Bad Born Blood - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“Sealing away the self you want to protect, keeping it deep inside. Even ordinary people without mental control training sometimes forget memories or develop split personalities due to a shock. In our case, we’re doing it consciously.”

Ilray explained additionally. My expression grew even darker.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand the theory. But it didn’t seem like something I could actually do. The mind doesn’t divide neatly like the body. If control slipped even a little, it would collapse, merging together like a fluid.

“That it’s possible… Damn, if you’re saying it, it must be possible.”

I sighed.

“Luka, when we smile, the brain thinks something happy is happening even when there’s nothing happy going on. Our brain’s simpler than you’d think. If you try to fool it, it can be fooled. Psychological evaluations only probe as far as surface-level consciousness.”

“So, how do you do it?”

Ilray paused briefly, then spoke.

“You condition your behavior and thinking patterns, like brainwashing yourself to be a loyal soldier of the Empire. Living as if you’re playing the part of that loyal soldier. Then, the self of a loyal soldier starts overlaying your surface consciousness. What starts as fake becomes real. The brain follows our actions and forms its thoughts based on them.”

Repeated acting influences the mind until the brain believes the character it’s performing is real.

The more I heard, the more plausible it seemed. It didn’t seem impossible.

“What’s the catch?”

“If you keep that fake self too long, it gets harder to remove, and the original self sinks deep beneath the subconscious. Like a chest rusting shut at the bottom of the sea. Even if it’s opened, it becomes impossible to separate from the fake self it’s fused with.”

“Calling it fake or real—both are real, in truth, so it makes sense.”

Ilray nodded in agreement to my words.

“You catch on quickly, as expected.”

“Where did you learn all this?”

“From books and data from other countries. Especially Bellato—there are interesting old records there. Records from humanity’s time living on Earth.”

That made sense. The Bellato Federation is descended from those who remained on Earth until the end.

“Luka, I started imitating my father a couple of months before the selection exam. He’s the most loyal soldier I know. Every morning after waking up, I’d mention one of the past emperors by name and offer a prayer of thanks…”

Ilray described his own method. I listened to him, then thought for a moment. It didn’t seem as hard as I expected.

‘No need to imitate anyone else.’

All I had to do was act like my past self. Back then, I had scored high on the psychological evaluations.

Someone who held no suspicion toward the Empire, who felt only hatred at any subversive talk…

The taste in my mouth went bitter for no reason. I was reminded once again of how much I had changed.

“Thanks for the advice.”

“No need to thank me. Whatever you’re up to, be careful, Luka.”

“To think a day would come when I’d hear that from you.”

A sigh escaped me.

“You’re not a noble like me, so you don’t have any background protection. You need to be even more careful than I do.”

It wasn’t sarcasm. Ilray was genuinely worried about me.

If manipulation of the psychological evaluation was discovered, Ilray, coming from a prestigious family, would somehow manage.

But for me, that would be the end. I’d be stripped of my prosthetic limbs and left on the streets, or worse, dragged off to some place not on any map and forced into labor until death.

Turning my back on Ilray, I simply raised my hand in farewell, saying nothing.

* * *

It didn’t take long to establish my external self. All I needed to do was project my past self in its entirety. The past, after all, wasn’t drastically different from who I was now.

Even if I took a psychological evaluation now, my score wouldn’t come out that low.

‘The problem is that my score was excessively high in the past.’

The higher-ups would look at my lowered score and conclude it was an early symptom of ideological contamination.

First, I cut off all contact with Ilray. Understanding the reason, he didn’t bother reaching out to me either. Among the people I knew, Ilray was the most anti-Empire type.

However, I couldn’t skip out on my meetings and training with Kinuan. I made an effort to ensure I wasn’t affected by him in any negative way. Thankfully, Kinuan never mentioned anything about what had happened at the orphanage. He acted as though it had never occurred, treating me normally.

Sometimes, Kinuan would take me down to the lower districts, mostly for training. Today was one of those days.

“Luka, you have twenty seconds. Subdue everyone inside.”

Kinuan spoke in front of an ominous-looking building in the lower district. He gave no further explanation.

Whirr.

I raised the output of my prosthetic limbs to a suitable level. The faint vibrations from the mechanisms reached even the biological parts of my body.

Clunk.

The door handle at the entrance wouldn’t budge. It was locked from the inside. But that didn’t matter to me.

Crack!

The grip strength of my prosthetics could rip through sheet metal. I twisted the handle, breaking the lock to pieces. At the same time, I kicked open the door to get a clear view.

Alright, time to begin.

I pushed my focus to the limit. I forced all the information within my field of vision directly into my brain, like a dried sponge soaking up water.

When humans concentrate, their field of vision naturally narrows. But I expanded my field of view even as I heightened my focus. This was the sensory perception expansion unique to the Akies combat techniques.

Throb, throb.

A headache was already starting to set in.

‘The gang’s office.’

The gang members were lounging around the rundown office in a messy sprawl. On a wall display, a video of a man and woman in a lewd scene was playing, and scattered below it were data chips, lying around carelessly.

At the table sat three gang members absorbed in a card game. One gang member was lying on a bed, his eyes glazed as if he were under the influence of drugs. Another was slumped on a torn-up couch, watching the explicit video. There was also someone in the bathroom—I could sense movement there.

I’d somewhat expected the place to be full of gang members. Even before opening the door, I’d faintly caught the smell of gunpowder and the distinct bitterness of energy weapons.

Not even a second had passed yet.

My observations were complete. Next was insight. Then, the judgment.

I assessed their appearances, the atmosphere, the state of their weapons to gauge the threat level and set my priorities. My mental organization was complete.

Like a tightly drawn bowstring, I released my restrained combat reflexes. I was trained to react to any threat.

Crack!

I lowered myself and kicked off the ground. The concrete floor beneath me split apart as if it had been torn.

The distance between the gang member with the shotgun and me rapidly closed.

“Huh, huh?!”

To him, it would appear that as soon as the door opened, I’d closed the gap. His mind was momentarily blank. Without even finishing his judgment, he couldn’t enter a combat stance.

Clang!

I flicked the barrel of his gun upward with my fingers, making it shoot up. As his arm followed, his chest was left wide open.

Crunch!

My fist struck his chest with a powerful blow. Just below his skin was a gel layer meant to absorb impact, replacing the dermis layer. I’d anticipated this from the way his chest looked as if it were filled with liquid.

However, it didn’t fully absorb the impact of my punch. His back curved forward like a shrimp.

The gang member’s eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, though his fingers remained tightly locked around the gun thanks to the mechanical lock.

Crack!

I twisted his fingers back, breaking them. As his fingers extended beyond their range of motion, they snapped one by one.

Swish!

I caught the falling shotgun and aimed it to the right. I didn’t need to look; I already knew where the enemy was. Every detail was clear in my mind. In my brain, the surroundings and enemies appeared like a three-dimensional map.

With no one yet moving properly, there were no variables to worry about.

My right arm, now holding the shotgun, began to change. The sound of mechanical components locking in place came from my elbow, and the joints grew stiff, as if poorly oiled.

Bang!

I fired the shotgun one-handed, without even bracing it against my shoulder. My locked elbow absorbed the recoil entirely. This was why high-end prosthetics were worth their price—small auxiliary features like these came in handy.

Clink!

The shotgun shell ejected stylishly, leaving a faint trail of heat in its wake.

“Aaagh! My haaand—!!”

A sharp scream filled the air. After the shot, I glanced to confirm the target.

The bullet I’d fired had blown off the hand of the gang member lying on the bed. Since it was a biological limb, bits of flesh and blood splattered everywhere. White bone stuck out pathetically from the torn stump of his wrist.

“What the hell! Shit! Shit!”

Finally, the other gang members began to react. It was only after two of them had already gone down.

Bang!

The first shot aimed at me came three seconds later. The gang member who had been watching the explicit video belatedly pulled the trigger. His pants weren’t even pulled up yet, leaving his lower body exposed in a humiliating way.

“D-die, dammit! Just die!”

The panicked gang member frantically fired off several more shots.

I tilted my head to dodge the bullets, looking at him with a dull expression. They were all pathetically incompetent. For people who made their living through violence, I hadn’t expected them to be so sloppy.

In his panic, his shots missed even if I stood still. I didn’t even need to dodge. This kind of shooting was absurd.

I fired back. The guy was wearing chest armor, so he wouldn’t die from it.

Bang!

The gang member flew back, crashing into the wall display. The screen shattered, and the woman’s moans mixed with static before fading out.

That was it for the armed gang members. The rest were only equipped with knives and stun batons. Naturally, they trembled at the sight of me holding a shotgun.

Looking at those idiots, I felt like it’d be a waste of ammo.

“If you don’t want the limbs you’ve saved penny by penny to get smashed, knock yourselves out.”

One gang member holding a stun baton hesitated, then jabbed it at his own jaw. The others followed, picking up the fallen batons without prompting and doing the same. They collapsed one by one, emitting faint smoke.

The grotesque farce had come to an end. I looked at the bathroom for the last remaining trace of movement.

‘All that’s left is the suspicious presence in the bathroom…’

I frowned deeply. The moment I focused, I realized that the sounds and smells coming from inside were off-putting. The faint moans of a woman and… a stench I’d rather not imagine entered my mind, stirring unwanted thoughts.

“Damn bastards…”

I was exercising a significant amount of patience right now. I wanted nothing more than to crush the skulls of these gang members lying at my feet.

Creak.

I opened the bathroom door.

Inside, a woman dressed in nothing but tattered rags was trembling violently. Chains from her shackles were bolted firmly to the wall, and dry traces of blood remained on her upper lip from repeated nosebleeds. Between her legs and beneath her feet, the lingering filth and odor of abuse had settled, clinging to the floor.

Grit.

I clenched my teeth, and the doorknob I was holding crumbled in my grip.

Clang!

I grabbed the chain embedded in the wall and ripped it out. It had been there for so long that rust had begun to eat away at parts of it.

I looked at the woman. Her cognitive abilities seemed severely impaired. She couldn’t even speak properly. She retreated to the far corner of the bathtub like a wild animal, letting out only dull, guttural sounds.

“Well done, good boy. Took you about twelve seconds.”

Kinuan entered behind me, speaking at last. I answered him without even looking.

“Can’t we just kill these bastards?”

Kinuan squinted as he took in the state of the bathroom. He’d also noticed the woman.

“These scum, repulsive as they are, still have their uses. We’re outsiders here. Overstepping and disrupting the order of this area would be unwise.”

“Order… for this sort of lowlife…”

I started to speak but then closed my mouth. I felt lightheaded—too far from calm. I needed to cool down.

“There are plenty of people in this world who lack the means to protect themselves, including this woman. Without power, this is what happens. Isn’t that something you understand well?”

Kinuan took off his outer garment and draped it over the woman’s shoulders. For a brief moment, a glint of emotion flickered in his eyes.

‘Does Kinuan know her?’

It might have just been my imagination. How could anyone speak so calmly if they saw an acquaintance reduced to this state?

This woman had suffered because she lacked strength. I had clawed my way up to avoid a life like hers, fighting with everything I had to reach this point.

Normally, I’d have looked at a woman like her with contempt, thinking she was a fool who failed to seize the opportunities the Empire offered.

But seeing her up close now, I couldn’t find it in myself to judge. All I felt was pity for her, and anger—anger at the grotesque, unjust structure of this society.

It was disorienting. The mental state I’d locked down to pass the psychological evaluations was coming undone.

“I’ll head out first.”

I tossed aside the shotgun and stepped outside.