Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship! Chapter 25: Entering the Del Pravvio

The Revitalizer Module worked with elegance and precision, both simple and complex in its execution. First, it scanned the petrified object, analyzing the molecular composition to differentiate between organic and inorganic materials. Then, using an imnse burst of energy, it reversed the petrification process, restoring everything to its original state—whether living or non-living.

However, the energy requirents varied significantly between materials. Organic matter requires exponentially more power to restore than lifeless objects. This disparity often dictated whether a ship's generators could handle the strain. For the Range Falcon, I wasn't entirely sure—until now.

With a flick of her wrist, Eva activated the module. A white laser grid spread across the Del Pravvio like a 3D scan, weaving its way around the massive ship in under five seconds. The scanning phase used very little power, so there was little to worry about—the real test would co with the next stage.

"Scan complete," Eva announced, her fingers flying across the control panel. "Revitalizer Module entering reconstruction mode, reversing petrification. Estimated ti: 5 minutes. Average power usage: 78 gigajoules per second!"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Only 78? It could've been worse... The ship's generator should be more than capable of supporting it."

The Range Falcon's generators had a max output of 100 GJ/s. With the base energy consumption of our other systems factored in, we were running at about 95 GJ/s with the Revitalizer Module online. That left just a small buffer—enough to keep a few weapons powered in case of ergencies. But the power draw fluctuated wildly, spiking to 190 GJ/s whenever organic matter was being restored. These peaks were brief, but they emphasized the toll this process took.

The minutes crept by like hours. But witnessing the dull, petrified surface of the Del Pravvio sohow regaining its original colors was surprisingly captivating. Laser lines of verdant color swept across the enormous ship, peeling away the stone-like texture and leaving polished tal behind.

"Restoration complete," Eva said at long last, with an audible sigh. "Scanning for life signals... 564 humanoid signatures confird onboard. Looks like it worked!"

Her words brought relief, though they didn't erase the grim reality. I crossed my arms and leaned back. "Only 564... That's barely enough to crew a ship of this size..."

I trailed off, not wanting to say what we already knew. In the ga, I rembered that only about 10% of those petrified survived the long ti they were left floating in space. The rest were lost because of irreparable damage sustained while in their stone-like state. It wasn't our fault, but that didn't make it easier to accept.

"Let's move," I said, standing. "We need to greet our rescue target before they decide to blast the Range Falcon away."

Eva hesitated, glancing at the now-restored Del Pravvio on the monitor, whispering in a low voice. "They wouldn't shoot us on sight, would they?"

---

The bridge was silent, pitch dark except for the bleary glare of distant beams from the Range Falcon's floodlights. A man stirred, his breathing shallow as his senses struggled to realign. Slowly, he blinked open his green eyes and looked around the dimly lit surrounding.

His body felt sluggish and his mind, muddled. He tried rising to his feet, pushing himself off the chair he was on but found an anomaly.

"My legs..." He hesitated, his deep baritone voice touched with incredulity, resonating in the silence. He looked down and gasped, his breath caught at what he saw.

Nothing was below his knees. His legs had been amputated chaotically as if his leg was made of cent that was smashed with a sledgehamr. Shards of what had once been his lower limbs lay strewn across the floor like shards of polished stone. Strangely, no blood flowed from the wounds, as though petrification had left him in a suspended, unnatural state.

He looked up, glancing around the bridge. His officers slumped against their consoles or lay splayed on the floor, their postures frozen in the aftermath of their sudden rebirth. A few of them were beginning to wake, with their feeble groans filling the air.

Ahead, the view from the bridge was black, starless, and lightless. Only the glow of the Range Falcon's lights lit up their surroundings, casting eerie shadows across the space.

"Right. We were out on a mission," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

mories flickered like fragnted holograms in his mind. Slowly, he pieced them together—the betrayal, the Gorgon, the petrification, and the abrupt end to everything.

Pain flared suddenly, sharp and excruciating, radiating from his mangled legs. The initial shock had dulled the sensation, but now it hit him with full force. He clenched his teeth, a low growl escaping as he forced himself to focus.

"We were... petrified," he hissed, sweat beading on his brow as he fought to piece together fragnted mories.

Despite the pain assaulting his senses, he kept thinking. If he and his crew had been revived, soone had to be responsible. But who? And why?

"Major Terrence," a frail voice rasped nearby, drawing his attention.

One of his officers approached him, pale and trembling, clearly disoriented. Fortunately, the reactivated chanical artificial gravity generator produced enough weak gravity to keep them grounded and stop them from drifting aimlessly.

Terrence gritted his teeth, bracing against the excruciating pain radiating from his mangled legs, as he struggled to push himself upright—or at least attempt to.

"I know," he growled, his voice steady despite the agony. "It seems we were saved by soone. Find out who's out there."

The command ca through clenched teeth, but his tone carried its usual weight of authority—unshaken, even in his compromised state.

"And figure out if they're a friend... or foe."

The officer stiffly saluted as he dragged himself toward the open doors, his legs almost bucking under his weight. By the ti he was out of the room and disappeared down the darkened hall, Terrence activated the device strapped to his thigh. His suit constricted around his legs, cutting off blood supply to the destroyed stumps. He hissed sharply but didn't flinch and kept his gaze unwavering.

Leaning back in his chair, Terrence exhaled a slow, shaky breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, slowly pooling on the cold tal beneath him. He cast a glance out the viewport, where the Range Falcon's lights glimred like a distant beacon.

"I just hope the ones who rescued us aren't enemies," he muttered, his voice low and edged with unease.

---

With precision, I guided the Range Falcon forward, aligning it with the docking port on the Del Pravvio and preparing to dock. Thanks to the careful design of every ship's docking port, allowing it to draw power from the docking ship, even if the primary power source of the other ship is lost—like now, with all their generators being offline—the docking port could still function properly.

I positioned the Range Falcon parallel to their port, carefully engaging the thrusters to close the gap until the mating gears locked into place with a tallic clunk.

[Docking complete. Airlock pressurizing to standard values... Complete.]

Without delay, Percy applied pressure to the short passageway connecting both ships. The quick completion of the procedure proved that the Del Pravvio was still sealed tight, so we wouldn't need to drag bulky oxygen tanks and rescue the ship's personnel right now.

"Hey, you're really going there just like that?! " Eva snapped, her scowl deepening.

I looked down at myself, wearing my usual tallic black-and-silver skintight spacesuit, and nodded. "It doesn't seem like my suit has any problems, so there's no need to change clothes."

Eva's face turned serious. "What if there's a shootout? That suit can't even stop one laser blast!"

She wasn't wrong. This suit prioritized mobility over protection, and while that was useful in most scenarios, it wasn't ideal for close-quarter crossfires. Still, wearing powered armor was out of the question. Showing up like that would put the other side on high alert and risk derailing the entire negotiation before it even began.

"No need," I said with a wave of my hand, flashing a grin. "Don't you know who I am? There's no way they wouldn't recognize this handso face of mine imdiately."

"... Right," Eva muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You are an Astoria, after all. But you'd better hope no one onboard holds a grudge against your family then."

I turned to her, eyes locked. "Stop jinxing it," I said firmly.

At first, I dismissed her warning, but her words kept bothering . I was undoubtedly, woefully unprepared in terms of defense. Still, wearing a powered suit was out of the question. I thought deep and hard and let out a sigh as I reached for a compromise.

"Alright, alright. I get it. I'll take that with ," I said quietly.

Out from the bridge I went to the armory next door and ca out with two identical energy-based riot shields.

With these, even if they opened fire the mont we stepped aboard, we'd be able to withstand the assault. The shields weren't perfect—they only offered directional protection and required careful positioning—but carrying two allowed to cover both my front and back in the narrow corridors.

Eva followed, eyeing skeptically as she considered her own options: copying with riot shields or donning a powered suit. "If you wear a powered suit, you're staying here," But I warned imdiately.

Finally, she begrudgingly selected two shields, activating them with a flick of her wrist. Just as she stepped out of the armory, I grabbed one more thing—just in case. Eva raised an eyebrow at my choice but said nothing.

With all preparations made, I turned to her. "Let's go."

The airlock's radial aperture opened like the shutter of a cara, and we stepped inside.

Eva followed closely, her shields raised, covering both front and back. Though fear was evident in her eyes, she pushed through it, her resolve keeping her steady. Or was it the thought of not wanting to be left alone on the ship that motivated her?

"Stop thinking rude things, or I'll sock you!" she barked, glaring at .

I hadn't even said a word yet, and she read my thoughts like an open book. Won really are terrifying.

We crossed the short, pressurized connecting path in silence. As we reached the other side, the aperture opened—

"Halt! State your na and your business with our ship!"

A soldier stood before us, his hands steady as he aid a laser blaster directly at our faces.