7th froze, looking down at the ticket gleaming with a special metallic luster on her chest.
"This… this is too valuable, Captain!" She instinctively tried to take it off. "This is yours—how can I…"
"Anyone holding an old ticket can board and become a Trailblazer with the Conductor's permission. Keep it. For me, that ticket's just a souvenir now." He smiled, the expression carrying some complicated, indiscernible emotion. "But for you, it might mean a whole new path. Didn't you want to be a Trailblazer? This is your pass."
"I don't want it. If becoming a Trailblazer means being separated from you… and Dan Heng and Prometheus, then… I'm not going."
March 7th stuffed the ticket right back into Caelus's hand.
"Mm?"
"The Astral Express sounds amazing, but… but you, Dan Heng, and Prometheus… you're like family. I don't want to leave you."
The girl's eyes were clear and resolute, without a trace of hesitation or calculation—only the purest reluctance to part.
Memories of March 7th surged through Caelus—laughter, tears, fighting side by side, and the eventual, irreparable loss… all overlapping with the March 7th smiling without a shadow before him now.
Dan Heng, standing to the side, took everything in. He saw the flash of pain and complexity in Caelus's eyes, and he saw March 7th's unreserved sincerity.
The air seemed to freeze for several seconds.
"Ha…"
Caelus suddenly chuckled, breaking the brief silence. The complicated emotions on his face receded like a tide, replaced by his usual roguish, teasing grin. He reached out and vigorously ruffled March 7th's pink head, mussing her silky hair into a mess.
"Are you stupid or what?" His tone carried exaggerated disgust. "You insist on staying in my crummy company as a workhorse? How dumb can you be…"
"I'm not dumb!" March 7th shielded her hair and pouted. "Trailblazers go to lots of places, but as long as I'm with you, everywhere is home!"
Prometheus's projection tilted its head, emitting a simulated laugh: "( ᗜ v ᗜ )"
He raised a hand as if to knock on March 7th's forehead, but she nimbly dodged behind Dan Heng, poking out half her head to make a face at him.
Dan Heng helplessly served as a human shield, watching the noisy pair and the AI enjoying the show. The tight line of his lips unconsciously softened. This chaotic yet warm everyday life had, at some point, become a familiar part of his world.
"All right, enough joking." Caelus casually stuffed the ticket back into his pocket, as though it were truly just a worthless old trinket. "Since you choose to stay, get ready to be exploited for life! Fail and I'll dock your snack quota!"
"Mission guaranteed accomplished!"