Contrary to expectations, none of the test-takers made a sound this time. The shock of Lucius' 97% compatibility was so overwhelming that the entire hall was swallowed in a heavy silence. Apart from the bespectacled technician calling out names one after another and the metronome-like ticking of the compatibility device, not a single noise could be heard.
Yet, Damon was still confident in his own compatibility. In his mind, if Lucius—someone far weaker and lower than him in every way—had passed the test, then there was no doubt about his own success.
Because of that, his thoughts were more focused on Lucius' new father and his compatibility percentage. It was still impossible for him to believe that Lucius belonged to a high-ranking citizen family.
What piqued his curiosity even more, though, was Lucius' real mother. Was she also a Knight? What about his close relatives? After all, achieving such a high compatibility with a symbiote required extraordinary luck and generations of high-level, powerful compatibles.
Could it really be that the boy who had spent most of his waking hours with him—the one who had rolled around and played in the filth and mud of the fringes' streets—had the blood of a long lineage of high-tier compatibles running through his veins?
Under his breath, he muttered,
"People are really nothing like what they seem. The ones you think you're closest to... they turn out to be the biggest strangers in the world."
The last test-taker stepped out of the capsule with a negative result, tears welling in his eyes as he exited the hall.
Well, almost the last. There was still one more person left.
"Damon Gray... September 30th."
The technician's voice pulled Damon's wandering thoughts back to the hall, making him feel the same tension and excitement that had filled him when he first walked in. He pulled out a purple, obelisk-shaped necklace from beneath his worn-out navy-blue shirt and kissed it.
The necklace was a gift from his grandfather on his fifteenth birthday. In fact, his grandfather had found it himself while searching through the depths of a Helium-3 mine alongside his colleagues. Ever since then, he had worn it as a lucky charm. That was why he had given it to Damon—hoping it would bring him good fortune too.
Damon tucked the necklace back under his shirt, clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and stepped toward the capsule. His footsteps echoed in the nearly empty hall, and he could see a faint shadow of his thin frame reflected on the polished floor.
He stopped in front of the middle-aged technician, waiting as the man placed the glass helmet over his head. The moment it made contact with his skin, a strange energy—like electricity—rippled from the top of his head down to his toes.
The sensation was so quick that he didn't even have time to react.
His entire body was drenched in sweat from the sheer stress, a wave of nausea crashing over him. His breathing grew labored, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to run—run as fast as he could out of this hall. He had never felt this anxious or alone in his life.
Under the tired, expectant gazes of the technicians, he took heavy steps—like a man walking toward his own execution—and entered the capsule, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited.
As the capsule door sealed shut, his claustrophobia added another layer to the overwhelming anxiety. Still, he kept his eyes closed and braced himself.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding…
Each second felt like an hour, and Damon could barely stand upright anymore.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
As the tenth second passed and the metronome-like sound stopped, Damon instinctively began counting in his head.
"One thousand one… one thousand two… one thousand three…"
By the time he reached the third second, fear gripping his chest, he slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes—hesitant, terrified—to see the result of his compatibility test.
But he couldn't believe what he was looking at.
No. This had to be a mistake.
The machine had probably malfunctioned after running so many tests back to back. Maybe it was a glitch.
There was no way his result could be negative.
The red light above the capsule was like a death sentence, extinguishing all his dreams and his future—without any justifiable reason.
In a panic, he stumbled out of the capsule as fast as he could, rushing toward the technician to demand a retest. But when he saw the irritated look on the hall supervisor's face and the cold, emotionless eyes of the technicians, the words of the supervisor echoed in his mind.
It was over.
It had been over long before this moment.
There was no such thing as a second chance.
With his head hung low and his body numb, Damon walked toward the exit. With every step he took away from the machine, he could feel another one of his dreams being crushed beneath his feet—the only beautiful part of his existence, dying one by one.
"I guess Damon Gray was never meant to be an Imperial Knight..."
A tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it, carrying with it all his dreams... his entire future...
Without even noticing, his body had decided to walk home on foot—all the way back to the southern fringes. He was so lost in despair that he didn't even register the vibrations of his holo-watch blinking red.
To him, the world had gone dark.
Even though the autumn chill of Mars had yet to arrive, he felt frozen to the bone. Everything was meaningless. Empty.
How could the universe be so blind and cruel? How could it hand everything to someone like Lucius while refusing to give him even a sliver of a chance?
By the time he snapped out of his trance, he found himself standing on Fernandez Bridge.
Levicars—wheel-less, silent—glided across the massive concrete highway, their headlights briefly illuminating his figure before vanishing into the distance.
The city government never really cared about Fernandez Bridge—or any of the bridges connecting the city to the fringes. To conserve energy, they had shut down the streetlights long ago, leaving only the LED strips lining the highway.
That was why these bridges had become popular suicide spots.
And yet, neither the police nor the government cared. Their only kindness was occasionally cleaning up the bodies.
For the first time in his life, Damon was contemplating suicide.
Somewhere along his aimless walk, he had tried to find a reason—a purpose—to stay alive. But working eleven hours a day barely left him any time to even exist.
Dying wouldn't really change much.
At least this way, he could escape a lifetime of soul-crushing torment.
He approached the stone guardrails and leaned forward, trying to peer down. Not that there was much to see in the darkness. The drop wasn't too high—maybe fifteen meters, maybe less—but what made it lethal was the river below, its jagged rocks waiting like a set of hungry teeth.
Roughly thirty meters to his right, the emergency stairs were visible—stairs the city had installed long after the bridge was built. Not to save jumpers, but to make it easier for police patrols to retrieve bodies.
"I hope they find mine quickly. I don't want Mom to wait too long for me to come home…" he whispered, staring at the stairs.
He let out a sigh, then carefully climbed onto the stone guardrails and tilted his head up to the sky.
"You know, the fact that I'm standing here today, ready to throw myself off—it's all on you. What's the point of all that intelligence and understanding you gave me if you won't even give me one tiny chance to chase after it? I can't understand you…"
Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks as he spoke to the sky.
"I had so many things I wanted to do… We don't deserve to rot in that garbage dump where even dogs turn their noses up. No one deserves that… Why don't I even get one simple chance, while Lucius, who doesn't even care about having it, gets everything handed to him?
I'm sure all those nights I fell asleep dreaming of my wishes, imagining what it would be like to step onto other planets, or picturing myself fighting the Thalmerian mages and the orc warriors, you were laughing at my stupidity from the bottom of your heart… You know what? I hate you… I hope it all ends right here, under this bridge, and like Mom said, I hope my soul never turns toward you…"
He pulled his grandfather's necklace from around his neck and clenched it tightly in his hand. The wounds his nails had dug into his palm burned even more under the pressure of the necklace, but he didn't care. He wiped his tears with his sleeve and took a deep breath.
"I really wanted to say I'm coming to see you, Grandpa, like those cliché lines everyone says. But honestly, I want the river under this bridge to be the last thing I see, and then everything will just… e... n… d… Aaaaaaahhhh…"
Pain.
A searing, burning sensation shot through his palm—so intense, it was as if acid was coursing through his veins.
He tried to lift his hand to see what was happening, but his fingers refused to move. The obelisk-shaped pendant in his grasp was shrinking—changing.
The pain became unbearable. Then, a sudden, violent shock ripped through his entire body, knocking him backward onto the concrete sidewalk.
His head slammed against the ground.
And then—
Darkness.
[Initiating Installation…]