Fated to Die to the Player, I’ll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!

Nyssra Vel'Varn, the Princess of the Voltherians.

In TSO, she's infamous for being one of the worst trouble magnets imaginable. It got so bad that if you added her to your party during specific points in the main quest, you'd be greeted with a bad end—without fail.

And right now—

"As I was saying, we should take the Primula now, while we still have time!"

—that very trouble-making princess stood before me, demanding my cooperation.

"And I'm telling you, I can't," I countered once more, losing track of how many times we'd had this exact exchange. "There's no way I'm going to travel into the Voltherians' star system, steal their ultimate weapon, and get out alive!"

At the moment, we were near the Range Falcon, still docked at the Narlia Commercial Hub. After all, I still had unfinished business here—aside from dealing with Nyssra.

While she rattled off her "proposal," I was busy filling out a form, meticulously double-checking each entry to avoid any mistakes. The title at the top read: Mercenary Band Recruitment Form.

It was a formal process required when recruiting new members into your Mercenary Group.

Right now, our roster only included me, Eva, and Cassandra. But as the main quest continued, we were absolutely going to need more firepower. So, I decided to use this chance to search for new allies.

That said, the recruitment process came with some strict qualifications.

First, applicants had to provide at least 50% of their personal information truthfully—regardless of whether they used aliases. That alone was a rarity, considering most mercenaries loved clinging to their whole "mysterious" persona.

Second, they either had to own a ship—regardless of size—or have more than five years of mercenary experience. That one wasn't hard; ships were practically a standard requirement for the job. Eva herself had one even before joining.

And lastly... a good personality.

Mercenaries, by nature, tend to be rough around the edges. Cursing and snapping at others was the norm. Of course, Eva's level of being a bitch was a special case, but others at least reached her ankles in terms of sheer attitude.

Given how vast the universe was, even with all these "strict" filters in place, I was certain there'd be hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of applicants. Unfortunately, it was equally certain that more than half of them would be lying through their teeth.

So, as an additional filter, I included a veeeeery tiny amount of money as the minimum compensation—literally the lowest figure legally allowed on the form.

That way, those greedy idiots who didn't bother reading the fine print would instantly be weeded out.

"Oh, here it comes."

Within mere moments, the number of applications skyrocketed into the thousands. Going through each one by hand would be nothing short of back-breaking work...

"Hey, are you still listening?!"

But Nyssra, still caught up in her own drama, wouldn't let me concentrate for even a second.

I glanced up at her, standing there with both hands planted on her hips, visibly fuming. I gave a slow nod. "No, I'm not."

"That's good, then as I was—wait, did you just admit you weren't listening?!"

Letting out a deep sigh, I moved from leaning on the hangar wall to sitting atop a random metal crate nearby. "Listen closely, alright? I... have no intention... of helping you steal the Primula."

Yes, obtaining a weapon that could snipe anyone, anywhere, across the galaxy was tempting. But going up against the Voltherians for it? That was a hard pass.

Even if their princess was the one orchestrating the entire heist.

I mean, the risks completely outweighed any potential reward.

"Then are you seriously going to leave Anderson Astoria to die?" she asked, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. "Wow. What a good-for-nothing filial son you are."

"Thanks for the sarcasm," I smiled. "But protecting my father and stealing the Primula are two completely different issues."

In truth, we didn't need to go that far just to ensure Anderson's survival. We could simply set up automatic defenses—ones similar in function to what I deployed during the Aegis Grand Prix.

In other words...

"Helping you is nothing but a loss for me. Plain and simple." I laid it out clearly, not mincing words.

Nyssra frowned, clearly trying to organize her thoughts. But before she could say anything else, I asked her something first.

"In the first place, why did you pick me, out of everyone in the universe, to help you steal your own family's weapon?"

"Huh?" She blinked in confusion.

"Isn't it obvious? You neutralized the Primula's attacks during the race like it was nothing. To us, that's like watching someone stick their hand into the sun, yawn, and walk away unharmed!"

She explained, eyes gleaming with dangerous intensity—like a fanatic on the verge of obsession.

"And if we're going to steal the Primula, then we'll need someone with your level of defense just to even get close. That's why I picked you as my co-conspirator!"

"Yeah... no," I said, shaking my head. "Just because I'm the only one who can do it, doesn't mean I will do it for you."

"Then I'll sweeten the deal!"

Nyssra stepped forward, pressed the release button at her suit's neck, and removed part of it. She exposed a generous portion of her headlights, striking a seductive pose—though it carried a noticeable trace of awkwardness.

"I-If you help me... I'll let you see the rest~!" she said, even adding a flying kiss for flair.

"..."

I turned around and walked straight back to my ship without sparing her another glance.

"Hey, what?! Wait!" Nyssra started panicking and rushed after me. "The heck, is that not enough for you?! Then... I—I'll even hold your hand! That's good enough, right?!"

"Even if you lay yourself bare, buck naked, before me, I still won't help you."

After all, we were just at the beginning of the main plot. If Nyssra and I became allies now, who knows what kind of sudden bad ending she might drag along with her?

Her face flushed to a dark shade of purple as she stammered, "N-Naked?! P-Pervert, why would I ever—?!"

"...Get back home, kid." I shook my head, arriving at the ship's hangar and reaching for the button to close it.

"Wait!"

But her last-ditch effort stopped me in my tracks.

"If you don't help me... I'll tell the Elders you killed Alkhein Thal'Brien and his two bodyguards—!"

"..."

Now she was resorting to blackmail?

"—And I'll tell the space dwarves that you're harboring a baby Void Dragon!"

"Stop." I raised a hand, managing a nervous smile—but my temple throbbed with fury. "I get it already... Let's talk business, shall we?"

Honestly, I'd survive even if accused of killing someone from the Voltherian race. That kind of heat wasn't enough to threaten me.

But the space dwarves finding out about the Void Dragon? That would destroy the Space Elves quest—and basically bring the entire main questline to an abrupt end.

I knew she was trouble, but this is...

Anything but that.

The thought of "silencing" her did cross my mind for a second... But despite being a walking harbinger of bad endings, she was still a named, required character. Without her, Chapter 17's sequence would collapse into an even worse catastrophe.

And with how fast the timeline seemed to be accelerating, I couldn't afford to gamble.

"You're finally helping me?!" Nyssra broke into a smile, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. "Yay! I did it! Finally!"

"Shh!"

I raised a hand, cutting her celebration short. "It's not set in stone yet. It still depends on the compensation," I clarified firmly.

Nyssra, hearing that, instantly hugged herself defensively, her eyes darting with a mix of anxiety and... anticipation?

"I-I can do hand holding at most. Nothing more than that," she mumbled.

"...Who the fuck would consider that a reward?" I sighed. "In exchange for my help, I want a permanent 50% discount on all items manufactured by the Voltherians."

The Voltherians. They're a race with an innate affinity for advanced technology—beings whose bodies are a seamless fusion of organic and synthetic matter. They aren't cyborgs, not really. They weren't "modified" post-birth; they were born that way.

Given their nature, it's no surprise they're top-tier when it comes to handling high-end ship systems. Their computers, AIs, and tech components are a full generation ahead of what most other races can produce—and always priced at a premium.

"50% off... You're not going to ask for them free of charge?" Nyssra asked, clearly surprised.

Sure, that'd be the usual route. But the Voltherians are known for their short temper. Asking them to give away their creations for free is like demanding they work as slaves for me indefinitely.

A 50% discount still allows them some margin of profit, which should make the demand tolerable—even if begrudgingly.

"I got it," Nyssra nodded seriously.

"If we succeed in stealing the Primula and securing it at my safehouse, then I'll grant you a permanent 50% discount on all Voltherian products, and even add no limits on the number of products."

She said, her voice as serious as it could get.

"And I'll even give you access to the royal treasury—take anything you want from it. Just one thing, but anything!"

"...!"

Just like that, my motivation spiked.

That last part she added so casually—access to the Royal Treasury. That was something I absolutely couldn't ignore.

Inside, there is an "item" that, if possible, I need to get my hands on!