I Pick Up Talents on the Interstellar Battlefield Chapter 1: Clones at the Start, Talent Light Orbs

"Where is this place?"

Qin Tian's eyes gradually sharpened as he blinked, gazing around in bewilderment.

Cold metallic walls shone with icy gleam, while soldiers in matching black attire formed a rigid formation, standing motionless and statue-like.

Wasn't I gaming at home? How did I end up here?

Qin Tian parted his lips instinctively, about to speak, when a buried memory suddenly emerged from his mind.

I exist on Alpha 7 Star as a third-generation battlefield clone, ID 89757.

My duty demands loyalty to the Empire, to the military, obedience to commanders, and wielding weapons to destroy all enemy invaders.

This short influx of data blended seamlessly into Qin Tian's over two decades of life memories, stirring no waves.

Clones, Empire, weapons...

Qin Tian's lids lowered, a wave of intense anxiety and fear surging from his heart's depths.

I've truly transmigrated!

And this role—why does it scream cannon fodder?

Click-clack

The sharp echo of leather boots on the floor shattered the brief quiet.

"New recruits, welcome to this brutal world."

A massive, sturdy officer positioned himself at the formation's head, his powerful voice booming into every ear without any mic.

"You are war machines forged by the Empire, made for loyalty and sacrifice."

"Starting today, you'll wield arms, battle for the Empire, for the citizens, and etch the Empire's eternal glory with your blood and lives."

"Long live the Empire!!!"

Those last words ignited a trigger buried in the soul.

Instantly, fervor exploded in every clone's eyes, their unified roars nearly lifting the ceiling.

"Long live the Empire!!!"

......

A massive command spire rose like a steel titan amid the base, its summit blinking with signals that beamed data nonstop to nearby ships and defenses.

Under the spire stretched wide corridors in every direction, floored with thick metal slabs where treaded transports and striding mechs zipped by, etching deep marks into the surface.

Click-clack

The officer guided thousands of clones from the dorms, the black-clad mass surging like a tide, instantly capturing all eyes.

"Isn’t this the third clone batch? Why so few compared to the first two?"

"Logistics must be strained hard; they can barely produce this much cannon fodder now."

"The war's turning dire; at this rate, retreat might be inevitable."

"Sigh, with so many dead, handing land to those vile beastmen would be unbearable."

Snippets of far-off talk drifted to him; Qin Tian realized this body's capabilities were top-notch—keen vision spotting pebbles far away, ears catching distant murmurs, and a sturdy frame where a fist clench unleashed surging power.

In his old life, he'd rival a diluted Captain America, sweeping Olympic golds effortlessly.

But here, others labeled him 'cannon fodder'.

"Haha, Raymond, perfect timing."

A silver-uniformed man hopped from a dark treaded vehicle, striding to the front and telling the officer:

"I need hands to haul bodies to the morgue—put these clones on it."

"Alright."

Raymond nodded; in camp, handling remains trumped rookie drills.

"Okay, follow me then."

The silver-clad man vaulted effortlessly onto the five-meter rig, nimble like a sparrow, stunning Qin Tian.

What’s this?

Super Captain America?

"All of you, double-time it."

Raymond bellowed the order, steering the group after the convoy; twenty minutes later, they reached a colossal hangar.

"Shift every corpse inside."

Click-click-click

Robotic arms unfurled from the vehicle, seizing bodies within and setting them down softly.

Clones queued up, lifting ground corpses one after another, ferrying them to the assigned barrack chamber.

Soon, Qin Tian's moment came.

He hefted a halved man's torso, dark crimson blood drenching his front, a heavy blood reek assaulting his nose and nearly triggering nausea.

Yet he swallowed the revulsion, stoically finishing the job like fellow clones.

First one, second...

Bit by bit, Qin Tian adapted to the grim work—no matter the mangled state, even guts spilling out, his gut reaction dulled from the start.

In his prior life, unthinkable.

"Is this clone body's instinct rubbing off on me?"

Qin Tian's lips tightened as he crouched for the next load.

Right then, a green orb materialized from the body; he blinked, suspecting illusion, but it streaked directly into his chest.

Snap~

The orb sank in; Qin Tian froze briefly, then rose mechanically, hauling the corpse onward.

[Name] Absolute Gunmastery (Green)

[Type] Passive Talent

[Introduction] The holder has an innate mastery of firearms, capable of predicting target trajectories by synthesizing the environment, achieving precise strikes.

Text lines hovered in his vision.

Qin Tian dipped his gaze, concealing the thrill bursting in his eyes.

"I knew it—transmigrators always get cheats."

As 'cannon fodder' by others' views, he'd despaired over surviving this bloody warzone.

Now, though, hope glimmered—no path fully blocked.

This death-soaked battlefield could be his golden chance.

Qin Tian hastened, stowing the body in storage, then lined up at a shorter queue for another.

This one: slim man in silver leather armor, appearing intact externally, but on lift, Qin Tian felt the frame's bones mostly pulverized— a jostle brought grinding cracks like rubbing shards.

Luckily, he yielded two talent orbs.

One green, one white

[Name] Danger Perception (Green)

[Type] Passive Talent

[Introduction] The possessor of this talent is like a battlefield prophet, able to acutely sense nearby dangers and respond promptly.

...

[Name] Lesser Blade Sense (White)

[Type] Passive Talent

[Introduction] The holder has an extraordinary understanding and control over blades, allowing blade trajectories to be more precise and swinging motions to be smooth and natural.