EXTENDED CUT! First Impressions: A Pioneer’s Blood. By Fiavolun Tastua.

“Space may be infinite, but A Pioneer’s Blood makes it feel like four walls closing in—and that’s the thrill.”

Core Premise & Initial Impression:

Space.

The Final Frontier.

Final—not because there’s nowhere left to go, but because space itself would rather like to kill you. At least that’s true in the latest serial novel Bardic Planet is giving its insight on.

Much like the last story we covered—Galaxy of Gods, with its sprawling scale and endless promise—A Pioneer’s Blood takes its own shot at the boundless beyond. But while the former felt vast, this one feels almost claustrophobic. And trust me, I mean that in the absolute best way.

We’ll get into all that later. First let me dot all the Ts and cross all the Is. (Yeah, I know it’s the other way around, but I’m a maverick—making up rules as I go. Maybe I’ll replace all the Ms with Ns. You mever know… I just night.)

As if most of the novels reviewed so far have been sourced from Royal Road, A Pioneer’s Blood lands firmly in LitRPG territory. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s true—this novel’s got levelling. It’s got stat sheets for every angle of human physique. And of course, a system UI that frames it all.

However, before getting into the meat and saucy-sauce, it’s worth mentioning that the novel justifies its LitRPG elements very well. In fact, given the sci-fi/high-tech backdrop of the world, it would almost be weird if it didn’t have them. But once again, I get ahead of myself.

Let’s get into the story.

Take an eighteen-year-old Daniel. S. Hardgrave: rusty in reading but slick on the streets. Give him an adopted cousin-sister-niece—her nose so far in the textbooks that when she sneezes we all gain IQ. Throw in a very real case of money woes, his sister’s education a growing concern. Then top it all off with a full-blown case of the goodguys. It’s metastatic—spread to other worlds. The dangerous ones he’s dropped into. (Terminal velocity—and maybe his prognosis as well.) All to plunder them of shinies while being hunted through creeks and woods.

And if, in the process, he happens across some ancient alien super-tech—well, that’s just gravy. (Or saucy-sauce, as promised above.)

At its heart, A Pioneer’s Blood promises a tale of survival and grit—of ordinary folks thrown into extraordinary, lethal frontiers, where the weak die young.

And the strong?

Frankly, they die young too…

It’s a story for readers who like their tales creeping with danger and discovery. Less about power-fantasy excess, and more about the cost of ties that bind one soul to the next—the cold indifference of cronyistic greed, and the creeping terror of pushing into the unknown.

What Works?

Well-Justified LitRPG Elements & Power Progression.

For a novel with all the trappings of LitRPG, I’ve not come across another work in the genre that feels less like one. And I mean that in the best way. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good LitRPG. How could I not? I’m only human, getting my trousers on both legs at a time, like everyone else. (It takes a kind of hopping manoeuvre. But what am I telling you this for? Of course you understand—you do it too.)

That being said, the way this novel tackles the genre conventions feels almost organic. It fills you with solid, tangible progression—numbers rising on the status screen, new abilities unlocked—but it never gets in the way or becomes a convenient crutch for unwarranted leaps in power.

The game-like elements here come from the Codex: a portable encyclopaedia of everything to be found on the strange new worlds, along with a status sheet for the hosting pioneers. It feeds the characters—and the reader in turn—with timely bites of exposition, doles out quests disguised as mission objectives, tracks their progress, and stores their loot.

Basically, it accomplishes what our tech-nerd overlords have so far failed to: it turns life into a game.

But for the Pioneers fighting and dying on the surface of dangerous worlds, it isn’t a game. And it doesn’t even feel like one. It feels like advanced tech—the kind you’d expect from a spacefaring civilisation. The kind you could imagine us coming up with in the coming centuries… assuming we don’t succumb first to nuclear war, rogue asteroids, or a boy band so big their fans burst the mantle just by jumping up and down at their gigs.. (One of the lesser-considered apocalyptic threats, but still worth watching out for.)

Taking a far too literal interpretation of the adage “you are what you eat,” Pioneers become stronger by eating stronger monsters. The finer the quality of the meat, the better the gains to their status. It’s a clever device—feeding readers that sweet shot of dopamine from power progression, but justifying and limiting those gains by the quality of the catch… a catch that’s also trying to catch them right back.

It adds a level of satisfaction to Daniel Hardgrave’s progression: Pioneers are well-trained, well-conditioned interstellar marines. It would’ve killed immersion to have him leapfrog over them all, levelling his way to divinity through fetch-quests or by killing a hundred slimes.

Even the advantage Daniel gains through the discovery of ancient alien tech doesn’t feel like a cheat. It’s powerful, sure. Insanely so. But it’s grounded in an equally venerable law—the age-old rite of finders keepers.

It doesn’t come off as though he’s the chosen one. It’s more like he did his job and got lucky. Pioneers are supposed to hunt down valuable loot; someone’s going to find it, it just happened to be him.

All of this is to say: this novel’s approach to well-worn tropes simply works.

Unlike Boyz II Men, BTS, or Westlife… because against my careful planning, we still haven’t perished in the apocalyptic boy-bandquake scientists have been dreading since 1999.

Immersive Worldbuilding & Expositionary Restraint:

The backdrop to A Pioneer’s Blood is a vast intergalactic empire built atop the toppled ruins of the last.

Let me set the stage:

Through the boundless might and magnanimity of our Emperor of this mighty Akaadia Imperium (long may he reign sovereign over us), the wretched dogs of the Coalition have been brought to a whimpering heel.

But we must not grow complacent. It is the solemn privilege of all who can stand strong to raise arms for the everlasting glory of the Imperium.

All hail the Emperor!
All glory be to his name!

Ahem. By which I mean: at the beginning of the story, a war between two galactic military powers has come to a… if not a close, then at least a pause.

The novel portrays all the fervour of militaristic empire and crony-classism through subtle framing and character observation. For the most part, it’s not loud, but it’s felt. It rides story context like a branch in a storm—you glimpse it flashing past, not always the focus, but adding to the chaos all the same.

All that’s to say, the worldbuilding is immersive. For the most part, it’s experienced rather than told. It’s like the air the characters breathe—rarely noticed until it’s whipping a storm.

In one particular scene, Daniel turns on his sci-fi TV to watch the sci-fi news, where the anchor (presumably sci-fi too?) covers the end of the war. Her reporting comes across as subtle propaganda—mixing truths with unreliable narration. Which is exactly what you’d expect from the kind of empire the story describes. The novel doesn’t have to announce “Hey, the empire is like this” (except for the odd clunky line of dialogue). You just get it. You just feel it.

You understand the kind of world we’re in through the way Daniel must downplay his skill with a gun, lest he be forcibly conscripted. You experience the institutional rot in how the circles you walk in determine your social mobility. You feel the desperation that drives a young man to risk life and limb on a foreign world. The worldbuilding is immersive, and the story shines for it.

Exposition is handled in much the same way. Not everything is explained at once—it unfolds when it needs to, filling in blanks so you never feel lost, yet never dumping so much at once that you feel overwhelmed. Truly, the narrative itself feels crafted to fit the glorious Empire. This mighty, glorious Empire. And I’m absolutely not just saying this so the draft board overlooks me… no, I really, really mean it.

What Might Hold It Back?

Paragraph Density:

A Pioneer’s Blood is largely well-written—you won’t be at a loss for what’s going on. That said, the paragraphing can be rather dense, with some coming in just shy of two hundred words. That’s not a bad thing in and of itself, but it is something to consider. A lot of web novel readers are in it for easily digestible prose—something they can skim on the train to work. For them, this might be off-putting.

Personally, it’s not an issue for me. But I’m not the only reader, and not everyone has the patience… or the spine strength, depending on how much text you’re holding up on your phone.

Wordsmithing Wobbles:

Like I said, the story’s clearly written, but what it’s not is tightly constructed. There were more than a few places where five words were used where one would suffice—and with more impact.

There are also a handful of awkward phrases and word choices… such as calling a burger a subject. Which, now that I think about it, we’re all subjects of the glorious Emperor—so maybe that was wise after all. (All hail the Emperor and his editorial insight.)

Additionally, there was one moment in chapter twenty-two where the past-tense narration shifted into the present. I don’t normally directly quote in my first impressions, but in the hopes the author reads this and fixes it, I’ll break that rule. Because it was jarring:

“There. An opening. A minor misstep by the creature means it’s a beat too slow to dodge the next diagonal slash. In a desperate gambit, the creature brings up its right claw to block. The sword shears through them, but its delayed enough that the beast manages to dodge backward. But its hobbled now. Daniel leapt after it, bringing his sword up for the killing blow.”

Closing Thoughts:

With gripping worldbuilding, an excellent use of familiar tropes, and an expansive world that somehow still feels like tight corners, A Pioneer’s Blood is well worth the read. It’s a little rough around the edges, but as engaging as it is, you’ll hardly notice.

All told, A Pioneer’s Blood does exactly what a First Impression should: it hooked me, and it left me wanting more. That alone makes it worthy of note. All hail the Emperor. (Propaganda aside, it really is wonderful to bask in his glorious radiance.)

• X
• Facebook
• Reddit
• Tumblr