You look out the window.
The students return to the academy scattered and straggling, dragging their broken bodies. The crowd is barely half as dense as when they departed.
Many more have sacrificed themselves.
Phantom images from your dreams still linger on your retinas.
The morning sunlight fails to dispel the gloom brought by the nightmare. Jetavie—that girl—had vanished so easily in the dream.
Was it merely a nightmare, or something you truly experienced?
The phantom images fade away, but the bell continues to ring.
Quickly dressing and heading downstairs, the metallic, rusty smell of vital fluid floods your nostrils. Red liquid smears stretch from the stairs all the way down the corridor.
Students pass by, supporting one another, but you still can't find that distinctive black figure anywhere.
From a distance, you spot Martha and Ewig at the school entrance. As you pass through the crowd, you silently note the numbers on the collars around their necks: 8, 10, 13, 22, 24, 26...
Non-sequential numbers, vastly different from the roster Martha announced before the battle...
Officer Martha, Sectors 13 and 14 have fallen.
Communication towers in all sectors have been destroyed. Only Sector 7 retains an energy station and two computation nodes. The economic loss amounts to 1,382 standard supply units.
Additionally, the walls of City 141 have sustained damage. The eastern wall is damaged, with a minor breach. If the Corrupted launch another assault targeting this breach, the city will come under attack.
...
Have you determined why the Corrupted launched another attack so soon?
No.
What were the casualties among our humanoid combat units?
We suffered roughly 40% losses, specifically units 9, 12, 14...
She recites the numbers to Martha without expression, and Martha listens silently, standing ramrod straight.
All company property losses have been fully accounted for.
After hearing the report, Martha silently departs, brushing past a person who has pushed through the crowd to get here.
She's not on the casualty list.
She's right here.
She steps aside, revealing a black body bag.
...
From the opening of the bag, a pair of familiar yet vacant eyes stare back.
Ewig pulls the bag open, revealing the young girl's shattered mechanical torso.
Her delicate bionic skin is torn in large patches, revealing her mechanical skeleton splintered to pieces... What kind of battle could have damaged her so severely?
She's just out of power. She can still function.
This is Jetavie's normal state.
Her consciousness becomes unstable during extended battles. She kills enemies recklessly, causing extensive damage to her frame. This is the only way we can bring her back.
Hmm... yesterday's battle was an exception. She usually doesn't walk back on her own in such an intact state.
However, her target that day was No. 17's body. Perhaps she didn't fully engage in battle because you had already retrieved No. 17.
Ewig furrows her brow. She seems to be merely stating facts without understanding the cause behind the situation.
That doesn't fit her logic either. She usually doesn't follow the teacher's orders, much less fight alongside them.
She falls silent in thought for a moment, ultimately unable to reach a logical conclusion.
Virtual Battle System
Gestrig
Gestrig's Virtual Battle System.
The morning course consists of some simple tactical coordination exercises.
After evaluating materials left by previous tactical teachers, you devised what seemed like straightforward training protocols, but the actual implementation fell short of expectations.
...I'm sorry, Teacher. I just made a mistake with my commands.
After failing to exit the system again, Ewig's face turns pale.
Even though mechanoids possess data processing capabilities far superior to humans, they cannot think beyond the shackles of their programming.
Martha's requirements prevent you from actually commanding in battle, otherwise...
One-third of the seats in the classroom are now empty.
They all perished, didn't they?
Due to her severe injuries, Jetavie is not participating in today's class.
When the end-of-class bell rings, you bid farewell to the other students and head to the repair room, hoping to check on her.
Hello, Teacher. Jetavie isn't here. At this hour, she's usually at the clock tower.
You ascend the spiral staircase and find her at the top of the clock tower.
...?
The girl looks slightly startled. She hasn't fully recovered, and she sits there trying to reattach her right arm to her shoulder.
An apology escapes your lips before you can think. Somehow, it feels impolite to see a mechanoid in the midst of repairs.
How rude of you, Teacher.
A teasing laugh drifts from behind you.
Did you sneak up here without a word just to see me in this miserable state?
Your silence is as good as admitting it. Even if it risked finding me in pieces, you still came to check on me.
Well, well, I never knew you were a teacher who cares so much about your students... Hey, turn around.
With her permission, you turn around. A mysterious light flickers in the girl's eyes, making her thoughts impossible to read.
Much of her body is still exposed, with mechanical structures, cables, and connection ports clearly visible inside.
Even in this state, she looks much better than a few hours ago when she was just scattered pieces in a burlap sack.
So-so, I guess. At least I can move properly now.
Hmph, if the neural interface in my leg hadn't broken, I could've brought back a few more...
She focuses on connecting two cables as if discussing something trivial. Is she like those "weapons," with no regard for her own life?
If that were truly the case, she would risk her life to protect more valuable assets, not other "weapons."
Hah? What's the point of getting close to them?
When we set out, the old hag must have warned you about some things, right?
You mean Martha?
A word of advice: don't get too emotionally attached to them. It's better for both you and them.
For weapons, the stronger they are, the more recklessly they'll throw themselves into battle. Unnecessary emotions only limit their strength.
And for you humans... treating weapons who fight at dawn and die by dusk as people will only end up hurting yourselves.
Showing empathy toward those who can feel is almost an instinct of human nature.
Are you referring to White? The one who showed you around campus after I left.
As if reading your thoughts, she suddenly mentions this name.
She was sacrificed in the battle just now.
...! I like the word "story." Was White planning to become a novelist?
Hmph! I'll definitely write a story that will have Teacher singing its praises.
I don't know. We weren't in the same combat zone, but her serial number appeared on the casualty list.
Her calm voice betrays a certain numbness.
She liked to stare at the sky, would enter "diary mode" whenever something interesting happened, and even wrote about things beyond reality...
Of course not. I only spoke with her a handful of times. After all, they'll all be used up sooner or later, so there's no point in investing too much emotion.
...But that doesn't stop me from remembering them.
Of all the mechanoids here, endlessly caught in this cycle of war and reincarnation, I alone have survived.
If even I don't remember them... what happens when no one remembers these interesting things?
After tightening the final connection port, she stands up and stretches with a long, lazy arch of her back.
Snow-white daylight pours into the room, bathing the young girl's figure in a dreamlike silver-gray hue.
With the same playful, enigmatic smile as when the two of you first met, she turns to look back at you.
Commandant, after spending so much time here with me, you must have noticed by now, haven't you?
Snow-white daylight, snow-white walls, snow-white ceiling and doorways—yet among all this, what stands out as incongruous is...
In the center of the room hangs a mammoth black clock, far too large for comfort.
Ah, so you've noticed?
The clock in this tower is broken. Both the hour and minute hands rotate counterclockwise.
Countdown... someone once told me that. If you add a possessive, it would be "countdown of life," wouldn't it?
Life flows toward its end, yet the hands of the clock march ever onward to the next cycle, repeating a hopeless loop.
Her silhouette becomes ethereal and hazy in the sunlight.
Everything here, no matter how stable it may appear on the surface... is actually a fragile existence.
Against the light, her expression is impossible to make out.
Ah... what a shame, it seems I'm also among the "fragile" ones.
Except...
She leaps gracefully from on high, trailing a shower of sparks as she descends.
The last time... do you remember the last time? When we... "battled" together.
Her bright red pupils flash with evident interest.
I wonder why. When I fight alongside you, somehow I can stay sane...
She narrows her eyes, gently pressing her oil-stained fingers against your neck.
But... why?
Mh-hm.
Next time, how about you join me in battle?
Next time, perhaps we could...
Maybe next time, we'll run a bit faster, reach a bit farther.
A hazy déjà vu shatters the space around them. Their minds struggle to anchor themselves in the present.
Trust me, Teacher... trust Jetavie.
Just reach out your hand, and I promise I won't leave it hanging.
Despite the playful smile on her face, her eyes are intensely serious.
Thump—thump—thump—thump—thump.
Urgent, rapid bell tolls interrupt your conversation; the sound is deafening since you are at the top of the clock tower.
The alarm warning of a Corrupted ambush rings out once again.
Is everything ready?
It's all done. This frequency will lure them toward the breach in the city wall.
Excellent. Once the central district falls, control will be transferred to us.
Even if we don't fully succeed, they will still make excellent test subjects.
