coobybook Chapter 504 [Empire] This is the War Planet
Chapter 504 [Empire] This is the War Planet
Chapter 504 [Empire] This is the War Planet
In addition to pedestrians, there are also some simple vendors on the roadside.
The road was messy and dilapidated, covered with traces of war and time.
The vendors' stalls were practically makeshift, devoid of elaborate decoration or packaging; everything seemed casual and simple. On the ground lay a tattered cloth, its edges frayed and stained with dust. The wares on the stalls were scattered, looking like discarded treasures, yet each item bore the unmistakable traces of history.
Some stalls held faded clothing, the fabric unevenly frayed and brittle at the edges. The colors had long since faded, leaving only faint marks and lines, their former glory long gone with the passage of time. Though the clothes didn't look new, they still seemed rare and precious amidst the ruins.
Other vendors displayed various metal tools, ranging from worn knives and rusted utensils to even unrecognizable parts. They exuded a metallic, rusty smell, and while they looked worthless, they were precious resources on this planet. With so little choice, finding these here was a blessing.
On some vendors' cloths, you could even see a few unusual pieces of fruit, cut into small pieces and laid out in rows. Their appearance seemed shrunken, their colors dull. These fruits had hardened in the cold air, like lifeless butterfly wings, as if only form remained, devoid of flavor. Perhaps they were once local specialties, but now they looked more like the embers of a desperate struggle for survival.
There was barely a greeting between vendors; everyone kept their heads down, silently rummaging through the merchandise. Occasionally, someone would stop and pick up an item, as if selecting a prisoner of war, or perhaps a precious, imperfect object. No one spoke much, and the transactions proceeded almost silently.
The air was thick with a medley of aromas: the stench of stale food and goods, and the lingering scent of war, a rich intertwining of rust, fireworks, and dust. Passersby hurried past, their gazes unfocused, as if nothing here had been noticed. Even those who occasionally stopped seemed to hold only a few coins, and their choices were always made with extreme caution.
This is a market that is both simple and down-to-earth, where buying and selling take place without words, only with silence and practicality. Every item here seems worn by time, no longer gleaming, yet still providing a means of survival for those in this dilapidated world.
Yes, this is what the planet looks like.
A place torn apart by war and oppressed by time, its dilapidated streets, cluttered stalls, and few pedestrians reflect the cold and desolate world of this planet. Everything that once was has long since vanished, leaving only the indifference and hardship beneath this blanket of ice and snow.
Here, there are no blooming flowers, no laughter. People's eyes are always downcast, their steps hurried, and every subtle movement reveals the pressure of survival. The scarcity of supplies, the social unrest, all of this creates a heavy sense of oppression. Even the eyes of vendors and passers-by are no longer eager, and all communication has been reduced to transactions and survival. Behind every item, it seems, lies a complex, poignant story, an unspoken one.
This is daily life on the Frontier Star. Combat, destruction, recovery... It's a place trapped in an endless cycle, with no escape and no change. The Space Marines, cadets, and even ordinary citizens are all part of this relentless war, each shouldering their own roles and responsibilities, yet drawn together by a common destiny.
You've probably imagined what it looks like, perhaps imagining a desolate, shattered landscape, or a blood-soaked battlefield. But when you're actually there, the sensations seem more real, more profound. The harsh reality is inescapable. On this frozen planet, the lingering warmth of war is palpable with every step. The air lingers not just with the scent of dust and snow, but also with the traces of battle, the wear and tear of time, and endless exhaustion.
This is the current situation of the Border Star Region, a broken but resilient land that carries the hopes and disappointments of countless people, as well as the lives and destinies that so many men, new men, and I, as witnesses and participants of this war, need to face.