''E…Echelon class?'' Zion stuttered, his heart skipping a beat.
Memories flashed through his mind. He could see the faces of those who had betrayed him, clear as day.
'With this,' he thought, clenching his fist. 'I could kill them all.'
[Host. Don't celebrate so soon,] Uriel echoed through his mind. [The Seraphael vessel was heavily damaged during the war. It is currently in a hibernation state.]
Zion's fist trembled slightly.
''Of course it's broken…'' he muttered, forcing out a bitter laugh.
Closing his eyes to calm himself down, he continued.
''Uriel was your name, right?'' he asked, his fury buried.
[Correct,] Uriel answered.
"Then tell me," he said slowly, "what would it take to wake this ship back up?"
Uriel didn't respond immediately.
Eventually, it spoke up, its voice slightly less cold and mechanical.
[Apologies, Host. I am unable to answer that question.]
''Why?'' Zion asked, confused.
[You do not meet the required thresholds to access the information.]
Zion frowned, but this time, he didn't argue.
What good would classified data do him now? He was barely standing, let alone capable of piloting a warship.
"…Makes sense," he muttered. "Even if you told me, I probably couldn't do anything with it anyway."
[Thank you for understanding,] Uriel responded.
A short moment of silence followed as Zion leaned against the metal table to think.
His thoughts, however, were quickly interrupted by the rumbling sound of his stomach.
''…Food,'' Zion muttered. ''Is there any food on board?''
Uriel didn't immediately respond.
[The estimated amount of food on board is a month's worth.]
Clicking his tongue, he stood up.
''Figures…'' he mumbled, stretching.
His eyes locked on the swirling hologram displaying the surrounding planets.
''How do I get off this planet anyway?'' he asked. ''Are there any smaller ships here?''
[All smaller ships were exhausted during the war,] Uriel said. [However, Host has access to schematics to create a functional ship.]
Zion chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair.
''Easier said than done,'' he mumbled.
''I can fix engines, patch hulls, reroute powerlines… but I've never actually built a ship from scratch.''
[That's why I'll help,] Uriel replied. [Assistance will be provided as needed.]
Zion raised an eyebrow. ''Interesting…''
Then, his stomach growled again.
''Alright, can you guide me to rations first?'' he asked, hunger taking over.
[Sure thing, Host,] Uriel answered, projecting a small map into his retina.
Zion held his hand in front of his eye. Even if he closed it, the map remained.
'That feels strange,' he thought, before following the directions given to him by Uriel.
Glancing through the massive control room, Zion suddenly had a bitter feeling.
'The control room's probably just a small part of the ship,' he thought. 'Chances are that it'll take me a while before I can eat something.'
[Host is correct,] Uriel's voice echoed cheerfully through his mind. [Estimated time of arrival: 10 minutes.]
Zion let out a sigh of relief.
'That isn't that bad,' he thought.
As they walked, he couldn't help but ask for more information regarding the creation of the small ship.
''Uriel, can you show me the easiest ship to make?'' he asked.
Not even a second later, a schematic of a small ship popped up.
''That really is a small ship,'' Zion said, letting out a whistle.
Passing through a massive metal sliding door, Zion entered a long corridor he couldn't see the end of.
''Alright… what about the parts?'' he asked, staring at the schematic.
[…Host,] Uriel started, embarrassed. [Unfortunately, most were used up by the old crew.]
He sighed. Of course.
''That makes everything useless then,'' he said, annoyed as a frown appeared on his face.
He didn't want to starve to death on a death planet when he still hadn't taken his revenge.
[Actually, a resource pod detached during the crash,] Uriel added. [It's relatively nearby too.]
A map appeared in his other eye, marking a red spot a few miles away from his current location.
''So I just have to walk out there and grab those before I start, huh,'' The frown on his face disappeared as he started thinking.
'Seems reasonable enough,' Zion thought, his face unreadable.
[Host, about that…] Uriel started, letting a pause fall. [According to our scans, the surrounding region is infested with E-rank organisms called Deathcrawlers.]
Zion blinked, waiting for Uriel to tell him it was a joke.
But that never happened.
''…You're serious?''
[Affirmative.]
Zion let out a slow breath, clenching and unclenching his fist. ''Then what can I do?''
[Progress,] Uriel responded simply. [The Seraph-X nanosuit may possess SSS-rank potential, but right now its actual strength is at the F-rank.]
[Advancement to E-rank should be achievable within seven solar rotations.]
''A week?''
Zion grimaced. It sounded short, but having one week less to build a ship could be a death sentence.
[Affirmative. Correction noted.]
[Updated: 7 solar rotations → 1 week.]
Zion exhaled, digesting the information as he walked through the damaged corridor.
'Let's eat something first,' he thought, temporarily pushing his thoughts aside as he realized he'd arrived at the storage room.
Turning around the corner, he came to a stop as he saw two massive blast doors with faintly glowing symbols on them.
'What language is that?' he wondered, seeing the symbols.
[Access to that information is currently restricted. You do not meet the required thresholds.]
'Interesting…' he thought, putting his hands on the doors.
[Opening doors,] Uriel's voice echoed.
The doors let out a loud hiss as they slowly slid open. A wave of cold air washed toward him, making him shiver.
Once the doors fully slid open, he could see rows of metal shelves sitting on both sides of the room.
Most were empty—hell, some had already collapsed from age and decay.
But a few sealed crates stood at the back of the room, layers of dust on top of them.
Zion walked toward them and to his surprise, managed to lift the lids off with one hand.
Raising an eyebrow, he carefully scanned his arms.
"…Was it always that light?" he muttered.
[Host's physical strength was doubled after bonding with the suit and achieving F-rank,] Uriel said.
''That explains a lot,'' he mumbled, before glancing at the disgusting brown bars inside the crate.