"On average, you'll find that 70-80% of all people who invade near zero will survive the first 24 hours. With clear escape routes and medical assistance, as well as timely intervention by the military and local samurai, this number will remain roughly the same for the next 24 to 72 hours. *This only emphasizes the rapid intervention program.

Troops and medical professionals who are able to act quickly, as well as facilities to move all of them to safer locations.

Of course, all this and more is what we offer. ”

*All stats are verified by the North American federal government!

--AdamsCo

p Sales pitch to every major metropolis in North America.

***

I didn't care about that worm.

If I had given me a few minutes, I might have figured out some way to throw it out the window or kill it, Miaris was right, I didn't have time. Perhaps, maybe soon, I will become one of the Exterminator Samurai, but this is not the case yet, so I can only swallow my anger and deal with it.

Back down the hallway I had just passed, I slipped through the door and walked down another drab gray passage. Several doors open along its sides to reveal the lounge and cleaning room, where the robot vacuum cleaner hangs to recharge.

There were no aliens, except for a few things that had been thrown to the floor and abandoned there, and I stepped over a discarded purse and resisted the urge to flip through it.

Then I found the door that led to the stairwell, which flashed red.

Through the safety glass, I saw nothing.

"So," I asked into the empty air. "Uh, that samurai, the one we saw in the depths of the city. They're flying. ”

This looks like a Level III anti-gravity system plus a Level II ion thruster system. I'm afraid both of these things are far beyond your current capacity. Ha.

"But I can get it, right?" I asked.

Of course. But I should explain at some point how the hierarchy system works.

"There's no better time than now," I said, pushing open the door and looking around.

As you wish. Most early category (i.e., Class I) directories offer simple items. If there is enough motivation and time, most of them are well within the capabilities of the humanities. Class II materials and equipment are beyond human production capacity and will remain so for some time. Level III and above require significant time and research investment to achieve, and it would be almost impossible for humans to achieve this goal in thousands of years.

"But you have them," I pointed out.

While humans were still banging rocks together to start the first fire, the protectors nominally controlled two percent of the galaxy's star system. We have made contact with dozens of species and formed an interplanetary contract that continues to this day.

Is that...... A lot? Maybe? I've never been good at dealing with numbers like that. "Keep bragging, why not," I said.

I can, my current task is to educate you on how I can provide you with equipment. Grades IV and above will be hard for you to get for a long time, and I think it's necessary to ignore these now. Most Tier 2 courses are just an evolution of the junior curriculum. Your Class I medical facility only needs to pay a one-time fee of 500 points to become a Class II medical facility.

"Five hundred?" I whispered.

Level III requires the purchase of certain previous levels in order to unlock. For example, if you wish to obtain a Tier III Electromagnet Anti-Ship Weapon, then you will need to unlock at least three Tier II in the relevant subject.

"You're starting to sound a lot like some kind of gacha," I said. "Are you going to tell me about finance and special currencies next?"

No. Progress is not linear. Three-stage anti-ship weapons can destroy the ecology of the planet. Based on its unimaginable level of damage, the exorbitant pricing is sensible.

"Can level 4 blow up the moon?" I screamed.

Yes.

I went down a step and stopped. "What?"

The creak of a door opening below, which allowed me to move forward, the trench machine gun rising towards the sound, although I couldn't see the door clearly from where I was standing.

"If you're not an alien, call twice." Someone said below.

I snorted involuntarily. "Wangwang." I was expressionless.

"Oh, thanks for the fuck. Come on. We're going to seal this door," the voice said.

I let go of my pistol and stomped down the stairs until I reached the bottom of the stairwell and saw a guy in his twenties opening the door.

"Are you one of the kids upstairs?" He asked.

"Yes," I said. I crossed him and saw another drab hallway, this one seemed much shorter. "Any of you guys?"

He grinned. "I'm the only one," he said. "I'm Brand. Yes, a group of us hid in the parking lot. Come on, we're going to seal off this corridor before the aliens arrive. ”

"Do you have a leader?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders as soon as I passed by and closed the door behind me. "What do you think we are, the strange parking kingdom? No, we have people on almost every floor. The vault is full of corpses, so we're gathered here. ”

I nodded along with it. I don't have to take on so many responsibilities.

Brand led me down the hallway into a two-story parking lot, hovercars parked in the berths above and below us, and the distant walls covered with heavy steel shutters. Several hoverbikes were thrown together, creating a barricade inside the room, behind which several wide-eyed mall policemen and elderly people were standing.

Deeper, two more armed groups gathered around them.

Brand pointed to the end of the room, where there was a group of children. "You might want to go there. Ah, give your gun to a security officer. They're gathering whatever weapons they can get their hands on so far.

"So, is anyone responsible?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Sort of, but not really. Things aren't that organized. ”

I frowned, hoping that the burden would not fall on my shoulders as much as possible. "Great."