The arena lights faded as the candidates were directed into the main commercial hub of Sector 7.
The Cosmic Market was vast beyond measurement. Floating trade platforms drifted through open space, stacked with glittering glass vaults, glowing ore displays, and planetary containment spheres.
Thousands of Creators flooded the walkways, trading high tier materials to stabilize their newly formed cores.
Zee walked through the crowd, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
Above every stall, holographic boards flashed current market prices for foundational materials.
[ STELLAR IRON: 500 CREATOR POINTS ]
[ CONCENTRATED PLASMA: 1,200 CREATOR POINTS ]
[ GRAVITY CORE MATRIX: 5,000 CREATOR POINTS ]
Zee opened his own system interface to check his remaining balance.
[ CANDIDATE: ZEE ] [ CREATOR POINTS: 12 ]
Twelve points.
It was barely enough to purchase a bucket of low grade water dust.
“Look who it is,” a sharp voice called out.
Gen stood in front of a high end material vault, flanked by two other Creators. Floating beside Gen was his planetary core, already wrapped in a shimmering lattice of metallic armor.
“Shopping for more mud, Zee?” one of the Creators laughed. “I hear the waste disposal vendors give free samples.”
The surrounding candidates chuckled, passing by with carts loaded with pristine carbon and liquid crystal.
Gen didn’t laugh. He simply looked down at Zee’s interface display with cold, analytical eyes.
“You have twelve points,” Gen said flatly. “You spent your starting allocation on an unregistered anomaly that gave you zero physical attributes. In three days, the first orbital evaluation begins. Without defensive plates or energy conductors, your world will collapse under its own gravity.”
Zee looked around at the bustling market.
Every successful Creator was surrounded by wealth, backed by wealthy guilds, and stacked with elite resources. Talent and raw materials weren’t just advantages in the trial, they were everything.
For the first time, a cold knot of reality tightened in Zee’s chest.
He had a world with a heartbeat, but he didn’t even have enough points to buy it a stable atmosphere.
Zee turned away from the main avenue and walked toward the outer edges of the market, where the lights grew dim and the stalls became sparse.
Here, scrap dealers and black market vendors sold fractured cores and unstable space debris.
“Looking for a miracle, kid?”
Zee stopped.
Sitting in the shadow of a broken transport ship was a hooded figure. The merchant’s face was completely obscured by a swirling veil of dark purple mist, and their long, thin fingers rested on a rusty iron box.
“I don’t have points,” Zee said, turning to leave.
“I didn’t ask for points,” the mysterious merchant rasped, leaning forward. The mist parted slightly, revealing a single eye glowing with an ancient, golden light. “I smell something inside your core. Something that shouldn’t exist.”
The merchant tapped the top of the iron box.
“I have a primordial atmospheric seed,” the merchant whispered. “It will bind your world together. But in exchange, I don’t want your points. I want ten percent of your planet’s soul.”