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SCL Chapter 3: From Noble to Soldier
🕑 Added 2025-04-07 03:25:34 +0000 UTCEncased in powered armor, the Marines towered over the average Korhal male, standing at an imposing eight feet tall. To Augustus, who was over 1.9 meters tall, they seemed giants.
The convoy came to a slow halt. Squads of security personnel, clad in dark brown uniforms and armed with plasma rifles, disembarked from the armored vehicles, forming a protective perimeter. The Mengsk family’s security chief, Achton Feld, stepped off his Vulture bike and personally opened the door for Angus and his family.
As Augustus prepared to leave, hands cupped his face from behind. A girl, standing behind his seat, leaned down and buried her face in his cheek and shoulder.
“Augustus…” Dorothy whispered. “You promised to write to me.”
In mere seconds, Augustus felt the dampness of his collar—Dorothy had been silently crying for a long time, and he hadn’t even noticed.
A wave of sorrow surged within him. Despite his detached feelings toward his new family as a transmigrant, the past memories embedded in this body influenced him deeply.
He couldn’t ignore the little girl’s tears. She was the beloved jewel of the Mengsk family.
“I will, little one,” Augustus said, adopting the affectionate nickname Arcturus used for their sister. “I’ll send you an email every week.”
He stood up, bent down, and placed a gentle kiss on Dorothy’s forehead before offering her a soft smile.
But the expression that had once captivated many girls at Styrling Academy soon froze.
Augustus saw his mother’s face contorted with grief, on the verge of collapse.
“Augustus… my child…” Catherine threw her arms around him, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to speak.
“I remember the first time I saw you… it feels like a lifetime ago…” Her sobs softened into trembling whispers.
“Be strong. Respect those who will fight beside you. One day, you may lead them—to the edges of the stars, to places beyond our sight. But never forget, Korhal is your home.”
“Forgive your father. We will always love you.”
Augustus stepped down from the armored vehicle, embracing his family members one by one and solemnly vowing to return alive. He waved goodbye, watching as the Mengsk family convoy gradually faded into the distance.
Only when the vehicles had shrunk into mere black dots on the horizon did Augustus turn toward the towering bronze doors of the recruitment center, dragging his genetically locked suitcase behind him.
"Sir, I’d bet you’re here to join the glorious Terran Confederation Marine Corps", one of the marines standing guard greeted him with a routine smile.
"We fight for the Confederation!" the other soldier echoed immediately.
"Yes, I’ve passed all the required tests and qualifications. Today is my enlistment day. Can you direct me to the recruitment officer?"
Augustus frowned slightly. The bronze doors of the recruitment center stood wide open, revealing a grand lobby decorated like an opera house—lavish, yet eerily empty.
Years of war had dragged the Terran Confederation into a quagmire, crippling its economy and drastically lowering citizens' living standards. Enlistment rates had plummeted to an all-time low, especially on Korhal, a planet that had long harbored deep resentment toward the Confederation and its government.
Many believed that only the most desperate—social outcasts, drifters, and criminals—would willingly join the Confederation Marine Corps.
"From now on, we’re brothers-in-arms," one of the marines said. "Head inside, take a left, and enter the fourth room. The officer is waiting for you."
Augustus nodded and was about to leave when he noticed the marines turning their attention to another young man approaching hurriedly from behind him.
"Sir, I’d bet you’re here to join the glorious Terran Confederation Marine Corps."
"We fight for the Confederation!"
Augustus found it unsettling—these two soldiers not only repeated their lines word for word but even spoke with identical intonations. The eeriness clung to him like a shadow, making him feel as if they were NPCs in a game, programmed to recite predetermined dialogue.
Shaking off the thought, he followed the soldier’s instructions, stepping through the grand entrance and traversing a long corridor until he reached room 404—the recruitment office.
Inside, a young officer in a deep blue uniform sat behind a desk, a golden Valor Medal pinned to his chest. His insignia identified him as a lieutenant. He had piercing blue eyes, neatly cropped blond hair, and a barely noticeable scar at the corner of his eye.
The officer had been watching Augustus since the moment he entered. Taking the official file stamped with the Confederation’s emblem, the lieutenant flipped through it briefly before setting it aside.
"Augustus Mengsk, second son of the esteemed Senator Angus Mengsk. A top student from Styrling Academy. On Korhal, that’s practically a free pass into government positions, interstellar conglomerates, or megacorporations."
He leaned back, studying Augustus with curiosity. "I must admit, it’s rare to see a noble like you enlist in the military. Korhal isn’t like Tarsonis; here, few aristocrats still follow the old tradition of sending their heirs to serve."
"So, tell me, why would you throw away a bright future to become just another grunt?"
"To protect all of humanity," Augustus replied with a casual shrug.
The lieutenant nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Augustus Mengsk, I can assure you that joining the Confederation Marine Corps is a decision you won’t regret. For years, we’ve traveled across the vast cosmos, exploring unknown and mysterious worlds. We fight against alien beasts, Kel-Morians insurgents, and Umojans separatists. We protect the people of the frontier colonies—and their valuable private assets."
"It’s a noble and honorable career."
"Unfortunately, there’s nothing noble or romantic about killing," Augustus interjected after a brief pause.
The lieutenant smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, his expression turned more serious as he cleared his throat. "Listen up, kid. The Confederation Marine Corps upholds three principles: Strength, Pride, and Discipline. We fight to safeguard the interests of all Terrans. Usually, the marines accompany colonization fleets, but since those damn Kel-Morian scum broke the trade agreement, we’ve been forced into conflict with their so-called ‘army’—a ragtag bunch of miners and farmers."
"Make no mistake, we will win this righteous war."
Augustus responded with a polite yet distant smile. He knew all too well how this war had started. While it was true that the Kel-Morians had been the first to take up arms, the Terrans were hardly innocent victims forced into conflict.
In reality, the war’s ignition stemmed from the Confederation’s greed. The Senate had authorized the marines to seize crystal mines discovered by Kel-Morians prospecting teams, as well as privately owned mining operations located further from the faction’s core worlds. Many Kel-Morians mine owners and workers were then arrested under fabricated charges, tried under Confederation law, and sentenced to labor camps.
Soon after, those lucrative mines fell under the control of the ancient Founding Families and the newly emerging aristocracy of the Confederation Senate.
"Alright," the lieutenant continued. "Head to the rooftop hangar. You’ll be transported aboard the latest APOD-33 dropship. It’s equipped with a warp drive, so the trip to the boot camp planet will only take a few days."
He glanced at his watch. "Departure is scheduled for 1400 hours sharp. Your ship is model 089, nicknamed ‘Peace Dove’ by the ground crew. Keep an eye out; no one’s going to guide you."
Upon entering the waiting hall, Augustus saw that hundreds of seats were mostly empty, with only a few dozen recruits scattered about. They were dressed in mismatched civilian attire, all sharing one common trait—youthful, eager faces.
As he walked through the hall, he silently observed their appearances and mannerisms. After all, these people could soon be his comrades-in-arms.
Most recruits sat hunched over their personal handheld terminals, absorbed in virtual games, digital novels, or holographic idol performances—ways to pass the dull wait before departure.
Augustus even recognized a former classmate from his secondary school days, though he chose not to acknowledge him.
Others were visibly from society’s lower rungs—failures of life or their unfortunate offspring. Their clothes were made of the cheapest industrial fibers, and unlike the more fortunate recruits, they had no electronic devices. Most wore expressions of defeat, their eyes hollow and lifeless.
"Soldiers, assemble immediately! Proceed through Corridor Four to the boarding platform!" A gruff voice suddenly thundered through the hall.
"Follow the platform markers to find your assigned ship. Do not wander! If you get lost, the guards will blow your useless heads off!"
"Wasn’t departure scheduled for 1400?" The hall erupted into murmurs of discontent. Some recruits pulled up their sleeves to check their mechanical wristwatches, the sound of shoes scuffing against the tiled floor filling the air.
Augustus quickened his pace, stepping through the corridor onto the boarding platform. The moment he emerged, he was met by the deafening roar of ship engines, strong gusts of wind, and the acrid scent of machine oil baking under the sun.
