WELCOME, RECRUIT

Planet Classes

F: No OGP (Orbital Guard Program) or Statues. May be destroyed with a laser.

E: No OGP or Statues, but has other defense mechanisms that may complicate the bulldozing process.

D: OGP present, Statues absent. Landing required to carry out Dismantling Procedures.

C: OGP present, Statues absent. Landing required to carry out Dismantling Procedures. Sapient life detected; confrontation possible.

B: OGP present, Statues absent. Landing required to carry out Dismantling Procedures. Advanced sapient life detected; confrontation nearly guaranteed.

A: Statues present. OGP may or may not be present; however, planets with Statues typically are heavily-protected and have robust OGPs as well. Native life is either unaware of the Statues or do not know how to properly utilize them. Bulldozing is possible, but care must be taken while landing and carrying out Dismantling Procedures.

S: Statues present. Natives are aware of how to utilize them. Generally not considered for bulldozing without exceptional reasons. Landing is not recommended.

EX: Planets occupied by the progenitor races. Safe from CBT operation.

Job Ranking

F: Individual is unable to perform this job.

E: Individual is both highly unremarkable and without any future potential in this job. Switching is strongly recommended.

D: Individual is mildly proficient at their job but without any future potential for growth. Switching is recommended.

C: Individual is highly proficient at their job but lacks the potential to develop any of the unique skills which the CBT scouts for when recruiting members of that job. Serviceable; however, if the individual has innate potential for better abilities in another job, switching is recommended.

B: Individual is both highly proficient at their job and possesses the ability or potential to develop unique skills within their job which the CBT values. Any individual recruited into the CBT must have Rank B or above in at least one job.

A: Individual possesses the ability or potential to develop a Rank A skill. Due to the rarity and high value of these skills, any individual with the potential to develop them is assigned Rank A, even if they are otherwise untrained in the job.

S: Individual possesses several Rank A skills, or the proficiency of their Rank A skills makes them highly powerful. If recruited, these individuals MUST wear temporary Power Limiters before entering and when within CBT territory; failure to comply will lead to immediate execution.

EX: Individual either a Council member, or is judged by the Council to be beyond the acceptable power level mandated by the Honso Peace Treaty. These individuals must be reported, and if they do not comply with permanent Power Limiters, then they will be executed.

“Statues… Honso Peace Treaty…” Breve sighs to herself, shaking her head. She would ask more questions, but her head’s already starting to hurt from the information, not to mention she’s just woken up with an empty stomach.

So instead, she drags herself out of bed— an action significantly more difficult now than when she was at school, which is surprising, because she’d never thought there would be something she dreaded more than going to school— and out of the door.

“Goooood morning!” Tiffney greets Breve as she pulls herself into the squad room. There’s a rather frightening-looking bow laying on her lap, which Breve surmises must be Tiffney’s true weapon (other than being insane). “I heard Peach had to tuck you into bed. Slept well, princess?”

“Shut up,” Breve mutters, and the smell of roasted coffee begins to seep into her mind. Ah, yes, the last good thing in this rotten universe. “Hey, can you make me a drink, Dechambul?”

“Sure,” he hums. “Oh, yeah, Peach said she wanted to give you something. She should be back any minute now—”

Right on cue, the door opens, and Peach enters the room. Breve turns her head, and her eyes immediately widen upon seeing what’s in her hands.

Clutched in Peach’s grip is the highest-quality staff Breve has ever laid her eyes upon. The wooden cuttings of the magical medium are so intricate, Breve can only imagine the days, nay, months of toil needed to extract such an intact core out of a magic-channeling oak. That’s not even the most impressive part, though: upon its top hovers an beautifully polished chunk of lapis lazuli, finishing off the staff with such perfection that even a failure like Breve can see the very mana-veins that run through it.

“For you,” Peach says, and she extends it to Breve. Breve’s jaw drops. “I had asked Yaolong for assistance in carving it. I do hope it is an acceptable replacement for your old staff.”

“Oh, by the gods,” Breve gasps, and the moment she grabs the beautifully-glazed handle, she can literally feel the wood living under her touch. And the lapis lazuli, a stone perfect for specializations into healing magic— it thrums with a power Breve has never felt before. “This is…”

Ding!

Tiffney leans over, and then she lets a smirk slip across her face. “Hey, look here! Breve just got a new spell!”

What? Breve immediately takes a deep breath, and tries tapping into her magic. Though her skills are still limited, she realizes that Tiffney is right— it feels like a new pathway within her body has opened, one that was previously blocked.

“I think…” Breve closes her eyes, concentrating hard on her own breathing. “The status-removing skills… I think I can cast them now! Wait, let me try!”

Breve clears her throat, before raising her staff aloft, recalling the words her teachers often made her repeat in vain attempts to help her cast it. “I call upon Brigid’s great wisdom to heal the sick… Remedy!”

As she mutters out the incantation for Remedy, a warm light washes over her, magic actually jumping from her fingertips and into the staff’s orb. “Wow... I’ve never managed to actually pull that one off!”

“I see,” Peach says, placing a finger on her chin. “It seems that you have been gear-limited.”

Dechambul wakes up with a cup of coffee. “Well, that’s a pleasant surprise! Now, you’ll be able to heal us and remove status ailments, Breve.”

“Pfft,” Tiffney snorts. “So, like, the bare fucking minimum of her job?”

“It’s… it’s a start,” Breve breathes. As she gratefully accepts the coffee, a renewed sense of confidence begins to stir within her.

Is it bad, to feel… good? Even though her planet is destroyed and everyone she’s ever known is dead?

Breve looks up at Peach. “Thank you,” she says with full gratitude. “It’s perfect.”

And Breve really means it. She’s always known that her gear has been… well, not the best, so to speak. But beyond that, on her home planet, no one believed in her— not her teachers, her classmates, hell, not even her own family. If no one’s managed to unlock the hidden potential in their bloodline for over a dozen generations, does it even exist anymore?

But now, she’s here. At the cost of her entire world, yes, but she’s here— surrounded by people who are calling her ‘Rank A’, reassuring her that her potential makes her special, even going out of their way to make her feel comfortable, get her new gear. It’s…

It’s good. Yeah, it’s all so Breve can set forth and destroy a planet, but right now, it’s all feeling really good. And after the absolute mindfuck that yesterday was?

Hell. She’ll take it.

Yes, even with the snarky ass insane elf bitch who is currently walking up to slap Breve way too hard in the back. So hard that Breve spills half her coffee down her shirt. “Oops,” Tiffney laughs, not even pretending to be sorry. “Well, I’ll do my best to not get hurt, so you won’t have to worry about me! Dechambul, though… he’s already falling apart, and his HP is at max. I’d say you should save your MP for him.”

“Just so you know, I can brew my own health potions,” Dechambul retorts.

Breve just takes a deep breath and takes a good sip of the remaining coffee. “So…” Breve pulls the cup away from her lips, looking at Peach. “When are we heading out?”

“...I see an eagerness that was not there yesterday,” Peach points out, and Breve blinks. Are her emotions that obvious. “It is a good thing. I value the eagerness to learn and improve yourself. As for when we shall be heading out… Dechambul, Tiffney, are you both ready?”

“Potions are all brewed and I’ve packed all my ingredients,” Dechambul confirms. “All the rations we need for our mission are already in the shuttle, too.”

“I was booorn ready,” Tiffney slurs, absolutely oozing with confidence.

Peach looks back at Breve. “I suppose we will go once you have finished your coffee, then.”

Breve puts the cup back to her lips, and throws it back into her mouth. “Damn!” Tiffney laughs, clapping her hands. “Homegirl’s raring to go!”

With a last gulp, Breve slams the cup down on the table, eyes blazing with a determination she’s never felt before.

And then the cup shatters from being put down too hard.

“Ahhh!” Breve lets go of the handle, realizing that it’s no longer attached to anything. “I’m sorry!”

-----

Peach shows Breve how to use the sleeve’s automatic cleaning system to wipe the coffee stain off her clothes and they sweep up the broken cup, Breve finds herself a bite to eat before being led into a whole new vehicle.

“This is our shuttle,” Peach explains, and Tiffney hops up to the front seat before buckling in. “It is a much smaller spaceship, which our squad uses to travel to mission destinations. Upon completion, this shuttle will automatically detect and retrieve the Lifebringer Sphere, and we will be clear to return to the Nostradamus.”

“And enjoy our paaaayday,” Tiffney adds on.

Dechambul counts the supplies, making sure everything is in place, before giving Peach a confident thumbs-up. “Well, take a seat,” Peach says, pointing Breve towards a chair. “Pull the straps together so that you will be secured to the backrest in case of turbulent travel.”

“Seriously, wear that seatbelt,” Tiffney whispers (...loudly), in an exaggeratedly conspiratorial tone. “Peach is an absolute menace on the wheel! You know what they say… never get into a spaceship if a cultivator native’s your pilot!”

“Stop trying to scare her,” Peach immediately snaps, and Tiffney just laughs in response. “I do not even know where to begin with that ridiculously racist notion. I am as good a pilot as any other.”

Dechambul, who Breve notices is looking a lot more solid and less ooze-y than yesterday, takes a seat next to her. “Let’s be off, then. When we land, I’ll do the scouting— poisonous terrain won’t do anything to me.”

“That’s if we manage to land at all,” Tiffney chimes in, and Peach presses a button. Suddenly, a latch opens above the elf, and a mechanical arm holding a pillow drops down before smothering Tiffney in the face. “Mfffgh—?!”

“Yaolong taught me how to do that yesterday as well,” Peach says with an amused grin. “He says Zhenxuan often needs it.”

And with that, Peach straps herself in, pulling an impossible combination of levers before the shuttle revs to life. “Prepare for takeoff, everyone.”

Breve sits back, relaxing into the seat as a string of mechanical commands ring out of the shuttle’s speakers. “DESTINATION: HELES-397. WORMHOLE GENERATED. READY FOR TAKEOFF.”

The shuttle bay opens up, exposing the vehicle to wide, open space. And then Peach pulls another lever, sending the shuttle jettisoning out of the Nostradamus, smoothly cruising in the expanse of stars.

She then navigates to a strange hole in the darkness, which Breve realizes must be a portal of sorts. It sucks the shuttle in, blanketing them in pitch black for just a moment, before vision returns in the form of a whole new planet, laying right in front of them. “ARACHNID-TYPE LEVIATHAN DETECTED,” the system blares. “APPROACH WITH CAUTION.”

Breve tilts her head, and suddenly, a bead of sweat breaks through her forehead. Upon the planet’s surface lies a truly gigantic eight-legged creature, covered in beady eyes and sensitive hairs. It orbits the planet as though its atmosphere was solid ground it was crawling on, and Peach watches it from a distance, waiting for it to turn away before carefully approaching the planet’s surface.

It doesn’t seem to notice them, and as they breach the planet’s atmosphere, Dechambul lets out a loud sigh of relief. “What,” Peach growls, and Dechambul immediately clears his throat. “You thought I would fuck that up, too?”

“Ah, uh, well!” Dechambul looks away sheepishly, and then makes eye contact with Breve, as if beckoning the catgirl to help him. “Haha, no, of course not!”

“Just because I flew too close just once,” Peach grumbles. Is this… a sore spot for her? A weakness within this godlike Rank S Monk who can thrash a dragon without breaking a sweat? “If you would like to pilot, you may sit through the training and do it yourse—”

“Hey,” Breve interrupts, noticing that Tiffney’s gone limp. “Do you, um, think she needs air?”

“Fuck,” Peach swears loudly, and she pulls the pillow away from the elf. Tiffney immediately gasps, and though Breve can’t see her face, she can imagine just how blue it is. “I forgot about you.”

Tiffney wheezes, loudly heaving air back into her lungs. “Haah… haaaah… damn, I know some people are into asphyxiation, but at least ask first, baby…”

“Nevermind,” Peach mutters darkly, and she sends the pillow thwacking onto Tiffney’s face again. “Please die.”

As Tiffney struggles wildly against a certain, pillowy death, Dechambul scans the planet’s fast-approach surface. “That looks like a structure,” he points out, and Peach notices the rectangular block sticking out upon the swamplands. “We can probably begin our search for Bamadis’ body over there.”

Peach presses a set of buttons, and the shuttle begins making its way to where Dechambul pointed out. As they get closer, Breve studies the menacing stretches of dark-green poison that occupy most of the planet— and as they approach, the amount of sunlight penetrating into the planet tapers off, slowly plunging them into darkness with naught but the shuttle’s searchlight to shine the way.

Finally, she manages a smooth landing atop what appears to be an old prison complex. Once the shuttle is on solid ground, Peach lets Tiffney free, and the elf gasps for dear life while she unbuckles her seatbelt. “We have arrived,” she declares, looking at Dechambul. “Will you be scouting, then?”

“On it,” he replies cheerily, and with that, he gets out of his seat. “Keep an eye on your sleeve. I’ll contact you guys if I run into trouble, though I’m sure I can hold my own!”

“I know. But stay safe,” Peach reminds him, and Dechambul gives them a wave before entering the shuttle’s double-doored decontamination chamber. As the second set of doors open and he sets out, Breve’s sleeve flares to life, as do all of theirs.

Breve realizes that it’s showing a live feed of the area, with the footage adjusting remarkably to the dimly-lit conditions. “Oh, yeah, that’s what we came for,” Dechambul suddenly laughs, and as he turns, the screen pans to show a shambling horde of the undead, flesh dripping off their faces as they hobble towards him.

The sight of them nearly makes Breve scream in terror, but she holds it back in. If no one else is alarmed, then there’s no reason she should be. And Dechambul, the one actually facing them down, seems to be almost amused, twisting his arm so that the sleeve can capture the best shot. “Watch this,” he says, before reaching under his cape. He produces a test tube of shining red liquid, which he swirls around before tossing directly into the crowd.

The ensuing explosion can be heard by Breve both through the live feed and in real life. “Dechambul, please keep the explosives further from the shuttle,” Peach chides, and Dechambul only laughs in response before pulling out a different potion. This time, it’s got a deep maroon hue, and he waits for one of the reanimated corpses to get close before lobbing it at them.

As the glass shatters on its face, the zombie seems utterly undeterred. But suddenly, its skin begins to slough off, as if Dechambul had poured acid onto it. “Perfect,” he says rather gleefully, and the undead soon collapses in front of him, reduced to nothing but the corpse that it should be. “Atmosphere’s breathable out here, too. The sleeve’s air filter should be enough to protect you guys. Looks like we can definitely grind on these enemies.”

“Awesome,” Tiffney says, and she pulls herself off the seat, bow in hand. “Let’s go get them!”

Breve pulls her staff close, before giving Peach a determined nod. “Alright… I’ll make sure you keep all of you healthy!”

“Oh,” Peach hums, before shaking her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Instead, we want you to take part in killing.”