Prologue: Another Orphan

     “I have always emphasized to my dedicated supporters and fans the importance of drawing inspiration from the remarkable individuals who have defeated me, for they embody the true essence of kingship.”

-Bram “Silver King” Liton

-Tier 5 Enhanced

-Circa 2123 AD

-Post-Match Interview

If you are seeing this video recording, then the desperate plan of Paradox and Liliana has succeeded. We are among the last remaining living humans on planet Earth in Sector 230. This is a plea for help as our stars slowly darken. It would be unfair of me to expect strangers to aid us without understanding our plight.  

But first, I think it's essential to provide a brief overview of the events that occurred over a century ago. The year 2103 by our calendar was a good year for us. Several technological milestones were broken, along with the holy grail that is quantum materials. This, however, drew the attention of the Galactic Council, a government made by the superpowers of the galaxy.

As we were rejoicing in our achievements, they arrived and presented an ultimatum to our many leaders: Join or Die. As an incentive, they offered each of our leaders remarkable technological marvels that could propel the nation into a new era, on the condition that we offer our servitude to them.

Consequently, our world became deeply divided. Some advocated for unity with the Celestials, while others vehemently resisted. The side advocating for peace, though fewer in number, held a bigger sway due to the gifts they received. A month of tense peace talks began while the already overburdened food supply chain slowly unraveled amid the escalating chaos.

Eventually, the War erupted. Despite the Pacifists being outnumbered, they managed to endure as the gifts showed their worth, and new technologies reverse-engineered from those gifts joined the battlefield.

The war dragged on for a grueling five years, bringing with it anarchy, hopelessness, and, worst of all, a never-ending famine. The introduction of Enhanced in the final year of the war spelled the end of it. However, the anarchy persisted for another five years until the new government had the chance to establish itself and create new laws.

Around a quarter of our population was eradicated during the ensuing chaos, leading us to call the decade the Dark Days. However, the important thing here is the creation of the Enhanced Aptitude Test (EAT). Giving 16-year-olds a way to become Enhanced.

This narrative is a hurried compilation of my memories, memories shared with me, and reconstructed fragments from intelligence reports.

The narrative starts with a memory of August 28th, 2123, 15 years after the War ended.

─── °:. *₊ ° . ° .･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☾ .* :☆ﾟ. °:. *₊ ° . ° .───

I snap to consciousness in a haze of pain, searching for anything to block out the agonizing shivers coursing through my bruised and broken body. There is a feeling of cool concrete underneath me as I try to move my arms, only to find that my left shoulder is dislocated. I choke down a scream while I whisper to myself, Think of the oceans, Elian. Calm down.

In an attempt to distract myself, I try to recall my earliest recollection.

My oldest memory is of my parents venturing out during the Dark Days, donning motorcycle gear, carrying a knife and metal bat, and kissing me and Sofia goodbye before leaving the house.

They would return every evening, even more haggard and exhausted than the day before. But we always had enough food to eat comfortably and leftovers to save for lean times. This was a true feat when most people struggled to get two meals. We were happy and content; at least my sister and I were.

Fast forward two years, and a routine day turns into an endless night as we wait for our parents to return. Bearing armfuls of food as they always have. Hope, our only anchor, stretched thin as the subsequent weeks became the most dreadful of my existence. Shaking off the memories, I focus on the present agony.

Forcefully pulling myself out of that pile of miserable memories, I return my attention to that damnable pain. I almost bite clean through my tongue as I manage to pop my shoulder back into its place.

Only then do I open my eyes and look up at the starry night sky, which is adorned by a full moon and wedged between two massive skyscrapers. It's a shame that the pipes and wires that run between the buildings are obscuring the view.

Getting up, I walk away from the street with its blinding lights, towards the darkness at the end of the narrow corridor I am currently in. Once I am submerged in the shadows at the end of the corridor, I turn right and jump up, using the two closest walls to propel myself until I am eight feet high. Drop onto a ledge that leads to another corridor.

On the edge of a landing is a simple wooden crate with a logo proclaiming it to be made by Astra, a company that specializes in MREs.

 I discovered it a few hours ago in an overturned delivery truck. Thanking whatever god sent me this gift. I push the crate along the dark corridor. After about 100 meters, I stand before a ledge, drop, and pull the crate in behind me.

I am standing in a clearing between four buildings. The space stretches approximately 15 meters on either side, riddled with numerous pipes, some featuring makeshift flaps. It bears the signs of long-term habitation: a pile of crates near the ledge where I came from, a small pile of books and a battered lamp in one corner casting a soft golden light, mismatched dishes and an electric stove in another corner, and two worn-out sleeping bags in the next. An old Holoscreen plays a recent battle from the Enhanced Tournament in the last.

Turning to one of the flaps, I ask aloud, "Sofia, why is it so hot?" Opening it, I let the cool air flow in. I am careful to only release air in small bursts so that it looks like a leak in the pipes to the AI system monitoring the pipes.

The Holoscreen pauses as one contestant in an elegant black metallic suit with gold accents is about to cut into a decidedly feminine suit with beautiful azure wings. I hear my sister reply from the sofa that the Tigraium is getting foggy.

Sure enough, when I looked up at the dented sheet of transparent Tigraium metal, I had salvaged to serve as our roof. It was getting foggy and ruining one of my favorite views. The serene night sky—I don't know why I love the night sky so much since it always seems to relax my soul and let my worries drain away.

Sitting, I relish the view of the stars as the Tigraium sheet gradually fogs over. It's even better with my sister by my side, lying down and resting her head on my lap as she gazes at the distant moon. She is tall for her age, has grey eyes—a stark contrast to my golden ones—and her dyed hair is a vibrant ice blue. Giving her the appearance of an ice goddess from the mythologies of old.

A full moon casts a gentle glow over my small world, as the last stars fade behind the encroaching fog. My sister asks, “Hey bro, how was your day? Did you find anything good? I salvaged a pretty recent Holodeck that some rich person must have thrown out. It should fetch quite a price.”

Upon hearing the news, my face lights up with a wide grin. That money will keep us afloat for a while. As nonchalantly as I can manage, I tell her about my trip to the junkyard to find stuff to sell after school, where a delivery truck overturned. Out of all of those packages, one was from Astra, which I dragged back home.

Her face brightens as I say this, and she hugs me. This much food will surely last us a few months, even if we eat like kings. Her hug causes me to wince as she puts her weight on several of my bruises.

I notice her narrowing eyes and hurry to explain how I had been followed by a few gang members after they had seen me running with the crate. I describe lifting the crate to the ledge of the corridor leading here, then jumping down and running to the entrance of the corridor that ran between the two buildings. Then I lay against a wall, breathing heavily and pretending to hold my stomach as if I had gotten sucker-punched.

When the gang members finally catch up to me and demand the crate, I claim that another rival gang had attacked me and forced me to hand it over.

Recognizing the lie, they pushed me aside and searched the corridor, but they never once looked up at the ledge where the edge of the crate was barely visible.

They left after they felt satisfied that I was telling the truth. Still, before leaving, they left some “friendly” reminders for wasting their time and warned me not to do it again and to immediately hand over my spoils the next time to save myself from trouble. It is best if she does not know about my dislocated shoulder.

Giving me a glare that could melt steel, she barks, “Do not move an inch from that spot, and remove your shirt. I will be back in a moment with the salve.”

Getting up, she takes out a medicinal salve from one crate and tenderly applies it to all my bruises, all while scolding me for taking unnecessary risks when EAT is the day after tomorrow.

I pretend to act sorry for my actions so that she will stop glaring at me. But my face betrays me with a smile at the thought that for the first time in a long while, we do not have to worry about food and money for at least some time while this boon lasts.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Nothing, just thinking about the next few months after today's luck. Hopefully, if things go well the day after tomorrow, things will look up for us.”

Sighing, she pulls me to my feet and says, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, and don't think I will let you go to bed without some revision.”

Following her to the sofa as we sit down, she says, “Okay, let's start with some straightforward questions. What is the purpose of the test?”

 “The purpose of the test is to find whether the candidate is suitable for being raised and gaining the Enhanced title,” I replied.  “What does it mean to be Enhanced?”

“Enhanced individuals are those who have passed the test and received the General Artificial Intelligence and the Path. An enhanced individual has numerous neural pathways within their body, enhanced senses, nanobot factories, and ultimately, a powerful biocompatible CPU.”

“What is the Path?”

“It is a way to enhance your GAI by receiving censored data about everyone's life from those directly below you in social order or through data acquired during combat. The GAI can use various sensors to gather large amounts of data and improve itself through learning. However, these sensors are mainly active during combat, so an Enhanced power increases quickest by fighting.”

“Why doesn't the GAI run all its sensors all the time, instead of only during high-intensity moments like fighting?”

“This block has been imposed to stop overheating and also to feed the AI small quantities of high-quality data instead of large quantities of mostly repeating data. This also helps the CPU not to become overloaded.”

As the moon lazily traces its path through the serene night sky, Sofia continues to quiz me. The questions soon become more challenging, but with my occasional witty remarks, I crack Sofia's tough exterior, transforming her stern expressions into bursts of giggles. Eventually, fatigue catches up with us, and so we make our way to moth-eaten piles of furry cloth that we call our beds.