Bad Born Blood

Translator: FenrirTL
Editor: Matt, Greedy
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< Chapter 2 >

Creak, creak.

A rough-looking android detached my damaged prosthetics and started maintenance on them. As it replaced a few twisted parts, the red error indicator on the maintenance screen switched to green.

-I will connect the nervous system, Luka.

“Got it.”

With my response, the android attached the connection point between the biological tissue and the machinery.

Clack.

A dull pain spread. It felt as if dozens of needles were piercing my thigh simultaneously.

-If there is any issue…

“No, go on.”

I folded and stretched the once-broken leg as I spoke. The android stood up and walked away in a stiff manner.

The room was silent. I closed my eyes and began to meditate, dulling my senses just enough to let my strained nervous system rest. It was all something I’d learned at the Imperial Guard training academy.

I enjoyed my time alone. For me, even this felt like a privilege.

‘At the orphanage, I never had any time to myself with a dozen or so kids sharing a single room.’

At that moment the days at the orphanage felt like a distant memory.

In the Imperial Guard, even cadets had their own rooms—a remarkably luxurious accommodation. Moreover, as graduates from the Guard were essentially elite officers, a promising future awaited them.

‘It’s practically a guaranteed path to success.’

The Imperial Guard was a unit directly under the Emperor’s command, a prestigious position that any citizen of the Accretia Empire would die for. When the opportunity arrived, I couldn’t afford to let it slip away.

I was more desperate than my peers. Unlike them, who were of noble birth, I, born from the lower class, had no other path but to become a cadet in the Guard.

Lost in thought, I furrowed my brows slightly and opened my eyes. I’d heard footsteps coming from the corridor outside the door.

Knock, knock.

Even the knock sounded neat. After a single breath’s pause, a voice followed.

“I am Ilay Carthica. Luka, I wish to speak with you.”

Ilay Carthica. I knew him well. The gun-wielding cadet who had fought the death row inmates before me—that was Ilay.

I had a feeling I knew why he was here. Truthfully, I’d been aware of him throughout the training as well.

“……Come in.”

I greeted Ilay, sitting in a formal posture. The door opened, and Ilay entered my room.

‘Ilay Carthica.’

A boy from a renowned household. His brilliant blonde hair and bright blue eyes gave him an aristocratic appearance. Even without mentioning his name or background, people would view him as a noble young man. Even the plain gray cadet uniform suited him elegantly.

“May I sit down?”

Ilay looked at the chair by the window and spoke. The sun had long set, leaving the outside world shrouded in darkness and dampness.

“I don’t intend to keep my guest standing. Sit down.”

“I watched you today as you fought the death row inmate. Quite impressive.”

Ilay raised his chin slightly as he spoke. His pupils, already replaced with cybernetic eyes, occasionally glowed faintly at the edges.

“If you came here wanting to exchange flattering words and foster some kind of friendship, you’ve come to the wrong person, young master.”

Logically, there was no need to speak so aggressively. But, perhaps because my nervous system was worn out, it was hard to hold back my irritation. It was as if I hadn’t slept in days. I was in a rather sensitive state.

Well, that was just an excuse. I knew there was a deeper reason behind my sharp attitude.

The root cause was my jealousy. Coming from the orphanage—a place for those of us without even a two-digit status—I couldn’t exactly welcome a noble boy of my own age with open arms. Unlike me, limeted to prosthetic limbs, Ilay’s body was enhanced with cybernetic organs and various implants.

Ilay simply shrugged and pulled a pill from his pocket.

“If you take this, it’ll temporarily reduce your nervous system’s sensitivity. It’ll help you rest more efficiently.”

Ilay placed the pill in his mouth and swallowed it first, as if to show that he fully understood my condition. That only made me like him even less.

“I don’t need it.”

“With that level of fatigue, it’ll affect your training tomorrow. You know as well as I do that this isn’t something you can just push through with sheer willpower. You’re exceptional, after all.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. Ilay was right. I was well aware of my current condition. I was being swayed by inefficient emotions.

Swish.

I reached out and took the pill. It was a type of sensory suppressor.

Gulp.

The effect kicked in almost immediately. It was nothing like knockoffs made in the streets. Even as my senses dulled, it didn’t feel unpleasant. It was a soothing sensation, akin to the warm ease just before drifting off to sleep.

The irritation that had been hard to endure settled to a manageable level. I felt like I could even manage a compliment I didn’t mean.

“Your skills weren’t half bad either, Ilay. I just did what I saw you do.”

Ilay was a marksman who could hit a bullet with another bullet. Had I not witnessed it up close, I wouldn’t have even considered deflecting bullets with my blade.

“It’s more impressive to pull off something you’ve never learned on the spot. As you can see, I have a mechanical eye for combat, so it’s not hard to calculate trajectory. But, you pulled off with just your instinct.”

Ilay tapped his eye with his finger. His words didn’t seem insincere; it felt like he was genuinely complimenting me. Suddenly, I felt petty.

And who really dislikes compliments? I was no exception.

I kept my expression carefully neutral.

“……So, what brings you here?”

“I heard you’re an irregular from an orphanage. I wanted to hear about that. I’ve never been to the lower sector.”

It was a comment that could’ve come off as offensive. The well-off young master is curious about life at the bottom, apparently. But his tone was careful and polite. Above all, I sensed genuine curiosity.

“There’s nothing much to tell. The streets are filthy, and the people are rough—more than rough, really, they’re brutal. Junkies with busted limbs drag themselves through the back alleys, collapsed from whatever drugs they’re on. Even knowing it’s dangerous, starving kids sneak out of the orphanage at night to scour the garbage heaps….”

“Hold on, the orphanage is supplied with resources according to its headcount.”

At Ilay’s comment, I let out a dry laugh.

“……And you think all that makes it down to us?”

“The orphanage is supposed to raise talent for the Empire. That kind of embezzlement shouldn’t be allowed…or is that too naive of me?”

Ilay gave a bitter smile. I didn’t bother to deny it.

“Embezzlement or not, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’m going to be part of the Imperial Guard.”

At some point, my rationality had pushed aside the negative feelings. Thinking about it, I had no reason to be envious of the noble young master.

At this moment, Ilay and I stood as equals. Someday, we’d be fighting side by side. Only a fool would maintain bad relations with an ally.

“If you have questions, go ahead. If I know the answer, I’ll tell you.”

There was a note of ease in my tone. Ilay gave a faint smile and rested his chin in his hand.

“Then, have you ever been outside the Empire?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. His question was odd. It was hard to read his intent.

“I was born and raised in the capital, Akbaran.”

I replied calmly. Ilay continued to smile as he stood up.

“So was I.”

With that, Ilay left my room.

* * *

The Commander of the Imperial Guard often made an appearance at the cadets’ training and educational sites, usually on days when the exercises were either dangerous or particularly significant.

Today, it was both dangerous and important.

Clank.

A cold sensation clamped around my wrist. My limbs were bound in restraints, allowing just enough movement to wiggle my fingers and toes.

Turning my head, I saw other cadets in the same state. Their faces showed clear signs of tension. My own expression was probably not much different.

‘Pain tolerance training.’

Among the various curriculums, this was notorious as the most horrific. In essence, it was training to endure torture.

I looked through the glass at the people on the other side. Retired Imperial Guards serving as instructors stood there with indifferent expressions. Behind them, scientists and technicians moved about.

The Commander of the Imperial Guard stood with his arms crossed, watching us. His gaze lingered on me briefly before shifting to another cadet.

Crackle.

An electric current jumped from the electrodes attached to my head and limbs. My body instinctively tensed up.

‘It’s just a fake signal. It’s not real.’

I repeated that to myself, but the sensations in my brain were no different from the real thing.

Thud!

A piercing sound filled the room from the speaker overhead. It wasn’t as if anyone had actually stabbed me.

‘A stab wound to the abdomen.’

I looked down at my stomach. My abdominal muscles were spasming. Even though no one had touched me, my skin was reddening as if bruised.

Bang!

The sharp crack of gunfire scrambled my mind. My shoulder throbbed as though I’d been shot there.

Slice–slash!

A slash signal crossed over my arm, as if a blade had carved through it. The discord between reality and the signals left my brain reeling. It sounded like a joke, but it was real. It hurt—a terrible, filthy kind of pain.

“Don’t let your brain fool you; fool your brain.”

The Commander’s low voice resonated through the room. None of the cadets were truly listening, though. Everyone was grimacing, barely enduring the relentless pain. Some had lost control over their bodily functions entirely.

‘Don’t let your brain fool you; fool your brain.’

I forced myself to repeat the words.

Whoosh!

This time, it was a burn. The room felt as if it was heating up, the sound of flames rushing all around. My hands and feet trembled, and I felt every pore of my body opening in response.

Training or not, I felt like I was going to die. I twisted my body, trying to break free from the restraints. It wasn’t a particularly dignified sight.

“Help, help me! Pl-please, ah, Aaaaargh!”

Thankfully, it 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. I’d say I was holding up pretty well, all things considered.

“Remember why you’re enduring this pain.”

The Commander of the Imperial Guard’s voice sounded distant, as though it were coming from far away.

The reason I was enduring this pain. The reason for this grueling training. Advancement? Sure, that was part of it. But…

“For the Empire and His Majesty, the Emperor!”

Someone let out a desperate shout.

‘That’s right…’

I knew it well. The protector of humanity, the heart of the Empire, our Emperor…

“For His Majesty, the Emperor…”

The cadet next to me mumbled. I parted my lips slightly, wondering if even whispering those words might ease the pain.

‘But…’

But what?

Vroooom.

The next stage began. My breathing grew faster. It was difficult to breathe. The sound of water sloshing grew louder until even my ears felt submerged and muffled.

Drowning.

Just a false signal, and yet it felt so real. Damn it. Damn scientists. With all their intellect, they’d created a device for this kind of torment.

‘Don’t let your brain fool you…’

My mouth was filled with blood. I must’ve been chewing on my lips and cheeks with abandon.

‘…fool your brain.’

Damn it, what’s that even supposed to mean?

I tried to open my mouth to scream, but my lungs held no air. It felt as though they’d shriveled up.

Breathe. It’s not real. It’s fake. It’s not real.

I wanted to bash my skull and pummel my brain into pulp. This stupid gray matter couldn’t even discern reality from deception. What an utter fool.

When would this cursed torture end? They call this training? Are they joking?

Bzzzzt!

I heard the electrical signal powering down. The pain that had coiled around my body began to fade.

“Hah…hah…”

I gasped for air. I had no strength to lift my head, let alone open my eyes. Even with the signals gone, the aftereffects of the pain that had torn through my nervous system and brain lingered.

Step, step.

Footsteps stopped right in front of me. I opened my eyes faintly.

“Luka, was it bearable?”

It was the voice of the Commander of the Imperial Guard. He was standing in front of me. I wanted to spit out a stream of curses, but I held back with the last ounce of my patience.

“Since… it’s fake, it’s bearable….”

“Yes, it’s fake.”

The Commander extended one of his hands toward my face. I frowned in confusion.

What… the hell… is he…?

The Commander was smiling coldly. His rough hand were approaching my right eye.

“But this time, it’s real.”

The moment he finished speaking, half of my world went dark.

Pop!

The Commander had extracted my right eyeball. My eye was no synthetic implant. It was my real eye, connected to the optic nerve.

Squish!

He pressed my eyeball between his thumb and forefinger until it burst.

Fear, bewilderment, and confusion. The colors of my emotions shifted rapidly within me.

The pain was trivial. There was only an empty sense of physical loss. It was a pain I could tolerate—nothing compared to pain tolerance training.

Instead, a cold clarity seeped into my mind.

Damn it, the training worked. I couldn’t deny it. Even having lost an eye, I didn’t lose my composure. It was just an eye they’d remove someday anyway. My body would eventually be replaced with a full prosthetic.

“…While you’re at it, I would like to request an eye that has the feature to predict trajectories.”

The Commander’s eyes widened, and he laughed. Apparently, he was pleased with my response.

Ssshhh.

Blood-tears streamed down from the empty socket of my right eye. I lifted my head and looked around with my partial vision.

Now I understood why the Commander had come to me. Everyone else had passed out.

Damn.