The times were advancing at a speed no one could have anticipated. From history textbooks, people knew that in the extremely distant ancient interstellar era, humanity had not yet differentiated into the three ABO categories and six sexes. There had only been “men” and “women.” Nor had people lived on the planet they inhabited now. Historians could no longer trace the mother planet that had first nurtured humanity. All they could do was reconstruct, from surviving records, the projection of an azure planet as beautiful as crystal.
Before the beginning of the New Era, people called that period the “Ancient Age.” At the time, the mother planet had just suffered an unknown catastrophe, and its living environment deteriorated rapidly. Governments across the world joined forces to transport people aboard starships to the second mother planet where humanity now lived, Planet Oum. There had not been many survivors of the terrible disaster who made it to the new planet in the first place. While confronting unfamiliar plants and animals, food, water and soil, and pathogens, humanity also discovered to its despair that creatures once seen only in movies existed on the neighboring planets—the insect race.
They were exactly as humans had imagined: disgusting in appearance, man-eating, and warlike. The planets inhabited by the insects had extremely harsh environments. Planet Oum, surrounded by insect planets yet possessing a relatively healthy ecosystem, was probably something like their backyard—a place for laying eggs, drinking water, and the like.
Humanity only discovered this after landing on the planet.
Under immense pressure, national borders quickly lost their meaning. The heads of the various countries formed a council, and the countries joined in a confederation collectively known as the United Empire. Beyond political changes, the human body itself was forced to adapt to the new environment. People began building fortifications against the insect race. During that process, nearly half the survivors died from injuries and disease. By the time the defenses were initially completed and the council conducted a population count, they discovered to their grief that only one-third of the original survivors remained.
The councilors held meeting after meeting. While they were at a complete loss, humanity adapted to the brutal natural world and saved itself. Many people began developing extremely high fevers. At first, medical researchers believed it was some new infectious disease. Later, they discovered that after several days of inexplicable fever, the temperature would subside naturally—and ABO sex differentiation would occur.
There was no question that the newly born Alphas were natural warriors. Every Alpha was sent into the military without exception. Omegas, meanwhile, possessed natural fertility that instantly solved the urgent population crisis. Like queen ants, they were supported in the safest places on the entire planet, and their primary duty was to have as many children as possible.
Betas became the ones left behind by this evolutionary change—the “ordinary humans.” Because those who had evolved were still the minority, political power remained in Beta hands. Under the species-wide crisis, even if a sitting councilor who had once been the head of a nation differentiated into an Alpha, he would have to leave politics and join the military.
Under the crushing pressure of possible extinction, humanity became more united than ever before. Countless newly awakened Alphas died on the battlefield. Omegas, in order to produce children, voluntarily abandoned conventional morality for a time. The Beta majority worked day and night to build the defenses and keep the Empire’s production and operations running. Under that pressure, technological development reached the fastest pace in history.
Through humanity’s efforts, the situation gradually improved. Newborn children naturally differentiated into the ABO sexes. Once the population had barely stabilized, the Empire no longer demanded that Omegas continue sacrificing themselves. However, because the larger environment remained unstable, a standard one-Alpha, one-Omega marriage allocation system was mandatory. Alphas of that era treasured their Omegas like priceless jewels, while Omegas, honored as national heroes, enjoyed the finest resources in the Empire without complaint. But as technology advanced by leaps and bounds, the insect armies were stopped by Planet Oum’s solid defenses, the Empire’s population gradually stabilized, and the numbers of Alphas and Omegas increased…
Once the external threat was brought tentatively under control, the Alphas who possessed innate physical power naturally seized political authority. Beta influence within the council was gradually divided and weakened, and Omegas became a kind of “Alpha commodity.” When an Alpha general who had emerged from the battlefield became the Empire’s first emperor, the confederation transformed into a federation…
And the “New Era” began.
What followed was humanity’s counteroffensive against the insect race rather than mere defense. The two planets closest to Planet Oum were incorporated into the Empire and garrisoned by imperial troops. As the crisis subsided, the economy and culture gradually flourished. Great writers and artists sprang up one after another. Then came the Beta Declaration of Equality and the Omega human-rights revolution, as Omegas had by then been reduced to rare and precious playthings.
Although Alphas still firmly controlled the main line of power despite the impact of new ideas and waves of revolution, a full century of internal turmoil forced the increasingly arrogant Alpha population to face reality. Imperial power was reshuffled. The military came under Alpha control, while Betas and Omegas more commonly became politicians. Half the council consisted of military representatives and half of political officials, while the Emperor possessed veto power.
Omegas emerged from their former role as reproductive tools. Some became celebrities, some ordinary teachers, and others—owing to their naturally melancholy temperament—became artists. Omegas born into noble families and given advanced education were accepted into powerful institutions such as the council and the National Administration. Courses designed to train Omega mental strength were added from the beginning of elementary education, also allowing certain Omegas to fulfill their wish of going to the battlefield. Though their physical constitution meant they were born unable to confront enemy forces head-on, they could still distinguish themselves in logistics and command.
And now, in an age of excessive cultural prosperity and relative imperial peace, stories such as “Omega Conceals His Identity, Pretends to Be a Beta, Enters Military Academy, and Proves No Weaker Than an Alpha” and “After His Parents Are Murdered, Omega Has His Gland Removed, Vows to Slaughter the Insect Race, and Wins Glorious Military Honors” had quietly arisen online and swept across the interstellar network… The plots combined maximum thrills with maximum melodrama, while logic and science were both fed straight to the dogs.
With imitation becoming so widespread, the Empire was forced to classify “surgical gland removal” as a criminal act. The relevant judicial interpretation cited an authoritative medical assessment: gland-removal surgery was extraordinarily dangerous and carried numerous high-risk complications; the postoperative survival rate was below fifteen percent. Furthermore, after gland removal, the patient would remain permanently weak to a degree that qualified as a disability.
In other words, apart from no longer going into heat, an Omega whose gland had been removed would not gain anything at all. Their physical condition would instead become far worse than before. Although the numbers of ABO populations had stabilized in recent years, Omegas remained a minority, and the Empire absolutely prohibited unnecessary loss of life. In reality, most well-educated Omegas merely laughed at such stories and, at most, flipped through this sort of wish-fulfillment fiction in their spare time for entertainment.
Many civilian Omegas, however, were fanatical about them. Combined with the agitation and encouragement of certain muddleheaded human-rights organizations, the trend of Omegas joining the military inspired by online fiction remained wildly popular for a surprisingly long time.
…Faan simply had not expected his own younger brother to be into that sort of thing too.
–
I, Orr Ansehaiwei Nikelan, am eighteen years old, a prospective student of Hain Military Academy’s 250th class, designation: Alpha.
My goal is perfectly clear: enter the number-one military academy in the entire interstellar world, graduate and go directly into an imperial military base, request reassignment to the front lines, earn military honors there, and restore the glory of my father and mother. Then—I will meet an Omega who shares my ideals (in logistics, or somewhere else). Amid the flames of war, we will pledge ourselves to each other for life. When our service ends, we will retire together, return to the homeland we protected, settle down in peace, and stay together for the rest of our lives.
So far, my life has proceeded perfectly according to plan. My first goal of entering the finest military academy in the interstellar world has already been achieved. The next step is to prepare for entering a military base and going to war.
Once the holiday ends, I will enter “Hain.” I am extremely satisfied with my current circumstances. If there is anything in my meticulously planned life that has gone beyond my expectations…
“Hey, dear little brother. You should finish your midday workout now. Overtraining will damage your muscles instead!”
…Yes. It has to be my older brother. That damned Omega who looks as though he was poured straight out of an ancient Omega mold: Faan Ansehaiwei Nikelan!
His older brother, Faan, eldest son of a prince from the Empire’s greatest age, was curled softly in a plush armchair and beckoning him over to enjoy the plate of chicken-and-vegetable salad on the coffee table. The uneven cuts in the chicken strips were clearly the result of someone preparing them by hand. The vegetables were beautifully colored too: deep green leaves mixed with plump, tender yellow corn kernels, all topped with thick dressing…
Orr’s forearm muscles bulged as he braced himself against the mechanical lever. His stern face showed not the slightest expression. Only one corner of his mouth dipped faintly when he heard his brother, revealing a trace of concealed disdain. He looked as if he would reject the invitation in the very next second, but when the corner of his eye caught the neatly arranged chicken salad on the coffee table, his movement paused for several seconds. In the end, he shoved the mechanical lever upward with force.
The nimble, intelligent machine made no harsh noise despite the rough treatment. The weighted lever smoothly retracted into the mechanical panel overhead with the force of his push, and the resistance machine locked itself automatically. From beginning to end, it made less noise than its owner did when he strode over to the coffee table and dropped heavily into an armchair.
A neatly folded, clean damp towel was offered to him at just the right moment. Orr originally wanted to push Faan’s hand away, but most of his clothes were already soaked through with sweat. Even more sweat covered his face and would probably start dripping from his chin onto the sofa in another moment—and this sofa was one of Faan’s favorite chairs, because its cushions were entirely handmade and embroidered with extraordinarily fine, beautiful flowers—so he took the towel, wiped his head and face carelessly, then draped it around his neck.
It was not because he cherished any object his dear brother loved. The last time he had come out of the training room exhausted to death, he had casually picked a chaise, lain down, and fallen asleep. When he woke, he found Faan sitting not far away, staring fixedly at him. Before Orr could even speak, Faan had dragged that long, sweat-soaked chaise away, panting every three steps. Orr later heard that cleaning the silk upholstery was extremely troublesome. His delicate brother had been forced to give up the chaise and then shut himself in his room and sobbed for three whole days.
For those three days, the old butler who had cared for them since childhood did not give Orr a single bite of meat.
…Thinking back, that chaise he had randomly chosen really had been damned soft!
