Hey, Discord!
The rhythmic warning beeps get drowned out by a roar of noise as the transport aircraft announces its landing.
...!
She pants as she scans her surroundings, realizing the safety harness is pulled tight across her body. Without it, she probably would've collapsed right onto the transport's cabin floor.
You're finally awake. Scared me half to death. I thought you'd end up with the same side effects as your old frame, and I'd have to carry you all the way back to Babylonia again!
Another VIP in the med bay, huh? At this rate, your case file's gonna catch up to that Star of Life VIP.
...Old frame?
Uh-oh. V did say your M.I.N.D. would still be unstable after the frame switch. Said you'd need time to adjust. Don't tell me it's messing with your recent memories now too?
She tries to pull up the files buried deep in her M.I.N.D., searching hard for the most recent one.
After joining the Scarab squad, her old frame went through a full round of upgrades and inspections. Even then, it still suffered from random, unexplained operational issues.
Once her frame data reached Asimov at the Science Council, Babylonia approved a full frame replacement.
Want me to be honest?
Your M.I.N.D. looks like someone ripped it apart piece by piece, then haphazardly sewed it back together.
Or maybe parts got yanked out altogether. It's like a train full of holes, and somehow it's still running on the tracks. A miracle, really.
What did you see in the projection Yuka Saotome built for you?
Sorry... I don't remember.
Scans show repeated penetrating injuries to your abdomen... but there's no sign of external trauma. Do you have any idea what might be causing it?
I... don't know.
You should think about whether you're ready... for another procedure.
She poured in more effort than she could ever measure—just to stand and walk again.
The reflexes she once took pride in became her worst torment, bringing her nothing but pain.
Her brain kept sending pain signals nonstop. Even without limbs, the stumps of her legs felt like they were being stabbed and sliced—numb, yet agonizing all the same.
Then one day, the stabbing pain that used to pierce through her mind started to blur, until she couldn't even remember it anymore.
At the same time, the face of that cheerful, upbeat maid who used to cheer her on through rehab began to fade too.
...
...
Perhaps she knew, deep down, that none of it happened suddenly.
<b><ud><color=#34aff8ff><link=34>Emotion Trimming</link></color></ud></b>. If this technology were stable and ready for mass use, we wouldn't have found only a single Construct like this.
Discarding what some call "redundant" human consciousness runs counter to human instinct.
Even if it boosts efficiency for a while, it causes irreversible damage to a person's "humanity," the very thing that defines a person.
I'm not giving up on finding a better way.
Scarab Commandant, why are you requesting a new frame for a teammate? Planning something off the books?
Dogs are natural hierarchs. They split the world into nobles and commoners.
Didn't realize you could hold a grudge that long.
Whether we play the dog or refuse to, we're still forced to pick a side. It doesn't change much.
At least she should get a choice.
Asimov takes the organized file from the staffer and flips through it.
...
I still don't like working with you, but fine.
Fortunately, we already have solid data on similar M.I.N.D. disruption cases from <b><ud><color=#34aff8ff><link=35>Wanshi's treatment</link></color></ud></b>.
Want to try it on her?
She never speaks up and never takes a side.
No agreement, no objection, no opinion. It's like she isn't there.
A fine tool. But the higher-ups never run out of tools.
Discord figures it's because she doesn't like talking, especially small talk. After Lilako vanished on a mission, she shut herself off even more.
Anything extra doesn't help the mission and doesn't matter.
Accept the mission, execute the mission, report. And sometimes even the most fixed backdrops collapse.
No record found.
No record found no record found no record found no record found no record found no record found no record found
The same words keep surfacing in her nightmares. She can't tell which is worse, the dream or reality.
On the last escort mission before her frame swap, she stumbles on a place of refuge.
What people call chance is really inevitability. Her own wants and needs guide her here.
Each day, piano music rises on time from the ruined church outside the conservation area, offered to the sunset, the afterglow, and the silent sky and earth.
She sits on a stone plinth and listens. The music soars, fervent and angry, devout and selfless.
The church is pitch-black except for a thin beam slanting through a broken pane.
Today, the doors stand open. Drawn by something she can't name, she walks in and finally learns who the dedicated musician is.
When a memory starts to feel painful or too profound, your M.I.N.D. cuts it out on its own, good or bad.
Emotion Trimming?
The nerve.
Behind her mask, Valeria's face is unusually cold.
Knowing what can make someone angry is the fastest way to know them.
Discord clearly doesn't expect to see the Scarab commandant here and freezes in place.
Do you have something to report?
...
No...
I'm here to listen... to the piano.
Then come here.
Discord stays quiet and stares at the instrument that filled the air with such beautiful melodies not long ago.
It's battered and old. Hard to believe an instrument so worn could produce such rousing music for days on end.
She suddenly wants to touch it, then draws her hand back.
If you want to try, go ahead.
Valeria's gaze passes through her to a far-off point that isn't there.
Or are you going to wait until it's too late and regret it?
Uh, I...!
Rarely for her, Valeria gives a small push between Discord's shoulder blades, ignores her flustered protests, waits for her to sit, then takes the seat beside her.
I... lost so much. This piece was the only thing left with me.
She lays her hands on the black-and-white keys. Her muscles remember the drills, but her fingers refuse to move.
Dimly, she recalls someone making a similar invitation once, but the memory slips away in a brief stab of pain.
Valeria neither urges nor hesitates.
...
The performer rolls up a sleeve, closes her eyes, and lets a few strands of hair fall across her cheek.
A smooth, powerful piece rises with the firm rise and fall of her wrists. At times it's gentle, at times it's fierce.
The tempo keeps getting faster. In Discord's hazy memory, this is the speed and skill of a pro.
The performer must have found a treasure in the music and keeps exploring it without tiring, as if knocking on the door of her own life.
Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, Op. 21.
The title of the piece surfaces on its own, and Discord almost loses herself in the gentle glow of the notes.
Within this radiance...
V, come look! A piano!
Shorthalt cleared a half-intact piano from the rubble and started poking at it with two fingers, totally absorbed.
Stop playing. You'll draw enemies.
It's a famous concerto. Sounds good, right?
...
The notes wobbled, even slipped out of tune, but Shorthalt kept at it, sneaking looks at her, waiting for a verdict.
...Awful.
Despite her criticism, Valeria didn't leave. She leaned against the broken wall, dressed her wounds, and listened to the end.
And now... the ruins have been rebuilt into a conservation area, and that shabby piano has somehow survived.
The movement doesn't pause. The concerto goes on.
Each keystroke no longer tries to pull back the past.
A long time ago, Shorthalt told me about you.
Said you looked lost at a glance, just like a crying kid he once found on patrol.
...
Valeria stops and waits for her reply.
Discord hesitates and touches the first key.
Her fingers shake, but it's as if someone supports her hands and hums by her ear, giving her the strength to play.
Just a little pressure and the key will go down...
Ding—
All the chaotic, deep, tumultuous, and disorderly agitation fades away. The strings absorb every last tremor.
Then the second key, then the third note.
The melody flows slower and rougher than she remembers. She inches up the tempo, feels the notes shift, and joins the conversation.
Amazingly, the music under her hands calms her. It stops leading her. She leads it.
Moonlight at the first encounter. A suffocating struggle. A corridor of freedom.
A night of reunion. A feast of death foretold. The final farewell.
After so long and so far, the crushed days and warped fleeting hours return at last.
This is her music now.
Nice look on your face.
Time passes, and the air turns cool.
The evening bell tolls. She turns, and Valeria is already waiting at Scarab's lounge door.
Let's go.
We still have work to do.
Her dusky eyes are full of pride and edge.
The Commander and the Science Council have been briefed. Swap out that frame soon.
I'm going to restore your M.I.N.D. piece by piece.
Outskirts
Surface
Outskirts, Surface
In place of V, who collapsed from mental strain...
...
Yata looks at the downcast teammate and softens.
Command goes to Gray Raven Commandant [player name] for this operation.
Don't overthink it. I've worked with V for a long time. She does this kind of thing without a word.
If she isn't asking, she already knows what you'd say.
What about you? How are you adapting?
It's fine. I remember now.
Feeling that wasn't firm enough, she adds one more line.
Frame self-diagnostic shows optimal condition. It won't affect the mission.
Really?
Yata glances at Discord's hair with a hint of worry, then gives a small, reluctant nod.
Good.
When we're done, report your frame's output data in detail.
If anything feels wrong with your frame, tell me or [player name] right away. We'll request support.
Got it.
I...
Yata snaps her head around as fast as dodging a bullet. Shiva frowns and holds up ten fingers.
...Ten bottles of that mint electrolyte soda you have.
...I'll handle the intel.
She thinks about how many times she has woken up to see Yata there. The thought hits her, and she thanks Yata, a bit awkwardly.
Thanks...
Don't worry about it. We're teammates. I told you before. If you thank me every time I carry you back, you'll never finish.
The silence grows unbearable, and Yata breaks it with an awkward, hushed voice.
By the way, you're good at sewing, right? Can you make me a Misono High uniform next time?
...Alright.
When you enter the temporary stronghold, the three members of the Scarab squad are fully armed and ready.
When Discord switched to the new frame, Asimov gave special notes. Her M.I.N.D. needs extra care.
The mission is to sneak into a hidden base near Las Prados and bring back all valuable data.
According to eyewitness reports, an Ascendant has been frequently sighted in the area.
Before they leave, Discord, who knows Las Prados best, seems uneasy and keeps her head down.
At first you think she feels mixed about returning to a place tied to her past. But on a closer look, under her moving cobalt hair and the mechanical nape, there is an EMP collar blinking red.
...
A necessary safeguard.
If my frame loses control because of M.I.N.D. issues, the commandant can send an emergency signal to the collar and shut me down completely.
You shiver. It feels like the same kind of tech Liv used back then, just at a different level.
The blue-haired Construct trembles, then turns around and stands still in front of you.
In the next second, your action makes her freeze in shock.
You unlock the collar with access and remove it quickly as warning beeps sound.
...?!
During frame tuning before the mission, you stabilized Discord's M.I.N.D. for Valeria. You learned she needs time and trust more than restraints.
Force will backfire.
More importantly, after working together, you chose to trust Discord. You trust that she values her teammates' lives no less than anyone else.
But there's a tracker in it, in case I...
...
I see.
The Cerberus squad keeps tracking the Ascendant. Egret waits in the sky to give support. Scarab, the main strike team, reaches the target and gets ready to slip in.
Everyone receives a 3D model of the stronghold that Shiva built from terrain data.
Rather than a stronghold, it's...
A fully equipped ship parked among barren hills.
Maybe that's why it survived the past disaster.
Target is five kilometers out.
The transport drops and switches to ground vehicle mode for a covert approach.
Tracks stripe the scorched earth. Not long after, something feels wrong.
Why are there Corrupted behind us? Are we exposed?
No. This used to be a test range. Stragglers heard our transport and followed us.
A railgun blast slams near the vehicle and throws up a heavy cloud of yellow smoke.
All right, the perimeter auto-defense really has spotted us.
Thanks for the heads-up.
...So much for our covert operation!
As soon as those words are spoken, Discord springs into action.
She jumps from the vehicle and throws her scissors high. She steps on the laid magnetic lines and baits the cannon to aim into the sky.
The rest of the squad understands at once.
At maximum range. Applying the calculated corrections.
Three, two, one, Yata!
A dazzling flash lands on the moving target as the railgun fires.
A high-energy mass skims past the hem of Discord's wind-blown skirt and explodes in the distance.
You draw and fire fast. Discord lands lightly, uses the opening, and cuts the tumbling Corrupted to pieces with her giant shears.
Cross-shaped flashes burst from the wasteland like a judgment, all centering around the maid.
Shiva slams the accelerator. The g-force knocks the wind out of you.
We can't stop. The Corrupted will keep coming!
What about Discord?
All three look back at the maid standing alone in the storm.
She pulls the two split halves of her scissors back along the control lines, stamps the ground, and sprints, drawing the remaining enemies to trail the vehicle at an even, steady pace.
But Corrupted appear ahead, blocking the road.
The wind shreds your shouts into pieces.
No. Compared to last time, this is nothing.
Sorry, this is Scarab's show!
Shiva, run the numbers!
Already on it!
In a flash, Yata vaults onto the roof and swings at the enemy cluster. Trails of electricity spread from the strike and break the blockade cleanly.
Severed mechanical limbs tumble, get crushed under the wheels, and sink into the dust.
Some Corrupted stop chasing the vehicle and lunge at Discord as she runs.
Greetings, and goodbye.
She drives the scissors into the ground and spins with centrifugal force. Her whirling attack perforates everything around her, clearing a ring of open space.
Then, she sidesteps and uses fallen Corrupted as steps to keep jumping forward. Her magnetic lines extend and retract, then hook the rear bumper.
The tires shriek and the vehicle jolts as it gets yanked back.
The vehicle skids over rough ground and belches an acrid, burnt smell.
I'm sorry.
The military vehicle, a tiny fortress, lifts on her momentum. She hurls it backward and cleaves it cleanly into front and rear halves.
Yata drops from the roof and Shiva jumps from the driver's seat. Overloaded, the engine does its last job and explodes in the densest knot of Corrupted.
You, seated in the rear middle seat, are flung a few meters into the air with the car before you reach the door.
My new frame... still isn't stable.
She cuts the rest of the car's shell cleanly with her scissors. The pieces spread out in the air. She plants her feet, catches you with both hands, and speaks without sounding very sorry.
Excuse me.
Oh...
What?!
...I'll have to file a property damage report when we get back.
The group moves on foot and stays alert, but no more active enemies are seen until you reach the target entrance.
The hatch unlocks and opens slowly. Inside the ship, it is very quiet and dark.
Shiva stays on high ground to keep watch. The others line up and enter the ship.
