I glared at Refilwe Sithole. The short, stocky, black-haired, red-eyed devil hadn’t stood a chance against me. Even Saanvi had withered without so much as a glance. She might not have had a backbone, but she had her own form of ruthlessness. The only ones I couldn’t intimidate were Batz and Mercy, who were staring at the door to the trial. The Symbiont shipyard spire loomed above us, a dull, cold silver like steel. The door, however, was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, beckoning us all.

“Whatever, Foster. Just stay out of my way. I have history to make here,” Batz said, signaling the others toward the gate. They all followed his lead, which was strange since Mercy usually took charge.

Unlike the government education programs, there were no symbols depicting the types of Symbiont ships here. Nor was there a moving epitaph listing the names of those who had risen to Supreme. The mystique of the place had been stripped away, replaced by the cold steel of facts and the weight of nervous anticipation. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of awe, knowing in my heart that everything was about to change.

This Founder Forge World was one of only six in the Hegemony at Tier Four. That was why the Hegemony focused on increasing the quality of Potents rather than relying on sheer numbers.

Saanvi Naidoo brushed her purple hair out of her face with a jeweled hand and sneered, “Yeah, it’s not like you can even get an Escort. You’re such a waste of resources. How did you cheat on the test?”

I wanted to punch her golden teeth. Everyone knew it was impossible to cheat, but she kept parroting that accusation as if saying it enough times could make it true. Among us, she was the realist.

Escorts were the most versatile ships, with a balanced build of speed, armor, and weapons. These ships were ubiquitous throughout the universe. The name "Escort" was a misnomer, the result of a mistranslation that had stuck. These ships could be outfitted to serve nearly any purpose while retaining their combat effectiveness. They were always at the spearhead of conflicts, ready to resolve them with bullets. The standard design even came with two parasite crafts.

I didn’t respond to her. I just stepped back a bit, unsure of what to say. I had no interest in bringing her down to my level. None of them could stop me anymore. The door had already scanned each of us while we talked. All we had to do was wait.

In my mind, I imagined a rebuttal, explaining how Saanvi would never earn the Bulwark type she wanted so badly. The Bulwark was the defender—a blockade ship with high shields, thick armor, and a staggering number of turrets. It had weaker main cannons and almost no speed, but its regenerating armor made it special. Bulwarks were also enormous, with a maximum size of two cubic kilometers. Like all Symbionts, they were massive, reflecting the fact that the Founders were once hundred-meter-long space whales as Potents. Bulwarks could endure battles longer than any other ship type and weather almost any storm.

Saanvi was best suited for the Auxiliary type; her aptitude and intangibles all pointed in that direction. In the phantasm-reality simulations, she always scored highest while piloting an Auxiliary ship. I even learned a few things from watching her. Auxiliaries, the third most common Symbiont type, specialized in support and counter-warfare—especially electronic warfare and intra-ship system linking. They were the backbone of any fleet, capable of weakening enemies, strengthening allies, and providing battlefield intelligence. Despite being underestimated, Auxiliaries equipped with leveled drones could devastate an entire mundane fleet. However, in Hegemony space, they were the least sought-after ships. Obtaining one required effort and luck in equal measure.

The scan adjusted the trials to best test our aptitudes. The Hegemony Office of Symbiont Studies theorized that the scan served multiple purposes, even altering rewards based on a candidate's preferred ship type. However, obtaining a ship was another matter entirely. This theory was supported by the fact that Predators accounted for thirty-three percent of Symbionts in the Hegemony.

Predators were the most popular ship type, sleek and sublime, and were cultural icons. The Predator ship Ruin even adorned the Hegemony’s flag. Later, the ruling junta used Predators almost exclusively. These ships had an alpha strike powerful enough to knock out higher-ranked ships and were nearly invisible to sensors. Some were equipped with devastating munitions capable of turning the tide of battle.

The door’s smooth silver sheen shifted, revealing five hexagons connected to a central mosaic. The central symbol indicated the trial was ready. I looked at Mercy and remembered how we’d discussed this moment as children. We’d always dreamed of carriers.

Carriers required significant material and personnel support but were force multipliers, raising new commanders even outside Founder Forge Worlds. Any top company looking to expand eagerly sought out candidates lucky enough to acquire a carrier. The thirty snub fighters onboard carriers were themselves Symbiont ships. Their support and sustain capabilities were unmatched, making them the backbone of sixty percent of existing Fleet Lords. At the highest levels, they were fleets in their own right.

The most coveted ship, however, was the Dreadnought—a heavily armed, heavily armored behemoth capable of winning wars single-handedly. Dreadnoughts grew stronger when fighting alone. Unlocking their special traits, like the Lone Warlord, was essential. This ability allowed Dreadnoughts to emerge victorious in seemingly unwinnable battles. They often became the core of new stellar kingdoms, their resilience and firepower deterring even the most determined adversaries.

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We all wore expressions of subdued glee. No matter our backgrounds, deep down in the hidden recesses of our hearts, this was why we were here. To claim the impossible ship: the Omni. People said, "Take the best of every ship, and you get the Omni." That thought sparked a wicked glint in everyone’s eyes.

Mercy broke the silence. "Sithole, you and Batz are in front. Saanvi and I will be behind you. Anasazi, cover my rear."

We’d gotten used to addressing each other by surnames. It was a Tau’ri military tradition, though I suspected it also allowed easier connection in a group where shared family names were common. Mercy’s double entendre wasn’t lost on me, nor was the fact that she ignored the verbal abuse Batz had been hurling my way since he’d learned we knew each other as kids. Pierce—Batz—always got touchy when he wasn’t the center of attention.

The door wasn’t just a test—it was an upgrade. It brought our bodies up to the universal standard. Most children of Supremes were born this way; Batz doubly so. For me, though, this process would be agony. The Founders didn’t have as many nerves as we did, and even with advanced technology, the pain couldn’t be entirely eliminated.

Batz smirked. "Alright. I’ll see you guys on the other side. Not you, Foster. There’s no way you’re going to survive."

The door consumed him in a swirl of living metal, forming a pod that pulled him in. I smiled at the thought of it devouring him for real and spitting out his remains. In reality, the door was more like a gene pod, augmenting us for the trials ahead. My heart pounded as I approached, my resolve wavering. I didn’t want to do this—but I had to. At least thirty percent of participants died here, and another forty percent quit soon after, driven insane by the process.

I didn’t see any of us giving up. We had all scored high on the psychometric tests, which had an accuracy rating of thirty-three percent. Still, scores didn’t protect anyone—just their intentions. Even Refilwe Sithole looked nervous as she disappeared into the door. Unlike me, they all had augments to counteract the pain. Mercy had received upgrades from Batz’s family, something special enough to spark a brief conflict between two ruling elite families.

To afford similar augments, I would’ve had to sell my soul to some corporation for life. Without them, I would have to endure the full brunt of the process. Just as the dread settled in, Mercy turned to me, her beautiful face projected onto my hazy HUD.

"I got you these," she said softly. "Sorry you have to go through this, but these will keep you numb from the pain. I don’t have to tell you how bad it can be."

I stared at her in stunned silence, tears welling up in my eyes. The reason the augments were so painful was that a person had to remain awake. Staying conscious during the process eliminated the need for additional upgrades later. It was an enormous advantage, skipping twelve years of surgeries and grind-heavy experience (EXP) farming. Being awake also raised the EXP absorption rate exponentially. Those who fainted could only earn a maximum of ten EXP per day. Without constant raiding, killing void monsters, and tapping Founder Fractures, hitting the first bronze star rank of Cadet Commander was nearly impossible.

My hands trembled as I accepted the drug, Brancocil. It had been banned by the authorities long ago but was now a sought-after item on the black market. I hugged her tightly, trying to suppress the quivering in my body—a testament to years of training. This process could kill me or, worse, drive me mad. I didn’t dare to hope I’d come out of it unscathed. Still, I knew that if it worked, my EXP absorption rate would be uncapped.

Mercy disappeared into the door, leaving me to face my fate. I slotted the drug into my auto-injector and placed my hand on the smooth, silver surface. Tears filled my eyes as the door came to life.

[Potent Detected]

[Please Enter Name]Name: Xaka Anasazi

Age: 21

Rank: N/A

Relic: N/A

Role: N/A

[Information Update. Recording Unique Gene Sequence… Sequence Accepted.][Do You Wish to Undertake Your First Trial?][Yes/No?]

The moment my gloved hand made contact with the door, I felt the dose of new Founder nanites flood my system. We didn’t have better terminology for these microscopic machines, but in essence, they were biomechanical cells that rewrote our biology. They would adapt my body as I gained EXP. The best part? These changes were inheritable. That was why the children of Supremes were naturally stronger and smarter.

What went wrong with Batz, though, was anyone’s guess.

I clicked Yes.

The hum started immediately. I controlled my breathing, the first sensation creeping over me like a warm sweat after drinking something hot in winter. It grew more intense, as if I were trapped in a hot shower held in place by some unseen bully.

The process stripped away my suit, exposing me to the full force of what was happening. This was Apotheosis, as we called it. It prepared the body, enabling regeneration so potent that as long as we were breathing, we could heal from almost anything. That was why non-Potents struggled to kill us.

I smiled faintly, envisioning myself as a commander. The thought sustained me even as the pain threatened to break me. Deep down, I knew I was going to pass, but the price was something I would dread forever.