Lean Primoor
Beep-beep-beep.
External armor damage: 70%. Chest plate cracked. No response from right leg drive unit.
My head was spinning. A flat mechanical voice droned through the ringing in my ears.
User body damage detected. Multiple fractures confirmed. Internal organ thermal damage verified.
What the hell is it saying?
Heart rate plummeting. Blood pressure dropping. Survival probability decreasing. Immediate treatment required.
Through the cracked helmet of my powered suit, I could see traces of the explosion. Scattered metal shards and drifting embers. My fallen comrades.
Kairos... how did it come to this?
My mind faded into haze, and memories of the past surfaced.
"Today, right?"
Home. My home, the one I'd set up myself. I sat at the dining table as my little sister shoved a bowl of steamed eggs toward me.
"Yeah."
I scooped some into my mouth and said, "Freya."
"What?"
She was a full-fledged adult now. It felt like yesterday I'd picked her up on the battlefield, but time flew.
"Nothing. First day on the job today, huh?"
She smirked. "You actually remembered? I figured you'd forgotten with how busy you are."
"Of course I remembered. These steamed eggs are good."
"I put some real skill into them."
"So, what company was it again?"
"Huh? You don't even remember that? Classic Lean oppa."
I rubbed my neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Sorry. Been swamped lately."
"It's fine. Genova Corporation. Biotech firm. R&D department, no less?"
I ruffled her proud head. "Do well at your new job. If anyone gives you trouble, tell me."
She grabbed my hand and pulled it down. "Come on, I'm not a kid. But... yeah, okay."
"Imperial military connections aren't a dime a dozen. Gotta use 'em right."
"Sure, I'll give it a shot."
"You'll do great."
"You too—come back safe from your mission today."
"Piece of cake. This one's wrapping up quick. Can't say more, though."
"Got it. I'm heading out first."
She finished her bowl and stood. Dressed in a flash and out the door. I saw her off.
Back in the living room, I tapped the wall-spanning display, turning it into a massive mirror. It reflected a man with gray hair and sharp blue eyes that looked fierce. His uniform—black with gold embroidery—bore the name: 'Primoor.'
Lean Primoor.
The Arkebalt Empire spanned half the galaxy. I was part of the Imperial Guard, the emperor's elite.
I'd survived the front lines young. As a grunt in bullet-swept wars. Suppressing rebels. Infiltrating enemy bases. Even fleet battles. Nowhere I hadn't shone.
His nameplate gleamed with a gold-embossed insignia. Now, Lean commanded the Golden Dragon Unit, the Imperial Guard's special ops. A symbol of success—rising high young through proven skill.
He straightened his reflection. Mirror showed prosthetic arms, legs. Left eye cybernetic. Scars of endless battles.
The Arkebalt Empire boasted superior tech. Replacing limbs was commonplace.
"Time for me to head out."
I left the building. A single-story apartment—rare luxury in this high-rise era, for the well-off.
From the parking lot, I pulled out my white bike and gunned it.
Comrades called it undignified, said ride a car. But...
"This is the thrill."
I sped onto the road. Cars bored a battlefield vet like me.
Crossing the massive city, I reached the military HQ. Second tallest building on core world Orbis. First: the palace, of course.
Top floor, familiar faces greeted me.
"Late, Lean."
Kairos, my deputy. Blue hair flicked back as he spoke.
"8:59 now. Right on time."
I pointed at the digital clock.
"Should be here 10 minutes early."
"I'm the commander, you're the deputy. We're not the same."
He snorted. Kairos and I were battle-hardened comrades.
"Mr. Hotshot. Should've quit being your deputy. Tsk."
A timid lieutenant spoke up. "Ahem. Captain Lean Primoor, ready for briefing?"
Golden Dragon commander, but rank: captain. Youngest ever.
"Hey, Kai, your fault we're late. Let's start."
"I'm gonna punch you. Hoo. Begin."
"Yes, sir. Today's op: infiltrate secret base of massive rebel group, Favila, and steal intel."
They'd seen the written report, nodded.
"Outpost on pioneer planet Novar. Intel says under this A-3 crater."
Imperial planets: developed hubs vs. raw frontiers. Novar: fresh frontier.
I mused. "Heard they already bailed."
Report said the base abandoned.
"Yes. So main goal: assess from leftover docs, base scale, enemy strength."
"Hm. No fighting, then."
"Correct. Launch tomorrow 11 PM. Est. 3 hours."
"Question~!" Kairos raised hand playfully.
"Why us? Pioneers slacking?"
"Brass deems critical secret docs."
"Yeah? Then—"
Mid-sentence, vision stretched, sucked to a point. Odd mechanical beep.
Beep-beep.
> Consciousness loss confirmed. Emergency protocol active. Awakening agent injection: 3, 2, 1—
Consciousness snapped back.
Suit injected me.
Powered suit for ops: combat aid, comms, body augmentation. Cutting-edge armor.
Right—op in progress. Ambush?
"Krkuk, played us good. Pisses me off. Brass bastards."
Infiltration met massive blast. Crater explosion swallowed us. High-output suits saved lives, but mission over.
"Right leg prosthetic wrecked, flesh second-degree burns. Arms fine, lucky."
Elite, but human. No counter for such trap.
I gripped Ishtar, my beloved sword—steel-cutter, never dropped.
Burning breath rasped—throat singed, agony.
"Rescue signal sent?"
Rescue signal transmitting. Attempts: 10. Responses: 0.
Suit voice. Bad sign.
"Nothing goes right."
Sword-propped, I stood. Golden Dragon unit down.
"Hey, get up, all of you."
Crossing blast debris—
Thud-thud-thud!
Massive footsteps. I barked, "Awakening agent, max dose."
Current dose: 50%. Risk of permanent damage.
Monotone warning. Shaking fatigue, irritation: "No injection means permanent death. Do it."
Hiss—needle at neck. Cold fluid surged, blood boiled. Heat, pain lifted; mind cleared.
"Hoo. Come on, then."
Thud! Thud!!
Behemoth appeared, ripping wall. Crimson-black armor. Over 2m robot—but piloted.
Full-armor prosthetic body. All but brain replaced. Combat full-body prosthetic body. Empire-core tech, war's inhuman spawn.
Can't let enemy have this. Must report.
"You built this, huh? Favila?"
"Favila exec. Victor."
Red glow from head parts.
I readied. "Golden Dragon's Lean Primoor."
"Lean! Empire's demon! Krkhat. Meeting here—honor."
"You know me?"
"Who doesn't? Hundreds of my comrades dead by you."
"That so. One more today. Come."
"Krkuk. One-legged fool. Where?"
I charged, cutting him off. Jetpack from prosthetic replaced leg.
Fwosh!
Sword slashed air; foe met with full-body power. Clash dragged.
Tough for one-legged me, but loss was death. No retreat.
Finally—
Clang!
"Die."
I lunged, horizontal slash. True silver-alloy sword sliced armor, neck.
"Gurk."
I wasn't unscathed. Fist smashed chest, hurled me far.
Boom!
"Kuh."
Jet engines depleted. Chest plate fully destroyed. Internal bleeding confirmed.
"I know."
This it? Did enough. Rise, Golden Dragon.
Fallen comrades irked me. Blood blinded.
Rustle—someone stirred.
"Awake? Kairos? Or—"
He approached silent. Blood-veiled eyes saw blur. Hand reached—
Thwack!
Mighty impact.
Foe?
Gunpowder reek, metallic blood. Embers crackling.
Consciousness loss confirmed. Awakening agent injecting. ⚠ Lethal dose exceeded. Injection halted...
Amid battlefield wreckage, Lean blacked out.
I looked around. White void.
"Where...?"
Instant realization: dream.
Then, corpses, machine parts, guns, swords, ship debris, building rubble at my feet. Battlefield graveyard.
"This...?"
Above the mound, a figure. Wires and gears entwined. Woman with long gray hair. Ash-like strands fluttered; fierce blue eyes fixed on me.
Her lips moved. "......"
"What?"
I approached. Wires tangled my feet, binding.
"Damn! What kinda bullshit dream?"
"...Wake."
She repeated. Only as I sank into the grave: "Snap out of it, Lean."
Gasp!
Eyelids heaved open. Iron crane swung down.
"Shit!"
I flung exhausted body aside. Limbs heavy as soaked cotton. Crawling hurt.
Thud!
Barely dodged. Panting, I scanned.
"Where am I?"
Dark sky starred; ground: scrap heaps, rusted machines, broken furniture piles.
Obvious: "Scrapyard..."
Why here?
Clearing fog, I stood—odd dissonance.
Something's off. Shorter?
View low. Legs busted? Shattered mirror gleamed moonlit.
Inside—naked woman stared back. Petite, under 160cm. Dread surged.
Gut screamed truth.
No way.
Gray hair veiled vision. Hand swept it; mirror woman did too.
"No—ah!"
My voice...
High, feminine. Stumbling to mirror: waist-length gray hair. Vivid blue eyes. Delicate, beautiful face. Small hand touched: pale skin, perky breasts. Everything female.
"Ha."
"Hahaha!"
High, thin laugh echoed.
A woman. I'd become a woman.