Karin held her breath. The monitor next to Tyrin was flat. No heartbeat.

"No, no, NO! Not now!" she screamed, pounding his chest with her fists, desperate to restart his heart.

The monitor beeped once. Then twice. His pulse returned, weak but steady. Karin collapsed to her knees beside him, exhausted.

"You made it... damn kid, you made it," she said, more to herself than to Tyrin.

Karin looked at Tyrin's body, still trembling involuntarily as a result of the brutal genetic fusion process. His breathing was uneven, but he was alive. That was more than she could have asked for, given the circumstances.

She reached for the small automatic tattoo kit she had smuggled in. It was a simple but powerful device, equipped with precision needles and inks encoded with imperial patterns.

"Damn it… This is madness. Three rules broken at once," she muttered, running her hands through her sweaty hair.

She moved toward Tyrin's left shoulder. Normally, Astra marks were placed in more discreet locations, like the underside of the forearm or near the nape of the neck. But Tyrin wasn't a normal case. He wasn't supposed to be here. The gene she had introduced into him was from an entirely different planet—an elite gene that didn't match his origins.

"If anyone finds out about this... we're both dead."

Karin took a deep breath. She knew the choice of the mark needed to strike a balance between hiding the truth and ensuring that, at first glance, no one would question his legitimacy as an Astra. The mark had to exude power and uniqueness.

Size and Location

Instead of something small and discreet, she decided to cover Tyrin's left chest with the tattoo. Large and visible, but still something he could easily hide with a shirt or armor.

Color and Origin

The traditional color for the planet Helheim was icy white, but the gene she used came from Alta Prime, an elite planet whose marks were opulent gold—almost too flashy. She chose to blend the two tones, creating a gold mark with white detailing, something that could confuse basic imperial sensors.

Symbol of Potential

The mark needed to symbolize strength, intelligence, and survival. She designed a stylized wolf intertwined with geometric lines representing ascension and control. It would highlight the latent potential Tyrin now carried while masking its true origin.

Karin activated the device, and the needles began their precise work. The sound of the motor was muffled, but to her, it felt like a siren screaming her crime. Every second that passed heightened her paranoia. She knew she was walking on a knife's edge.

As the tattoo took shape, Karin couldn't shake the feeling that she was making a monumental mistake.

"Focus, Karin. Focus. He's our best shot."

After a few minutes, the mark was complete. She turned off the device and looked at the final product. The golden wolf glowed faintly against Tyrin's pale skin, with white accents that seemed to shimmer like snow in motion.

"Perfect… I hope."

Karin stepped back and looked at him. Tyrin appeared drained, but still alive. She knew he wouldn't understand the weight of what she had done for him—or for herself. This mark wasn't just a symbol of his submission to the empire. It was a lie, one that could cost them everything if discovered.

She cleaned the tools and prepared to leave, but before stepping away, she whispered:

"Kid, you have no idea what burden you just took on. I hope you're up to it because I've put everything on the line. You're my only way out. Don't let me down."

When Tyrin finally woke up, he would no longer be the ordinary boy from Helheim 74B. He would be something more. The mark on his chest would tell the world he was a survivor, a future Astra… but also a walking lie.

"Fridaaa!!!!"

Tyrin's eyes shot open, his heart racing, his body flooded with adrenaline that briefly made him forget where he was. As he looked around, he found himself in a white room, illuminated by soft artificial lights. The sterile atmosphere only reinforced the feeling that he didn't belong there.

His first instinct was to get up, but a strange discomfort coursed through his body. It was only then that he realized—he was completely naked.

Before he could react, he heard soft laughter. Turning his head quickly, he saw two women standing at the door.

"No need to worry, champ, we've seen it all. And I must say… you've got nothing to be embarrassed about," said the first woman with a mischievous smile and a look that made him blush all the way to the tips of his ears.

Trying to cover himself with the thin sheet, he mumbled something inaudible, but the second woman cut in before the first could say more.

"Please leave the boy alone. He just went through the introduction, and that's traumatizing enough." The second woman's demeanor was more serious, almost maternal. She shot a disapproving look at her sister before approaching Tyrin. "Apologies for her behavior. We're here to ensure you're alright. Nothing more."

Despite her reassuring words, Tyrin still felt his face burning with embarrassment. He tried to cover himself better as he observed the two. They were incredibly alike—delicate features, flawless hair, and piercing eyes—but their contrasting personalities were evident. One seemed to mock everything, while the other maintained a serious and professional demeanor.

"Sorry for the unusual checks, but we need to verify that there weren't any unexpected mutations. Rare, but… not impossible, you know?" the more serious woman explained, picking up a strange device and walking toward Tyrin.

"No one told me about that possibility," he muttered, feeling his discomfort deepen. He wasn't fully aware of what they'd done to him while he was unconscious, but he was beginning to suspect it was far more invasive than a simple medical procedure.

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"Of course they didn't. Who likes sharing the most horrifying details, right? Welcome to the real world, darling," the mischievous woman teased, tossing her hair back and laughing softly.

Tyrin rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, seriously, where am I? And can I leave? I need to talk to someone… someone important."

The mischievous woman raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Ooooh, let me guess. She's your… girlfriend or something?"

"Stop it," the other woman said, shooting a deadly glare at her sister. "The person he wants to speak with was probably already sent to the satellite planet. Mothership rules—you know how it works."

The mention of a "satellite planet" left Tyrin confused. He frowned, trying to understand what that meant. "Satellite planet? What do you mean? Where was she sent?"

The serious woman sighed deeply before answering. "Satellite planets are smaller bases used to house auxiliaries, technicians, and those without direct combat roles. They're usually sent there because… well, they're out of the way."

Her words hit Tyrin hard. He knew that the person he was looking for—someone who had risked so much to stand by his side—now seemed farther away than ever. A wave of guilt and frustration washed over him, but he didn't let it show. There was no time for regrets. He had to keep moving forward.

"You're clearly well enough to get up. Get dressed, and let's move. We've wasted enough time," the serious woman said, returning to her professional demeanor.

Before Tyrin could respond, the other woman tossed a pile of clothes at him with a sly grin. "Here are your clothes. Come on, boy, get dressed quickly. Oh, and be careful—we don't want you distracting anyone along the way, okay?"

Tyrin ignored the comment and began dressing quickly, avoiding looking at the two as he did so. The discomfort was palpable, but he knew he needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. He still didn't fully understand what was happening, but he felt that every lost minute put him at greater risk.

"Alright. I'm dressed. Where to now?" he asked, straightening his shirt with quick, tense movements.

"Follow me. I'll take you to the main deck. There, you'll meet representatives from your planet. Be ready—it might be… intense." The serious woman nodded and opened the door.

The walk was silent. Tyrin followed the two women through endless corridors, their white, cold lights casting long shadows on the metallic walls. Despite the ship's size, everything seemed efficient, straightforward, and functional. The silence was only broken by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional hum of the machinery keeping the ship operational.

Eventually, they reached a floating platform suspended in midair—a technology Tyrin couldn't fully comprehend. He hesitated for a moment before stepping on it, but the women encouraged him with a gesture.

"Trust the technology, kid. This thing never fails," the mischievous woman said, winking at him.

The platform quickly took them to a larger section of the ship. As they moved, Tyrin looked around, trying to take in his surroundings. He had never seen anything this advanced on his home planet. It was like stepping into a completely different world.

When they arrived, the serious woman gestured toward a massive door. "Here we are. When you step through this door, you'll see where you are and what awaits you. Good luck. I hope we meet again… but not too soon."

Before Tyrin could thank her or respond, the two women disappeared back the way they had come. He took a deep breath, placed his hand on the door, and as it abruptly opened, he was immediately greeted by a powerful voice.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally woke up. You've arrived just in time. Get ready to descend; we're approaching the first stop. I hope it's not your last."

The Baron's voice echoed down the narrow corridor of the ship. Tyrin blinked a few times, trying to understand where he was. His body still ached, as though every muscle had been torn apart and pieced back together. He barely had time to organize his thoughts before one of the Baron's assistants grabbed him and pulled him toward the preparation area. The ship's vibrations, growing stronger with each passing second, indicated they were about to enter the atmosphere of a planet.

Walking down the corridor with the other recruits, Tyrin saw the Baron standing before the ship's massive observation window. Behind him, a huge red planet dominated the view. Its surface seemed to pulse, as though the planet itself were alive—or decaying. Tyrin felt his stomach tighten. He knew something was terribly wrong.

Still confused, he approached one of the recruits nearby. The boy, with dark skin and a hardened expression, was adjusting something on his combat gear while keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"You didn't hear the Baron? Our first mission is about to begin," the boy said flatly.

Tyrin shook his head, frowning. "Sorry, I just woke up. I have no idea what's happening. What mission?"

The boy looked up, studying Tyrin for a moment, as if trying to assess whether he was worth the effort. After a brief silence, he gave a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"So you're the divergent… huh. Okay, I expected someone… bigger, I guess."

The response left Tyrin even more confused. He tried pressing for more information, but the boy raised a hand, signaling for him to wait. The ship jolted violently, causing several recruits to stumble. Lights flickered along the walls, and a robotic voice announced their entry into the planet's atmosphere.

As everyone grabbed onto whatever they could for balance, the boy turned back to Tyrin, his expression now serious.

"Oh, I forgot to answer your second question. Our mission is simple… DON'T DIE."

Tyrin was too nervous to process much else. He knew that if the Baron's command boiled down to "don't die," the task ahead would be far beyond anything he could imagine. It would be brutal, merciless, and designed to push them past limits they didn't even know they had.

As he tried to collect his thoughts, Tyrin noticed the agitation around him. The other recruits, some staring blankly into the void, others laughing nervously, seemed to react differently to the mounting pressure. He gripped the rusty pistol he had been given, feeling its awkward weight in his hands. "How am I supposed to survive with this?" he thought, staring at the weapon that looked more like an antique than a functional tool.

Before he could sink further into his anxiety, a movement caught his attention. A mechanical sound echoed down the corridor, and from one of the side passages emerged something that looked like it had stepped out of a technological nightmare.

An Astra, fully equipped, entered the room. Its gleaming, bulky armor made it look more machine than human.

The Astra's footsteps thundered against the metallic floor, and all eyes turned toward it. It was impossible not to feel small in the presence of such an imposing figure, whose very presence seemed to crush the air around them.

"Attention, recruits. My name is Calandriel A-27. Welcome to 78A." The metallic voice reverberated through the room. "We will be infiltrating Moon 78A of the planet Dovos. Our landing zone will be north of the Vex Military Station, approximately 10 kilometers away. The territory is entirely hostile."

A murmur spread among the recruits but was quickly silenced when Calandriel stepped forward. "Quiet. We are not here to train you; we are here to test you. You have weapons and, for a lucky few, functional genetic support. But remember: there is no mercy in the field. Good luck."

Tyrin's heart raced. He looked down at the rusty pistol in his hand, then back at the Astra, whose advanced armor seemed like something out of a science fiction tale. "How do they expect me to survive with this?" he thought, swallowing hard as he tried to convince himself he'd find a way.