Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Feral Territory Arrival

Elara’s POV

The moment I stepped off the shuttle, a patrol robot rolled straight toward me and snatched my suitcase without so much as a warning.

"Hello. I am Patrol Unit 007, assigned to the Voidferal Feral Territory. Welcome. The system has forwarded your job details to your system. I will now escort you through the onboarding process—"

The machine froze mid-sentence. Its mechanical head tilted, confusion rippling across that metallic faceplate.

Something was wrong. The original candidate for this position had died—killed by insectoids during transport. So who the hell was I supposed to be?

Besides the handful of patients locked up in the sanatorium, nothing but robots inhabited the entire Voidferal Feral Territory. This godforsaken planet housed exclusively SSS-class beastmen teetering on the edge of complete mental breakdown.

Dangerous didn’t begin to cover it. This place reeked of death. Even regular males wouldn’t set foot here, let alone females. The Voidferal Feral Territory was drowning in cosmic radiation—exponentially worse than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Step outside the sanatorium’s protective barriers? Instant death sentence.

The radiation had soaked into every inch of this rock. For females, exposure meant certain death. For males, it fast-tracked their descent into madness. That’s exactly why the Valerion Empire kept all surviving females locked away safe in the capital.

"Hold on." I raised my hand. "What did you call this place?"

responded, "The Voidferal Feral Territory."

Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic.

I grabbed my suitcase back. "There’s been a mix-up. I’m just passing through—"

"The shuttle to the Voidferal Feral Territory operates very infrequently."

Desperation hung thick in the air. The patients had stopped eating completely. They wouldn’t touch the nutritional supplements or the fresh supplies the empire shipped in. At this rate, starvation would claim them long before their minds completely shattered.

And just hours ago, when the system had suddenly matched them with marriage partners? The roars of pure rage that erupted from the sanatorium nearly leveled the entire structure.

Not because their new mate lacked spiritual power. But because the match sent one crystal-clear message: the Valerion Empire had officially given up on them.

Seven SSS-class beastmen lived in that facility. Every single one had bled for the empire. Even with their sanity in ruins, no one dared neglect their care.

Protocol demanded it. Programmed from birth.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Had I accidentally boarded some kind of death ship?

Honestly? I had zero desire to meet these so-called husbands. They were living on borrowed time anyway. If I never saw their faces, they’d remain strangers. But if I actually encountered them? What if attachment crept in?

What happened when they died and left me widowed?

This body’s original owner had possessed zero spiritual power. Even if I wanted to save them, I was powerless.

noticed my silence. It couldn’t read my thoughts—probably assumed I was just stunned by the generous compensation. The Voidferal Feral Territory did pay incredibly well, after all.

To sweeten the arrangement, it processed an advance on my first paycheck.

"Ding." The notification jolted me back to reality.

Two hundred thousand credits had just materialized in my account.

"What?!"

My eyes went huge. A literal windfall?

Those ten credits I’d spent on shuttle fare? The same ten credits Beatrix had tossed at me like pocket change to humiliate me. The original body’s owner had been completely broke.

And now? Two hundred grand, dropped straight into my lap?

clarified, "That’s your salary. Advanced payment. The job is straightforward—simply prepare the vegetables and meat in the kitchen."

"That’s all?"

"Correct."

This had to be a dream. I pinched my cheek hard. By the time reality sank in, I was standing inside the staff dormitory—a cozy two-story studio apartment, equipped with smart appliances and every daily necessity imaginable.

A plush bed. Spotless floors. Running water. And was that actual food on the table?

Jesus. I was so overwhelmed I nearly cried. In my previous life, I’d literally died fighting over a piece of bread.

Resources had been nightmare-scarce during the apocalypse. Even with my dual aqua and wood abilities plus spatial powers, I’d struggled daily just to find enough food.

Speaking of powers—I immediately collapsed onto the sofa and concentrated. I’d switched bodies completely. No clue if my abilities had survived the transfer.

During the apocalypse, I’d clawed my way to level nine with both aqua and wood powers. If they were gone now, I’d be devastated.

Thank god the universe showed some mercy. The wood power responded first. A faint green shimmer danced across my fingertips. Level one.

Then the aqua power. Also level one.

Damn it. Body swap meant my powers had reset to square one?

A quiet voice whispered in my head: At least they survived the transition. Be thankful.

Right. At least they’re intact. I’m breathing. I’ll rebuild them from scratch.

With that resolve, I bit into an apple. Crisp. Sweet. Perfection.

God. Being alive felt incredible.

After finishing the apple, I treated myself to a real bath. Sinking into that warm water, I still felt slightly surreal. Christ, I couldn’t remember my last actual bath. This was pure heaven. I dunked my head under and blew two bubbles. I adored this place. Paradise found.

Of course, absolutely no one else on this planet would call it paradise. First, the cosmic radiation—significantly more lethal here than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Second, seven walking time bombs resided in the sanatorium. SSS-class beastmen with severe mental deterioration. Volatile. Enraged. Their occasional pressure surges hit with such intensity that even robots couldn’t handle them—they’d short-circuit instantly.

Which meant exactly eight living beings existed on this entire planet. Including me. Eight total.

No director. No doctors. No nurses. Robots handled everything.

All seven patients were SSS-class. Immense power. Critically elevated spirit collapse levels. The Valerion Empire had nowhere else to dump them except here.

So the robot hadn’t lied—the shuttle really operated very rarely.

Actually, that was being generous. It ran even less frequently. The ship I’d arrived on was just passing through.

To prevent escapes or treatment refusal, not even supply depots existed here. With spirit collapse levels this extreme, these men bore no resemblance to ordinary people. If even one escaped, he’d unleash destruction rivaling the insectoids’ elite assassins.

Early next morning, blaring alarms ripped me from sleep.

"Beastman Number One in the Wyrm Chamber has gone berserk. All units, initiate defensive protocols."

A dragon beastman? Kaelen?

Before I could process that revelation, a robot knocked once and glided into my room. Without explanation, it began dressing me. "An SSS-class beastman is experiencing mental breach. Please follow me to the underground shelter."

The sound wasn’t just loud—it was physical force. It slammed into the building, shaking the walls violently. Followed by crashes. The screech of metal being shredded. Robots getting torn apart piece by piece.

The second I stepped outside, my wood power blazed to life in my palm—completely involuntary.

I looked up sharply. The spiritual energy churning through the air was so dense it was nearly visible. Terrifying, violent red. But the green vines flickering across my fingertips? They seemed to be reaching toward it. Absorbing it hungrily.