Chapter 1 part 1

When the stars are full of danger, it’s better to be overlooked than overestimated

IWhen the Stars Are Full of Danger, It’s Better to Be Overlooked Than Overestimated

I don’t remember what ripped me out of my old world and dumped me here, in this corner of space. Maybe it was some cosmic accident—a tear in reality, a burst of energy between dimensions. But by the time I came back to myself, I was already a crying baby, with only foggy glimpses of my past life. By the time my old memories fully woke up, I’d lived long enough to accept things as they were. The universe doesn’t stop expanding just because you don’t understand it.

I was born or moe like reborn on a mining outpost stuck between two warring superpowers: the Lunatran Empire and the Holy Solar Commonwealth of Solflare. They’d fought over these border star systems for centuries, making peace and breaking it just as fast. Officially, the outpost belonged to Lunatran, but the people there were misfits from all over the galaxy.

When I was born, there was a shaky peace. By the time I turned nine, it collapsed. My parents died in the first wave of attacks. Not that they were great parents—my father was Lunatran, my mother from Solflare, and their marriage was as explosive as a fuel leak near an open flame. They’d married to spite their own people, but all that stubbornness just made home life... messy.

After they died, I was sent to my father’s uncle, who lived on a giant space station deep in Lunatran territory. He never liked me. A kid with glowing hair and tinted skin—clear signs of Solflare blood—was too much for his rigid Lunatran pride. He didn’t hit me, but he never hid his disgust. One day, he transferred me some money and cut me loose. For most kids, that would’ve been a death sentence. But I wasn’t most kids.

Around age five, I’d realized I had something... unusual. A leftover gift - a sepcial power - from whatever brought me here. I still don’t fully understand it, but it helped me survive. Maybe the universe was sorry—or maybe this was just the price of crossing dimensions.

When you hear a story like mine—a lost orphan with strange powers—you probably expect a grand destiny. A rise to power, a legendary battle, maybe even a harem of alien admirers. And sure, I dreamed of glory for a while. But after years drifting on the edges of society, I figured out something simple: this is fine.

Risk my only life fighting monsters or warlords? No thanks. I’ve seen what radiation does to flesh, and I don’t trust busted space suits to keep me alive. Safe, steady work suits me better.

I don’t mess with the scraps of future knowledge in my head, either. Last time I tried, it backfired. Back on the mining outpost, I made a holographic strategy game, hoping to earn some cash. It got popular—until the colony leaders stole it and gave credit to the administrator’s useless son. Annoying, but I could live with it. Then, one day, the useless son “disappeared.” Soon after, a big tech company released the game as their own. Now it’s a minor hit, sold in space lounges across the empire.

The lesson? Power is dangerous. Knowledge is dangerous. If you’re smart, you don’t poke the universe with ambition.

“Narwhal, on maintenance duty again? You’re not even injured this time.”

“Yup.” I confirmed the work order over my helmet’s comm and took the datapad from the receptionist.

Station maintenance is bottom-tier work—cleaning floors, fixing frayed wires, checking ancient waste systems. The pay’s terrible, but the rewards add up, and I don’t mind. This place is filthy. If I’m stuck here, at least the halls I walk should be clean.

The one job I refuse? Waste recycling. The smell alone could kill a Krivven. No thanks.

“Oh my, Narwhal, maintenance again? The air’s thick today, isn’t it?”

“M-Morning,” I muttered, my magnetic boots clicking as I scrubbed grime off the deck plates.

People often stop to chat while I work, especially the synthetic food vendor. She’s pushy, especially if I haven’t bought her nutrient packs in a while.

“By the way, heard about the Space Marshal from Central Command?”

“Yeah. Commander... something. Must be rough for the habitat pods.”

“Right? The pod manager’s been complaining nonstop. Says marshals don’t know how to adjust the temperature.”

“How’s business at your shop?”

“Ugh, dead! Everyone’s flocking to the fancy dining pods. No one wants basic nutrients anymore. So annoying!”

“Haha.”

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. I’ll buy something next cycle.”

“Good! I’ll hold you to that.”

Chatting while cleaning isn’t exciting, but it’s... normal. It makes me feel like part of the station, and the place gets a little cleaner. Win-win. Plus, looking like a harmless nobody has perks. Pirates don’t waste time on people like me.

That’s the key to surviving out here: when the stars are full of danger, it’s better to be overlooked than overestimated.

Author's Note:

Welcome, dear reader, to the first chapter of our protagonist's delightfully uneventful life. Yes, you read that right—uneventful. If you were expecting a grand adventure filled with epic space battles and heroic feats, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. This is the story of someone who has mastered the art of flying under the radar in a universe that's constantly on the brink of chaos.

Now, you might be wondering, "But what about those mysterious powers? What about the grand destiny?" Oh, please. Our protagonist has seen what happens when you poke the universe with ambition. Spoiler alert: it doesn't end well. So, he's decided to play it safe, thank you very much. No grand battles, no harem of alien admirers, just good old-fashioned maintenance work.

And let's talk about those "gifts" from whatever cosmic accident dumped him here. Sure, they might be useful, but they're also a pain in the neck. Imagine having the power to see glimpses of the future, only to have it backfire spectacularly. Our hero tried to make a holographic strategy game, and what did he get? Stolen credit and a missing person. Lesson learned: power is dangerous, and knowledge is even more so.

So, here's to the unsung heroes of the galaxy—the janitors, the maintenance workers, the people who keep the lights on and the floors clean. They might not have grand destinies, but they've got something just as important: the wisdom to know when to keep their heads down.

Enjoy the first chapter, and remember: when the stars are full of danger, it's better to be overlooked than overestimated.