My hand… feels weird. It feels cold.

What happened?

I recall what had happened before I lost consciousness. Then I wonder how I’m still alive. I could’ve survived the explosion, but the Pirates should’ve killed me. But, they were running for some reason, so I’m going to assume that backup had arrived, and the pirates were rushing to defend.

Backup had arrived.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. Then I look at my hand and do a double take.

My hand is cybernetic. Greenish silver. And most of my skin is… too pale. And slightly glossy, like plastic

Alright. I can deal with a machine hand. I do, after all, work with machines. I can deal with some new skin. But… the grade…

I sigh.

It’s going to be a pain to fix this. I’ve replaced my leg once, and I know how hard it is to create a satisfiable design. And that says nothing about making the damn thing. I hadn’t known Larry back then either.

I nearly jump when I hear a voice.

“What’s wrong?”

I turn. There’s an old man sitting in a wheelchair, staring at me. Though he might be old, he still looks healthy. I’m going to assume that’s the work of implants. Though I wonder why he hasn’t replaced his legs. Maybe he just can’t afford it. After all, replacing entire body parts were quite expensive.

Which leads me to the point of who bought these implants for me in the first place.

“Nothing. Just wondering though, where am I? The last thing I remember was that I was on a pirate vessel.”

He smiles.

“Someone important had sent a beacon in the very same ship as you, and that someone seemed to be important. In any case, after some investigation, the Sentinels learned about your presence onboard the ship, and so did the school. The school decided to use it as an opening course for the students, while the Sentinels took care of the captain. The teachers had found you, and it was a miracle you were still alive, judging by the report Joghim gave me. It was then my job to make sure you stayed alive, which was much easier than it should’ve been, thanks to your implants. Speaking of which, may I know who designed them? There’s no signature on them, and they’re better than the majority of products out there.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that? I mean, I know they’re good, but I’m pretty sure that there’s a lot of more advanced tech than mine.”

The old man chuckles.

“More advanced tech there is, but none that uses primajin as a base compound. It’s dirty and cheap, and yet the designer managed to create such an exquisite system out of it.”

I shrug.

I’m wondering if I should tell him that I designed it. It gives me a chance to show the world what I’m capable of.

But in the end, I decided against it. There are better ways to gain fame.

“He told me that primajin had its quirks and that he was stingy enough to figure out how to utilize those quirks. He’s not exactly an… upright citizen and he’d told me not to disclose his identity, so I’m not going to.”

The old man nods.

“Well, I won’t force you to reveal anything you don’t want to but do tell him that I would like to meet him. It’s not so often that I come across implants like these.”

I ponder for a moment, then reply.

“Well, don’t tell him I told you this, but he likes to bet on ship races. You can find him in Goldport every month’s end.”

“Eh, I don’t really think I’d be one to fit in such a place. I think that’s enough chit-chat though, do you have any questions about your implants?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“There should be a manual stored in your neural implant. Use it if you ever find difficulties with your new hand.”

I nod.

“That should be it. You’re Mentor is calling for you. You should get his information from the school network. I have to go look after my other patients.”

Now, while the teachers can sit together and discuss the training plans of each and every student, that would take a lot of time. Instead, they assign students to a Mentor, who goes over your file and personally guides you. Mentors have multiple students, but the amount rarely exceeded fifteen. There was only so much a person could do in a day.

He turns to leave, but I call out.

“What’s your name?”

He pauses.

“Oh right, I must’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Berin Korf, a member of the Tyion Alliance. I already know your name, so there’s no need for you to introduce yourself. Time to get going then.”

I blink as the old man leaves the room.

The Tyion Alliance is an alliance that’s main goal is to achieve immortality. They’re a shady group that has questionable morals, but excellent skills. I’d never run into them before though, so all I know about them are rumors.

They are also supposed to be crazy fanatics. Supposed to. Seems like that isn’t the case unless the old man’s just the exception.

I close my eyes and dive into my mental world. A moment later, I’ve gotten the address of my assigned dormitory, and the name of my Mentor.

I jump off the pod I’m stationed in and leave the med bay.

I walk through a series of corridors, before arriving at a particularly large one. The corridors are arranged somewhat like a tree, with a main trunk, and side branches.

The corridor’s bursting with people. And, there are also some aliens too. Those are rare though because the other galactic species simply did not have as high of a reproductive rate that we have.

The students move in groups, from what I can see. That isn’t surprising, considering what I know of human psychology. I’m also sure that there’ a form of ‘bullying’, as the term is called here. I was willing to bet that I would make for an excellent target, considering my means of entering the school.

Nevertheless, I have a place to get to, so I deftly moved through the crowd, ignoring any annoyed looks that the students sent my way.

If the place is a tree, then I would be at the canopy, and my location is one of the lower branches. As such, it takes me some time to reach my Mentor’s office.

I knock on the door, my foot tapping the floor.

“Come in.” A voice sounds.

The door buzzes, and slides open, revealing a middle-aged man. He’s Dalton Gyon and is one of the higher ranked teachers in the school. He has a scar on his face, near his lip. He could’ve gotten rid of it easily, but sentimentality often gets the better of us, and for good reason.

He looks up and stares at me. My hand twitches as I fight the urge to fidget.

“Take a seat.”

There are two black and silver chairs in front of the desk. On the armrest, there is a little blue holo-pad. I take the one closer to the door, and my eyes widen as the chair forms to my shape.

Nanotechnology.

I look up at him.

He reaches over, offering a hand.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dalton Gyon, and will be your Mentor throughout your stay at this school.”

I take his hand and shake it, careful to maintain a firm grip.

“I’m Daniel Zyron, but I prefer to be called Dan.”

He nods, and let’s go.

“Very well. I have sent you your schedule. Training starts at two AM tomorrow. Don’t be late.” He says.

I nod.

“That is all. You may take your leave.”

I get up and walk briskly towards the door.

“By the way, that trick with your neural implant is very interesting. It took me some time to realize what you had done. You’re lucky that it was me, and not some other teacher, or else you might’ve been in big trouble. I’ve sent you some tritinate. Use it wisely.”

I turn around, shocked, staring at a smiling man. No, not any man, but my Mentor. Then the door shuts.