Well then, Dear Specialist, we'll take our leave now.
After entering City 141, the transport vehicle stops at the entrance of a forest on the city's outskirts.
Throughout the journey, you try to extract information about Leibowitz from the soldiers, but you are met only with blank stares, leaving you empty-handed.
The reason, most likely, has everything to do with their position.
As mercenaries, they merely accepted the company's commission to help escort the specialist to City 141. They aren't official company employees, so naturally they know nothing about its internal affairs.
The task of gathering intelligence will have to fall on your shoulders alone.
After a brief farewell, the vehicle sent by the "Academy" slowly makes its way toward the nearby City 141.
Past the damaged city walls, a winding path carpeted with soft moss and fallen leaves stretches forward. Beyond the road's end stands a surprisingly intact structure—
A white building of classical architecture comes into view.
Sunlight grows melancholy through the thin mist, and even the chirping of birds has fallen into silence.
Despite being the season of nature's renewal, everything here seems veiled in pale shadows.
Checking the image on the ID card—Gestrig, an academy under Leibowitz's jurisdiction. This is where "you" are supposed to report for duty.
Looking up from the ID card, you scan your surroundings.
As if confirming your suspicions, groups of girls in identical uniforms pass by on the distant path.
The girl you brought must have been one of them once... Perhaps someone here will recognize her.
...
She bows to you in formal deference, then briskly walks away. You turn your attention to another girl.
...
Just like the previous girl, she bows politely but completely ignores what you say.
You try questioning several more students, only to receive the same response each time. What... is going on here?
Normally in a "school," an unfamiliar face would easily spark curiosity, but now...
They all just keep their heads down, silently rushing past you. Not a single one asks any questions—neither about you, nor about the girl you've brought back.
—No one cares whether she's dead or alive.
These girls move as if following programmed instructions, mechanically walking toward the academy buildings.
Could it be... that the girl you brought back isn't a student here?
No, they must be from the same place. Dark-colored uniforms stained with reddish-brown vital fluid and battlefield dust. They even have nearly identical hairstyles.
But... why would they be sent to battle as students, only to die in desolate wastelands where no one would ever find them?
Flowers bloom vibrantly before your eyes while the girl behind you silently fades away.
Spring in Gestrig gives one a subtle sense of being torn apart.
You don't look well, Ewig.
Jetavie hasn't returned, White.
You take a few steps forward, following the faint sound of voices. In the distance, you see two girls tending plants beside a flower bed.
Are you worried about her?
The white-haired girl turns her face toward you, scribbling and sketching in her notebook.
No. As the highest-value individual, her loss would cause enormous damage to the company. That would contradict our operational strategy.
She already "graduated," didn't she? I don't understand why she remained here.
Maybe she just left and will never come back?
The strategy loaded into the highest-value individual prioritizes the protection of humanoid combat units above all else.
As long as we haven't successfully passed the "final examination," she won't leave without reason.
This might not be her "strategy," but because she... she wants to do this...
The girl known as White speaks with a slight stutter in her voice.
That doesn't explain her behavior. No weapon would "want" to do anything—that contradicts our fundamental programming.
Ewig shakes her head.
White falls silent. She simply leans down, staring blankly at the white flowers before her.
Ewig, it seems we've waited long enough to see the fluorescent chrysanthemums bloom. They glow even in daylight...
White pulls out a notebook from behind her and begins to write and sketch in it.
Yes.
White, astonished by the brief, unexpected answer, looks up at Ewig.
Ewig gazes at the white flowers in a trance-like state. Beneath the petals, a butterfly emerges from its chrysalis.
She trembles as she crouches down—her newly attached left leg doesn't fit properly—reaching out to touch the empty chrysalis...
Thud—she collapses.
White struggles to help her back up.
The last "test" left everyone damaged. No. 17, No. 11... they were all lost on the battlefield, weren't they?
She silently reattaches Ewig's left leg, the connection points making metallic clicking sounds as they lock into place.
It's the same for you, Ewig. If Jetavie hadn't disobeyed orders and suddenly pulled back to rescue you from that swarm of Corrupted after your leg was broken, you wouldn't have returned—just like No. 17, right?
I came back. What's the point?
I don't know...
You came back, so you can water the flowers with us, right?
One individual is enough to maintain them.
But looking at these flowers makes you happy, doesn't it?
... My visual module does transmit positive emotional signals to my processing center.
White watches Ewig silently, observing the vibrant colors reflected in her eyes—Ewig has always been deeply fascinated by all kinds of luminous objects.
But my "happiness" has no meaning in the context of the company's interests.
That's not the issue. Just... isn't it okay for us to live?
Ewig shifts her gaze away from the flowers and lets out an almost imperceptible sigh.
Our existence is meant to maximize the protection of company interests. This has nothing to do with an individual's life or death.
Having expectations for impractical things only creates unnecessary burden on the emotional module.
Finally approaching them, you attempt to assess the situation.
Hello, are you the new... teacher?
White quickly identifies you by your attire and the recent notice. After respectfully bowing, she steps back as is customary—
Is this... No. 17?
White's processing center pauses momentarily as she turns to look at Ewig, but Ewig clearly has no experience with this kind of situation either...
This is... our "classmate."
Having responded with her preset "script" to the human before her, White moves to take charge of No. 17.
Please let me take her... I'll be responsible for bringing her ba—
Dong—dong—dong. The tower bells suddenly interrupt her.
White and Ewig, as if suddenly receiving a command, abruptly turn and walk back toward the academy.
They proceed without any acknowledgment, walking straight back as if you had vanished.
A broadcast announcement follows.
All faculty and students, please gather in the first-floor auditorium.
Even now, no one has told me what to do with No. 17's... remains.
Hey, you over there, the new specialist! What are you doing?
While searching for someone who can answer your questions, you're suddenly halted by a soldier's sharp command.
Didn't you hear the broadcast? Go to the first-floor auditorium right now.
What're you carrying? Why are you still lugging around a depleted "weapon"?
Just leave it here. Someone will take it to the waste recycling station.
Tsk, bringing back a broken weapon... you've caused us quite some trouble.
That's an order.
You only have three chances to disobey orders—whether due to negligence, carelessness, or other factors. After that, the company has the right to terminate your employment immediately.
Don't make me say it twice. Put it down now, then report to the auditorium immediately.
If you leave her here, she'll probably just be thrown into the waste recycling station, won't she? Isn't there something you can keep to remember her by? Something like a Construct's Nameplate...
While lost in thought, you notice the collar around her neck, marked with the number 17.
Following the sound of the bell, you walk toward the academy's auditorium where cold lights flicker throughout the vast chamber.
Stand up.
The students rise from their seats in perfect unison, like a circular wall erected around the room.
A chilling display of uniformity.
A woman holding a pointer walks toward the podium.
Click, clack. Her heels strike the floor with a crisp, measured rhythm, each step distinctly audible in the silent hall.
Each step seems precisely measured, carrying an undeniable gravitas until she finally takes her position at the podium.
Good afternoon, Tactical Command Instructors. I am Martha, the Director of Gestrig Academy.
She gives a slight nod of acknowledgment to those seated in the front row, then lifts her gaze to survey the standing students.
All humanoid combat units, listen carefully to what I am about to say and the orders that follow.
Yesterday's battle was the 5th round of "testing" for Gestrig Academy.
After the battle in this test, nearly half of the combat zones have been breached by the Corrupted and reduced to ruins.
Three power stations were destroyed, two communication towers were disabled, and approximately 84% of the computing nodes across all battle zones were completely shut down.
Total economic damage amounts to 3,178 standard supply units.
I solemnly announce that you have failed the company's 5th round of testing.
Testing? Is that what this "academy" calls such a brutal battle?
Even a casual glance shows that many of the students standing here are severely injured—missing limbs and suffering structural damage.
The death of No. 17 is just the tip of the iceberg. Beyond these injured students, how many more have been left forever on the battlefield fighting the Corrupted?
Everyone seems desensitized to their broken bodies, standing stiffly and impassively in place.
Dead silence. Not even the faint rustle of clothing can be heard.
Would children of this age normally maintain such silent stillness in a situation like this?
As Leibowitz's newest weapons, you failed to achieve the company's expected combat results. Frankly, this outcome is incomprehensible.
The company gave you humanoid bodies, but not so that you, its "weapons," would develop pointless emotions.
In any case, the failure of the fifth test is undoubtedly a heavy blow to us all. The loss of the battle zone will have irreversible consequences on the situation going forward.
However, I expect each of you to do your utmost to minimize the impact of this failure.
The company will not give any substantial reward or punishment based on this test's outcome, because as long as you pass the "Final Test"—defending the city's inner ring—you will all gain freedom.
Conversely, if you fail, every one of you could be discarded.
I expect all of you to remember your place and your mission.
Final Test—You had heard that term before in a conversation between White and Ewig.
Pass the Final Test and gain freedom, or fail and face disposal. This was the students' motivation...
But could these lifeless, puppet-like students truly understand the concept of "freedom"?
Due to the disastrous consequences of the fifth test round, the previous commandant has been dismissed by the company.
Fortunately, as of today, the company has assigned a new specialist to report for duty.
I should have been honored to introduce your new instructor to you all. However—
However, despite being scheduled to report at 10 AM, this specialist failed to arrive. Not until the 5 PM routine meeting did the specialist finally deign to show up.
I'm deeply curious about what reason this specialist could possibly have for defying company orders just to be late.
Her icy gaze sweeps across the auditorium, locking onto the only unfamiliar face.
Despite standing on the stage, her eyes judge you like a baleful god.
Please answer my question, Specialist.
An invisible weight presses down on you.
Your military instincts quickly identify the source of this pressure: within your visual field alone, no less than 10 fully armed soldiers cast furtive glances your way as Martha poses her question.
While both groups are armed forces, the students' mission is to battle the Corrupted—these soldiers, however, likely serve a different purpose.
They're likely part of the academy's militarized management system, an intimidation force designed to ensure faculty compliance with orders.
You need to choose your words carefully here.
We just completed the 5th test—most of the Corrupted surrounding City 141 have already been eliminated.
In other words, even if you encountered numerous Corrupted, they couldn't possibly have surrounded your route—you could have simply directed the transport vehicle to go around them.
So, regarding your insistence on engaging the enemy in combat, I'd like you to provide me with a suitable explanation.
Wasn't the company supposed to brief you before dispatching you to Gestrig?
She impatiently cuts herself off mid-sentence.
They are mechanoids, not Constructs—war machines developed by the company. As weapons, they're not worth humans risking their lives to save.
Weapons obey the company's orders absolutely and fight for the company's interests. All weapons need only follow orders to eliminate the company's enemies.
But even humans must obey the rules established by the company in Gestrig.
The company tolerates human weakness by allowing three instances of negligence. After three such instances, you will face dismissal. You've already been marked once for tardiness—do not make another mistake.
She lifts her gaze, surveying all the students present.
Now, I formally introduce your new tactical teacher—Specialist Employee Number 035034.
The company traditionally doesn't concern itself with the names of employees at your rank. However, for the sake of convenience in future communications with the students, I'll permit them to address you by your name.
Furthermore, given the record of repeated failures in field command by previous commandants,
this commandant will only be responsible for daily tactical coordination training but will not participate in actual field command.
This foolish question is something your previous superior should have explained to you directly.
...
The stern woman slowly surveys her surroundings, and after confirming there are indeed no humans present who could explain, she speaks again.
Although the humanoid weapons here possess powerful individual combat capabilities when they're manufactured, they lack experience working in tandem with others.
At the software level, predicting the actions of other units involves an extremely complex set of parameters that grows exponentially with team size. They cannot rely solely on their logical processing to handle this complexity.
For these reasons, they must learn common human tactical combinations, which will ease the learning curve for team operations.
Therefore, daily tactical coordination guidance is necessary, but battlefield decisions will be left to their own judgment.
She says just enough and no more. Rather than offering further explanation, she begins gathering her documents from the podium.
That will conclude today's meeting.
<size=42>You step out of the auditorium—progress was made on investigating the unknown unit.</size>
<size=42>This special "unit" belongs to Gestrig Academy.</size>
<size=42>And Gestrig Academy has an inseparable relationship with Leibowitz Company.</size>
<size=42>Are the unit's members mechanoids known as "weapons of war"? They even appear in the guise of students?</size>
<size=42>To pass their "final examination," they battle against the Corrupted.</size>
<size=42>Some questions have been answered, but many new mysteries have already surfaced.</size>
<size=40>If they're supposed to be "war weapons," why dress them in school uniforms?</size>
<size=40>Even the human teachers aren't free. The academy's management seems excessive. Did something happen?</size>
<size=40>Why does the city avoid contact with outside forces? What dark secret are they hiding?</size>
One question after another rushes through your mind... It seems your investigation still has a long way to go.
Lost in thought about all these questions, you wander around the campus until you reach a secluded corner.
Oh?
A girl's bell-like voice rings out from somewhere nearby.
You look around in all directions, but you can't spot anyone.
I'm here.
Black and white twintails sweep into view. The girl sits high up on the academy building, casually swinging her legs.
I've been waiting for you for a long time... teacher.
My name is Jetavie. Our meeting here is not by chance.
My name is ???, and I'm meeting you here for a few reasons.
An inexplicable sense of déjà vu washes over you.
Dazzling sunset light spills out behind the girl, the brilliant glow casting a halo on her silhouette.
Her smile grows more playful and mischievous.
It's only been a few hours since we last met. Have I already faded from your memory so easily?
She's obviously referring to the recent incident when our transport convoy encountered the Corrupted.
That inexplicable sense of déjà vu remains faint, the scenes too blurry to recall. It's clear the only topic left to continue the conversation is this one.
Because it was fun, watching your transport vehicle dance around on the road like a rabbit!
But if I hadn't made it dance, wouldn't you have foolishly charged straight into that swarm of Corrupted?
Thinking carefully about it, the gunshots were rapid at first, but none actually hit the transport vehicle... She must have deliberately missed.
Heh heh, you should properly thank me, you know.
A satisfied smile spreads across the girl's face.
But in the end, you still charged straight ahead anyway—just in a different direction.
And the reason you were so determined to keep going... I'm guessing it wasn't just to avoid my bullets, was it?
She says with unmistakable sarcasm, her gaze fixed on the collar clutched in your hands.
Isn't she though? At least to humans.
The setting sun's glow pierces your eyes as her smile takes on a distinct edge.
So mourning someone expendable is a meaningless act, isn't it?
Today's No. 17 was expended, and tomorrow a new No. 17 will take her place.
Yes?
The girl studies you with growing interest, her small tail gently swaying behind her.
The girl stretches lazily, then leaps down from the rooftop in a single bound.
*Sigh*... You really are unbelievably naive.
She lands nimbly on the ground, keeping some distance between the two of you.
It's not just the teachers at this academy who treat them as weapons. They see themselves that way too.
When their perception of their own life is so unclear, how can they learn about death, let alone how to commemorate someone?
The smile on her face vanishes before you notice.
Her lithe figure is silhouetted against the sunset's glow, hidden in shadow, creating an ethereal impression.
Don't you think that's incredibly naive?
The words fall softly from her mouth. It sounds somewhere between a question and a whisper to herself.
If I had arrived earlier... No. 17 might not have "died."
After seeing everything that happened, you're still thinking about saving her...
Then who's going to save you?
She stares at you with a grave expression.
You know, I once knew a fool just like you...
She rises on her tiptoes and begins pacing in circles, lost in her own thoughts.
Just like you, they were obsessed with that pointless phrase—"what if."
If there is even the slightest chance of saving someone—no matter how remote—they will recklessly chase that glimmer?of?hope.
No matter how many chances at reincarnation you'd give, that person would always make the same choice. It's truly baffling.
She seems to be using her pacing to hide her emotions. For a brief moment, as sunlight falls across her face, you catch a glimpse of her profile.
Her expression is complex—a mixture of wistfulness and quiet desolation.
I don't know.
She turns away, taking two listless steps backward.
When she turns back, she's wearing that self-assured smile again, as if her moment of sincerity had never existed.
Hah... I can't believe reality has produced another fool exactly like that person.
She spreads her hands and rolls her eyes at you.
Even if I hadn't helped, you would have found a way out yourself, right?
I happened to be looking for?No.?17 anyway, so helping you was just something I did along the way.
She waves her hand at you dismissively.
Also, fighting alongside you was exhilarating. It's been ages since I've enjoyed a battle that much.
It's so rare to find battles like that, yet the company forbids you from commanding on the frontlines... Such sticks in the mud.
Jetavie flicks her gun with her tail contemptuously as she speaks.
Her outfit looks completely out of place at the academy, and her eccentric, ghost-like behavior sets her apart from the other students.
Not really... Strictly speaking, I suppose I'd be considered a "graduate" already?
If someone like her is called a "graduate," what kind of education is Gestrig actually providing these mechanoids?
I'm only staying here temporarily, to find someone.
She smiles mysteriously, her gaze casually drifting behind her.
You can't help but follow her gaze, spotting Ewig and White slowly approaching you.
Looks like someone wants to borrow a moment of your time.
Well then, please excuse me as I take my leave.
The girl curtsies as she bids farewell, displaying an elegant demeanor completely at odds with her earlier eccentric behavior.
In the blink of an eye, her figure vanishes like a phantom once again.
