A dense, necrotic fog quickly enveloped Jordan as his consciousness waned. Leaving him in an infinite void of maddening shadows and darkness for only a few seconds.

'Hopefully.' His disembodied mind struggled to comment to itself.

If not, then an eternity had passed until he was allowed into the light. An abyssal realm of blinding white that stretched only as wide as Jordan within it, and defied any known laws of physics to keep him from leaving.

As quick as the light came, it was replaced with a gentle, radiant warmth.

Like his transportation to this mirror-world and the prior world of death. Jordan couldn't feel the transition to this next world. It was instantaneous. Fast enough to render his disembodied thoughts dumbfounded in the seconds following the transition. Leaving him questioning if the warmth had been there all along.

'Impossible.'

While his body was veritably dead, gone in some other reality, Jordan could still turn about under the divine light at will. And he turned. And turned. And turned to see the shimmering, smooth, azure sheet extending over the surface in every direction for only a few kilometers before stopping at a deep blue horizon with a faint crimson star dotting the sky.

Besides the direction of his focus, there was no influence he had over his disembodied self. In his fragmented mind, he hadn't needed to. The euphoric bliss and mystical vista before him was a sight every human in the Solar System knew. Even if they'd never fallen down the gravity well before.

Still, a gnawing, painless yet unignorable feeling persisted in Jordan's disembodied gut. Tugged at his mind like a subtle whisper from his subconscious. Sharing with him a notion that he instinctively; obviously knew to be true:

'This isn't Earth.'

In another sanity questioning lurch, Jordan's consciousness found itself in a body. One controlled by another that suddenly tilted down to view the depths below. His eyes fell past his own gilded, root-painted hands gripping a thick railing before his waist and Dropped further to a pair of pointed boots he recognized as his own. With one foot crossed behind the other. Its metal-banded toe dug into a floor of wooden slats.

His field of view dropped further still. To the deep, blue depths being churned into white capped waves by a monstrous steel wedge dozens of meters below. Where it seemed to last for a lifetime, even as it passed in the blink of an eye.

Leaving Jordan once again to stand in the infinite void of white. Or to be consumed by the abyss of shadows. With the fragments of his consciousness drifting in and out of clarity for a subjective eternity.

***

The activation condition for Jordan's artificial lung had been met with the failure of his heart. Triggering a warning to be prompted via his optical scanners while the vacuole at the base of his trachea released the hundreds of trillions of artificial red blood cells: respirocytes, into his bloodstream. In droves, they worked their on-board motors to push through Jordan's stagnant blood, primarily towards his brain, to keep the cells oxygenated and free from decay as he lay lifeless on the ancient, furrowed, rocky-iced surface of Ganymede.

The knight's departure after the following minutes went unnoticed to Jordan; in a conscious sense. Subsequently, the announcement of his placement in Domain Keeper played, unheard by his ears. Just as the hours that passed thereafter passed, unseen.

As did his gradual change in temperature. Cold enough to make a living body shiver. Yet warm enough to shine brightly in the black and white reality of infrared light. Jordan's body; and the others around him, shone like lighthouses that screamed through the vacuum. Into orbit, to yell, 'I am here. I have died.'

Dozens of meters above the surface, a quartet of bulky, metal constructs assessed and categorized the various points of light; the endless lighthouses, as they descended from orbit. Adjusting and tuning their trajectories on conical clouds of compressed gas that fired sporadically across their shells.

The rear-most vessel was the ambulatory shuttle. A fusion-powered, spectacularly unaesthetic, rectangular structure. Fifty meters in length, thirty wide and fifteen tall. Accessible on all cardinal sides by blast doors and filled on the interior with drone storage bays, morgue-like drawers, and an arrangement of large, medical beds with abundant legroom to account for unexpected mass.

The drones in the shuttle's triage were shaped like open ended, rectangular prisms. Clumsy devices that were as ugly as the mother they orbited and functioned only as storage units for the copious amount of stretchers the recovery used for those slain on campaign.

Once descended into range, having categorized their claim based on the severity of damage, a swarm of drones silently billowed from the shuttle. All but blocking out the faint sun as they quickly scattered across the fields to tend to their quarry.

Each of the recovery drones held an RTG and the obligatory orientation and orbit control systems at their core. Shrouded around hydrazine and water tanks for RCS and adjustable mass, then further encased in a two-meter long hexagonal truss. Capped with clamp-like robotic arms and omni-thrusters. And boasting another pair of robotic arms mounted on opposing rails on its long axis.

After surrounding Jordan, each of the drones paused to meticulously scan Jordan's body in every spectrum of light available to them before transmitting their diagnosis to their overseer in orbit.

Then, they began the tedious work of cutting away the ice, wedged around the spear's tip.

***

[You have been slain: - 100 points.]

[New Hardware Synchronized.]

The notifications glowing under Jordan's eyelids pulled at fragmented consciousness, strengthening with each passing second, allowing an overwhelming calmness to wash over his mind. As his awareness began to return, he soon felt the warm embrace of memory foam contoured around his body. Followed by a brisk breeze, scented like wood, billowing over his face and streaming into his nostrils. Forcing his lungs to rise and fall rhythmically along the mechanical beeps of medical equipment and the soft hum of an air conditioners and electronics.

[Manuals downloaded.]

Rolling against the notifications shining under his eyelids, Jordan groggily groaned while dismissing the augmented messages in favor of a failed attempt at conjuring a mental image of the sunkissed waterworld he'd found after dying.

'Was I dreaming?' He wondered to himself. 'It felt so...'

"Man!" Before he could continue pondering, a hoarse outburst of laughter erupted from Jordan's side. Cackling madly. "You really got fucked up, eh?"

Startled, Jordan peeled his eyelids apart a found the crescent arm of an AutoSurgeon looming above his head. After a brief subsequent panic, he slowly gaze around at at the abstract paintings and framed gifs that played time-lapses of the Jovian moons in orbit dotting the various cabinetry and walls.

Opposing Jordan was the obvious centerpiece of the room. A wall-to-wall aquarium filled with with orange and white scaled fish with curtain-like fins that danced around each other gracefully.

The tank hovered above a wooden, L-shaped desk about three meters to the left of Jordan's bedside. Its grained surface was completely vacant, save the elbow the round, bald, goggled man leaning over it. Grinning wide from under his propped chin. Spindly whiskers extended far from his sideburns, jawline and the underside of his chin, where they crept up to encase his lips in a thick mustache.

[Name: ???]

[Merit: 2396]

'A D-Ranker?'

He kicked his feet up on his desk while his barrel-belly bulked underneath his hands from his hecklish laugh. "First time on Campaign."He shook his head once while letting a final, boisterous chortle echo through the room. "First time! and you run into a Saturnian Knight! Gahahah! Quite a start!"

'So, it was a knight after all.' Jordan pushed himself upright with a groan. Then subconsciously held his stomach, as faced the man to bow in bed. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"So, you flatlined." He continued after acknowledging Jordan's gratitude with a simple wave of the hand. "Judging from your experiences prior to that, I'd say you're the type who'd want to figure everything out for yourself. No reading, no studying. Only experience."

'Smart man.' The corners of Jordan's lips creased into a grin as the apparent doctor continued without pause.

"I won't bore you with the details," he said. "Bottom line is, you have a completely reworked bio-mechanical digestive system. As a whole, its far more efficient than the natural variant and almost completely negates waste. Better news is." He leaned forward with a whisker wrinkling, prideful smile. "My drones recovered your spear, fully in-tact."

'Spear?' Jordan recoiled in confusion and quickly froze as the memories of his death began replaying on a loop in his mind. Dripping a radiant cold fluid down his spine that induced a fearful shiver upon his body. "Th- That wasn't my spear." He stuttered with deep breaths.

"Ah." The doctor rocked back in his seat with a contemplative frown worm over his face. "I knew it was too nice for an E-ranker." He mumbled to himself before turning to Jordan with a curious look of self-interest: A single, raised brow coupled with an envy-fueled grin. "Then, it belongs to the Knight? Hmm…" He rotated away from Jordan in his chair, stroking whiskers and muttering to himself. "Strange."

"How so?" Jordan asked at his back.

"Didn't think Saturnian Knight's they learned our customs." He turned back with an amiable shrug. "Much less follow them. You should return it."

Jordan's face recoiled in a mixture of surprise and apprehension. "I'm not going to Saturn." He shook his head. 'Not yet.'

"I bet you aren't! Gahahahahaha!" He rocked backwards in his seat, his boisterous laugh once again erupting through the room. Adding to it the loud bangs of his open palm banging repeatedly on his desk in hysterical laughter.

"You don't have to!" He finally said after winding back down to civility. "Saturnian Knights frequent the Powers more often that you'd assume. They use Campaign to train their ranks. You'll find a few on Ganymede. But Callisto, and especially Io, are hot-spots for them. Gahah!"

He paused for a few moments after the sudden outbreak of laughter to gather his composure before continuing. "Stick around this moon, and you'll see that knight again. Eventually. Gaheh! Once you do, return the spear in the same way he gave it to you."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Jordan glared as his feet rolled off the bed.

he leaned towards the doctor. More annoyed at having expended the energy on the reaction than the offense of his near-blasphemous words.

"We take trophies from those we've slain." Jordan said slowly, as if he were teaching an obvious lesson to a child. "Losers don't get trophies. They lose Merit and are stripped of their possessions. Like me."

'Like I should've been.'

"Maybe in the ganglands of Europa" The doctor scoffed contemptuously as he crossed his arms. "This is the Power of Ganymede. And here, getting a trophy." He put up air quotes with one hand. "Is seen as a challenge. A call to a rematch. The knight thinks you're worthy."

"Of what?" Jordan rolled his eyes in an attempt to fight back against his mild interest.

"Fighting you again?" The doctor wore a look of impatience on his face before turning away. Shaking his whiskers from side to side. "How the hell would I know?" He finally scoffed, turning back to Jordan. "If you really wanna know, ask them yourself. Though, If you do, I'd advise you to at least do a little training first. And learning while you're at it. But, you're free to do what you will. The spear is in your private storage."

Jordan remained in place on the bed. Shaking his head in confusion. "The only personal storage I have is orbiting Europa."

"Yeah." The doctor sighed impatiently. "You had an unlisted residency when you flatlined. Being on Ganymede when you did, you were automatically assigned residency in this Power. Oscana is open to D-Rankers and above, and Oblil Station is for the Army. So." He celebratorily spread his arms out to his side. "You're a resident of Choece now. At least until you decide to leave."

"I see." Jordan rose from the bed and faced the man to bow again before leaving. "I'm sure you're already aware, but my name is Jordan Astros. I'm certain we'll be seeing each other again in the near future."

"Doctor, Randolph Orpheus." He grunted out from beneath his mustache. "Call me either Doc. Or Just, O."

"Sure thing, Randy." Jordan called behind him from the door with a final wave.

From the office, Jordan descended a set of stairs and, after quickly striding through a densely occupied waiting area, emerged through a set of spinning glass doors to emerge onto the streets.

Out of habit, Jordan's eyes immediately rose to his zenith as soon as the daylight hit him. He was at the edge of a wide avenue. Above which, a densely populated sidewalk stretched to distant focal points on either side. Towering them all were the abstract, curved buildings making up the majority of Galilean architecture. Dizzying arrangements of looping steels with nary a flat surface. Save the walkways, penthouses, balconies and terraces obtruding from the structures at all altitudes. Shrouding the grid-like streets below in a twisted maze shadows; walled with the radiant, golden beams of daylight shining from the distant skylights.

As his eyes fell back to street level, Jordan's his heads up display briefly flashed in his vision, allowing him to get his bearings

[November 325th, Gale year 2. Bronio City. Choece, Ganymede. 1842. UGT]

[Merit:-44]

Jordan's heart plummeted after reading the number floating at the top of his field of view.

Being out of commission for two days didn't bother him in the slightest. But having a negative Merit balance was a panic inducing sight.

In the Galilean Powers, Merit was more than just one's credibility or social status. The points served as their lifeline to luxury. It was an earned currency. A commodity, more precious even than all the rare Earth metals and jewels combined.

Having none meant that he'd have to sustain himself on the basic rations and live in the cheapest housing available. He'd be forced to live a minimalist lifestyle. Render him unable to indulge on what little fine dining his rank could afford him in the first place. Unable to pay for the various forms of public transportation, equipment, weapons or implants that he'd may want.

Lastly, he'd be seen as irrelevant.

A denizen of the bottom of the food chain. Gone unnoticed by the very society he called home.

Upon accessing the local maps, a scaled down version of the habitat glitched onto reality and unrolled on the concrete at his feet.

He learned that the habitat named Choece; like Neo-Europe, was a full-sized McKendree cylinder. A carbon nanotube based, scaled-up version New Bran. 4600 kilometers in length and 460 in radius. Giving the interior surface alone around 13 million square kilometers of habitable living area, per drum. A size comparable to the desolate, Terrestrial continent of Antarctica.

In addition to the vast interior surface, the standard design for the Powers consisted of three additional layers within its thick skin. Each with 250 meter-high ceilings that acted as both the bedrock for the levels above and the sky for the ones below. Creating hollow layers in-between that were still large enough for light weather patterns to develop inside and for the inhabitants to get the feeling of an open-air environment.

While the lower and mid levels were reserved for E and D-Rankers respectively. The lower basement sat directly above the layers of compacted mass that served as radiation shielding and housed the habitat's supplementary logistics and life support units as well as the Ranches, vertical farms, and orchards that repeated in redundant fashion around the habitats skin.

A gasp of awe escaped Jordan's lips as the true scale of the habitat around him was made clear. This city alone was bigger and filled with more people than he'd ever witnessed in his short life. The habitat itself held trillions of Galileans, both native-born and immigrants, and had room for hundreds of quadrillions more.

It'd take well over a lifetime to explore this habitat alone, Jordan quickly assumed. Much less any of the others orbiting Ganymede and Jupiter's other moons.

Upon thinking of his destination, the map augmented onto reality expanded until Jordan's current location within the city came into appearance. The miniature buildings around him reeled by for a moment before transitioning to an empty field. Then further beyond a raised roadway to a cluster of smaller buildings in the center of what looked like an oversized sandbox.

The house he'd been granted sat at the edge of a residential block, five kilometers to a side and surrounded by elevated highways. At the center, stood a lake and wooded park that was surrounded by towering apartment buildings spaced in seemingly random spots. Stone paths lazily contoured around the buildings towards the various exits to the sand box; a large exercise area, complete with an obstacle course, and a small suburb of shed-like buildings near the outskirts.

Where Jordan's home stood.

Being Merit-less, Jordan shrugged against searching for a viable method of transport and started out on a light jog towards his new neighborhood. While the sidewalks were dense with bodies, they weren't crowded so much as to impede his path or cause a disturbance among the natives.

At the end of the first block, he passed through an elevated walkway and increased his stride. Block after block, he passed restaurants, clubs, shops and numerous E-Rankers until he passed the welcome sign at the city of Bronio's limits. Striding at a full speed.

He continued through a field of rolling hills. Passing small mammals and flocks of resting birds as he strained to increase his pace with each stride. And continued on still through the wide, arched tunnel that passed under the road and into his quiet neighborhood.

After twenty kilometers and roughly a half hour of sprinting, Jordan reeled to a halt at the border of his neighborhood. Breathing as calmly as someone on the edge of a deep sleep. His skin drier than the Venusian surface.

Unlike Bronio and his neighborhood's apartment buildings, the holes reserved for the Merit-less such as Jordan featured the infamous, instantly recognizable corrugated walls of a 3D-printed house. They were roughly the size large, standard shipping containers and had a wide, box-like protrusion jutting out from a single side of its face. By rough estimate, their yards seemed to be roughly twice the size of the house itself. Each varied from pristine gardens to unkempt patches of ankle-high grass begging to be mowed.

Jordan took his time walking down the road, reflecting on the new possibilities his respirocytes gave him while humbly reminding himself that, while miraculous, the devices were a commonality among anyone who lived off-Earth. With the decision to test his new limits over the upcoming days, Jordan cleared his mind into a meditative state and continued wondering amiably down the path.

While the houses were identically printed, many were painted in both real paint and in augmented reality. Yet, many were empty. Jordan pondered if there was a tradition for their former inhabitants to leave some sort of mark on the houses exterior. As if to leave leave a memorial of their occupation upon their departure.

As Jordan stepped into his yard, he saw the interior and porch lights of his unit power on welcomingly. Followed by a great sigh of relief that untensed his body.

He'd had his own room ever since he could remember. But never his own place. Meager as it was, it was his. And only his. And with him being Merit-less, his accommodations would only increase as he rose in rank.

For the first time since before his trial, Jordan finally felt a giddy sense of excitement welling up from within his belly. There was something to look forward to. Something to strive and work towards, besides his ambiguous goals of freedom.

Gleefully, he skipped up to the porch and began reaching for the door. Then froze as a flicker of motion in his peripherals captured his attention.

His excitement quickly withered and died as the hand continued waving from his neighbors yard. Jordan's hand remained frozen in place above the door's console. His neck strained itself against Jordan's will to turn towards figure approaching the fence bordering their properties.

[Residential Systems Connected]

Just as the notification appeared, the figure slapped his hands against the fence post and shouted. "Yo, Astros!"

Without looking at the figure, Jordan focused his concentration on the door console and conjured endless mental images of his door opening for an eternal second before the door received the command from his neural interface and unsealed itself with a loud, ceremonial hiss.

Allowing Jordan to slip inside without delay before the figure could beckon him again. Where he sealed the door behind him with a great sigh of relief.