Chapter 2
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 2
Creak, creak.
A clunky-looking android detached and serviced my broken prosthetic leg. After replacing a few warped parts, the red error light on the maintenance screen turned green.
"Connecting the nervous system, Master Luka."
"Go ahead."
At my response, the android secured the connection between flesh and machine.
Click.
A sharp pain flared, as if dozens of needles were piercing my thigh at once.
"If there are any abnormalities—"
"None. You can go."
I said, bending and straightening my repaired leg. The android stood and walked out with stiff, mechanical steps.
The room fell quiet. I closed my eyes and meditated, dulling my senses into a relaxed state, letting my overworked nervous system rest. It was something I'd learned at the Imperial Guard Training Center.
I liked being alone. From where I stood, even that felt like a privilege.
I never had time to myself at the orphanage. A dozen of us crammed into a single room.
My days there felt like a lifetime ago now.
In the Imperial Guard, even cadets were given private rooms—remarkably luxurious treatment. And graduating from the Imperial Guard essentially made you an elite officer, with a smooth road ahead.
A guaranteed path to success.
The Imperial Guard was the Emperor's direct unit, a glorious position coveted by every subject of the Akresia Empire. Now that the opportunity had come, I couldn't let it slip through my fingers.
I was more desperate than any of my peers. Unlike those of noble birth, I—a commoner from the Lower District—had no other path but to become an Imperial Guard Cadet.
Lost in thought, I frowned slightly and opened my eyes. Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside my door.
Knock, knock.
Even the knock was neat and orderly. After a brief pause, a voice called out.
"I am Ilay Kartika. Luka, I want to talk to you."
Ilay Kartika. I knew him well—the gunslinger cadet who had fought the death row convict.
I had a feeling I knew why he was here. To be honest, I'd been conscious of him throughout the entire training session as well.
"...Come in."
I sat upright to receive him. The door opened, and Ilay stepped into my room.
Ilay Kartika.
A boy from a prestigious family. His calm blonde hair and deep blue eyes gave him an aristocratic air. Even without knowing his name or background, anyone would peg him as a noble at a glance. Even the plain gray cadet uniform looked stylish on him.
"May I sit?"
Ilay asked, glancing at the chair by the window. The sun had set long ago, leaving the view outside dark and gloomy.
"I don't intend to keep my guests standing. Sit."
"I saw your skills today, against the death row convict. Quite impressive," Ilay said, tilting his chin up slightly. His pupils had already been replaced with cybernetic prosthetics, their rims occasionally flickering with a faint light.
"If you came here to trade compliments and build a friendship, you've come to the wrong place, Young Master."
Rationally, there was no need to be so aggressive. But maybe it was my exhausted nervous system—I found it hard to suppress my irritation. I was running on no sleep for days, and my nerves were raw.
Well, that was just an excuse. There was a more fundamental reason for my sharp tone, and I knew it all too well.
Jealousy. Coming from an orphanage—and a Double-Digit Orphanage at that—I couldn't easily warm up to a noble boy my own age. Unlike me, whose only prosthetics were my limbs, Ilay's body was stuffed with cybernetic organs and augments from head to toe.
Ilay merely shrugged and pulled a pill from his pocket.
"Take this. It temporarily lowers your nervous system's sensitivity. It'll make your rest more efficient."
He popped one into his own mouth first and swallowed, speaking as though he understood my condition perfectly. That only made me dislike him more.
"I don't need it."
"With that level of fatigue, it'll affect tomorrow's training. You know better than anyone that willpower alone won't cut it, don't you? You're excellent, after all."
I closed my eyes and sighed. He was right. I knew my own condition well enough. Right now, I was letting inefficient emotions get the better of me.
Slide.
I reached out and took the pill. Some kind of sensory blocker.
Gulp.
The effect was immediate. Unlike the crude knockoffs sold in back alleys, there was no unpleasant sensation as my senses dulled. My mind grew peaceful, wrapped in a warmth like the moment right before falling asleep.
My unbearable irritation subsided to something manageable. Now I felt like I could manage a compliment I didn't entirely mean.
"Your skills were quite something too, Ilay. I was only copying you."
He was skilled enough to deflect a bullet with another bullet. If I hadn't witnessed that firsthand, the idea of deflecting a bullet with a blade would never have crossed my mind.
"Doing it on the fly, without ever being taught—that's what's truly impressive. I have combat-grade prosthetic eyes, so ballistic calculation isn't hard for me. But you did it purely by instinct."
Ilay tapped his eyeball with a fingernail. His words didn't sound fake. He seemed genuinely impressed. Suddenly, I felt incredibly petty.
Few people dislike being praised—myself included.
I did my best to keep a blank face.
"...So, what brings you here?"
"I heard you're an Irregular from an orphanage. I wanted to hear your story. I've never been to the Lower District."
It was the kind of remark that could easily come off as offensive—a high-and-mighty young master, curious about life at the bottom. Yet his tone was cautious, polite. Above all, I could sense a genuine, unaffected curiosity.
"There's not much to tell. The streets are filthy, and the people are beyond tough—they're vicious. Vagrants with broken limbs collapse in the back alleys, high on drugs. Even knowing the dangers, starving kids sneak out of the orphanage at night to rummage through trash heaps..."
"Wait, don't orphanages receive supplies based on head count?"
I let out a hollow laugh at the interruption.
"...Do you really think those supplies make it all the way down to us?"
"Orphanages are meant to nurture the Empire's talent. Embezzlement like that shouldn't be tolerated... Does that sound too naive?"
Ilay gave a bitter smile. I didn't bother to deny it.
"Embezzlement or whatever, it has nothing to do with me anymore. I'm going to be an Imperial Guardsman."
My rationality had finally pushed the resentment aside. Come to think of it, there was no reason to be jealous of a noble young master.
Right now, Ilay and I were equals. We were also destined to fight back-to-back someday. Keeping a bad relationship with a future comrade was a fool's errand.
"If you have questions, ask. I'll answer what I can."
My tone carried a newfound ease. Ilay smiled faintly and rested his chin on his hand.
"Then—have you ever been outside the Empire?"
I narrowed my eyes. The question was oddly specific. His intent was hard to read.
"I was born and raised in the capital, Akbaran," I answered calmly.
Ilay stood, still wearing that gentle smile.
"Me too."
With those final words, he left my room.
* * *
The Imperial Guard Captain often showed up at the cadets' training and education sessions—usually during the dangerous or critical ones.
Today's training was both.
Click.
A cold sensation clamped around my wrists. My limbs were locked in restraints. All I could do was wiggle my fingers and toes.
Turning my head, I saw the other cadets in the same predicament, tension etched into every face. My own expression was likely no different.
Pain Tolerance Training.
Notorious for being the most horrific exercise in the entire curriculum. In essence, it was training to endure torture.
I looked at the people beyond the glass window. Instructors—retired Imperial Guardsmen—stood with cold, indifferent expressions. Behind them, scientists and technicians bustled about.
The Imperial Guard Captain stood with arms crossed, watching us. His gaze lingered on me for a brief moment before shifting to another cadet.
Crackle.
Electric currents sparked from the electrodes on my head and limbs. My entire body tensed instinctively.
It's just a fabricated signal anyway. It's not real.
I told myself that, but the sensation my brain perceived was as good as real.
Squelch!
The sound of flesh being pierced echoed from the speakers overhead. No one had actually stabbed me.
An abdominal puncture wound.
I looked down at my stomach. My abdominal muscles spasmed. Even though nothing had touched me, my skin bruised red.
Bang!
The gunshot sound disoriented my brain. My shoulder throbbed as if shot.
Slash!
A laceration sliced through my arm. My brain reeled at the discrepancy between reality and the signals. It felt like a sick joke, but it was real. It hurt. It hurt like absolute hell.
"Don't be fooled by your brain; fool your brain instead."
The Imperial Guard Captain spoke in a low voice. No cadet was listening. Everyone was grimacing, barely enduring the relentless onslaught of pain. Several had already lost control of their bodily functions.
Don't be fooled by your brain; fool your brain instead.
I barely managed to repeat the words to myself.
Whoosh!
Burns, this time. The room grew scorching hot, the roar of flames filling the air. My hands and feet trembled violently. It felt as if every pore and orifice in my body were bursting open.
To hell with training—I felt like I was going to die. I writhed too, trying to break free of the restraints. It wasn't a pretty sight.
"S-Save me! P-Please, aaargh!"
Fortunately, that wasn't my voice. The cadet next to me was screaming. I hadn't pissed myself yet, and the groans escaping my throat were still manageable. Compared to the others, I was holding up well.
"Remember why you are enduring this pain."
The Captain's voice sounded as if it came from far, far away.
The reason I endured this pain. The reason I was putting myself through this grueling training. Success? Of course, that was part of it. But—
"For the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor!"
Someone screamed out in sheer desperation.
Right...
I knew it all too well. The protector of humanity, the founding father, the Emperor of the Empire...
"For His Majesty the Emperor..."
The cadet next to me muttered. My lips parted slightly too. Would chanting those words make the pain fade even a little?
But...
But what?
Hummmm.
The next stage began. My breathing grew shallow, ragged. The sound of sloshing water grew louder, eventually submerging my ears, muffling everything.
Drowning.
It was truly remarkable how a mere false signal could feel so real. Those fucking scientists. They'd poured their brilliant minds into building a device like this.
Do not be fooled by your brain...
My mouth filled with blood. I must have chewed my lips and the inside of my cheeks to pieces.
...fool your brain.
Bullshit! What the hell was that even supposed to mean?!
I opened my mouth to scream, but there was no air in my lungs. It felt as if my lungs had shriveled to nothing.
Breathe. This isn't real. It's fake. It's not real.
I wanted to smash my own skull open and knead the contents like dough. This stupid gray matter couldn't even tell real from fake. Complete and utter idiot.
When the hell was this goddamn torture going to end? This was supposed to be training? Was this some kind of joke?
Whirrrr!
The sound of the electrical signal's output dropping echoed through the chamber. The pain wrapping around my body began to subside.
"Haa... haa..."
I gasped for air. I didn't have the strength to open my eyes, let alone lift my head. Even though the signals had stopped, the aftereffects of pain that had torn through my nervous system and brain still lingered.
Step, step.
Footsteps stopped in front of me. I barely cracked my eyes open.
"Luka, was it bearable?"
The Imperial Guard Captain's voice. He stood right in front of me. I wanted to spit a torrent of curses at him, but I summoned the last of my patience and held back.
"A-After all, it was just fake..."
"Yes, it was fake."
The Captain reached his fingers toward my face. I wore a puzzled expression.
What the fuck is he—
The Captain smiled coldly. His fingers and fingernails closed in on my right eye.
"But this time, it is real."
The moment he finished speaking, half my world vanished.
Squelch!
The Imperial Guard Captain gouged out my right eyeball. It wasn't some artificial replacement. It was a real eye, connected to my optic nerve.
Squish!
He crushed it between thumb and index finger, popping it like a grape.
Fear, bewilderment, confusion—the colors of my emotions shifted rapidly within me.
But the pain itself was trivial. Just the hollow sensation of physical loss. Bearable. Compared to the Pain Tolerance Training, it was nothing.
In fact, my mind grew chillingly calm.
Damn it, the training had actually worked. I had to admit it. Even after losing an eye, I hadn't lost my mind. It was an eyeball destined for extraction anyway—my whole body would eventually be replaced with a Full-Body Prosthetic.
"...While you're at it, please replace it with one that has a ballistic predictor."
Hearing my words, the Captain's eyes widened, and he laughed. He seemed satisfied with my response.
Drip.
Tears of blood streamed down from my empty right socket. I lifted my head and looked around with my halved vision.
I finally understood why the Captain had come to me specifically.
Everyone else had already passed out.
Ha. Fucking hell.