Damon's Ascension-Chapter 124: Kusibo Station

The scene shifted smoothly, from the Earth-bound essence instance of Hubei... to the cold black of space.

The Normandy-class spaceship, sleek and cutting through the cosmic dark like a spear, was moments away from arriving at Kusibo Station, a major interstellar hub orbiting a barren rogue planet on the outskirts of the Helios sector.

Inside the ship, the atmosphere was tense yet energized as the crew gathered to prepare for docking.

In the war room, holographic screens floated above the central table, displaying Kusibo Station’s layout, docking protocols, and cargo manifest lists.

At the head of the table, Felicia Rothschild — Vice Team Leader and Damon’s second-in-command for this vanguard operation — tapped her fingers lightly against the metal rim. Her intelligent blue eyes scanned every detail, her other hand flipping through mission bulletins.

Standing beside her, silent and composed, was Damon’s Avatar, arms crossed behind his back. His calm gaze occasionally flickered over the strategic projections but he said nothing, acting as both observer and sword.

"Estimated docking in six minutes," Henry Jasek announced, having become the team’s communication specialist during their journey due to his ’overwhelming charisma’.

"Station security?" Felicia asked without looking up.

"Standard Corporate Mercenary Corps. No military presence but... there’s a lot of private muscle, and more weapons platforms than I like." Henry said as he frowned slightly.

Across from him, Kyle Greer snorted. "Yeah, this place practically smells like a black-market deal on a Saturday night."

Bane McGregor, arms folded across his massive chest, grunted. "Don’t care how many guns they’ve got. If they try anything funny while we’re claiming the Worldly Essence, I’m cracking skulls."

"Calm down, Bane." Felicia finally looked up, her voice filled with amusement.

She glanced at each of them with a pointed look, lingering slightly on Damon’s Avatar, who gave a faint, approving nod. "Remember, we’re here to pick up, not provoke."

From the side, Xela Stone, the team’s vibrant mascot, flicked a holographic file open with a lazy finger.

"Trust and Trades says the shipment is ’ready for transfer’. But yeah, this smells like a trap," she said, her tone sardonic.

Felicia didn’t deny it. How could she?

A hundred and fifty billion units of Worldly Essence was no ordinary transaction. It was the single largest mass purchase ever recorded in corporate channels — even among the top five galactic corporations.

And it belonged to Damon Arnan, not humanity as a whole, meaning every vulture from here to the Chaos Realm wanted a bite.

Felicia sighed internally, brushing a lock of platinum-blonde hair behind her ear. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

’We’re walking into a powder keg with a torch in our hands.’ she thought grimly, legs crossed in a lady-like manner.

Just then, the ship AI spoke in its clipped synthetic voice:

[Docking Approaching: 60 Seconds Until Arrival. All Crew Prepare for Station Ingress.]

In the gravity-stabilized corridor outside the war room, the rest of the vanguard prepared themselves.

Connor Baines, the shadow-walker and close-combat specialist, finished checking his equipment while Nicholas Spencley, their mind hacker, prepared to scan the minds within range to identify those with ulterior motives.

Henry gave a low whistle as he loaded his favorite snacks into a fanny pack for chewing when he got down.

"Man, if this goes south, it’s gonna get real south real fast," he muttered under his breath.

Protizen Echo, the enigmatic armored warrior, simply leaned against the wall silently, his eyes closed as he ran battle simulations in his mind.

At the head of the line near the airlock, Damon’s Avatar glanced back briefly, his presence serene, yet somehow empty, like a blank spot among a sea of stars.

The ship shuddered slightly as magnetic locks seized the hull, and with a soft hiss, the Normandy came to a halt within Docking Bay 4B of Kusibo Station.

The boarding ramp lowered with a mechanical whir, and the team moved out in formation, a perfect blend of casual presence and lethal readiness.

At their head walked Felicia Rothschild, professional and composed.

Just half a step behind her, Damon’s Avatar followed silently, his calm gaze sweeping across the busy station floor as if marking every potential threat.

The moment they disembarked, the bustling cargo bay seemed to pause for a fraction of a second as mercenaries, traders, dock workers, and even some station officials all instinctively recognized the presence of dangerous people.

And standing at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for them with his arms outstretched in amible welcome, was Godin.

"Ah, there they are! My favorite clients!" Godin announced brightly, his voice smooth like oiled velvet.

He was dressed more formally than usual — an expensive charcoal-gray jacket, black trousers, and a silver sash indicating high rank within Trust and Trades Corporation — but the knowing glint in his eye never changed.

Felicia smiled faintly, stepping forward with a diplomat’s poise. "Lord Godin. I thought you would just send an agent."

Godin chuckled. "Oh, for an order of this magnitude? I wouldn’t trust anyone else. Not even my own clone."

Damon’s Avatar’s lips twitched, saying nothing.

Godin’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer, a slight narrowing of his eyes hinting at his awareness of who — and what — he was looking at, before he grinned wider.

"Come, come, no need to waste time. Your transaction is waiting, and Kusibo Station has far too many ears and eyes." He gestured invitingly.

The group moved after him without hesitation, their steps pressing lightly against the alloy floors of the station. Connor and Protizen took rear guard, Kyle and Henry moved to the flanks, while Felicia, Xela, Nicholas, and Damon’s Avatar stayed at the center.

As they followed Godin through the station, the crew couldn’t help but marvel internally at the surroundings.

Kusibo Station was not built like a sterile, utilitarian government facility.

It was sleek, almost decadent, a fusion of corporate luxury and ruthless efficiency.

Soft neon lights illuminated the passageways, while exotic plants grew in floating hydroglobes while high above, suspended cargo drones zipped silently between maintenance rails.

Traders from dozens of planets moved briskly, their bio-implants and augmentations visible under the station’s customized low-gravity environment.

"This place is... Half hotel, half arms bazaar." Henry whistled under his breath.

Kyle grinned grimly. "Yeah, I’m 99% sure I saw a guy selling a nuke back there."

Even Bane McGregor’s stoic face twitched slightly as his eyes tracked several merchant booths casually advertising ’combat-ready biological organisms’ as pets.

Damon’s Avatar simply watched everything, expression placid but every detail absorbed and processed.

Trust and Trades clearly knew their clientele. This was a market built for the powerful, for those whose ambitions didn’t fit on a single planet and who wanted something a little bit more illegal than normal.

Eventually, Godin led them to a discreet elevator hidden behind a nondescript wall marked only by a glowing sigil, the crest of the IUAS Trade Division.

The doors slid open with a soft chime.

"This way, friends. Time for the main event." Godin said, stepping in first.

One by one, the team entered. Felicia shot a quick glance at Damon’s Avatar, who nodded lightly, signaling no issues detected.

The elevator descended silently, deeper than the station’s main floors, the lights dimming to a dark blue.

When the doors finally slid open, what greeted them was breathtaking.

An entire hangar-sized hall stretched out before them, dominated by a colossal swirling portal encased in a prismatic energy cage. Its surface rippled like a mirror dipped in liquid crystal, and pure energy bled into the air around it, warping light and sound.

In front of the portal stood rows of clerks — goblins in crisp white uniforms — standing at designated stations, each one managing a trade portal interface.

Looking through the portal, once could see that some grids were already active with buyers and sellers standing across from each other, Essence being transferred in dazzling bursts of green-blue light through the sacrifice method.

Felicia’s eyes sharpened immediately, while the others straightened unconsciously.

Godin turned to them, smiling.

"This is Kusibo Station’s private Sacrifice and Exchange Hall. Built under direct supervision of the Universe Will itself. No risk. No theft. Pure transaction." He said proudly.

He gestured toward the portal in front. Waiting there was a clerk who bowed formally.

"All you need to do is allow your real body to enter the Instance. Once inside, the vendor side will begin the sacrifice. No danger, no complications." Godin continued, lowering his voice slightly.

Felicia nodded seriously.

"And... given the unique nature of your order, you’ll see something... quite special." Godin smirked.

At that, even Damon’s Avatar’s brow raised slightly.

Godin chuckled, stepping aside. "Ladies, gentlemen, Prime Representative — your goods await."

And with that, the Vanguard stepped toward the portal, ready to claim the largest single delivery of Worldly Essence ever bought by any species in the universe.

.............

The scene beyond was breathtaking.

They found themselves standing in an infinite plain divided into neat 10x10 meter grids, each bordered by translucent walls of Essence Light.

In every occupied grid, three figures stood:

One was the real body of the recipient (like them), another was the VR account seller, flickering faintly and finally, a goblin clerk to oversee the ritual.

Across the grids, screams and shudders of agony echoed faintly, which was disturbing, but also strangely muted by the light walls.

The air thrummed with the scent of burning ozone and something deeper... the scent of sacrifice.

Felicia stood firm, glancing left and right.

Kyle twitched visibly as one vendor on a nearby grid collapsed, his avatar breaking apart into motes of light as his Worldly Essence floated over to a stone-faced buyer.

Henry whistled low. "Hooooly crap, its even worse than watching it in VR!"

Bane McGregor’s fists clenched at his sides. Not from fear, but from a deep and primal anger at the casual brutality of it all.

Nicholas remained silent, though his lips thinned.

Xela hugged herself lightly, gray eyes wide with both horror and morbid fascination.

At their own assigned grids, their respective vendors were already being prepared.

Each one was a hardened fighter from the Essence Instances — beastmen, mutated humans, alien gladiators — and each one looked resigned to the fate that awaited them.

Their goblin clerk, pristine and efficient, gestured for them to ready themselves.

Felicia nodded, stepping forward first, her lips trembling slightly.

The sacrifice rites began as bursts of green-blue light cracked from the vendors’ chests.

Some screamed hoarsely. Some tried to stand tall until the end.

All of them, without exception, broke apart, their hard-won Worldly Essence extracted forcefully and transferred into shining spheres hovering before the humans.

One by one, Felicia, Nicholas, Bane, Kyle, Connor, Marshal, Levi, Henry, Protizen, and Xela absorbed their Essence Spheres while Damon watched on, intending to claim the remainder of his share last.

The feeling was euphoric... yet sickening.

The first part of the transfer was done.

Godin, standing far outside the grids, watched it all happen with a knowing, unreadable expression.