?General Zang squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh.
?That extraterrestrial metal box Broly had just bestowed the title of "great protector"... its truth was crueler than death. Three years ago, when accidentally activated, a beam of its light had swept over Stone. No energy shield materialized in the air; instead, only a single, blinking blood-red letter appeared: [D].
?Humanity's ruined scientists had traded their lives to decipher it. It wasn't a defensive tool, but a Genetic Potential Analyzer—a device used by cosmic civilizations to evaluate the threat level of different species.
?They had tested it frantically. The scans on the crippled, maimed "human cattle" returned an [F] rank. Civilians: [D]. Military and police forces: [C]. Elite warriors and high-ranking generals: [B]. And the most exceptional leaders of humanity, pushing the absolute limits, only reached an [A] rank.
?That cold cosmic yardstick had sealed their fate. Even someone with an A-rank gene would still be crushed like a bug beneath the CR 2000 hard shells of the Crustaceans. The device brought no salvation; it was merely a death sentence confirming humanity's absolute inferiority. Everyone threw it away, letting the last shred of hope wither and die.
?From 2064 to 2066, only the lowly janitor, Stone, refused to give up. For two whole years, day and night, she locked herself in humanity's dilapidated DNA archive, foolishly plugging the box into the system, patiently scanning every single genetic code like a psychopath.
?And today, she crawled out of the bunker, screaming.
?"I found it! Our savior!"
?In the dim bunker, the gene scanner projected a brilliant, blinding golden light, piercing the eyes of everyone standing there. On the holographic projection, a personal profile appeared with the ultimate threat level: [SSS+].
?The entire room held its breath. General Zang’s eyes widened. But as the personal information scrolled down, the atmosphere suddenly froze.
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?Broly jolted, lunging forward to stare at the profile, then he tore at his hair and roared like a madman:
?"Occupation: Civilian cafe worker?! What the fuck is this?! Furthermore... This guy fucking died of an illness in 2040, you crazy bitch!!! Are you planning to summon a corpse from over twenty years ago to fight a space fleet?!"
?Stone laughed and cried at the same time, tears streaming down her grime-streaked face. Her bleeding hands gripped the device tightly:
?"Then we go find the time explosion! Throw this machine, along with his genetic code, into the center of the blast! I bet my soul it will pass through the spatial rift and land exactly in the timeline when he was still alive!"
?"But we will die!" Zelot slammed the butt of her rifle into the ground, screaming in fury. "Anyone who gets near that explosive core will be torn apart by the time pressure! We'll all die! Every single last one of us, do you understand?!"
?A deathly silence strangled the bunker. A suicide mission. Trading the lives of all humanity's remnants here, just to send a hopeless message back to the past for a cafe worker.
?"Do it, Stone."
?A hoarse voice, hissed through gritted teeth, echoed from the dark corner. The man staggered forward, his arms still clutching the mangled half of his daughter's corpse. His eyes no longer held the apathy of someone waiting to die; they were bloodshot, like a wild beast backed into a corner.
?He looked straight into Stone's eyes, the veins in his neck bulging with bruised purple streaks, and roared with all his exhausted strength:
?"I'm with you! Fuck General Zang! Fuck Broly! Fuck Zelot! What the fuck does humanity have left to lose anyway?! We're human cattle, what the fuck are we so afraid of that we won't take a gamble?!"
?That crude, ear-piercing scream shattered the false shell of safety in the entire base.
?Broly froze. Zelot slowly lowered her gun. General Zang squeezed his eyes shut, his aged hand gripping the hilt of his blade. Everyone stared silently at the haggard silhouette of the father who had lost his child.
?That's right. What did they have left to fear? They were human. Not cattle. Even if they were blown to pieces in a space-time explosion, that death was ten thousand times more glorious than being herded into a slaughterhouse to be canned.
?One by one, from the aging veterans to the ragged refugees, they silently stood up. No one said a word. They hoisted their rusted weapons, turned, and scattered, plunging into the apocalyptic darkness.
?They went to find a delusional time explosion, ready to throw themselves into the jaws of death for one last ray of hope, following the grand masterplan of the crazy janitor: Stone — The Ruler of Trash.
