[Congratulations Host, you can now move the spaceship to your system space inventory,] the system's words flashed across his retina in bold, glowing text.

[You have successfully repaired:]

[• Power Coupling System - Restored to 93% capacity]

[• Shield Generator Network - Restored to 62% capacity]

[• Six primary shield emitters - Fully operational]

[• Fourteen energy coil segments - Replaced and sealed]

[• Multiple power conduit lines - Restored throughout vessel]

[Total repair progress has reached the minimum threshold for system space storage capability]

Then his full status display materialized before him:

[HOST STATUS]

Name: Tatehan

Level: 6

Species: Human (Enhanced)

Knowledge: 98/100 [+9]

Repair Points: 46/100 [+10]

[ABILITIES]

• Gravity Manipulation - Level 7

• Regeneration (Partial) - Level 5

• Enhanced Durability - Level 0.7

[INVENTORY:]

[Shadow Goblin Cores: 2]

[Tri-Edge Shadow chakrams]

[Map]

[Shadow-Forged Blade]

[Kinetic Absorption Armor]

[Devastator Hand Cannon]

Tatehan stared at the display for a long moment, letting the reality of what he'd accomplished truly sink in.

Forty-six repair points. Nearly one hundred knowledge points—just two away from the maximum. He'd come so incredibly far from where he'd started.

His mind drifted back to the beginning, to when he'd first woken up in this crashed spaceship with a completely new body, zero repair points, and absolutely no idea how he was going to survive on this hostile planet.

Zero repair points. That number had seemed so impossibly distant from forty, the threshold he'd needed to reach. The dread of imagining that journey had been mentally taxing in ways he couldn't fully articulate. How does one go from zero to forty? How many missions would that require? How many risks? How many near-death experiences?

He remembered those early days with crystal clarity, the overwhelming confusion, the fear, the desperate struggle just to understand his situation. The spaceship's AI explaining his predicament. The realization that he was stuck on Mars, possibly forever. The crushing weight of knowing that the ship, his only shelter, and protection, was critically damaged and vulnerable.

And then the missions had begun.

All the monsters he'd fought. All the calculated risks he'd taken. All the times he'd walked willingly into danger because the alternative was slow death through inaction.

He remembered fighting the Hexapod Mauler with vivid, painful clarity. That creature had nearly killed him, would have killed him if not for luck and Kael's unexpected intervention. The fight had been brutal, exhausting, and terrifying. He'd been outmatched, outmaneuvered and barely surviving each exchange.

And then he'd ended up in a coma for two months. Two entire months lost because he'd pushed himself beyond his limits and his body had simply shut down to recover.

When he'd finally woken up, he'd discovered that Mars had changed in his absence. The Obscuron had expanded his territory significantly. The northern regions were no longer as safe as they'd been. The window of relative security was closing.

Then there had been the journey to return the bio-neutral core, which had led to meeting Riven, traveling to Waython Hollow, encountering the Red Crest Clan, and ultimately facing Mub in that death duel.

Fighting Mub had been its own kind of nightmare. The man had transformed into a literal beast, and even with Riven's help feeding him attack predictions through the hidden earbud, the fight had been desperate and close. That single kinetic-enhanced punch that had ended Mub's life, it could have easily gone the other way. One mistake, one moment of poor timing, and Tatehan would have been the one lying dead in that circle.

And then the journey back. The encounter with the Iron-Jaw Scavengers. The fight against sixty-one shadow goblins (sixty-one!) which should have been impossible but had somehow worked out.

All of that struggle, all of that risk, all of those near-death experiences...

And now it was done. He could finally secure the spaceship in his system space.

But even as he felt relieved to an extent , another thought crept in, one that brought its own complications.

If he moved the spaceship to his inventory, he wouldn't be able to live in it anymore. The vessel would be safely stored, protected from all external threats, but also inaccessible as living quarters.

Which meant he'd need somewhere else to stay.

He could go to Waython Hollow city and find an apartment. Riven had one, small, modest, but eh… alright. But then he couldn't live with Riven, it wasn't like they were lovers or something.

Surely there were other available spaces for rent in the city. He could establish himself there, maybe even pursue the core-hunting business with Riven as they'd discussed.

But that came with its own set of complications. Cost, primarily. He had no real income, no established way to earn the local currency. The shadow goblin cores in his inventory could be sold, certainly, but how long would that last? And what then?

There was another option, of course. The commander had told him he was welcome to return to the Red Crest Clan compound anytime he wanted. That he was under their protection now. That he could consider himself one of them.

Could he live there?

Tatehan thought about the possibilities seriously. The compound had everything he'd need—shelter, food, security and resources. The Red Crest Clan was well-established and well-supplied. He wouldn't have to worry about rent or income, at least not immediately.

All his needs would be provided.

Now that Mub, their battle commander — the number one fighter of the clan was dead, killed by him. Tatehan could take up that position. And with tales of how he deafeated the Hexapod mauler, saved Kael's reputation and how he used one punch to kill Mub.

Come to think of it, that had to be the most aura moment in his life ever. The under dog, clenching his fist and sending it to the almighty dominating Mub.

It was beautiful. Scenic!

So living with the red crest clan would make him feel like some king.

But living there would come with expectations. The commander had asked for his help fighting the Obscuron's forces. If he was living in the compound, taking advantage of their hospitality and resources, he'd be expected to contribute regularly. Missions would become routine rather than occasional. He'd be drawn into the clan's conflicts and politics whether he wanted to be or not.

That wasn't necessarily bad, but it wasn't the life he'd envisioned either.

He wanted some degree of calm, some ability to control his own schedule and decisions. More flexibility on his life and how he lived it.

Living at the compound would make him effectively a member of the clan's military force. He'd be deployed on missions often, probably multiple times per week. His time wouldn't really be his own anymore.

It was better, he decided, to maintain his current arrangement, being available when called upon but living independently the rest of the time. Being summoned for specific missions rather than being constantly present and available.

But that brought him back to the original question: where would he actually live if not in the spaceship?

Or... should he even move the spaceship at all right now?

That thought gave him pause. He'd been so focused on reaching the forty-point threshold that he hadn't fully considered whether he should immediately use that capability.

The spaceship was still functional as a living space. Life support worked perfectly. The kitchen, sleeping area, and hygiene station were all operational. With the power coupling restored to ninety-three percent capacity, everything ran smoothly and efficiently.

And with the shield generators now providing sixty-two percent coverage, the vessel was actually defended for the first time since the crash. It could withstand small arms fire, absorb hits from larger weapons, protect against environmental hazards.

Maybe he didn't need to move it immediately. Maybe he could continue living here while he figured out his long-term plans.

But then there was the other consideration: the Obscuron's expansion.

The villain's forces were pushing northward aggressively. The commander had made that clear, and Tatehan's own system had confirmed it. The northern territories that had once been relatively safe were becoming increasingly dangerous as the Obscuron's influence spread.

This location where the spaceship was hidden (deep in the wasteland), well-concealed among rocky outcroppings had been secure for months. But that security was no longer guaranteed. As the Obscuron's forces expanded their territory, they'd be conducting more patrols, more scouting missions and more extensive mapping of the region.

The risk of discovery was increasing with each passing week.

If the spaceship was found by the Obscuron's forces, even with the partial shields operational, it probably couldn't withstand a sustained assault from a large military force. The shields were designed to deflect and absorb attacks and hold off an army indefinitely.

But then, Tatehan was certain the obscuron wouldn't attack the spaceship if he knew that it was that of the Red dragon.

So leaving the spaceship here was increasingly risky. But moving it to system space meant giving up his primary shelter. And establishing himself in Waython Hollow or at the Red Crest compound came with its own complications.

There was no perfect answer. Every option had drawbacks.

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