After finishing his breakfast and descending to the training grounds, Jordan found a quiet section of wall to wait and rest against until his siblings arrived.

It wasn't something easy to explain, the condition of Jordan's body after the operation. It wasn't wasn't numb, sore, nor in pain. Despite the probing, cutting and other processes he'd rather not think about that'd transpired not even a day prior. He felt fatigued. Though not through physical exertion, but through accumulated stress and mental strain. He was energized, yet wanted nothing more than sleep. Excited to explore his capabilities, but traumatized from what it cost to get them.

The grounds themselves were centered two layers below the Castle on the inner surface of the habitat. An area that Jordan assumed was the lowest level accessible to people until his recent trail. The domed room was constructed in almost a mirror image of the dining hall. Omitting the tables, cabinetry, furniture and everything else that could occupy a room such size. Besides the main entrance and a few windows, the only other break in the walls came from a large, gated alcove that lead to the Clan's training armory. In front of which, Vera stood in the same vac-suit as before. Fist poised on her hips and a stern expression stamped across her face.

With Jordan squinting, the room seemed to lurch forward until Vera's face occupied the entirety of his vision. Random void-black lines of her hair frayed from her ponytail, forming what looked like black veins over the bags of her eyes from Jordan's perspective.

With a lurch, she left Jordan's field of view. The latter blink hard thrice to shake the sudden feeling of vertigo spurred from his vision returning to normal. He looked again at his elder sister. Who was now pacing as if she were apparently nervous. Making the star-like sphere seem to orbit around Vera's head from where Jordan sat. Far larger than any other he'd seen, its color more closer to white than it was to yellow.

[Name: Vera 'The Seer' Astros.]

[Merit: 2,102,456]

'A B-Ranker then.' Jordan snorted despairingly to himself. 'No wonder she's so cocky.'

"Under normal circumstances." Vera's voice boomed the moment Jordan's brothers stepped foot in the grounds. Halting her pacing as she did so to center herself in the room. "A sane mind and body will refuse to destroy itself at will. Your mind will keep you from biting your skin hard enough to draw blood, for example."

"The same principle applies to our muscles," Eloise continued, as if reading from a script, as she innocently trotted up to Vera's side. Causing Jordan's lips to curl into a sneer ever so slightly. "The force from throwing a punch, or kick, with the entirety of your strength will rip your muscles apart. Rendering the body unable to either fight or flee."

"In other words." Theo joined them in quick succession. "The base human form, in its impeccable ability to protect itself, is made undeniably weak."

'They're really doing this, aren't they?' Jordan snorted to himself as he found his head shaking in embarrassment.

"Obviously, becoming a transhuman means that's no longer the case." Jago stood proudly in front of the rest of their siblings while punching his fists together. Sending a loud bang echoing through the grounds. "You're here to learn how to combine your flesh with your prosthetics, to produce the most power as possible."

"We'll teach you the Astros art of Press Boxing before you're kicked out of New Bran." A pair of voices spoke as one behind Jordan. "Invented by none other than our Father."

"You two, specifically? Or, all of you?" Jordan turned blankly and patiently stared at the Twin Dogs, Romulus and Remus and let out a small, nervous chuckle.

If it weren't for their arms and earrings; or augmented reality, Jordan was confident he'd never be able to tell whos-who when it came to the twins. They both had pudgy faces dotted with freckles around the cheeks. With matted, unkempt hair colored a blackish gray that crowded around their ears and fell to their mid backs. They stood shorter even than James, but a little taller than Jago. And were individually more brasher than the latter could ever aspire to be.

"It almost hurts when you say it like that." Jordan chuckled nervously.

"It will hurt." Florence laughed in his usual pretty-boy tone. "Tell us, what fighting styles did the education programs have you train in?"

"Krav maga." James answered immediately in a monotonous tone. "As well as wrestling."

"Taekwondo and boxing." Jordan absentmindedly turned about to face the rest of his siblings.

"Whip boxing and Capoeira," Jacques said a moment after.

"Good." A smile began to creep across Vera's face as she nodded slowly and began pacing once more. "Lila will teach Jacques. The Twin Dogs will teach Jordan. And, I'll teach James. Let's begin."

'Ugh.' Jordan groaned. 'I'd honestly rather have Jago train me over them.'

***

After training for the entirety of the day and into the night, the three brothers retreated to one of the many private wings of the castle reserved for the various families in the Clan. Jordan had sat himself in a small alcove off to the side of his bedrooms entrance. He hunched over a small reading table, appreciatively staring at the darkened roots painted on the backs on his hands and the soft white-blue reflections glimmering from his gilded palms.

Turning, he gazed out a nearby window to the axial support extending above the castle across the courtyard. Up to the axial truss running the length of the habitat, emitting a soft blue, moon-like glow. Then down to the scrolling wall of text augmented onto the table next to his arms, where he let out an excited chuckle. 'This is perfect.'

A flash of motion in his peripherals distracted Jordan from his moment of mental glee. He loudly sucked his teeth at the pile of clothes amassing in their common area before kicking his feet from under the desk and striding across the room to lean against the doorframe where he stood silently in place. Waiting. Until a roll of socks flew left James' hand and pelted Jordan's chest."

"Watch where you're throwing." Jordan snickered as he threw the socks back to James. "We should go." he continued after James turned to meet his gaze. Flushing out James' inevitable storm of curses before they could begin.

Looking back towards his little desk, still shimmering with a wall of digital text, Jordan jerked his neck towards James, sending the contents flying across the room to land in the vicinity of James.

"They have free-for-alls there." Jordan declared proudly.

"I told you, I'm going to Himalia." James cried as a rolled up shirt arced past Jordan's ear. "Not Ganymede."

"Their Campaigns are open to the public!" Jordan spread his arms in protest. "No challenges needed! E and D-Rankers only! Dozens of zones for us to choose from."

Jordan waited apprehensively, only to be shot down by a pair of shorts grazing his ear. He quickly closed the distance between him and his brother. Prepared to all but kneel before him to get him to agree.

"We barely have Merit." Jordan nodded towards James' rank. "Starting in the fifties is above average. But nothing special."

"I'm going to Himalia." James repeated in the same, monotonous tone.

"As a rookie!" Jordan laughed. "The House of Trass eats rookies alive! You'll be much better off with a Campaign under your belt. Go for the experience, if not the Merit."

James' arm froze just before another pair of socks began to arc from his hand. It slowly fell as the cogs noticeably began to turn in his mind. Followed by a low groan to permeate from his lips.

"You said it yourself the other day." Jordan continued egging him on. Happy to have found the right button to push. "Being the child of a founder means nothing in the Powers. Same with two. Same with our relations with our dear 'Uncle.' We're not special. We're just the same as any other Galilean. You show up to the House of Trass without a Campaign under your belt, you'll wish they'll take your head."

Another grunt rumbled from James' position as he quite obviously agreed with at least some aspect of Jordan's words.

"One Campaign." Jordan pushed further. "On Ganymede. Then, we go our separate ways. And meet again in another time."

James' eyes darted menacingly towards Jordan just as a dense groan spread through the room. "Swear?" James grunted.

Jordan smiled and bowed politely at his brother's sudden change of heart. "You have my word."

"Then, I agree." James tilted his head back to visibly pout before tending back to his clothes. "So long as you don't ask Jacques."

"Didn't plan on it." Jordan called over his shoulder while retreating to his desk.

Thinking of his mother and her earlier message summoned the playing card-sized rendering of the woman in Jordan's vision, set beside a small wall of text.

[1 Unread Message.]

Jordan slapped at the wall panel as he entered his room and, after the door hissed closed behind him, leapt forward to land on his bed in a sprawl. After rolling onto his back and settling between the depression of the mattress and the wall, Jordan qued the message.

On the ceiling, the visage of his mother enlarged to cover the majority of the surface in digital light. Behind her was a backdrop of climbing vines and waterfalls that seemed to stretch almost to oblivion. Her face was plump and round along the jaw and chin. With high cheekbones that formed cavernous dimples whenever she smiled; which was always, and skin a deep caramel brown. Far richer in comparison to any of her three sons.

"Hey Jordy! My sweet, sweet boy!" She bounced in her seat as she waved, dragging on Jordan's nickname in an almost overly-excited, overbearingly shrill tone.

'Ugh.' He groaned against the auricular assault.

"Congratulations on officially becoming an Astros!" She beamed. "I know you don't like to think about things until the time comes, so I sent you a little gift so that you'll never have to worry about it. I designed it myself so, I'm dying to hear your opinion. I hope you find whatever version of freedom you're looking for out there. And I know this will help." She let out a warm sort of hum as she smiled into the camera hugging herself tightly. "Come see us sometime."

"Us?" Jordan asked worriedly, as if she could hear him.

"Your sisters are here." She smiled as if she anticipated his reaction and completely disregarded the cold wave now pouring from her sons heart. "They'd love to see you. I miss and love you, Jordan. So, so much. Hope to hear from you soon." With those last words, her voice faded from its usual, bubbly tone and took on a far more fear inducing, warnful tone.

With a final wave, Jordan's mother faded from the ceiling. Leaving Jordan to stare emptily at the grayed, marble-like texture of his ceiling.

"Sorry, mom." Jordan pried himself from his bed and reemerged into their common area. "Ananke is too far from reach for my current rank."

Stopping near the exit of the wing, Jordan turned to a polished, refrigerator-like door set off to the left of the main elevator. As he approached, a mirrored, digital version of the devices console augmented itself before Jordan's hand. Permitting him access to the device from a distance.

Jordan's accessed his personal storage inventory. A privilege to all Galilean's that increased in volume with rank. The dedicated storage spaces resided deep within the skin of their residential habitats and were able to store anything besides food or live entities.

Jordan's had nearly always remained empty, excepting the times he received mail from his mother.

After confirming the delivery of the package to his location, Jordan sat against the wall to wait. Letting his mind drift a meditative state lacking entirely of thoughts.

Despite the relative proximity to the Castle, it took around five minutes for his things to be transported to his location. A true testament to the vast expanse of rails and cargo trains that stretched between the main storage bays and the lowest of three habitation surfaces. Situated just above the exterior shell of slag and condensed stone that served as radiation protection and the supplementary farms respectively.

Jordan drifted from his quasi-sleep once the notification pinged in his head. Prompting to groggily, but no less excitedly lunge across the room in a single stride to pry open the closet-like access panel. Where he caught sight of a mechanical arm gently setting his package onto the shelves from from the back side.

Impatience driving his actions, Jordan wrenched his prize free from the robot's grasp. Once claimed, he carefully set it between his feet before slowly kneeling to begin the process of thumbing open the magnetic seals one-by-one.

His grin couldn't help but widen from the hissing pops of each seal. A grin that widened and widened until the contents of the box were revealed. Where it grew to such lengths that it threatened to split apart his face at the seams.

***

"Ready for round two?"

The question passed over Jordan as he descended into the training grounds, absentmindedly surveying the room. As it was the latter half of the day prior, the oval chamber was vacant. Save three, chest-high pillars capped with spheres of smooth stone. Spaced at regular intervals and paired with their 'teachers.'

As Jordan approached his pillar, a golden earring and a mat of ash-black hair slid into Jordan's line of sight. Along with a sharp jab to the ribs like that from a writing pen. "You ready?" Romulus growled in Jordan's face.

Jordan ignored the Rabid dog as he stepped away to square up with the pillar.

With a deep breath, Jordan took his eyes off his target to focus on his knuckles. While indistinguishable from the rest of his hands, each knuckle was separated from the other, as well as the fingers entirely, and made from cubic boron nitride instead of the boron carbide shell covering the rest of his arms.

Housed on pistons, each of Jordan's knuckles shot out from his fist after his mental mark. Unwarningly filling the training ground with a loud bang before the knuckles quickly retracted into the inner chambers of his hands.

"It'd be a lot easier if it worked automatically." Jordan complained while side-eyeing Romulus.

"You want Merit, or not?" Romulus sucked his teeth hard while shaking his head in disappointment. "There'd be no skill involved in that were the case."

"And there's no shortcuts to glory." Remus preached from Jordan's back.

'Press-boxing, huh?' Jordan approached his pillar, assumed his stance and leaned his weight into a straight punch. As his fist met the stone, his knuckles recoiled like he'd fired a shotgun. To his body, it felt as if someone were striking his fist with equal force just at the moment of impact. Sending both jagged shards scattering across the floor and a dull shock that flung Jordan's arm backwards and reverberated throughout his arm. Dampening as it passed joints, elbows and wrists until his shoulders felt only a slight tremble. "I still prefer kicking." He muttered to himself after the sequence.

"You're an Astros. You have to learn it. Even if you don't use it." Remus yawned from a bare section of wall a few meters away. He blinked slowly with half-lidded eyes as he scratched the base of a loose patch of hair drooping over his eyes. A silvery light glinted into Jordan's eye as he lazily rolled over to face the wall. Like a dog napping in the corner. "Work on your timing. After today you're on your own. So, work hard!"

"Your legs will have to wait for a higher rank."Romulus chuckled as he gazed to his brother with an almost enviable eye. "They're like chopsticks in comparison to your arms. So, get to work."

After reaching their siblings' standards in Press-Boxing, Jordan and his brothers were moved to a similar complex within the rotational axis to continue their lessons in microgravity for the remainder of the day. Through the beatings provided by their elders, the brothers learned as much as they could about how to punch, kick and grapple using magnetic boots and gloves without footholds or the benefit of gravity.

The randomized ticks of contracting metals and gentle hum of the mountainous life support units echoed throughout the thick steel webs of the axial truss as Jordan drifted out of the training room after his siblings. The sound almost echoed in his heart. Throbbed from the soft light glowing from beyond James' bulky shoulder in a melancholic nocturne that announced their imminent departure.

'So, this is it.'

Despite the near-endless expectations of his reaction to this moment, Jordan felt painful stabs at his heart as he carefully studied his surroundings. All around the cylinder encircling them, the spired, paneled or oblong rooftops and vibrant woods within the habitat stared back in the subtle, twilight glow of the daylight panels' residual heat.

His eyes continued their study while they all entered the elevator and began the descent into the castle. With each passing meter, the spin gravity became more apparent until the worrisome, fearful expression carried by Jordan became more pronounced by result of his sagging face. As if his gaze were pulled down as well, his eyes fell through the transparent surface under his feet. Seemingly causing his chest to be wrung free from a fluid colder than liquid oxygen as the memories of his childhood began reeling through his mind. The mealtimes with his family. Training in their chambers. Chasing Jago and the Twin Dogs through the halls until Vera stopped them with a gentle slap to the backs of their heads.

"You could live there."

Lila's warm, yet monotonous voice pulled Jordan's wandering mind back to the elevator. He gazed at his elder sister, who in turn had a worrisome expression on her face. Among all of Jordan's sisters, she was among the nicest. Whenever they weren't fighting, at least.

If one were to ask the children of the Clan, nearly all of her siblings would describe Lila as something along the lines of an android, much to her displeasure. She had brown hair like rich chocolate that draped down to the middle of her back. Her skin was red-tan like clay imported from Earth. With irises colored a deep electric blue. The latter of which remained wide open as if were perpetually surprised. Or like she had no eyelids whatsoever, enabling her to look into the universe with an omnidirectional view. Like her voice, she came off as cold, unemotional and unempathetic. Just like a robot. More so than the likes of their father or any other infamously stoic individual in the Powers.

"In the lower levels." She continued. "Below Krosa."

Jordan followed her skin-toned finger towards the concave, flickered line of warm light scattered by the trees beyond the Castle wall. Before he could purse his lips in reply, a harsh groan droned around the relatively small elevator. Drowning out the both of them.

"No Krosa for us. Or Himalia, apparently." James grunted through his scrambled frown while he waved his head mockingly along with his words. "We're going to Ganymede."

"Why not?" Lila asked vacantly. "It's what I did."

"Why else." Jordan shrugged pretentiously. "To Campaign."

A sound of disgust resounded through the elevator just before Jordan felt a cold, firm hand grip his shoulder. His eyes turned to meet Vera's. Orange like the clouds of Jupiter and seeming to burn with rage.

Before he could speak, Jordan was ripped from where he to face James, Jacques and Vera's scowl; split in a mix of disappointment, worry and rage.

"What you do with your lives is your business," Vera said sternly while eyeing Jordan in particular. Then paused to hang her head as if she were biting her words before intaking a large volume of air with a deep hiss of the nostrils before continuing. "Here's a bit of knowledge and advice. As you are now, the ground is your best friend. When you fight, stay low and strike up. Don't worry about taking up ranged weapons. They're only allowed on Io, and the surface of that moon is off limits to anyone below B-Rank. You'll be fine fine if you do. Just, try not to panic too much whenever you die. "

"Ha-ha." James rocked free of her grasp and rolled his eyes. "Hilarious."

Vera angrily darted her eyes towards him before seemingly giving up with a small, deflated sigh. Then stomped out of the elevator with a shrug of the shoulders.

Jordan pointed his chin after her as she faded around the corner. "What's with her?"

"Oh." Lila stomped to a halt in the door and quickly turned to give Jordan a blank stare. "Natasha, Vladimir, Felix and Vera were all born in the same year the Powers was officially recognized by the Earth government. Two months later, our father was remarried to my mother and had Caesar, Ivankov and I. We all grew up watching Campaigns unfold across all the moons; much to our mothers' displeasure." She paused as a faint smile crept in the corners of her lips from the memories that were surely surging through her mind before she seemed to regain focus on Jordan and continue. "Back then, Campaign was sold as the solution behind the Powers being a true, free society. If there were no laws, that meant people could fight, or even kill, freely. In order to protect our relatively fragile habitats from our ever increasing abilities, the founders relegated any type of conflict above a street brawl to Jupiter's moons, or very specific habitats. It allowed people to freely settle their offenses on their own terms using an honorable system based on challenges. Giving birth to the second law in our lawless society. The Law-"

"I know how the law passed! Get to the point!" James groaned as he tried again to brush past Lila. Only to hilariously fail against her comparisingly small frame.

"Campaign began to change around two months before the second Galilean year. Sometime in the Earth-year 2110." Lila amiably continued as if she hadn't heard James. "Around the time Arthur and his siblings were born, the Powers had an influx of immigrants moving in from across the Solar System. They quickly saw campaigning as a fast track to higher ranks. And by the time Jago, Massimo and their siblings were born in five months later, many of our generation, especially those like Vera, began to see Campaign change into something along the lines of a bloodsport. The feel that now, there's no honor to. So they only campaigned when challenged."

'Ah.' Jordan nodded to himself as the facts clicked together. 'So, she hates change. Our Vera.'

James let out a weak laugh as he was finally able to push past Lila and waddl off towards their wing.

"Also!" Lila called behind him while simultaneously talking to Jordan and Jacques. "Dad wants everyone to meet here at midnight."

"To see us off?" Jordan asked.

"Maybe." Lila tilted her head without a change in her expression like she were contemplating their father's intentions for the first time. "He only said he has something to tell all of us. Even the kids."

***

Returning to their Castle's doorless vestibule, Jordan studied the collection of tapestries, paintings and statues imported from the other three great nations or gathered from the various Powers over the years.

For a Jovian year and five months, he'd lived within the confines of New Bran Castle without ever truly looking at any of the treasures within. He'd never admired a single item; all of them birthed from an idea that was conjured from the depths of a human mind and given birth into reality through the articulate application of their body. Such process was a miracle in and of itself. He felt ashamed from the slight vibrations buzzing in his skull as his eyes passed over each piece, paused at each item for a snapshot to be committed to his memory.

"Jemena is as fashionable as ever, it seems."

Jordan turned to his father's smile and welcoming posture at the sound of his icy voice.

His hawk-like eyes darted between his three sons as they approached. Transforming his meager smile into a warm, prideful grin. "You boys look great!"

He was dressed in a design of his own making. From apparently before the Powers had yet to exist. It was a vac-suit rated for the harshest, airless worlds. Tailored to resemble a formal, sleeveless dress suit. Regardless how many years passed or how many individuals attempt to copy the style, the suit seemed to fit his father's persona as much as it fit his very body. As if it were a second set of skin he's had in his possession since birth. Tucked under his arm was an opaque helmet of pearl colored metal. Like a fishbowl molded to slightly resemble a human head.

"Thank you, Dad." James waddled before their Father and bowed. Boots resembling high-top loafers covered his feet above the ankles. Baggy, black slacks hung loosely over his legs and ended a few centimeters above the tops of his boots. Paired with a simple, white tank top that stretched across his chest on the front and was made all but invisible from the back by a juxtaposingly small backpack that was stuffed until the seams bulged.

On Jordan's other side, Jacques' moppy hair, now so long it covered the deep bowls under his eyes, was covered itself by a night-shaded hood that connected to sleeveless jacket left unzipped to expose his bare, rib-lined chest. On his legs were a vac-rated pair of track pants, along with what looked like minimalist running shoes. Making him resemble a shady highschooler in Jordan's eyes.

"I have a few things to announce to you all." Their father's voice echoed through the hall with an echoing boom. Capturing the meandering attention of everyone present. "First. James, Jordan, Jacques." He paused to study the three intently. "You three must grow elsewhere. As is customary, you're banned from taking residence within New Bran until you're promoted to D-Rank. You may only return before that to attend a trial. Second." He turned so that he could face both the three brothers and the rest of their siblings to the other side of him. "Until further notice, Campaigning on the surface of Europa is forbidden for all parties. Including the Clan. There are certain..." he paused, as if to take in a deep breath, before continuing. "Developments. That I need to see to fruition before I allow the gangs and yourselves to continue fighting."

As if it were expected, their father raised his hands in surrender against the wave of groans and protest that quickly erupted throughout the vestibule. He continued patting the air as the complaints grew to a dull murmur. Then, curiously, knelt down to the young triplets at his feet with a solemn expression. "The last piece of news is," He said softly. "I'll be leaving for a few months."

Immediately, a triage of whines and cries replaced what was moments ago, an outburst of complaints and pleas.

"Where are you going?" Cassiopeia immediately reach out for Villan's neck with both hands as the innocent whine left her and her sisters lips.

Their father's face erupted in a warm smile as he reached up and rested his hand on the top of her head. "I have some business to attend to in the Saturnian Empire, Cass. A certain monarchical family wants to treat me as a guest and give me the privilege of exploring their culture."

"Why?" Cassiopeia whined again. Tugging desperately at his sleeve with fat tears welling in her eyes.

"Because, Cass. The people around Saturn wanna be friends with us," Vera said apologetically while kneeling to give her baby sister a reassuring hug. After reaching down and lifting the young girl into her arms. Then turned to their father with a somewhat more serious tone. "So, you're leaving, right now?"

"In the morning." He nodded while giving Cass a gentle pinch of the cheeks. "And you, Cassiopeia, will hear from me every week."

She angrily stomped her feet in response. Sending a cacophony of barely audible thumps rumbling through the room. "Everyday!" She demanded.

"I- I'll try." Their father sighed nervously as he plucked Cass from Vera's shoulder. Then hurriedly turned to the three brothers before she could continue her haggling. "You three have my support in your endeavors," he said in rushed words. "Remember to never become complacent. I look forward to seeing your growth. I'll see you all in a few months."

With a mutual bow, their father, rather quickly, receded into the corridor leading to his wing with Cassiopeia, Phoebe and Pandora orbiting him, whining demands into his ear.