'Technology Consul Gladiia, before we proceed with the surgery, I am authorized to ask: Would you like to keep a sample of your original genes?' Little Handy nimbly extends its mechanical arm, and through its speaker comes the voice of the researcher in charge of the surgery. The Consul looks up at the faces of the Ægir in the remote operation room. Many of these researchers are elites she hand-picked from the Academy of Technology—capable, experienced, and loyal to both the Ægir people and every dome under the tides. Now, these elites look back at their Consul through the mirror, made from the same material as the domes, and purse their lips. Since asking her the question, none have spoken; some even turn away from the gaze of their Consul. As a Consul, social rationality is usually the only philosophical instrument Gladiia needs to analyze the behaviors of others. Born in the sea, the Ægir never display meaningless behavior, so at this moment, she is particularly curious about the silence of her fellow people. Is it reverence, fear, or sadness? Or perhaps it is guilt and relief all at once, that the person who has to sacrifice their body to merge with the Sea Born and save all of Ægir is not them? She knows she will not get the answer now, and will have no need for it once the surgery is complete. She remembers when the Academy of Science attempted to develop a batch of artificial organisms injected with Sea Born neuro-cells. These organisms were intended to mimic Sea Born activities in a controlled environment, aiding the Ægir in understanding those abominations. To achieve this, they had to be both loyal servants of the Ægir and establish a limited connection with the Sea Born and their clan. She recalls that the project, which initially made huge progress, ended in tragedy. As cell integration reached a critical point, the organisms were quickly assimilated by the Sea Born and devoured the entire research team. The Sea Patrol had no choice but to call off the rescue and obliterate the entire research facility from the sea bed with their battleship. She also remembers her mother, Horatia, being a staunch supporter of that radical project. They had even debated over it. Now, Gladiia herself is about to partake in an even more radical experiment, with several failed attempts and dead subjects before her already. The first Hunter of Ægir once said that the Abyssal Hunters would not repeat the failure of the artificial organisms because they are not slaves, but warriors who command the tides. The abyss may claim my body, but I still belong to Ægir. 'Scissors.' The Consul's order is curt. Little Handy extends its other limb, and thin blades protrude from its end. She holds out a lock of light golden hair and lets the blades close around it. When the surgery is complete, the blood of the Sea Born will change the color of her hair. 'Store this for me. I will claim it back after the surgery.'