Data Synchronization Progress: 65%
Under sibilant waves, you sleep peacefully in the murky depths.
Damn it!
It's fine, just a rock.
With the exclamation "Damn it" and a violent jolt, you drift hazily to consciousness and open your eyes.
A slightly warm hand rests against your forehead.
You glance around and quickly realize you're lying in the back seat of a vehicle.
Ahead is the passenger seat, where a strand of red hair peeks through the gap—the hair belonging to the owner of the hand on your forehead.
You just experienced another "memory restart" at the ruins, but fortunately, you still remember the last few words that Construct "Hound" said to you.
Mom, that person's awake.
Shh... don't disturb them.
Only now do you notice the two other people in the back seat with you—the rear space is normally quite roomy, but they've given up much of it to ensure they don't accidentally press on your wounds.
The mother and daughter huddle together in the corner, and at the little girl's announcement, everyone's gaze turns toward you.
Hound withdraws their hand and turns around from the front passenger seat.
...You're one tough cookie. You've been running a fever and sleeping for a solid 4 hours. I was worried you'd passed out for good.
We got lucky. Everyone was rescued by this... person.
Vera is typically sharp-tongued, yet for some reason, her finger hovers in midair as she points to the driver's seat, unable to find an appropriate pronoun to introduce their rescuer.
I'm just an old lady. My age is what it is, there's no need to search for some youthful term to address me.
Woof!
Yep, just call me Granny Wang.
This here's a cargo pickup, and the truck bed's already half-filled with people. You folks are really something, managing to get this many people out of a place like that.
She appears to be an elderly woman in her seventies, sporting an extravagant silver-white perm, sharply defined tattooed eyebrows, and flaming-red lipstick.
The small dog, which should have been wearing a seatbelt in the passenger seat—is a common pet breed from the Golden Age. It has brown, coffee-colored curly fur that resembles a ball of fleece.
Now that Vera has taken its seat, the dog stands proudly on her lap, showing off like it owns the place.
Woof!
Vera seems to be tolerating it.
It's a "Sheepdog."
I was just passing through. If it weren't for this little fella, I wouldn't have gone anywhere near the bombing zone, much less found you folks. Go on, say "thank you" to the sheepdog.
Your gaze secretly shifts toward Granny Wang's hand—
A heavy sniper rifle comes into view, secured at an angle near the hand brake, perfectly positioned for Granny Wang to grab with a quick stretch.
Noticing your shocked expression, she turns her head slightly to look back and, surprisingly, gives you a wink.
This rifle's been with me for many years. During the Punishing Virus outbreak, I traded a house at W Beach for it. It was premium real estate, mind you.
A mixture of surprise and joy fills you, but more than anything, a fog of confusion clouds your mind.
Before they can ask for more details, the red-haired Construct hands over your terminal.
You should check your notes from the past few days first. Everything you want to know is recorded there—I haven't looked at them because I can't even access the device, so there's no need to worry about any tampering.
You unlock your terminal and start browsing through it. Meanwhile, Granny Wang takes the initiative to explain the situation.
I heard the Construct's explanation about you. You're a student from F.O.S. College in Babylonia who came down here, and you've suffered a head injury. I'm sure you're not familiar with this area.
As for me... I was a soldier stationed in this area during the Punishing Virus outbreak. I watched with my own eyes as this place transformed from a metropolis into ruins, and then gradually saw people return to rebuild it.
A few days ago, I heard about a batch of Corrupted behaving unusually, acting more aggressively than ever before and spreading much faster. They've been affecting the nearby conservation areas, so I decided to bring my shepherd dog around to check things out.
And that's how I stumbled across you folks—I almost thought there was no one left in that area, but then my shepherd dog discovered you. Seems I came at just the right time.
Pleased with herself, Granny Wang lets out a cheerful, rising whistle.
It's not about waking up early, but waking up at the right moment. We've been racing down this road for several hours now and have just arrived at the nearest safe conservation area, the place where I'm usually stationed.
See that up ahead? That's the place, Conservation Area 062.
As Granny Wang finishes her brief introduction, the truck passes several stationed personnel waving for them to stop. A few refugees pause in their tracks to look at the pickup truck that has, once again, brought back a cabin full of survivors.
Granny Wang smoothly applies the brakes, bringing the late Golden Age cargo pickup to a steady stop in front of an area of hastily constructed refugee shelters. She gestures toward the door.
Congratulations, everyone. You've temporarily outrun the spreading disaster. You can rest for a while now.
Get out of the truck.
After speaking, Granny Wang glances at the small box in the your arms.
About that thing you're holding, my guess is you'll probably need to talk to someone about it.
The conservation area houses far more refugees than expected. Vera grips your hand tightly as you follow Granny Wang into the shelter camp, pushing through the dense crowd.
You, whose memory has "rebooted" once again, has already reviewed your notes from the past few days and grasped the general situation.
The refugees rescued and brought back by Granny Wang have already scattered throughout the area—or as Vera puts it, "Finally got rid of the trash clinging to us."
But the box that you insist is important proved to be somewhat problematic. Granny Wang had someone examine the markings on it, and they're quickly directed to find the conservation area's "acting administrator."
Stop causing trouble and stay close to me.
With your face wrapped in bandages, you are led through the crowded mass of people. The unfamiliar glances and noisy chatter pressing in from all sides only intensifies the persistent ache in your skull.
The Construct ahead notices the problem right away. She eases her grip slightly and pulls you closer to her side.
Everyone here just had their homeland destroyed. Desperate people will do extreme things. Don't listen, don't look, don't get involved, and don't reveal where you're from. Otherwise, I'll leave you here to fend for yourself.
Give me that box, too.
You refuse Vera's demand, staring at the few drops of dried blood on the box handle. Something tells you that the box is safest in your own hands.
Then you'd better pray no one thinks there's something valuable inside.
Here we are, Kent. This is the student.
Granny Wang lifts a thick curtain, shutting out the cold air as she gives you a gentle push forward.
Excellent! You actually brought them back!
The worried-looking man inside hurries to his feet, but stops short when he sees you standing there all alone.
...Where are the people we sent out? Why has only one sample returned?
This is an ungraduated student from F.O.S. College. I'm afraid your Task Force members and the researchers who went with them won't be coming back.
...
This can't be... What happened out there?
This is [player name], an honors student from F.O.S. College. I am "Hound," their accompanying Construct. This class of F.O.S. students was originally carrying out field training in Conservation Area 059, but afterwards... well, as you can see, some students became separated.
We encountered an unusual Corrupted attack about 4 hours drive from here. Before that area was bombed, my Commandant met another student who had also become separated from the main group. He passed this box to us.
My Commandant didn't encounter any other personnel from the regular Task Force. I'm afraid they were all killed before reaching the bombing zone. As for the researcher you mentioned... You should confirm the name. If it's this person, I can verify that she is deceased.
Vera hands a name tag to Kent.
This is her name tag. I tore it off myself.
...
Judging by your reaction, that's her alright.
Vera places the tag in Kent's palm, then gestures toward the small box in your hands.
Now I need to know what this "sample" is that someone risked their life to bring it back.
Well...
At this point, I advise against hiding anything. The disaster outside is still spreading. Hurry up, being indecisive is a luxury we no longer have.
—Report complete.
Vera speaks with crisp efficiency and stands ramrod straight, enough to draw an inquisitive look even from Granny Wang.
You recall a detail recorded in your terminal—Vera has always been a soldier so exemplary that "paragon" would be an understatement, having adapted to this lifestyle from a very young age.
You're in charge of this conservation area. You should know what's going on. Explain yourself.
After hearing the report, Kent dejectedly lowers his head.
...I'm not actually in charge of this conservation area. I'm just temporarily filling in—Granny Wang knows this too. The person in charge left with some people yesterday. He still hasn't...
Granny Wang frowns at these words and removes the sniper rifle from her shoulder.
How can there be no news? I'll go bring them back.
It's no use, Granny Wang... it's useless. If there was any chance of him coming back, I wouldn't be sitting here—everyone else just didn't have the time to tell you... and I was also afraid you wouldn't make it back either.
...
Granny Wang abruptly freezes, gun in hand, processing the news as an all-too-familiar sensation sinks into her body.
Now this whole mess is dumped in front of me, and I don't have any good solutions... Ugh, why did I have to be the one shouldering this burden?
He anxiously wipes his face, staring at the box in your hands.
Forget it, let's deal with the matter at hand first... I can tell you that this box contains a highly dangerous Punishing Virus sample.
This sudden Corrupted attack was more intense than ever before, and heavily concentrated in one area, so we suspect there are signs of "human intervention." In fact, it might be worse than we imagined.
Sure enough, researchers who went to the frontlines with the soldiers informed us that the Punishing Virus in this area has undergone an "evolutionary" mutation.
First, they traced the source of the mutated virus to a ground-level research facility that should have been operating normally. The staff were all personnel dispatched from Babylonia, but somehow the virus leaked out.
The cause of the leak is still unknown, but they discovered that someone left the research facility right before the virus leaked out. That person has now completely disappeared.
Vera suddenly feels a sense of déjà vu at the story, but can't immediately recall where she's encountered a similar situation before.
We have to go after them.
Leia left the moment she received the news.
Yes, we've already sent a Construct to find the person who left earlier, hoping to uncover some clues from them. She hasn't returned yet, but we're not just twiddling our thumbs either.
Our team continued deeper into the outbreak's epicenter to collect virus samples... but starting from the second day of the operation, we lost all contact with them.
Until today, based on the situation you just reported... it seems the samples were passed to a F.O.S. student who hadn't graduated yet, and then transferred to... you and your Construct here.
That's the situation. Everything has been incredibly rushed... everyone raced to their deaths... we don't even have time to mourn the fallen.
Kent feels unprecedented pressure in his role as "acting supervisor." He rubs his face over and over, as if trying to wipe away the anxiety and fear clinging to his face.
Finally, he looks at the few people who have journeyed so far to reach this place.
...I'm sorry, and thank you for your fearless efforts in bringing us the only anomalous virus sample.
I see some of you are injured. You should rest now and leave the sample with us. We still have some anti-inflammatory medicine that you can use.
Upon hearing those words, Vera nods, ready to relinquish her responsibilities.
Good, now we can finally complete this side mission...
You stop Kent's hand as he reaches for the box.
This place is at most a temporary shelter for refugees. We don't have any research capabilities here. I'll arrange for personnel to continue transporting the sample to the nearest base that can establish contact with Babylonia.
...
Upon hearing your concerns, Kent instinctively glances toward the crowds of refugees in the shelter outside.
Almost all of them are ordinary people who fled here from nearby areas. The majority are elderly, weak, sick, or injured. Anti-inflammatory and pain medications have become scarce commodities among them, worth their weight in gold.
At this moment, there is not a single candidate among them that can "escort the sample."
Granny Wang looks around, lets out a soft sigh, and steps forward.
I must remind everyone that the attack range of these abnormal Corrupted continues to expand. According to our established safety protocols, we should not only continue transporting this sample, but we should have already begun evacuating the conservation area.
So here's what we'll do: give me the sample, I'll escort it to the next base with my dog. However, the evacuation work will be on you...
Come back.
You stubbornly take another step forward, still clutching the box tightly in your arms.
Everyone's gaze turns toward you, especially Vera, who appears to be barely restraining herself.
Does F.O.S. College teach you how to jump out of the frying pan into the flames? That's so incredible, haha!
What do you know? You know what's going on out there, you know that doing this is practically suicide, yet you still insist on going?
Enough. No matter what you say, I won't let you—
Surely, you have to have someone else who can handle this right? There isn't enough medicine to go around, and that old hag keeps dumping more people into the shelter without even knowing who they are.
If you can't even handle something simple like this, you might as well just give me command... bunch of trash!
Huh? Who?
Faint cursing drifts from behind the curtain. A moment later, a young woman yanks it open, pulling a listless boy along with her. Behind them are the mother and daughter whom Madam Wang rescued.
The girl points to the F.O.S. College badge on her chest and barks orders:
This mother and daughter told me someone with the same badge as mine got into trouble and was brought back by that old hag, then brought directly here. Hand them over!
F.O.S. is a military academy directly under Babylonia's jurisdiction. Even if that student did something wrong on the surface, we should first—
You misheard me! I didn't say they "caused trouble," I said they "got into trouble"! They're hurt!
Get out of the way! Let me talk to her!
Huh? It's you?
Vanessa and Simon stop dead in their tracks, caught completely off guard. The three disheveled classmates just stand there, staring at each other, their F.O.S. badges glinting in each other's eyes.
...
What are YOU doing here?! Can't I ever catch a break from you?!
Five minutes later—
I see. It's all crystal clear now.
After hearing the rundown on the samples, Vanessa mulls it over for a moment before she makes her decision.
It's simple. From now on, everyone's doing as I say.
Alright, for those of us who are a little slow on the uptake, let me break it down again. We've got four things on our plate.
First, we need to get the refugees out of dodge. Second, we're playing the waiting game for that Construct called "Leia" to haul in the big boss. Third, we need to wrestle those life-saving test materials away from this clown.
Fourth, and this is the big one, the anomalous virus samples have to be whisked away to the closest conservation area or research institute that can actually handle them.
Madam Wang will handle the first two tasks, while our F.O.S. forces need to focus all their energy on getting those samples safely escorted. Then, to top it all off, we'll retrieve the special materials from that one's abdomen. This is our best bet.
Didn't you just call me an old hag, kiddo?
Are we all on the same page here?
Got it!
Understood.
Simon coughs twice, clearly worse for wear. His body is a mess of wounds, and his wrist is in a cast.
Vanessa gives you another once-over, a look that could curdle milk.
So even the bottom of the barrel can use their brains once in a while.
This bleeding pile of junk dares to talk back?
And you over there, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you, right?
...
When Vanessa hauled Simon into the room, Vera melted away, only to pop back up after changing her look.
Madam Wang didn't miss a beat. She didn't call her out, just gave a slight eyebrow raise.
I thought you'd cook up a better plan, but it's still the same suicide run.
I get it, you couldn't stand the thought of my little Commandant hogging all the "glory." Even knowing this mission would likely get you killed, you just had to stick your nose in.
What I want to ask is—is it worth it? Are reputation and honor really worth more than your hide?
I don't recall asking for your two cents. What kind of creature are you supposed to be? "Hound"?
That person might have taken a knock to the head, but I haven't. We all know this combat assessment never included "Construct deployment" in the cards. Everyone knows how precious you "dolls" are, yet here you are, volunteering yourself. Your appearance is shady as hell.
But she did save [player name]'s life, didn't she?
I can back that up! The red-haired lady dragged that person a really long way. She's a good person... Huh? Her hair...
Shh, don't cut in when we're talking.
Perhaps it's a special deal for [player name]? I mean, someone who consistently aces everything might just get a few unique assignments and training ops thrown their way...
The graduation assessment isn't even done! Don't tell me you're already bowing down to that sorry excuse for a Chief? If you're going to pick someone to follow, at least choose someone who's not going to fall flat on their face.
I just said—
You shouldn't be so quick to judge. You know perfectly well what [player name] is capable of. Your scores have always been neck and neck, but... every single time, you've just missed the mark.
I knew it. I should've just left you back there. You deserved to have your broken wrist gnawed off by the Corrupted.
You...
I couldn't give a damn about any of this nonsense—
Alright, time's a-wasting. Seriously, [player name], what's your take on this? What do you make of Miss "Hound" here?
Look at you, practically gift-wrapping yourself for them! Who knows what this "test material" they're so hot on really is? I've never heard of such a thing. For all we know, you're just a guinea pig.
Stop jumping to conclusions and laying into people like that! No, I can't stomach this anymore. [player name], if you're still planning to escort the sample, you'll have to take me with you.
Vera, clearly at her wits' end with the childish squabbling, shut her eyes.
Enough with this pointless back and forth! I don't have the patience for your games any—
I've got one last trick up my sleeve—use this.
The refined girl, who moments before seemed the picture of good breeding, suddenly produces a pair of gleaming silver handcuffs with a sharp clink and advances on Vera.
?
Right now, we're flying blind, and I can't tell if she's on our side or not. The smart move is to keep her on a short leash. Give me a hand—we need to cuff her right here. There's no way we're bringing her along on our mission.
This is... utterly outrageous...! Vanessa, what in the world are you playing at?
Simon closes his eyes and cries out in despair.
...
...
Vera sneers, flexing her metallic wrist joints. She doesn't bother saying another word, finding these presumptuous youngsters too laughable to even get angry about.
Go on, give it a shot. No one's ever dared to try this with me before—and you seriously think those things can hold me?
Of course they can't, but your reaction tells the tale. A "doll" is supposed to obey its master without question. If you insist on resisting, doesn't that just prove there's something off about you?
Vera draws her weapon—this is her final answer.
Oh my, looks like the munchkins are about to come to blows.
!
A rope suddenly cinches around Vera's waist.
She spins around to see you've solemnly tied the other end of the rope around your own waist, meticulously securing the knot.
Where on earth did you get that rope?
You give the rope a gentle tug, a surprisingly comforting gesture.
For a moment, Vera feels as though you've seen right through her.
Have you...
As she looks up, her eyes meet yours.
Not far from Conservation Area 032, a hunched figure stands silhouetted against the sun atop a towering abandoned building, gazing into the distance.
He hums a short melody, repeating the same two lines over and over.
{226|153|170}~
Burn it all...
What's that song?
Hmm? No idea. Picked it up from someone ages ago. Does it sound alright?
It sounds really fancy, like something a high-society type from the Golden Age would sing.
Hahaha! Yeah, you've hit the nail on the head.
The old man turns his head to see the girl approaching from the edge of the rooftop.
Did you climb all the way up here?
You blocked off every normal way up, so I had to scale it to catch you, Haynes!
Catch me? I figured you'd come crawling, begging for my help. Tough luck, looks like you've made another bad call.
Back in the Golden Age, self-evolution was a no-go. Ever since the outbreak, the Punishing has been treated like a curse.
Why can't these numbskulls see that embracing change is the only way forward?
What are you muttering about now?
...
Haynes falls silent for a few seconds, realizing that the Construct before him cannot comprehend the grand vision he's describing.
He suddenly finds himself wishing for another red-haired girl who used to chew over these very same ideas with him.
Forget it.
Anyway, the messenger of the divine has already clued me into the Punishing Virus's real purpose. Your boneheaded moves can't touch me anymo—Ugh!
Leia's swift kick sends Haynes sprawling. End of conversation.
Anyone who talks in riddles is shady in my book. Otherwise, why'd you bolt from that research place like you knew what's coming?
Spill it! Where are the virus samples? Are they still in that research place?
Cough, cough! Someone already made off with them!
They pulled it off! Perfect.
In a few quick motions, Leia hog-ties Haynes and slings him over her shoulder.
I've got my own mission to wrap up. You're coming with me, and don't even think about trying to talk to me on the way.
Ow! Take it easy! I'm not going anywhere! If I really wanted to ditch you, you wouldn't have found me by now!
You're a tough nut to crack, aren't you? So, what were you doing out here?
Because this is the highest point. You've got the bird's-eye view from up here.
Leia suddenly freezes.
Were you soaking in the chaos?
Absolutely. The gods need to bear witness to my handiwork, and I need to see my efforts haven't gone to pot.
Haha... Just like a hero who walks through nameless ruins, one must eventually stand at the highest point to look back upon their life.
Which conservation area are you from? By my reckoning, with those kids moving at that clip, Conservation Area 062 must be the only one still spick and span, right?
Haynes is lost in the dangerous world of his own making. He lets out a booming laugh, as if poking fun at the simpletons below him.
Oh no!
Meanwhile, inside Conservation Area 062, Vera stares at the rope cinched around the waists of two people, a lump forming in her throat.
You idiot...
Woof! Woof, woof, woof!
The frantic conversation hits a brick wall as the sheepdog's urgent barking grabs everyone's attention.
This is even worse than I thought.
Madam Wang shoulders her gun and steps outside. The moment she pulls back the curtain, the refugees erupt, surging toward her and Kent.
The Corrupted! They've broken into the conservation area and they're headed straight for us!
How in the world did they get here so fast? Leia's not back yet, and we can't possibly evacuate everyone on our own!
Vera watches the pandemonium unfold, taking a deep breath.
I'm sick and tired of this crap. Can't we ever finish one damn conversation?
Playtime's over. I'll explain everything later.
But for now...
Vera yanks on your rope, pushing past the curtain, her dual-bladed lance already gripped firmly in hand.
Stay close!
Vera pauses, her sharp senses picking up on an instant, subtle shift in the person she's pulling along.
Your appearance hasn't changed a bit, yet somehow you've shed a layer of innocence, gaining a certain maturity and something else she truly didn't want to see... exhaustion.
...
She doesn't have time to dwell on it.
Sometimes, even she has to admit she's never had a moment to just talk, constantly dragged forward by fate.
If she doesn't keep racing ahead, fate will swallow her whole, so she spends every single second running for her life.
Suddenly, she craves an opportunity for a real conversation with this human—the one who, no matter what, always says "okay," "I will," and "don't worry."
Not just to lay out all her Kurono plans, but to talk about other things, like the future... or what might lie at the end of her endless race. She has a gut feeling that this human, whom she's only just met, might hold the answers.
Yes.
