Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

Berger’s whiskers swept irritably over the stacks of crystals on the stall, crystals that shimmered with a pale blue light and should have been bestsellers during this period.

The City of a Thousand Stars is so vast that first-time visitors often get lost. The city is designed to encourage visitors to explore different routes and increase their spending potential. However, the technological levels of the various companies differ, and some customers will need to charge their portable devices. Yet, the crystals lie quietly in the display cases, much like Berg's lifeless business.

At the next stall, Klose was tapping the smart bricks on the edge of his stall with his hard mechanical prosthetics. A semi-transparent holographic interface popped up on the surface of the bricks, displaying a reminder to pay the shop rental fee.

The red light in Yi's eyes almost transformed into an exploding landmine. "We really can't go on living like this!" Cross's voice came through the information converter. "Berg, did you see the broadcast? Martial law is in effect throughout Star City. All weapon systems are forcibly shut down, and no spaceships are allowed to enter or leave... Aren't they trying to drive us to our deaths?"

Berg stopped idly arranging the crystal. Six slender tentacles crossed together, and the fleshy stamens at the top, which resembled a crown, were trembling slightly. These were the important organs of the Zezer race for sensing the outside world and transmitting emotions.

Of course he heard those damning announcements. There were no explanations, no clarifications, only unquestionable demands. As a merchant who had struggled for several lifetimes in Thousand Star City without going bankrupt, Berg knew better than anyone that this meant a distinguished guest had arrived in Thousand Star City, so distinguished that even the Foundation had to treat him with such solemnity.

"What else can we do?" Berg's voice was soft, tinged with an undisguised weariness. His skin was tinged with a faint grayish-purple, a natural reaction to low spirits.

"The galaxy has been quite turbulent lately. Those pirates are plundering everywhere like madmen. More than half of the tourists visiting Thousand Star City have disappeared. I've only sold three of my goods in all this time," he said, extending a tentacle and pointing to the holographic screen next to him. The income and expenditure details that popped up on it were truly shocking.

"Look, I just paid the shop rent, gang protection fees, and all sorts of taxes. Every single one of them is draining me dry. If this keeps up, I won't even be able to afford the cheapest nutritional supplements anymore. My business will be completely finished."

Kross's mechanical prosthetic limb clenched tightly. It sounded terrible to Berg, but Berg had already paid the fees and could continue running the stall. But now he couldn't even afford the rent.

"Those damn pirates! And the Boros Global Foundation, they took so much money from us, where did their anti-piracy fleet go?" Cross's emotions grew increasingly agitated; he seemed to see his own doom. "And those gangs, all they know is to take advantage of our misfortunes. Their protection money keeps going up and up, there's no end in sight. They say they can protect us from harassment by gangs from other places, but last time my stall was smashed by some thugs who wandered into this area, and they didn't even show their faces!"

Berg remained silent, his whiskers drooping slightly, and the grayish-purple color of his skin deepening. He knew that what Cross said was true.

The City of a Thousand Stars is known as the "Nexus of the Galaxy" and the "Crown of Commerce," bringing together races from the entire galaxy and even other star clusters. However, at the bottom of this colossal structure are still merchants like them who make a living through small businesses, or interstellar migrants who have undergone mechanical modifications.

Those interstellar merchants who control the economic lifeline will not come to these places that can be called "bottom nests". In Berg's eyes, this extremely prosperous star city is already rotten to the core.

The foundation only cares about taxes and profits, and the gangs entrenched here only care about territory and protection fees. No one really cares about the lives of these people at the bottom.

He looked up at the simulated sky of Star City, where countless transparent energy channels were connected together, looking like a string of pearls floating in the night sky from afar.

The small spaceships that should have been constantly shuttling through the sky had all disappeared, leaving only a few faint beams of energy slowly flowing in the sky, exuding an unsettling sense of oppression.

The smart bricks lining the streets continue to play GG, an endless white noise in the City of a Thousand Stars.

These smart bricks are the most basic facilities of the City of a Thousand Stars and are also part of the architecture of this megastructure. They are everywhere and can accurately capture the race, vital signs, wealth status, and even potential needs of every passing creature, and then push the corresponding GG. All privacy is nakedly exposed to the sunlight without any cover.

"I really don't know what Star City is going to do with all this," Kross said, his emotions gradually calming down. His mechanical prosthetic limbs hung limply at his sides, as if he had already embarked on the road to death. "Is it going to be another war? But even so, how can Star City be affected? The Foundation was at war before, and Star City still opened for business."

Berg shook his head, a slight tightness in his chest. "I don't know," Berg said softly, his voice even more weary. "I have a bad feeling, Cross, let's pack up and call it a day. I have a feeling this isn't as simple as it seems."

The two vendors, who had been operating together for so long, complained to each other a few more times. There were fewer and fewer tourists on the street, but most vendors had not packed up their stalls. They had no choice but to keep going like this, no matter how bad things were, they had to persevere, otherwise the ever-increasing fees would only swallow them up like an abyss.

Berg looked at the energy crystals on the stall that no one was buying, sighed helplessly, and emitted a slight vibration on his body, carrying a hint of sadness.

He extended his tentacles and pressed a button on the tray. The energy crystals were instantly stored inside the tray, and the faint light that had been displayed and attracted attention was extinguished, making it indistinguishable from an ordinary metal plate.

After packing up his stall, Berg hurried toward his residence, while Cross ignored his advice, hoping for another chance to close a deal, even if it was just one.

The residential areas of the City of a Thousand Stars are diverse, but the one belonging to Berg is just a dense cluster of capsule pods. Each capsule pod is small and cramped, which is what he chose himself. It is more than enough to accommodate a Zealot, saving a lot of housing costs. If necessary, it can also be used as a coffin. At least that's how this residential area is advertised.

These capsules are stacked together like a giant honeycomb, a constant interplay of darkness and blinding light, permeated with a faint, leaking radiation.

Berg's capsule was located near the energy pipeline, and he could hear the humming of the pipeline running every day. Sometimes, there were also some stray aliens that were not officially recognized by the City of a Thousand Stars that were active inside, so much so that he had to sleep with his weapons on.

The slight stinging sensation caused by the energy leak always made it difficult for him to sleep, but he had no choice. Although the place was small and cramped, at least it was cheap.

Reaching the capsule door, Berg extended his tentacles and touched the sensor area. The door slowly slid open, revealing the space inside. There was only a simple resting table and some boxes stacked on the high shelf. The intelligent system next to the resting table was Berg's only entertainment facility, which could be used to watch interstellar news or play some free entertainment programs.

As the cabin door closed, the noise and oppression outside were temporarily shut out. Berg felt an unprecedented weariness wash over him. The constant running around, the dismal business, the financial difficulties, and the omnipresent pressure felt like mountains pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

He walked to the resting platform and lay down, his whiskers hanging down on both sides. He closed his eyes peacefully, preparing to enter a period of hibernation to quickly recover his strength instead of using stimulants. This period of hibernation was short, but it was also his most relaxed moment.

As his consciousness gradually faded, Berg felt a long-lost peace. There were no worries about setting up a stall, no pressure from rent, and no threats from gangs. It was like returning to his home planet, a planet full of green vegetation and clear streams.

It felt like returning to a time without conflict, oppression, or the interstellar age, where all the Zealots could live freely, enjoy abundant productivity, and sense the breath of nature with their tentacles, carefree and without worries.

But this peaceful dream cannot last long, just like childhood, which is bound to pass away.

Suddenly, a violent tremor struck, jolting Berg awake from his slumber. His whiskers tensed instantly, and his body turned a deep, tense purple.