“Delta, report.”

“All the available upgrades have been incorporated into the Warden and the Purifier forces.”

“Give me a CAS count of all the units.”

“Affirmative.”

“S-1 strider: 51

S-2 strider: 99

S-3 strider: 300

F-1 fighter: 250

B-1 battlecruiser: 500

B-2 battlecruiser: 650

Purifier Swordguard: 80

Purifier Cruiseguard: 260

Purifier Capitalguard: 700”

“That’s impressive.” Jean commented quietly. The combination of a series of factors, including new alloys and quantum computers, have nearly doubled the CAS of her mechanical units. Unfortunately, that was pretty much the peak for her units. Unless she acquired some brand new, extremely powerful technology or was willing to use orange or red crystals to mass upgrade her units, this was the ceiling.

Granted, a fleet of fully upgraded ships could pretty much mop the floor in the Starcraft universe, but Jean was no longer a fleet commander in Starcraft trying to destroy Amon. She has her eyes set on much higher goals. Voyagers. Protectors. Death. Her need for power was engraved into every corner of her soul, and the Wardens and the Purifiers just weren’t enough.

With the wave of a hand, Jean stored everything into her watch. Delta. All the Wardens and Purifiers. The newly constructed Worldship. The 3,000 Kashank Guardians. Even the Reapress needed some bodyguard. Finally, she left her home direction without another look.

“Corporal Welch, can I meet with you?”

“Sure.”

Jean and Welch met at Lilith once again. Welch did his best to act surprised by Jean’s recent changes. According to his plan, Jean should never know about his involvement. She should attribute her becoming of the Reapress to her own decision.

“Ahh...you have became a Reapress. Congrats. You are very lucky to survive the transformation.”

“Indeed. Death told me about how dangerous the process is.”

“Has she told you the price of getting too involved with the Power of Death?”

“She didn't mention it, but I heard something about it in the Memoriam. I would choose anything over being killed in a mission. Any form of living is better than dead.”

“It is your choice, after all. So, why are you here?”

Jean tapped her watch. The projection of her profile and her next mission popped up.

Trial Mission

Dimension: Unknown

Mission Count: 3

Objective: Escape

“This is the description of my next mission, and it’s not much.” Jean complained. “I have some more coins that I want to spend. Do you have any suggestion what I should focus on?”

Welch tilted his head. Of course he knew. After all, he helped set up this mission. This wasn’t what Jean was supposed to have for her third world.

Not that he would mention a word about that to Jean.

“Trial Missions are different from Objective Missions. Your second mission, the one in the World of the Runes, was an Objective Mission. Your task was to serve the greater good of the Infinite Realms. Trial Missions are different. The purpose of Trial Missions is to enhance the Voyagers.”

Jean rose her eyebrows.

“So it’s a benefit?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate them.” Welch shook his head. “The casualty rate of Trial Missions is as high as Objective Missions, if not higher. Objective Missions are straightforward. You have an enemy. You go in, you defeat the enemy, and you get out. Simple as that. Trial Missions are just weird. No matter how strong you are, as long as you are not more powerful than the dimension itself, you might randomly die from a single misstep.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard about a Voyager who became the embodiment of a dimension. In that dimension, he was God. But his task was challenging as well. He had to not only create life in that dimension but also move it into a intergalactic age. He spent eons in that mission.”

“Wow.” Jean couldn’t image spending eons in a single mission. That sounded terrifying, even for her. What could eons do to a person? “Did he succeed?”

“Yes. When he left, the entire dimension was merged with his soul. He had near unlimited power in that dimension, and the power stayed. He entered that dimension with a CAS of 1,000. He left with a hundred times that count, as well as a universe to which he is the god of.”

He saw the hope in Jean’s eyes.

“Of course, he was the most successful case I have seen, ever, and billions of Voyagers go to Trial Missions everyday. A lot of them don’t return. I don’t have an advice for you other than to be careful. In a Trial Mission, unless you have the power to flip the table, power isn’t the most important factor. Remaining calm and planning is.”

Jean nodded.

“And my coins?”

“Spend them on amplifying whatever your major is. If you don’t have enough power, even if you make the right decisions, you can’t execute them.”

Fair enough.

After meeting with Welch, Jean made a visit to Blink and gave her the dagger. It was just a kind gesture. Blink has reached level 19 of the Challenger Tower as well, and the dagger was a standard reward, but two of them were always better than one. If Blink wanted to buy it, it would cost her 1,000 coins. She made a fortune at the World of the Runes, but no one would say no to more money.

The last thing Jean had to do was spend the 10,000 coins she had left. Saving them when she might die in the very next mission was nothing but foolish.

The Sea of Souls

Cost: 3,000 coins

Description: A sea of 12 billion easily manipulable human souls.

This was similar to the trump card Voyager Demon had. As a Grim Reapress, Jean could easily control souls and use them in battle. She knew she couldn’t control all 12 billion souls, but she could use them as a power reserve. 12 billion rogue wraiths could be a real danger to most hostiles at this stage.

More importantly, she had no idea if she had enough souls to strip out in her third universe.

She purchased three of them.

1,000 coins left.

Psychic Blade

Cost: 1,000 coins

Description: An ability to form psychic energy into a psychic blade. Psychic blades are effective in penetrating hostile psychic energy. Extremely effective against souls.

Jean’s Power of Death wasn’t at an overwhelming count. After she purchased the Psychic Blade upgrade, she was able to form the Power of Death into piercing weapons. If she encountered psychic-majored enemies again, such as the Ice Wolf, the psychic blades could punch holes through the Ice Wolf’s soul with absolute ease.

Finally, she was ready for her mission.

“Hey Jean! Hurry up! You’ll be late for school.”

Jean’s eyes snapped open to the wound of a woman. As soon as she regained conscious, she reached for her watch.

She touched nothing.

She quickly scanned her surroundings. She was in a room that could only be described as similar to a pig pan. Dirty laundry were thrown all over the place. A touchscreen phone was on the counter, as well as a digital clock. She glanced at the door and saw a woman poking her head into the room.

“What…”

“What are you waiting for, Jean? You’ll be late for school! I told you to set up an alarm!”

“Uh.” Jean’s head was a mess. Where is she? What happened? She should be in her third mission right now! Something must’ve went terribly wrong. She tried to channel the Power of Death, but her attempt was futile. She couldn’t feel a single drop of energy in her body.

It was as if, right now, she was just an ordinary teenage girl.

“Jean! Are you listening to me?”

Jean nodded slowly. “Yes…of course.”

The woman, slightly shaking her head, walked out of the room. Jean could hear her whisper something about ‘teenagers these days’.

Jean quickly got up. She was about to leave the room when she looked down and saw herself in pajamas. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans before making it out of the room.

The rest of the morning went on as clumsy as things could be. Thankfully, gradually, Jean could feel memories of her current identity flowing in.

It was almost the same as during her first mission, but she thought only in recruit missions should the Voyagers be given an identity insertion...

Her name was still Jean Turner. She was 16 years old and a freshman in high school. She lived with her mother, Cathy Turner. Her father passed away years ago. Today was a Monday, and she had to attend school.

At this point, Jean had no idea what was going on. She lost her watch. She no longer had her power or her armies. It could even be argued that she no longer had a mission. She could still remember the objective of her third mission was to escape, but that didn't make any sense. Escape from where? This house? This world? This identity? Escape to where? She needed to wait to see if she could get more intel.

Welch was right. These Trial Missions are odd. She just hoped the profit she could gain was worth it.

After breakfast, Jean followed the customs and went to school. She has never been to school before, but with the memories she was given, she didn't feel like it would be too problematic. Her only concern was that if something happened, she would be defenseless.

She first went to her first period class, which was a math class. As she sat down in her seat, the radio system across the school echoed with the sound of announcements. Jean knew it was an everyday tradition in the school.

Most of the announcements were meaningless, but Jean frowned when she heard one of them. Her lips curved up.

“For all the students who are interested in the Watch Club, please meet at room C110 after school today.”

Jean tapped her wrist where her watch should’ve been. Voyager Watches. Watch Club? This could only mean one thing. Plus, Jean didn't think anyone normal would really be boring enough to make a club about watches.

The day passed without much surprise. Jean was ready the whole time, but things were as normal as things get. She went from class to class. Teachers taught. She pretended to learn. Finally, at the end of the day, she went to room C110.

As soon as she walked in, she saw two other students were in the room already.

“Hello.” One of them, a teenage boy, greeted. “Before we get started, just in case, what do watches do?”

Jean glanced at him. Any normal student would come up with a variety of to tell time.

“What am I supposed to say? Store nonliving entities? Receive missions?”

The boy nodded. “Ah. Nice to meet you. My name is Allen. Voyager Allen. Please have a seat while others come. I am hoping they heard my message.”

“This is the first day in and we have lost everything that makes us special.” The second student, another boy, commented quietly. “If those Voyagers didn't even pay attention to the announcements, then they will only be more burden than help.”

“His name is Hassan.“ Allen explained, throwing Jean an apologizing glance. “I have worked with him in a mission before. He likes to troll people, but when things get real, you want him on your side.”

Jean nodded.

The trio waited for half an hour before five more Voyagers walked in.

“Shadowblade.”

“Trinity.”

“Chaos.”

“Leonard.”

“Philips.”

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen.” As all the introductions were over, Allen was the first to stand up. “Since I don’t think there’ll be anyone else joining us today, I have something to say.”

All the other Voyagers nodded.

“I understand that we are not the most trustworthy group of people. If there is a profit, we will gladly stab our comrades in the back to get it. But I suggest that we don’t do anything sabotaging until further changes, namely, until we get our powers back. This is a Trial Mission, something completely different from what we have seen before. Our powers are gone. Our watches are gone. Right now a single bullet can kill us. If we still act as different entities and waste time plotting against each other, we don’t stand a chance.”

The other seven Voyagers exchanged looks and nodded in agreement. They understood Allen’s reasoning. If they all ended up dying in this world, then sabotaging others would be pointless. Of course, this alliance treaty was more for show. Whether or not the Voyagers carry this treaty out would completely depend on the exact situation.

“Now, what do we have? I wouldn’t suggest hiding anything for the overall good of every Voyager in this world.”

The room paused for a moment as no one spoke up. Finally, Jean made a comment.

“We have only been in this world for a day. We should meet back here tomorrow at the same time. We should have more news by then.”

“Agreed.” Allen said as he stood up. “We should also…”

Before he could finish the sentence, the ceiling of the room suddenly made a loud cracking sound. A frown appeared on Allen’s face as he looked up. His expression immediately changed from calm and collected to horrified as he realized what was going on.

The next second, a large piece of the concrete ceiling fell down and landed on Allen’s skull.

One moment, the assertive Voyager was rallying his fellow supernatural comrades. The next moment, he was no more than a pile of blood and gore under a stack of concrete. His arms and legs twisted a little, but that was it.

Most of the other Voyagers stood up in absolute horror. What the hell? Allen was a Voyager. A Voyager! The fact that he was having a Trial Mission meant he has survived multiple Objective Missions. Did he, a mighty soldier of the Voyager Corps, just die to a piece of rubble?

But the horror didn't end. The ceiling continued to crumble. More and more rubble started to fall down. With their full power, any Voyager could reduce this room to ashes, but right now, they had no choice but to flee.

Unfortunately, even that felt impossible. A large piece of rubble came down and blocked most of the class from the door.

One of the Voyagers went for the window. They were on the first floor, so the height wouldn’t be a problem. But on the way to the window, he tripped on something, and his path through the window went from a calculated leap to a troubling crash. He never recovered from that crash. A piece of broken glass made its way into his eye.

Jean charged for the door as soon as things went wrong. She was always cautious, and the caution allowed her to each the exit before the rubbles blocked the path. Her hand was already on the door handle when she suddenly stepped on a dry erase marker on the ground that just rolled out into place a second ago. The Reapress’s body slid back uncontrollably. She tried to stabilize herself, but it was too late.

Her neck slammed into a table. Her head was jerked to a stop by the solid surface, but the rest of her body, thanks to inertia and gravity, kept going.

Crack~

In two seconds, Jean’s body laid still on the ground. Her neck formed an unnatural angle.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have just killed Jean Turner...with a marker and a table.