The creak and whir of machinery filled the small room. A blocky, utilitarian android uncoupled my damaged prosthetics and set to work, its metal fingers moving with cold precision. As it replaced a few twisted components, a red error light on the maintenance screen flickered and turned a healthy green. -Connecting nervous system, Cole. “Go ahead,” I said. The android obeyed, attaching the connection point between my organic tissue and the machine. A sharp, metallic clack, and then pain blossomed through my leg. It felt like a dozen needles piercing my thigh at once. -If there is any issue— “No. Continue.” I flexed and extended the newly repaired leg as I spoke. The android, its task complete, stood and walked away with a stiff, mechanical gait. Silence settled over the room. I closed my eyes and began to meditate, dulling my senses just enough to give my strained nervous system a chance to rest—a technique I’d learned at the Aegis Phalanx training academy. I savored the solitude. To me, this was a privilege. Back at the orphanage, I never had a moment to myself. A dozen kids crammed into a single room made privacy a fantasy. Those days already felt like a distant memory. Here in the Aegis Phalanx, even cadets were given their own quarters—a staggering luxury. Graduates were all but guaranteed a place among the Ascendancy’s elite officers. It was a clear path to success. The Guard was a unit under the Archon’s direct command, a position any citizen of the Kallos Ascendancy would kill for. When the opportunity arose, I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers. I had to be more desperate than my peers. Unlike the nobles among them, a low-born orphan like me had no other way out. Lost in thought, I frowned as my eyes snapped open. I’d heard footsteps in the corridor. Knock, knock. Even the sound was precise, orderly. After a pause of a single breath, a voice followed. “I am Lysander Spero. Cole, may I have a word with you?” Lysander Spero. I knew the name. He was the gun-wielding cadet who had faced the death-row inmates just before I had. I had a good idea why he was here. Truth be told, I’d been aware of him for most of our training. “...Come in.” I straightened my posture as I spoke. The door opened, and Lysander entered. I took him in. Lysander Spero. Scion of a renowned house. His brilliant blond hair and bright blue eyes gave him an air of nobility that was impossible to fake. Even in the plain gray cadet uniform, he looked elegant. “May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair by the window. The sun had long set, leaving the world outside shrouded in damp darkness. “I don’t intend to make a guest stand.” “I saw your fight today. It was quite impressive.” Lysander raised his chin slightly as he spoke. The pupils of his cybernetic eyes pulsed with a faint, occasional glow at their edges. “If you’re here to trade compliments and build camaraderie, you’ve got the wrong man, young master.” There was no reason to be so hostile. But my nervous system was frayed, leaving my temper thin and my patience nonexistent. It felt like I hadn't slept in days. I was on edge. That was my excuse, anyway. The real reason, I knew, was jealousy. An orphan from the dregs, a boy without even a two-digit status, could hardly be expected to welcome a noble of the same age with open arms. While I was limited to crude prosthetic limbs, Lysander’s body was a tapestry of advanced cybernetic organs and top-of-the-line implants. Lysander merely shrugged and pulled a small pill from his pocket. “This will temporarily reduce your nervous system’s sensitivity. It will help you rest more efficiently.” He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed, a clear gesture to show he understood my condition. It only made me dislike him more. “I don’t need it.” “With that level of fatigue, your training will suffer tomorrow. You know as well as I do that sheer willpower won’t be enough. You’re too exceptional to let that happen.” I closed my eyes and let out a slow sigh. He was right. I knew my own condition perfectly well. I was letting useless emotions get the better of me. My hand shot out, and I took the pill. A sensory suppressor. I tossed it back and swallowed. The effect was almost immediate, nothing like the cheap street knock-offs I was used to. My senses dulled without the usual unpleasant fuzziness. Instead, a soothing calm washed over me, like the warm ease just before sleep. The irritation that had been gnawing at me subsided to a manageable hum. I felt I could almost manage a compliment I didn't mean. “Your skills weren’t half bad either, Lysander. I was just copying what I saw you do.” He was a marksman who could shoot a bullet out of the air with another bullet. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would have even thought to try deflecting rounds with my blade. “It’s more impressive to execute a technique you’ve never learned on the spot,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. “I have a mechanical eye designed for combat; calculating trajectories is simple for me. You did it on pure instinct.” He didn’t sound insincere. It felt like a genuine compliment, and it made me feel petty for my earlier hostility. Who, after all, truly dislikes a compliment? I kept my expression carefully neutral. “...So, what is it you want?” “I heard you’re an irregular from an orphanage. I wanted to hear what it was like. I’ve never been to the lower sector.” It was the kind of comment that could have been deeply offensive—the rich young master curious about the lives of the poor. But his tone was polite, and his eyes held a genuine curiosity. “There’s not much to tell. The streets are filthy and the people are brutal. Junkies with shattered limbs drag themselves through the alleys, collapsed from whatever cocktail they’ve shot up. Starving kids sneak out of the orphanage at night to pick through garbage heaps, even though they know how dangerous it is…” “Hold on,” Lysander interrupted. “Orphanages are supplied with resources based on their headcount.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “...And you think all of those resources make it down to us?” “The orphanages are supposed to be cultivating talent for the Ascendancy. That kind of embezzlement shouldn’t be permitted… or am I being naive?” He offered a bitter smile, and I didn’t bother to correct him. “Embezzlement or not, it’s behind me now. I’m going to be in the Aegis Phalanx.” At some point, my rational mind had pushed aside my resentment. When I thought about it, I had no real reason to envy him. Here, in this academy, Lysander and I were equals. One day, we might be fighting side by side. Only a fool would make an enemy of an ally. “If you have questions, ask. I’ll answer what I can.” My tone had softened. Lysander smiled faintly and rested his chin in his hand. “Have you ever been outside the Ascendancy?” I narrowed my eyes. It was an odd question, and I couldn't guess his intent. “I was born and raised in the capital, Apexia,” I replied calmly. Lysander’s smile remained as he pushed himself to his feet. “So was I.” With that, he turned and left my room. The Legatus of the Aegis Phalanx often observed the cadets’ training, usually on days when the exercises were either especially dangerous or particularly significant. Today was both. Clank. Cold metal snapped around my wrists. My limbs were locked in restraints, leaving me just enough room to wiggle my fingers and toes. I glanced to my side and saw the other cadets in the same predicament, their faces pale with tension. My own expression was likely no different. Pain tolerance training. Of all the brutal regimens in our curriculum, this one was infamous. In essence, it was torture training. Through the reinforced glass, I could see the instructors—retired August Guards—watching us with indifferent expressions. Behind them, scientists and technicians bustled about. And standing with his arms crossed was the Legatus of the Aegis Phalanx himself. His gaze swept over the cadets, lingering on me for a moment before moving on. A crackle of electricity shot from the electrodes attached to my head and limbs. My body tensed instinctively. It’s just a fake signal. It’s not real. I repeated the mantra in my head, but the agony my brain registered was indistinguishable from reality. Thud! A piercing, wet sound echoed from the overhead speaker. No one had touched me. Stab wound to the abdomen. I looked down. My abdominal muscles were spasming violently. Though my skin was unbroken, it was already turning red as if from a massive bruise. Bang! The sharp report of a gun tore through my mind, and a searing pain erupted in my shoulder, as if a bullet had just ripped through it. Slice! A signal simulating a deep gash crossed my arm. The discordance between what I saw and what I felt sent my brain reeling. The pain was a filthy, monstrous thing. “Don’t let your brain fool you. Fool your brain.” The Legatus’s low voice resonated through the room, though none of us were in any state to listen. Every cadet was grimacing, teeth gritted, barely enduring the onslaught. Some had already lost control of their bodily functions. Don’t let your brain fool you. Fool your brain. I forced myself to repeat his words. Whoosh! This time, it was fire. The room seemed to heat up, the roar of phantom flames filling my ears. My hands and feet trembled, and I felt every pore on my body spring open. Training or not, it felt like I was dying. I twisted against my restraints, a desperate, undignified struggle. “Help! Help me! Pl-please, ah, Aaaaargh!” Thankfully, that wasn't my voice. The cadet next to me was screaming. I hadn't pissed myself yet, and the groans tearing from my throat were still somewhat contained. All things considered, I was holding up well. “Remember why you are enduring this pain.” The Legatus’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. The reason I was enduring this. The reason for all this grueling training. Advancement, yes, that was part of it. But there was more. “For the Ascendancy and His August Ascendancy, the Archon!” someone shouted, their voice raw with desperation. That’s right. I knew it well. The protector of humanity, the heart of the Ascendancy, our Archon... “For His August Ascendancy, the Archon...” the cadet beside me mumbled. I parted my dry lips, wondering if just whispering the words would ease the agony. But... But what? Vroooom. The next stage began. My breathing hitched, growing shallow and rapid. It was getting hard to breathe. The sound of sloshing water grew louder until my ears felt submerged, the world muffled and distant. Drowning. It was just a false signal, but it felt so real. Damn it. Damn these scientists. All their genius, and this is what they created: a machine for perfect torment. Don’t let your brain fool you... My mouth was full of blood. I must have been chewing my lips and cheeks to ribbons. ...fool your brain. Damn it, what the hell did that even mean? I tried to scream, but my lungs were empty, shriveled. Breathe. It’s not real. It’s fake. It’s not real. I wanted to smash my own skull in, to pulp the stupid grey matter that couldn’t tell truth from lies. What an absolute fool of a brain. When would this cursed torture end? They called this training? It was a sick joke. Bzzzzt! The electrical hum died. The pain that had coiled around my body like a serpent began to recede. “Hah… hah…” I gasped for air, body limp. I didn’t have the strength to lift my head, let alone open my eyes. Even with the signals gone, the aftershocks still tore through my nervous system. Step, step. Footsteps stopped directly in front of me. I managed to crack my eyes open. “Cole. Was it bearable?” It was the Legatus of the Aegis Phalanx. He stood over me. I wanted to spit a stream of curses at him, but I held on to my last shred of discipline. “Since… it’s fake… it’s bearable…” “Yes. It’s fake.” The Legatus raised a hand toward my face. I frowned, confused. What was he— He was smiling, a cold, sharp thing. His rough fingers moved toward my right eye. “But this time, it’s real.” The moment the words left his lips, half my world went dark. Pop. The Legatus had plucked out my right eyeball. It wasn't a synthetic implant. It was my own eye, torn from the optic nerve. Squish. He crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. Fear, bewilderment, confusion—a kaleidoscope of emotions flashed through me. But the pain was trivial, just an empty sense of loss. I could tolerate it. It was nothing compared to the training. Instead, a chilling clarity settled over my mind. Damn it all, the training had worked. There was no denying it. Even with one eye ripped from my skull, my composure held. It was just an eye, one they would have removed and replaced eventually anyway. My body was always destined for full conversion. “...While you’re at it, I’d like to request a replacement with trajectory prediction.” The Legatus’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he broke into a laugh. He seemed pleased with my response. A tear of blood streamed from my empty socket. I lifted my head and, with my remaining eye, scanned the room. Now I understood why the Legatus had come to me. Everyone else had passed out. Damn.

Chapter 2: You Welcomed The Steel