The last class of the week was with Professor Manfred. The man was a controversial figure—the last to arrive on the planet Vanaheim, the last to evacuate the survivors of the great space war. But of course, only those who could afford to pay him and for asylum on nearby planets. To him, every disaster was a disguised opportunity.

His presence in the classroom was as irritating as his fake enthusiasm. The forced smile, the exaggerated gestures, and the way his words dripped with hypocrisy made it easy for anyone to see his true nature. Egotistical to the core, Manfred wasn’t stupid; he simply despised those he called "poor in pocket and spirit."

As always, his class held no surprises. Once again, he presented his impossible challenge—the emperor’s space strategy exercise with no obvious solution.

Unlike most students, who gave up before even trying, Tyrin dove into the simulation with focus. His first approach was to divide strategic decisions among the leaders of each sector of the ship. A mistake. Chaos quickly took over, communication became fragmented, and orders clashed.

If decentralizing command didn’t work, then he would have to take full control. However, commanding a ship the size of a natural satellite alone was a Herculean task. To mitigate this, he created quick-action codes, automating responses and preparing commands for instant execution.

At first, the idea seemed to work. Maneuvers became smoother, responses faster. But as the battle progressed, the variables multiplied. Every decision became a ticking time bomb, every choice seemed to lead to disaster. Even a simple order—such as whether or not to authorize the sacrifice of an auxiliary ship—became the trigger for defeat. Nothing made sense.

Then, he realized. Maybe the answer wasn’t in commanding better… but in observing better.

— The Emperor knew something no one else did… he had to know. — he murmured to himself, narrowing his eyes at the simulation.

For the first time, Tyrin did nothing. He simply watched. Every movement, every sound, every detail that might be out of place… and after a few attempts.

he finally saw it.

— Bahhhhhhhhhh.

The simulation ended abruptly. Manfred smiled.

— Well, students, that’s the end of the class. I’d even lend you the collars so you could train more, but I want to track your progress day by day… So, until next week. You’re dismissed.

Tyrin remained still, processing what he had just discovered, but he didn’t have much time to reflect.

— Holy shit, Tyrin! I thought you were never getting out of that damn class! — exclaimed Damian, grabbing him by the arm. — We need to hurry! Lirina’s class starts in three minutes!

With little choice, Tyrin was dragged through the halls of the space academy until they stopped in front of a peculiar door. Unlike the other rooms, this one wasn’t made of wood or white metal. It was black as the night, with a single bright star embedded in the center.

Damian knocked quickly before entering.

— Well, I see my favorite student decided to be late to class… and brought company. — The soft, almost bored voice echoed through the room.

Lirina was leaning against her desk, looking at them with an enigmatic smile. Her tone was light, almost playful, but her face remained impassive, as if everything she said was a mystery.

— That face looks familiar… Ah. Aren’t you that student of Gertrudes?

Tyrin just nodded.

— Well, I see you’re not much of a talker. Feel free to sit in on my class. And send my regards to Ger. I miss her. We haven’t talked since… ever, I think. Ahahahaha.

The room was emptier than Tyrin had expected. In fact, it was nearly vacant. It made sense. The last class to take this course had almost entirely died. Damian was one of the only survivors.

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At the back of the room, there was a large metal table.

On it, a body.

A whole Baku.

— Well, children, as you can see, today we’re going to learn how to dissect bipedal beings. — Lirina announced casually, picking up a scalpel.

The murmurs in the room ceased. Some students swallowed hard.

— I know many of you hesitate to dissect these beings because they resemble us, but remember: we’re talking about money here.

She twirled the blade between her fingers and smiled, devoid of any emotion.

— We now know that some Baku organs can be successfully transplanted into humans. Just like we do with pigs. And, of course, their blood has a high testosterone content and extreme libido. Helps certain… incapacitated individuals smile again, if you catch my drift.

The room fell silent.

— Hahahahaha.

Lirina let out a forced laugh before continuing.

— Alright, let’s begin. Watch closely. We’ll insert the knife at the level of the scapula and…

The scalpel descended, slicing through the Baku’s skin with surgical precision.

The scent of exposed flesh filled the air.

And then the first students started fainting.

For Tyrin, dissecting the Baku wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined. He was able to emotionally detach from the act. But Damian…

Damian was struggling against the urge to vomit. His face was pale, drenched in cold sweat. He gripped the edge of the table as if he were on a ship about to sink.

Tyrin observed his friend’s expression and sighed.

— Damian… If you can’t handle this class, why do you keep taking it?

Damian pressed his lips together, avoiding the sight of the Baku’s carcass. He didn’t answer.

Lirina, who had been listening, merely smirked.

— That’s an excellent question, Damian. I hope you have an excellent answer.

And without leaving room for further discussion, she returned to her scalpel.

The blade gleamed under the artificial light.

And the next incision began.

Tyrin frowned at Damian’s explanation.

— You don’t get it, Ty. Do you know how much a dissector makes? Depending on the being, I could earn up to 20% of the item’s value. My father bought an entire country just with money from dissection.

— I thought your father owned a farm planet.

Damian gave a half-smile, picking up a clean scalpel and twirling it between his fingers.

— He wasn’t born rich. He started as a dissector, built a reputation, made money, and knew how to invest. I think that’s why my mother fell in love with him… or maybe that’s why she left him. Who knows.

He laughed, but there was something in his tone that made Tyrin realize the story ran deeper than Damian let on.

— Makes sense. Well, do me a favor? Hand me the rib spreader. I need access to the heart.

— Sure, no problem.

Damian handed over the spreader and took a slight step back as Tyrin positioned the tool.

— Hold it steady, I’m going to open.

— Ty… Wait… Ty, I think I’m gonna—

Before he could finish his sentence, Damian turned to the side and threw up.

Class ended early for both of them. They were immediately sent to the locker rooms and forced to shower and change. Lirina, with her apathetic voice and expressionless face, gave them a curt scolding.

— No one wants a vomit-covered body, not even a perfect one.

Damian only grumbled, still pale.

That night, Tyrin did what he always did—he went to the library to meet Gertrudes. She always had something interesting to show him, some new mystery of the universe they could unravel together. He enjoyed these quiet nights, where shared reading made everything more pleasant. And, no matter how indifferent she pretended to be, Gertrudes always seemed happy to have someone by her side.

But this time, the two were met with unexpected company.

Luci appeared hesitantly between the bookshelves.

— Miss Luci, is there a book you’d like to read? Or something I can help you with? — Gertrudes asked, lifting her eyes from the volume she was reading.

Luci looked uneasy.

— Professor, I wanted to ask for help with Chamuscado. He’s more upset than usual. I don’t know what’s going on.

Tyrin exchanged a curious glance with Gertrudes. Scorched was Luci’s fire iguana, one of the fiercest predators of Gargantua. If he was "upset," something was probably very wrong.

— He’s not suffering any penalties in Gargantua, is he? — Gertrudes asked.

— Chamuscado has been a predator for years, not prey. He hasn’t died in months.

— Hmm… Wait a moment, I might be able to find an answer.

Tyrin leaned forward.

— If you want, I can help.

Gertrudes gave a small smile.

— Great! I have an encyclopedia on fire iguanas somewhere… Ah, found it! Well, there are three books. Perfect, one for each of us. Shall we?

It was past midnight when the three of them finished reading.

Even though Luci wasn’t as much of a book lover as Tyrin and Gertrudes, she absorbed the information quickly, which surprised them both.

Gertrudes was the first to present her hypothesis.

— From what I read, it could be something he ate. Maybe a new seasoning or a substance that didn’t sit well with him. Are you still feeding him the same food from your planet?

— Yes, Professor. Always the same. Ambrosio fire stone, his favorite.

Gertrudes sighed.

— Well, if it’s not his diet, then my hypothesis is useless. Sorry.

— No worries. I don’t think what I read helped either… — Tyrin scratched his chin, thinking. — You haven’t fought since the incident in Drokavas, right? He’s been resting since then?

Luci nodded.

— Yes. I personally asked him not to go hunting in Gargantua.

Tyrin narrowed his eyes.

— Guys… — he looked at both of them. — I think I know what might have happened.