I have to carry Uncle Brandon back to the pirate ship, but Uncle grabs me, points at his opponent who is walking toward us, and says to me, “Go, kill him! Use the method I usually teach you!” I shake my head timidly, “No, I can’t…” Uncle shoves me forward, “You can!” I stumble to the man. He’s wearing an agility exosuit that’s been modified twice, with a badge of the Zeus Shield Security Company engraved on his chest plate. Looks like he’s a bodyguard hired for this ship—Zeus Shield Security Company is ranked fourteenth in the universe, a big name. Could their security personnel really be defeated by a thirteen-year-old like me? My legs are shaking. Through his mask, I seem to see his confident eyes and a mocking, upturned mouth. He charges at me with a laser blade, the glowing blade spinning twice in his hand. I look back at Uncle Brandon; he’s already passed out, blood from his back flowing all over the deck. I remember how Uncle Brandon has always taken care of me, and how he got hurt just now to save me. I grit my teeth—this is it!

Uncle Brandon usually taught me martial arts. He made me practice every day carrying a fifty-kilogram iron block, because he believed that weight was similar to wearing an exosuit, so the moves trained under such conditions would be useful in real combat. The Zeus Shield security guy is already in front of me. He slashes down with his blade. I try to draw my magnetic cutter, but for some reason it’s stuck. Panicking, I step back and fall to the ground, just dodging his strike. I scramble toward Uncle Brandon. The man steps forward, raising his laser blade high and charging at me. I turn around and finally manage to draw my blade, but before I can stab, he crashes into me. The magnetic cutter plunges into his chest, blood flowing from the wound. His raised hands freeze, and he looks down in disbelief at the blade in his chest. I see the red light in the visor of his exosuit slowly dim and disappear. Looking at the magnetic cutter stuck in his chest, I’m so scared I drop the blade and fall to the ground, scrambling across the deck to Uncle Brandon, hoist him onto my back, and hurry back to the pirate ship in a panic.

My first pirate experience ended in such a messy but perfect way. That was the first time I killed someone. Later, I got 150 universe credits—according to our rules, the captain gets half the loot, the two gunners each get one and a half shares, and then everyone else gets loot based on the number and rank of enemies they kill. Usually, killing an ordinary soldier gets you one share, a level-two officer gets two shares, a level-three officer gets three shares, and so on. I was lucky—by sheer accident, I killed a level-three officer and got 150 universe credits. But Uncle Brandon’s injuries kept me from feeling happy—he was bedridden for two months. Uncle Brandon never saves money. Even though he always gets a lot, he either spends it on equipment or at the bar, never saving a cent. For two months, he couldn’t work, and I never got that lucky again. Each time, I could only pick on easy targets, and the money I got was just enough for the two of us to live on. Helplessly, with Uncle Brandon injured, I gave him all the nutritious food, and I had to make do with plain rice and vegetables. That first 150 universe credits? It was long gone, spent on Uncle Brandon’s medical bills.

Thinking back on that fight, I still get scared. I really was lucky. The magnetic cutter is an energy weapon, but it’s not as unstoppable as a lightsaber. For it to pierce his chest so easily, I really was lucky—or maybe that security guy was just unlucky and ended up with shoddy armor.

In a daze, I realize I’ve officially been a pirate for six years. Uncle Brandon is getting old, but I’ve grown into a real man! I’ve learned eighty percent of Uncle’s skills; the rest is just about putting them to use. In recent battles, I’ve already been able to kill level-three security officers on my own—by skill, not by dumb luck like the first time. That’s when something happened that changed my life.

Speaking of this, I have to mention an organization—the Pirate Alliance. The Pirate Alliance is a union of 485 pirate groups across the universe. Any new pirate not recognized by the Alliance isn’t accepted in the pirate world and can’t participate in any collective pirate actions. In Space Era year 511, humanity officially began space colonization, and in that same year, the Pirate Alliance was founded. Thirty years later, the Alliance saw the huge profits in underground boxing and organized the All-Pirate Alliance Underground Boxing Tournament, attracting countless wealthy spectators from every star system. The Alliance’s underground boxing has now been running for 110 years. According to the original rules, every pirate group must send at least one person to participate in the tournament to keep it going. Every year, the Pirate Alliance makes a fortune from underground boxing, and no pirate captain wants to give up this gold mine. Every year, countless pirates fall in the ring, never to rise again.