Data Synchronization Progress: 42%
It's been a long time since the Punishing outbreak. So long that even Vera has begun to forget those days.
Yet the scene before her eyes is strikingly similar to back then.
Make way, make way! Let the gurney through first!
How many wounded are still in the corridor?
Too many to count... Is the operating room available yet? A couple of them can't wait any longer.
After the abnormal outbreak, people have repurposed this abandoned hospital as a makeshift field hospital.
The one on the operating table is beyond help. If there's no way, just take them off.
Why are they beyond help?
The Corrupted tore a huge hole through the patient's body. It's already a miracle they've lasted this long. What's your relationship to the patient? Are you people from Babylonia?
The doctor quickly sizes up this unusually distinctive Construct.
Vera carries a box with a coat draped over her arm—the coat's side bears a large bloodstained hole, telling the entire story of the patient's condition in the operating room.
Let me explain this one last time. The patient has head trauma, and the abdominal wound cannot be repaired. We can't stop the bleeding.
This is just a temporary medical station. We don't have enough wound repair materials to handle this kind of situation right now.
Your earlier suggestion won't work either. We don't have modification capabilities here. Unless we contact Babylonia for rescue right now, and ideally evacuate all patients from this temporary medical station, there's nothing more we can do.
...
I have some emergency repair materials here that should temporarily patch large wounds. It'll keep them alive until support arrives.
She lifts the box with both hands, holding it out to the doctor—after one glance at the markings on it, the doctor furrows their brow.
This is... I can't use this without authorization.
Don't overthink it. I'll take full responsibility. Use it now to treat their wounds.
...Sure.
The doctor's gaze lingers on the red-haired Construct for a moment, but they choose not to question where these life-saving materials came from. They simply take the box and hurry back to the operating room.
...
Before the door closes, Vera's gaze falls once more on your body lying in the operating room, a face twisted in agony, trapped in the grip of nightmares.
Oblivious to the world beyond the darkness you're in, your stamina drains away as you remain trapped in dreams of the past.
Even the vital sign monitors keep triggering alarms.
Before being wounded by the Corrupted... what exactly happened to them?
Back then... why did they get separated from the F.O.S. squad?
At that moment... the communication device at her waist seems to transmit a condescending taunt.
Well, well, [player name] is actually 30 seconds late.
My display clearly shows you've reached the target location, so where's your report? Don't tell me you're actually scared on your first trip to the surface?
The communication device crackles with static, seemingly affected by some signal interference. After being smacked firmly a couple of times, it returns to normal, and the figure on the other end comes into view.
Well, looks like you're awake after all. Something wrong?
The communication device crackles with static, seemingly affected by some signal interference. After being smacked firmly a couple of times, it returns to normal, and the figure on the other end comes into view.
It's me. What's wrong? Not happy to see me?
...
Vanessa takes a deep breath.
I don't need this kind of vague response. If you're really not clear-headed, then get the hell out of the squad now. Just because we were unlucky enough to be teammates today and I rolled the dice to become the Red Team Commandant doesn't mean I'll bite my tongue to earn credits by putting up with your worthless mouth—
—and besides, this is just a combat exercise location. The surrounding areas are all established conservation areas that have been stable for years. If anything were to actually happen here, you might as well do nothing and just pray where you stand.
Both her emotional venting and necessary instructions conclude at precisely the right moment. Vanessa takes another breath before issuing commands to all Red Team members.
Alright, everyone spread out and continue the operation!
I heard the Blue Team has left plenty of traps for us. Stay alert.
We're currently in the ruins of some Copperfield Group high-rise... tch, there's burnt ash everywhere... [player name], report your progress.
After hearing your report, the team communication channel, previously dead silent under Vanessa's command, finally fills with scattered, faint cheers, as if they're relieved to have such a capable teammate.
...We haven't even found where the Blue Team hid their flag, and you're already celebrating this minor success? Looks like you're all perfectly suited for the bottom ranks.
You think everything will be smooth sailing just because [player name] and I are on your team? The combat exercise isn't just about team performance, the Instructors monitor each of your individual performances... Before you slack off...
And [player name], you too, don't think... can just... act superior... for anyone's...
After adjusting the terminal, the voices on all channels remain unclear and distorted.
A sound seems to come from the distance. You remove your tactical headphones and looks up—
A Corrupted is squeezing through a gap in the fence, struggling to extend its "hand" in this direction.
Raising the service pistol, even as your brain still tries to process that this is just a ground base used for combat exercises, your muscle memory proves more reliable—instantly firing a bullet that pierces the Corrupted's core.
In the next moment, more red lights flicker through the gaps in the fence. One, two, three...
You maintain a standard shooting stance, locking eyes with the "gaze" peering through the gaps.
Your heart pounds uncontrollably. This is your first time on the ground for practical training, and more importantly, your first encounter with real Corrupted.
But neither the images from textbooks nor the virtual reality simulations back in Babylonia can compare to this face-to-face "welcoming party" with a group of Corrupted.
...Problem here...! Corrupted...
Must evacuate...
The terminal in hand continues to crackle with static, clearly indicating that more people have been affected by this sudden attack.
Unable to face the growing number of Corrupted, you quickly decide to retreat, rushing toward the nearest conservation area.
But soon, the wave of people flowing in the opposite direction reveals the harsh truth—even the conservation area has fallen.
You shout questions at the scattered, panicking crowd, but no one can provide a clear answer—only frantic responses:
Massive swarm of Corrupted appeared... In an instant... Couldn't organize evacuation!
Run! The Corrupted are already catching up!!
The dust-covered crowd jostles you as they flee for their lives, choking clouds of smoke and dust filling the air.
But through the mass of fleeing silhouettes and dust clouds, a fiery red figure stands motionless not far away.
The relentlessly pursuing Corrupted are closing in, yet that figure seems frozen in fear, showing no intention of running at all.
You instinctively spring into action, rushing toward the figure.
Aargh—!!
...!
As you lunge toward the red figure—a Corrupted tears through their abdomen. The pain strikes so suddenly that you can't even scream.
Pain invades your vision like a dense black fog clouding their sight. The screams of refugees around them fade to insignificance.
Trembling, the you try to cover the wound on your side, but your hand only passes through slick, warm blood.
...You're insane! You idiot!
In the darkness, only that angry shout pierces through your mind—after that, everything fades to nothing.
On the first day after surgery, you regains consciousness, your head wrapped in bandages.
Perhaps due to your regular physical training, your initial waking state is better than the doctors predicted. You're already able to keep your eyes open and scan your surroundings, gathering information and getting a rough grasp on the situation at hand.
Complex medical equipment surrounds you, with tubes connected all over your body.
More intriguing, however, is the unexpected sight of a red-haired female Construct peeling an apple beside the hospital bed.
You're awake. Take a guess at where you're at. Heaven or hell, take your pick.
The dryness in your mouth is irritating. You instinctively move your cracked lips, trying to form words.
Don't bother talking. It's pointless, they haven't even removed the tubes yet.
I'm sorry to say this but: this isn't hell. You're, unfortunately, still alive.
Just call me your "great savior." This is a temporary medical station on the ground—I'm a Construct from Babylonia who happened to pick you up during the chaos. Remember now?
Perhaps noticing the your confused and faintly disapproving look, the female Construct smiles and changes her tone, introducing herself properly.
I'll stop messing with you. My codename is "Hound." You can call me that.
Want some fruit? We only have apples here.
"Hound" offers the fruit but then brings the apple to her own lips, taking an exaggerated bite that crunches into the crisp flesh.
Your return to the embrace of darkness, falling into a deep sleep.
Hmph, how boring.
We'll talk about other things after you've recovered for a few days and moved to a regular ward.
Don't make me waste the test subject I've handed over. I'd hate for you to lose your life on top of me failing this mission.
On the second day after surgery, you regain consciousness in the intensive care unit.
An unfamiliar Construct stands by the bedside, peeling an apple.
Your body clock's pretty consistent. You woke up around this time yesterday too.
You feel a familiar dryness in their mouth, as if you've been in this state for a long time.
Huh? You don't remember me? Do you even remember how you got here?
...Fantastic. Should I congratulate you on the unfortunate awakening once again, only to discover your head's been damaged?
You won't be going back to the organization anytime soon. If you can understand basic instructions, just listen to me. I'm the Babylonia Construct specifically assigned to you... Ugh, I can't believe I have to repeat this nonsense again.
The doctor says you have an intracranial hematoma. It's not serious and can heal on its own, so they didn't perform surgery. But it might be temporarily compressing some nerves. In simple terms, your brain's going to be malfunctioning for a while.
From the looks of it, you've lost your memory... What a cliché turn of events.
I don't know how far back your memories are intact. Let's run a test now, especially since you're in better shape today than yesterday.
The female Construct takes a bite of the apple.
What's your name? Where are you from? What's the last thing you remember? Think carefully about each one.
...
There's no need to be suspicious of me, and even less need to mess with me just because you're feeling a bit better. Unless you want me to send you back to the operating room.
I think I was participating in some kind of ground combat simulation... Who were my teammates? I should be able to remember.
Neurons search for pathways through your skull, but the moment they touch your memories, intense pain erupts.
Your memories are like a hazy cloud of mist—right before your eyes, yet impossible to grasp no matter how you try.
Pain envelops your every attempt to reach for that "mist." Within mere seconds, cold sweat breaks out across your forehead.
Seems like you only remember things from before landing. Alright, that's enough, forcing yourself won't do anything.
Do I still need to update you on the situation? It doesn't seem very worthwhile though. According to the doctor, this memory loss you're experiencing will likely recur. I could tell you everything now, but tomorrow you might just "reboot" again.
You raise your arm with the needle in it, pointing to your belongings in the corner that still bear the unified F.O.S. insignia.
The red-haired Construct curiously rummages through the backpack and quickly finds a terminal with a spider-web of cracks across its screen. She hands the battle-damaged device over.
Surprisingly, it still turns on. The quality of your terminals isn't half bad.
Watching you struggling to hold up the terminal with shaking hands while asking questions with such a serious expression, the female Construct suddenly bursts into laughter, waving the fruit knife in her hand up and down as peals of laughter escape her throat.
Are all you F.O.S. folks this funny? Why so serious? Think you can earn extra credit or something? Hahaha!
She laughs so hard that tears form in her eyes, completely forgetting the slightly yellowed, oxidized apple in her hand.
Hahaha... okay, okay, I'll tell you... I've changed my mind!
My real name is "Vera," and you can call me that in private.
Don't record that in your terminal.
You can record my codename in your terminal, "Hound." Call me that when other people are around.
I'm a Construct from Babylonia, though I usually work on the ground. Recently, the higher-ups ordered F.O.S.'s little masters and mistresses to come down for field training, so I got assigned to "babysit" them.
Think whatever you want. Fragile flowers raised in the greenhouse of Babylonia are terrible at self-assessment—if you want me to drop this "prejudice," why not show some real substance and prove yourself?
Ahahaha... clamming up like that... this one's a complete fool... hahaha...
That's all I'll tell you for now. The rest depends on your condition tomorrow. That's all for now, you should get some rest.
Fine, fine, fine, I won't laugh... hehe... That's all I'll tell you for now. The rest depends on your condition tomorrow. That's all for now, you should get some rest.
Vera takes a bite of her apple, then rests her other hand on your forehead, gently stroking it as if soothing a small animal.
You part your lips slightly, as if wanting to say something—but for some reason, you swallow your words.
That's right, just like that. No matter how many questions my "little hatchling" has, put them aside for now.
Return to your dreams, that's the best place for someone who's injured. Get well soon.
Your eyelids grow heavy. Perhaps it's the medicine, or perhaps it's the miraculous way the human body repairs itself... Either way, drowsiness overtakes you once again.
If you recover well, you'll be moved to the regular ward tomorrow...
What a pain... having to play nice with those Babylonia people... I should've just taken the test materials back to headquarters... Whatever... My M.I.N.D. must have short-circuited... to decide to use that thing... to save your life...
Vera's voice gradually fades away, sinking into the dark waters of unconsciousness.
The third day after surgery—or at least, that's what you learn from the notes on your terminal. It's already been three days since the operation.
You glance around once more and conclude you've been successfully transferred to a regular ward. This is tremendously good news, as it means neither trauma, Punishing, nor any potential infections were able to claim your life.
When Vera walks into the hospital room carrying a bag of apples, this is the scene that greets her:
The unfortunate soul from F.O.S. apparently couldn't contact anyone. They're holding up their terminal, using its spider-webbed screen as a mirror while gently tugging at the bandages and gauze on their face.
Seeing the Construct enter, you freeze, then set down your terminal.
Great, looks like they've "rebooted" again.
Vera pauses abruptly, as if hearing a distant call.
...
But the brief moment of discomfort quickly subsides into the depths of her M.I.N.D. She brushes it off.
Not bad, you've got all this recorded in your terminal? Let me see.
Is that another school regulation? I'm your assigned Construct, but I can't look at your terminal?
Let me say it again. The higher-ups want to further develop "Commandant-Construct collaborative tactics." That's why they assigned Constructs to assist you reserve Commandants for this graduation assessment. That's how I got transferred here, which means I have the right to access...
Tsk, I can tell from your face. You think I have no right to access it? Is this how Babylonia usually treats Constructs?
What if I wait until you're asleep and force my way into it?
...Well, isn't that just perfect. "The Commandant's absolute authority," right?
Vera pulls up a chair beside the bed and sits down. In her hands, an apple appears, waiting to be peeled.
I can't be bothered with this nonsense anymore. Whatever. I promised you yesterday that I'd explain more about the current situation.
Let's start with how you got this wound.
Vera's gaze briefly lingers on your side.
At that time, we were both in the middle of a combat assessment, about to rendezvous with the main force.
But then an unexpected incident burst out of nowhere. Abnormally active Corrupted not only broke through the base defenses specifically designed for combat training, but even the two nearby conservation areas couldn't escape unscathed.
We got separated from F.O.S.'s team. You were severely injured while helping evacuate the conservation area, so I had no choice but to keep you in the danger zone temporarily to save your life first.
I had no choice but to use the test materials.
Yes, it's a new type of repair material we were supposed to collect for our combat mission. It's still in the testing phase. The expected effect is that it can better contain the Punishing Virus while maintaining good compatibility with the human body.
It might become a better material for protective suits and surgical repairs in the future—I'm deliberately explaining this in simple terms. From this, you can imagine just how valuable it actually is.
Yes, they're very valuable. Originally, we only needed to deliver the material to the next base to complete the assessment mission. But now, as you can see...
Originally, we only needed to deliver the material to the next base to complete the assessment mission. But now, as you can see...
Vera lifts up the clothing around the Commandant's waist, exposing the bandaged wound to the air.
This is the gash where a Corrupted pierced through you. I used the "oh-so-precious" test material to fill your wound.
Don't blame yourself or panic. Once your condition is stable, we'll turn you in along with the material. When we get back to Babylonia's territory, professionals will remove it for you, and your abdominal wound will receive better treatment.
Vera shakes her head.
Didn't you just try to contact the outside world yourself? I saw you when I walked in. Were you able to reach anyone?
That's right. All communication signals in this area have been affected. You can't get through, and neither can I.
But there's some good news, I've gathered some important intel. These are the coordinates to a temporary Babylonia connection point. We just need to get there.
As she speaks, Vera points to another marked location.
Tem-po-rary. That's what I said. There's been an unusual amount of Corrupted activity in this area, so all arrangements have changed.
(I'm lying. It's actually a Kurono Stronghold. You need to come back with me and hand over those materials, or I won't be able to complete my mission.)
So, after three days, do you understand our current situation now?
Now we just need your body to recover quickly. Once you're mobile, we'll immediately leave this temporary medical station. The Corrupted are moving strangely this time... I suspect it might spread further. If it reaches here...
Vera doesn't finish her sentence, but it's clear that time is a luxury for both of them.
Good, we've covered everything important... Would you like some apples?
Vera cuts a small piece of apple and hands it over.
You haven't eaten anything these past two days, but whenever I had an apple, you kept eyeing it hungrily. I doubt you'd bother recording something like that.
You still can't eat today, but... we can do it like this.
She gently squeezes the fruit, and a drop of pearlescent juice falls onto your cracked lips, a drop of blessed rain on parched earth.
Watching you lick your lips, she smiles in response.
Look at you with your face all wrapped in bandages... [player name], how about I give you a codename too?
Little Mummy? Or Big Mummy? Take your pick.
You like them? Too bad, I won't use them then.
I'll just call you "little Commandant" and be done with it.
It doesn't really suit your current state anyway. Don't forget your head's still a bit messed up.
I'm going with "little Commandant" then. It's settled.
...
The "little Commandant" diligently notes down every conversation with Vera.
And so, three more days pass with memory "resets" each morning, until today.
You recover quickly. Today, you're already able to get out of bed while holding onto the handrail, improving at a pace that surprises even Vera.
More importantly, today your memory doesn't reset to before your arrival on the surface.
You actually remember me today?
You look at Vera, and she can almost see her own furrowed brow from last night reflected in your eyes.
Yes, Constructs have nightmares too.
There was never much difference to begin with. We're all just living the same life. The fact you'd even ask such a question shows you haven't spent enough time around Constructs.
...Enough of that. Here, if you beg me for it, maybe I'll let you have some fruit.
Vera peels another apple and offers you a small piece. It seems you can finally eat a little something now.
Your memory retention has improved. Seems the intracranial hematoma is getting better. That's good.
You absolutely should thank me, but rather than that, why don't you try to recall what happened before while you're in good condition?
A hint of scrutiny creeps into Vera's gaze.
That's fine then. Same as before.
Vera seems to let out a slight sigh of relief.
Why don't you tell me about yourself instead? I don't really know much about you, little Commandant.
Just talk about... your life in F.O.S., what kind of mentors and friends you had, things like that.
Even though your memory hasn't retained much, this past week of your interactions has been meticulously recorded on your terminal.
Holding this terminal is like holding all the care and attentive treatment you've received from Constructs these past few days.
After some thought, you select a specific point and begin talking.
...
The sun gradually climbs higher outside the hospital room window, their shadows shifting with it.
You have not only lost your memories since arriving on the surface, but even your past memories are fragmented and intermittent.
Nevertheless, after several exchanges, Vera has pretty much figured out what life and studies were like at F.O.S., even learning about that silver-haired girl who consistently placed second in the rankings.
You people are so lucky. While the surface is in turmoil, Babylonia at least provides you with a peaceful place to grow up in. "Babylonia"... calling you greenhouse flowers wouldn't be an exaggeration.
So should I just play along and say "I'm looking forward to that day"?
Don't take other people's opinions too seriously. This world can't eliminate prejudice... unless Punishing wipes out all of humanity, haha.
Me?
...
Vera suddenly freezes mid-bite.
For a moment, she seems transported back in time, to a time before she became a Construct... even before she graduated from the military academy.
She can almost see that arrogant, neurotic old man sitting on the hospital bed, responding to her life story with a sneer—"You're making that up."
The person she was back then isn't so different from the Commandant now.
They share the same sharpness and passion, but hers was buried beneath the coldness that the Punishing brought after 2160.
She blinks, and the old, ugly figure flashes away. Sitting across from her now is only a "new generation" human still studying at the military academy, looking at her with eyes full of curiosity.
She finds herself at a loss for words, finding it difficult even to "fabricate" a response.
Eh...
Vera's lips curl into her trademark smirk.
So that's it... That's why I'm interested in you.
It's nothing. You wanted to hear it, so I'll tell you. Consider it an exchange of intelligence, since you've already told me quite a bit about yourself.
