Chapter 42: The Silver and Crimson Giant

200 kilometers.
230 kilometers.
250 kilometers.
Yuxing gripped the electric baton in his hand, bracing himself. At that moment, the third stream of information appeared in his “field of vision,” shooting from the ground at lightspeed toward the rocket, burrowing into the control center along the predetermined route.
Now!
Yuxing held his breath, closed his eyes, and thrust the electric baton hard into the spot he’d marked earlier!
“Third-stage rocket ignition.”
“Third-stage rocket separation.”
Two prompts flashed across the top of the data stream and instantly vanished.
With the sound of machinery whirring to life, a violent rush of air swept through the rocket chamber. At first, the air was trapped in the semi-sealed space, only able to escape through the narrow gaps between rocket stages into the near-vacuum outside. Now, however, it surged out like bulls released from a pen, rushing toward the ever-expanding openness.
They were free!
For a moment, all sound vanished.
Vibrations lost their medium of transmission; everything fell into profound silence.
...
The noise in his ears had disappeared, and Yuxing could clearly feel his breathing growing more labored. At this altitude—250 kilometers above the ground—he was well past the Kármán line. Once the atmosphere thins to nothing at 300 kilometers, it can be considered outer space.
His original plan had been to remove all propellants before crossing the Kármán line, then use the ground communication base stations to establish a network route and transmit himself back.
But now, he could no longer find a connection to the ground communication network.
He glanced at the control core, where a retro electronic display was inset in the metal shell, showing his current altitude.
He understood then—he’d “blacked out” for too long and had missed the window for his planned escape.
The satellite communication stations were twenty thousand kilometers high in orbit, and for the first time, Yuxing could truly feel it: the “doorway” of his abilities had limits.
Slowly, he let go, sliding down from the metal bar he’d been clinging to...
The sensation of weightlessness felt as though he were sinking into the depths of the sea, or as if it were an overture, awakening a long-buried memory deep in his mind...
He was struck by an odd sense of utter relaxation.
It was a self-destructive impulse.
Like the urge to jump when standing at the edge of a great height.

This was fear. When you look down from a cliff, you’re struck by overwhelming terror.
How does the brain process this? The logical part concludes: as long as you don’t step forward, you won’t fall; standing still is safe.
Yet instinct betrays the logical conclusion, dredging from your DNA a primal fear of falling from heights, warning you of mortal danger.
With two conflicting judgments, the brain must adapt: standing safely is correct, but “you” want to jump! So remaining here is perilous!
Attempting to reconcile logic and instinct, the brain unwittingly plants the suggestion: “You want to jump.”
This phenomenon is known as “the high place effect.”
Yuxing was now experiencing a similar “high place effect.”
His logical mind told him plainly: you’re just an ordinary human, not a giant of light. There are things you must stand aside for—otherwise, you’ll die!
Yet another voice clamored: you’ve glimpsed the future! Change it! Otherwise, what’s the use of all this knowledge? Save those who would otherwise be lost! Alter the unchangeable fate!
The compromise between these two voices was: don’t interfere, don’t get involved, you’ll die! But precisely because your wish is death, go ahead—recklessly save! Recklessly change!
Perhaps, under normal circumstances, this subtle urge toward self-destruction would go unnoticed. But now, with all negative emotions amplified, Yuxing felt only an odd sense of satisfaction and ease...
He let his thoughts drift away.
And then—unexpectedly—found that his breathing was suddenly smooth.
...?
What was happening?
Baffled, Yuxing opened his eyes and, to his surprise—or perhaps not—discovered himself enclosed within a spherical transparent shell. Inside, there was oxygen and standard atmospheric pressure...
This was...
He looked down—he was sitting on a silvery-white “ground.” Looking up...
He met the gaze of a giant, clad in silver and red.
...
Surviving disaster, joy, and lingering fear all condensed in his mind into a single wry thought—
How wonderful, to have achieved the hardest life accomplishment in an Ultraman series: being cradled in the palm of a giant of light.
Yuxing’s gaze lingered on the giant’s face for only half a second before dropping to the chest, confirming the giant’s identity. Honestly, just by the face alone it would have been impossible to tell...
But the row of Star Medals on the chest made identification certain.
Before Yuxing could recover, a familiar line of text appeared above the giant’s head.

Was this the completion of the mission, the fulfillment of the initial bond requirement?
With his left hand, Yuxing reached to his waist, quickly opened the Taiga Light Key panel, and allocated the newly acquired bond points to attack speed. He was surprised to find that a second, previously grayed-out skill was now available.
He didn’t examine it closely—he just equipped it anyway, since he absolutely could not use the Doorway skill again today, and the guaranteed “deity” for this arc had already been activated, so his intervention shouldn’t be needed.
After equipping the new skill, Yuxing saw that its description was only two lines, instantly readable—unlike the Doorway’s lengthy essay of instructions.
The skill was called “Adaptation.” According to its description, as long as it was equipped, it would passively maintain its effect. The text was brief:
Automatically adjust oneself to adapt to the surrounding environment.
After a moment, perhaps because Yuxing had been staring too long, a line of gray annotation appeared beneath: Including but not limited to extreme outer space, planets with extreme temperatures, planets with extreme gravity, etc.
Judging by this, the skill seemed well-suited for Ultramen working at the Interstellar Intelligence Center, who often had to investigate planets with wildly different natural environments.
Once finished adjusting his new skill, Yuxing stood up and shouted toward the silver-and-red giant, “Captain! Please stop the rocket! Don’t worry about me—I can adapt to the space environment now!”
Evidently, the giant heard his words. After a moment’s pause—perhaps to confirm something—the giant nodded slightly, released Yuxing, and let him float freely in space.
The shell encasing him gradually faded away.
At that moment, if Yuxing turned his head, he would see that breathtaking blue planet...
Space should have been freezing, yet he felt nothing—no cold, no heat, only perfect comfort.
As for breathing, Yuxing could feel the action, but whether he was truly inhaling anything was unclear.
His body must have been undergoing some change, letting him adapt to the space environment.
Such incredible technology was absurd; Yuxing only became more curious about what other wonders the Taiga Light Key might hold.
But it was so quiet—so utterly silent all around.
Unable to move on his own, Yuxing could only drift, completely immobile. He was willing to take the risk and leave himself stranded and helpless in the void for one reason only: so that the giant of light would not need to be distracted looking after him, but could focus on the urgent situation at hand—
Although the rocket had lost all its propellants and multiple stages, the prior acceleration had imparted enormous kinetic energy, sending the main body hurtling at high speed toward the space station.
Worse still...the third-stage rocket, which had separated and ignited moments earlier, was now trailing a brilliant plume of fire and accelerating toward the station as well.
Now, there were two “missiles” racing toward the space station!