Chapter 1
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 1
Our destiny is decided by the Imperial Selection. Praise His Majesty the Emperor.
It was the day I finished the Second Selection Test. The Orphanage Director grinned, patting my shoulder. His fingers were bloated and fat, a testament to how much he had embezzled.
"You will be the greatest masterpiece of our orphanage, Luka."
Greedy pig of a director though he was, he did have an eye for talent. Three years later, when I became an Imperial Guard Cadet at the age of fifteen, his words became reality.
On the day I left the slums of the Lower District, I received the Baptism of Steel. The Empire's scientists severed my limbs and replaced them with cybernetic ones. They were high-grade prosthetic arms and legs that lower-class citizens wouldn't so much as glimpse in their entire lives.
I could crush boulders and shatter iron with my bare hands, and clear a two-story building in a single leap.
'The Irregular of the 72nd Orphanage.'
That was what people called me. It was extremely rare for someone from a Double-Digit Orphanage to cross the threshold of the Imperial Guard.
Most members of the Imperial Guard came from One-Digit Orphanages or were the children of nobles. That wasn't to say there was any class discrimination in selecting Imperial Guard Cadets.
...It was simply a difference in ability.
Those with better genes, raised in better environments, naturally possessed superior abilities. That was just the way of the world.
Of course, Irregulars like me occasionally bridged that gap, but from the perspective of collective efficiency, the rare Irregular was negligible.
"The higher-ups call you an Irregular, but do you know what people actually call someone like you?"
The Imperial Guard Captain looked down at me intently during our interview. Without waiting for my answer, he continued.
"...They call them geniuses. Those who produce extraordinary results, completely unbothered by their inherent limitations and poor conditions."
I didn't smile at the praise.
"I only wish to remain loyal to the Empire and serve His Majesty the Emperor."
I replied, placing a hand over my heart.
"A textbook answer, Luka."
The rims of the Captain's pupils glowed a brilliant blue. His name was Heilas Custoria, one of the strongest soldiers in the Empire.
"...Thank you, Captain."
I felt inexplicably intimidated. It was hard to look him straight in the eye.
"It's fine to be better than others. But you must not be different from them. That is, if you want to live a long life."
With the Captain's final piece of advice, the interview came to an end.
* * *
I had to spend four years at the Imperial Guard Training Center. The training was so intense that I barely registered how my first year as a cadet flew by. The moment I opened my eyes in my dormitory bed, training began, and by the time I closed them with an exhausted body, morning had already arrived.
An Imperial Guardsman was expected to master all of the Empire's Standard Combat Styles, and furthermore, know how to operate every piece of military equipment. Swordsmanship, spearplay, marksmanship—those were a given. We also learned to operate various heavy weapons and equipment at an expert level.
Every quarter, our nervous system compatibility and limits were tested, and our prosthetic arms and legs were upgraded to higher tiers. It was a gradual process, increasing the output so our nervous systems could adapt to high-performance cybernetics. Through this series of adaptation processes, we would eventually qualify to pilot the Imperial Guard's exclusive Legion Full-Armor Prosthetic.
"Today is an important day for you all. A mid-term evaluation, of sorts."
On the final day of our first year of training, the Captain gathered the cadets in the underground Colosseum. It was a place modeled after the ancient ruins of Earth.
The forty other cadets and I stood completely motionless, waiting for the Captain to speak.
"His Majesty the Emperor..."
The Captain pointed toward the opaque glass on the upper level. He told us that the current Emperor, Yuri Cracia, and his family were watching from behind it.
Praise Dino Cracia, the protector of humanity, the founding father, and the First Cracia of the Empire. A few cadets muttered under their breath like a prayer. The founder of the Empire was still revered hundreds of years after his death.
"...Under his watchful eye, you must display your skills."
On the opposite side of the Colosseum stood a group of death row convicts. We had to fight these armed prisoners.
"You may choose any weapon you like."
The Captain pointed to the wall. There were various blades and spears, as well as several firearms. However, only one of us chose a gun. I glanced at the odd fellow who selected the firearm before looking away.
Shring!
I drew my sword. The blade was sleek. Coated with a monomolecular layer, it could slice through solid iron.
While an Imperial Guardsman had to be proficient in all weapons, mastery of melee weapons—especially swords and spears—was held in the highest regard.
Melee weapons were impractical in combat unless one was exceptionally skilled. For low-ranking soldiers, firearms were far more efficient.
That was precisely why the Imperial Guard wielded melee weapons. It was a matter of pride—the belief that they could cut down an enemy armed with firearms using nothing but cold steel.
Screeech!
On the other side, five armed death row convicts stepped onto the coarse sand of the arena.
Soon, our cadets stepped forward one by one to face the convicts.
I watched the arena, waiting for my turn.
None of the cadets died. However, even among those who successfully executed their targets, some sustained severe injuries. It was due to a lack of skill.
Before long, my turn drew near. I watched the cadet stepping out ahead of me. It was the guy who had chosen the gun.
"You plan to use a gun? If you have the confidence, so be it."
The Captain said, looking at the unusual cadet who had chosen the firearm.
Having trained alongside him for a year, I knew his capabilities. Even though he had chosen a gun, he was no coward. He was highly capable.
The gunslinger cadet stepped into the arena.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. There was a reason he had chosen a firearm. Moving as if dancing, the gunslinger cadet fired with near-supernatural skill.
Clang!
A bullet he fired without even looking collided with one shot by a convict. It wasn't luck; it was entirely intentional. He advanced, showcasing the extraordinary feat of blocking bullets with bullets.
"Ah, as expected..."
"Typical of the Kartika family."
Murmurs of admiration for their rival escaped the cadets' lips.
Before anyone knew it, the gunslinger cadet had closed the distance, standing right in front of the convicts. The prisoners had already lost their will to fight, pulling their triggers in vain. Their magazines had long been empty.
Impressive. He had subdued them while demonstrating a vast gulf in class.
Bang!
The gunslinger cadet pressed the muzzle of his gun directly against a convict's forehead and fired. It was a close-quarters execution, practically no different from using a blade. In fact, it was arguably more difficult.
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause echoed from behind the opaque glass window. The gunslinger cadet bowed politely, leaving a deep impression on the Emperor.
If one was going to use a gun, that was the level they needed to achieve. The gunslinger cadet's skill was undeniably superb.
"Bad luck, Luka. You're going to be heavily compared to him."
The Captain said, his lips twitching. A surge of stubborn pride welled up inside me. I hate to admit it myself, but I don't have the best of temperaments.
"We'll have to wait and see who the unlucky one is."
Realizing I might have spoken out of turn, I quickly checked the Captain's reaction. But he merely chuckled, his shoulders shaking.
Whir.
As I stepped into the arena, the door slid shut behind me, cutting off any escape.
Either all the convicts died, or I did. There were only two possible outcomes.
Hummm.
I raised my sword to eye level. The hum of the blade was unpleasantly clean.
'All I have to do is block and dodge the bullets.'
It was a basic requirement for an Imperial Guardsman. But for us, who were still mere cadets, it was far from second nature. The classmates who had been injured during this test were proof of that.
What I needed right now was superhuman concentration. Through special drug administrations and several procedures, our nervous systems had been chemically treated and enhanced. Though there were minor side effects, it allowed us to artificially induce an extreme state of focus—akin to seeing one's life flash before their eyes—and maintain an accelerated state of thought.
'I've deflected bullets consecutively in simulation training countless times. I have the capability.'
But succeeding nine times out of ten wasn't enough. In reality, a single failure meant death. I had to succeed ten out of ten times for it to be viable in actual combat.
"Haa, haa."
Five convicts panted as they walked out into the arena. They were utterly terrified, on extreme guard against a cadet who was far younger than them.
It was the sheer weight of the name "Imperial Guard." Even though their opponent was just a cadet, they were crushed by the reputation of the Guard.
Click, click.
The convicts stared at me, firearms raised. We stood in a tense standoff, neither side making a move.
I scanned the convicts. They were covered in cheap cybernetic equipment that made me wonder if it even functioned properly. Their repeatedly illegally modified mechanical limbs were completely unbalanced, causing some of them to lean heavily to one side.
None of them possessed even the most basic fundamentals. If they had been bare-handed, I could have killed them all with my eyes closed.
However, they were currently armed with guns. If a bullet pierced my head or a vital organ, I would die. I couldn't afford to let my guard down.
Shift.
I tensed my legs and stared ahead. As I assessed the battlefield, the combat thought processes obsessively engraved into my brain rapidly accelerated.
The crossfire that would erupt from the five shooters mapped out in my mind as a series of probabilities. Overlapping those trajectories in my head, a safe path revealed itself. It was the exit I had found.
Of course, it was merely a prediction. If I charged forward and got shot, I would pay the price for my own inadequacy.
'For now, I have no choice but to trust it and move.'
Though it took only a split second, my calculations were complete. My feet left the ground. As if on cue, gunshots erupted.
Over short distances, my high-performance prosthetic legs could run faster than a vehicle.
Bang!
I ducked. A bullet grazed past my ear, close enough to singe my hair. It was a chilling sensation. Death had drawn a step closer.
Yet, the thrill of success far outweighed the fear. I was probably smiling right now.
Bang!
Another gunshot. I twisted my body, making a sharp turn. The sudden, forceful braking caused my left ankle to creak. I heard the sound of a few components slipping out of alignment.
'Ignore the minor details.'
I only needed to keep moving for ten more seconds.
Thud!
Sliding into a turn, I scraped my fingers against the ground as I lunged forward. I barely lost any speed.
I closed in on the convict on the far right. From here on, it was striking distance. My domain.
My arm moved. The blade traced an arc.
Slice!
The convict couldn't even scream. His severed head slid off his shoulders along the trajectory of the cut. His open mouth merely gaped like a goldfish.
Good, that was one down. Since my hormonal system was regulated for combat, any guilt from killing was faint, and even that quickly dissipated.
I rolled my eyes. If I used the corpse of the convict I just killed as a shield, I could easily deal with the remaining enemies.
'But this is a place to show off my skills.'
Survival isn't the only goal. I have to catch the Emperor's eye. The image of the cadet performing tricks with his gun flashed through my mind.
'Can I do something similar?'
I had never tried it before, but right now, it felt possible.
My senses heightened to an extreme degree. Thanks to my expanded perception, which felt as though a fog had lifted, my surroundings appeared three-dimensional, like a radar map. Even with my eyes closed, I could clearly anticipate the enemies' positions and actions. The trajectories of their gunfire felt like countless visible lines.
My perceived time stretched out infinitely.
I raised my sword and angled it diagonally.
Ting!
The bullet struck the blade and ricocheted to the side.
"Aaargh!"
A scream erupted. The deflected bullet had pierced through another convict's eye. The screaming prisoner collapsed to the ground shortly after.
'I did it.'
There was no time to celebrate. Gunshots rang out in rapid succession.
Ting! Ping!
I repeatedly angled my blade, deflecting the bullets. The bullets, their trajectories warped by my blade, embedded themselves into the convicts' bodies one after another.
Whoosh!
My arm moved so fast it left afterimages. Sparks of electricity crackled from my overloaded elbow. My twitching eyes felt dry and stiff, struggling to move.
A faint smile spread across my lips. I had surpassed my limits. My value was rising.
'But the nervous system fatigue is too severe.'
My concentration was running dry. I felt my vision gradually narrowing. Once today's battle was over, I would probably have to sleep for a full day or two.
"Whew..."
Only the sound of my quiet breathing filled the air. I was the only one left standing in the arena. The other convicts lay dead, bullet holes in their heads.
I felt like collapsing, but I forced down the exhaustion.
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause echoed from above. I bowed respectfully toward the unseen Emperor.
Grind.
The closed door opened. I walked back to where the Captain and the other cadets were waiting.
"I believe Ballistic Control isn't in the curriculum yet?"
The Captain said, looking at me. I had only just learned that there was a specific name for this technique.
"I merely applied what I saw the guy before me do."
I spoke honestly. There was no reason to hide it. More than anything, I wanted to finish answering and rest. I felt like I might collapse and pass out at any moment. I wasn't joking.
"Ilay Kartika comes from a prestigious family. He has been taught many things beforehand. It's different from you, an orphanage boy, using Ballistic Control."
I didn't know how to respond. Excessive humility or arrogance would both look bad. I needed the tact to find a middle ground. Tact? That was one of my weakest suits.
"I..."
Before I could finish, the Captain patted my shoulder.
"I'm not interrogating you. It's a compliment, rather. Go on in and rest. Don't forget to get maintenance."
I walked out into the hallway under the gazes of the other cadets. By now, I was limping. My left prosthetic leg was completely broken.