...
Huh? What's someone doing in this godforsaken place... Is he a Construct?!
His frame is severely damaged—looks like he's badly injured. Wenke, quick, over here!
...Francis, contact Babylonia immediately. Tell them we need to adjust our plans and prioritize bringing back the injured.
Copy that!
I'll carry him. You go ahead and start up the transport, report his ID number, and do whatever preliminary checks you can.
Two Constructs seem to be moving back and forth across the sandy ground, their footsteps filling the area around his audio receptors.
It's somewhat noisy.
But soon, a pair of strong arms hoists him up onto someone's shoulders.
Only one path... no... it's all wrong...
...There's no way out anymore...
Huh? What'd you say?
It was... a cliff...
...
The person carrying him listens attentively to his delirious mumbling, then falls into an awkward silence.
...Don't worry, it's all over now. You're still alive.
No matter what happened before, you've managed to escape. That's already a victory. You're a real hero.
These childlike words of comfort reach him, his eyelids parting slightly.
He lies half-dead on a Construct's shoulders. The first thing he sees is a plain ring hanging from a thin metal chain, swinging back and forth against the Construct's chest as he runs steadily.
...A ring?
You're awake? Ah, this is my wedding ring.
The middle-aged male Construct covers the wedding ring hanging from his neck as he asks about his condition with concern.
Do you remember who you are? Which unit do you belong to? Your Construct form doesn't look like any standard model I've seen... Are you from an elite squad? But I can't find any matching frame ID number...
Lloyd's M.I.N.D. instinctively tenses up through the haze—he confirms these two Constructs don't share the same origin as him.
He's an outcast, and outcasts always meet the same sickening fate. If he strikes first...
Could you be from those legendary secret forces? Am I overthinking it? But I really don't see an Inver-Device on you...
Well...
Forget it, let's just take you back for now. Remember to thank Francis properly later—if he hadn't spotted you with his sharp eyes, you'd have been buried alive in the sand. Alright, Francis! Let's go!
Wenke boards the transport vessel and carefully places Lloyd in the seat designated for injured personnel, meticulously securing his safety restraints.
...
In this strangely reassuring atmosphere, he slips back into unconsciousness.
Wenke and Francis take Lloyd back to Babylonia.
Upon arrival, Lloyd recognizes the interior layout and the characters for "Babylonia," finding it all too familiar. He immediately loses it and begins struggling frantically.
But he's quickly restrained by the reception staff at the transport dock.
Calm down! Please sedate him immediately!
Why is he reacting so strongly? What happened to you on the ground? Maybe we should get him a memory data cleanse—Ah!
No cleansing! No!!! Don't kill me! I've already escaped!
Okay, okay, okay, we won't cleanse anything! Calm down, your M.I.N.D. is experiencing severe fluctuations. Just calm down and it will...
What's going on? This guy's M.I.N.D. model is different from Babylonia's Constructs too?
Back off! I can use Recall! I can't die!
Recall...?
Lloyd's severe injuries leave him too weak for his punches and kicks to be effective. Wenke and Francis firmly restrain his limbs, and after the staff administer a sedative, he collapses reluctantly onto the examination bed.
Which team are you from?
...
He glares at the staff member, imagining the last person who forcibly cleared his data—now dead at the hands of the awakened "Lloyds."
(How to kill her... how to fight back...)
Ugh!
A karate chop lands on Lloyd's forehead, leaving him dazed.
Don't waste their time! The sooner you cooperate and answer our questions, the sooner you can go back and rest!
...
...Mako-1?
That's right, you should have listened to your leader! Which team are you from?
...I don't remember.
Fine, you don't remember. What's your name? You should at least remember that, right?
Lloyd shifts uncomfortably, instinctively looking toward Wenke and Francis.
If you can't remember your code name, just tell us your real name. You'll probably end up on our team once you pass the screening anyway.
...Mako... No, that's not it.
What?
Lloyd, my name is "Lloyd."
The newly-arrived Construct "Lloyd" is a strange fellow.
He questions everything around him and frequently inquires about all sorts of matters.
From major topics like Babylonia's history—tracing back almost to when the very first screw was manufactured.
To minor details like a staff member's life story—practically tracing their family tree back eighteen generations.
His attitude doesn't seem to harbor any ill intent, but it's undeniably strange nonetheless.
Back in the day, my parents were both big-shot officers with names that rang through the army, frontline fighters in the Unification War! Let me tell you...
"The World Unification War"... I know about that. It didn't start from here though.
Francis gulps down a large cup of electrolyte solution and slaps Lloyd's back forcefully, turning his notes into a jumbled mess.
What are you writing down, day after day? What do you mean "didn't start from here"?
Hmm... "divergence point"?
About the memory divergence point for this world. My old world still has this memory, so the divergence doesn't start there. Please continue, Francis.
I've told you a thousand times not to use honorifics in private—*hic*! Everything was fine before that. They had us late in life, my unruly brother and me, and then... BOOM! Punishing burst out along with the Zero-Point Energy Ignition.
We were just kids when the Ignition happened. I only remember... everyone waiting for the global broadcast. Then came all that static from the bad signal... *hic*... static...
...
Lloyd gazes silently into Francis's eyes. In his Deep M.I.N.D., he possesses the exact same memories of these past events.
The static destroyed everything... all because of Punishing. They all died.
Lloyd, do you know what the most screwed-up era in history looks like?
I probably wouldn't know.
Lloyd answers softly. While he goes along with Francis's words, his mind drifts to the counterfeit "Eden Type III" and the San Lorenzo gambling facility beneath it, the phantom sensation of the putrid stench of playing cards and casino chips wafting in his olfactory modules.
It's right now, this dogshit new world Punishing brought us, where "someone died" is just another ordinary day.
Everyone died so meaninglessly, like characters a novelist hates, carelessly killed off without a second thought... All gone, my parents, little brother... In the end, I was the only one left, boarding "Eden Type II" in such a way.
"Eden Type II."
Lloyd's pen suddenly freezes.
I boarded "Eden Type III," so that's it... This is the divergence point.
Lloyd! Listen, if you've got those high-speed rotating power arms to enter Babylonia... you gotta mix No. 9 alcohol-flavor electrolyte with machine oil—*hic*—and in the old Autododo ruins, everyone has to wear those ancient comm earpieces...
...?
Francis is drunk. He's always like this when there's no missions. Just ignore him.
Wenke returns to the break room after finishing a meeting and places a copy of the combat report on the table.
Is he cornering you again with stories from when he was still human? About the Punishing outbreak and his little brother and all that?
What are you writing now? Don't tell me you're actually taking notes on all his nonsense?
It's fine. What he's saying is actually useful, it's just what I need.
You don't mind hearing him repeat the same stories three times a week? I don't understand... Well, whatever. It's good you two are getting along.
What about you, Leader? I've never heard you talk about your past.
Wenke's hand hovers over his chest as he grips the ring hanging from his necklace.
If I'm not mistaken, that's a wedding ring? You were married before you became a Construct?
We even had a child, a little girl.
That's all there is to it. Nothing more. Anything else you want to know?
...No, that's all. I'm sorry.
No need to apologize. So many people went missing during the early Punishing outbreak. Some have reunited years later after being separated.
You should write down my story too. When I find my wife and daughter, we can add the next chapter.
Oh... Okay...
Lloyd hunches over his notes, writing intently.
Remember to sober Francis up in a bit. We're here on a mission.
Oh, Leader—
Wenke's footsteps halt as he's leaving. He turns back to look at Lloyd.
If something's wrong with this world, what would be the root of that error?
The Punishing Virus.
It's all the Punishing's fault! *hic*
What if the Punishing Virus was inevitable? What if this is the path humanity must adapt to in order to evolve?
I've always felt that... the world becoming like this isn't just because of the Punishing. Even during the glorious Golden Age, there must have been unseen parts silently rotting away...
You're overthinking this. In an era where basic necessities are the top priority, you're far from needing to consider such questions.
This is Babylonia. If there's only one place in the world that can barely maintain a semblance of order, it's probably here. No one will erase your memory data without reason, and as long as you don't defect, no one will decommission you.
If you keep obsessing over the past and the people you've lost, someday you'll collapse under the weight of your memories.
Let's get ready to move out, Lloyd. We'll head down to the surface, take out a few Corrupted, return with victory, then have some electrolyte drinks with Francis... You can gradually get used to life in Babylonia.
...Understood. I won't collapse in the "old world."
Never... will I collapse in the old world.
Grrrrr!
URGH!
Outside the perimeter, a Corrupted tears off a chunk of Lloyd's bionic skin with its jaws.
This joint operation has turned into a disaster—all personnel are surrounded by Corrupted. Each squad has suffered heavy losses, with Wenke and Francis already fallen within the encirclement.
Lloyd! Retreat! Wait for backup!
Hurry and leave with the other squads! It'd be a damn waste if we all died here!
—Ugh! I'm not leaving!
Despite his teammates' angry shouts, Lloyd delivers a powerful kick, determined to break free from the Corrupted's grip.
Huff... Puff...
The scene before him begins to flicker, memories playing out like a video before his eyes.
I won't leave. If I retreat alone, everything will be lost.
He squeezes his eyes shut, and when they open again, he pulls the blade from the ground.
Haarrgh!!!
Lloyd!
Let me slash! Let me kill! Let me charge at the vanguard!!
I can use Recall anyway. As long as I never die, as long as I'm the one standing at the front, everyone will...
Punishing won't be able to take anyone from his side ever again.
What nonsense about Recall! I've never seen such a thing with my own eyes, and I don't care what others say, I don't believe—
Everyone must survive!!
Before Francis can finish his sentence, Lloyd has already broken through the encirclement and darted in front of them—carrying half of a severed Corrupted.
Vital fluid patters to the ground, dripping in front of the two of them.
Were you planning to abandon me just now?
...
Get up.
The Leader is severely wounded. Francis, you carry him away, I'll cover the rear.
But you're also...!
Trust me, I won't die. I can use Recall freely!
Lloyd helps position the injured Wenke onto Francis's back.
You all told me not to dwell on the past. I believe you. So I'm asking you to survive. Just don't become part of my old world.
You all said Punishing is to blame, and I believe that too. So... I'll be the one to correct it. I just need to eliminate all mistakes.
Vital fluid continues to drip to the ground, but he refuses to fall to his knees, using his knife to prop himself up.
He gives his two comrades a smile of genuine survival, the first such expression since his escape from the false old world.
It's as if he's answering all those Lloyds who fell before the threshold of the new world—responding to their collective question: "Lloyd, why don't you keep running?"
Please survive, I'm begging you. I'll keep running too.
Life in Babylonia was an unprecedented experience for Lloyd—fresh, sincere, and grounded enough to completely immerse himself in.
To preserve this life, he swears to fight with everything he has.
Even if his bionic skin is torn off, mechanical skeleton is shattered, power core is damaged, and vital fluid is drained... he must still fight.
Being wounded on the battlefield no longer means being discarded as defective, nor having his "memory data wiped" after every mission.
So... even if battle brings pain, it's insignificant compared to the contentment and security it brings him.
Whenever he opens his eyes again, Wenko and Francis are always there.
...
Good morning.
Why have you been in sleep mode for so long? Are you pretending to sleep just to avoid me? I heard you moving around in the pod just now.
The dome sky is clear today, and all missions are complete. Why don't you go for a walk with Francis?
Whoo-hoo! If we could run into that pretty one from the neighboring unit—
My bad, my bad! Don't hit me!
Wenke and Francis are so vibrantly alive.
...
Lloyd rises from the Sleeping Pod and steps into the corridor, basking in the pleasant artificial sunlight.
Staff and Constructs passing by all stop to greet him.
Hi! Lloyd, it's been a while.
(Nods in acknowledgment.)
Lloyd! H-hello! No missions today?
(Shakes head.)
People passing by continue to discuss him with admiration.
That's my first time seeing "The Immortal Lloyd"! He looks... not much different from me on the outside. I wonder where his Recall device is?
Don't worry, the Recall function works the same for all Constructs. They can all "resurrect" that way.
But staying conscious to initiate a Recall in such dangerous situations... must be incredibly painful. Haha, I guess only he could manage that.
Having escaped death over a hundred times, he deserves even more respect than his title suggests.
...
People converse as they walk past him, while Lloyd witnesses this scene: the rumors about "The Immortal Lloyd," and his own existence beneath that dazzling reputation.
He slightly lowers his eyes in the sunlight.
They're just rumors. I've never used Recall.
After leaving Madam Monzano's laboratory, he naturally became unable to perform the so-called "Recall."
"Collective consciousness" without physical support is nothing but an illusion—thus, he remains the last Lloyd in the world.
As for the rumors of his "immortality," they're merely a mantra he uses to sustain himself. His true immortality is a reality carved out through countless battles, one strike at a time.
I just... cherish this new world.
He has finally grown accustomed to Babylonia's warm sunlight.
...Have I been in "Eden Type II" for a long time?
An unfamiliar voice responds to him from a distance.
Quite a while, over a year I'd say. I've been observing you for at least a year now.
...Then it seems I must really like this "new world."
Time's flow seems to have been secretly accelerated. He feels as if he's moved through these frames for just a moment, yet in reality, more than a year has already passed.
Over a year is enough time for the military to notice the small "immortality rumors" surrounding Lloyd. They heavily promoted these stories, converting them into a "miracle" to inspire their soldiers.
Doesn't it bother you that Babylonia is using your efforts to fabricate lies?
I don't mind. It's a small matter, hardly deserving to be called a "lie." Besides... if it provides another pillar of support for those people living in the sunlight, that's a good thing.
A "good thing"? You're far from understanding what the greatest mistake in this world truly is.
Wait, who are you...?
You can't see the root of mistakes, which is why you keep making them.
The source of errors is obviously the Punishing... No, answer me first. Who are you?
The voice responding to him carries no humor, only dripping with sarcasm.
Had enough of the sunshine in your memories? Why not open your eyes and see for yourself?
...
Half of a head awakens in the speaker's palm.
Familiar sand and wind fill his vision.
...
Lloyd's halved head is held aloft by the speaker, cruelly forced to survey the surroundings.
Francis... along with the Constructs he encountered that morning in Babylonia's corridors, all lie impaled in the sand, their bodies broken and twisted.
...
I'm not the one who destroyed your new world. They did it to themselves.
That man who greeted you several times was a "defector"—the insulting term Babylonia uses for those who yearn for the Ascension-Network's favor.
I was interested in you, so he made a deal with me to lure you here.
But you and your squad chose to battle me... hmm, I suppose I could commend your "bravery."
Your flailing weapons were annoying, so I removed your limbs. But you insisted on attacking me like a dog, trying to bite me. Why put yourself through that? I had no choice but to reduce you to this state.
The half-head trembles violently in the enemy's palm.
You don't see your leader among them, do you? Don't worry too much, he escaped alive. Your sacrifice wasn't in vain.
You're rather fortunate. Despite having only half a head left, much of your M.I.N.D. remains intact.
...
Ah, I almost forgot, your voice module is destroyed too. No matter, I'll answer what you want to know.
The massive mechanical humanoid cradles what remains of Lloyd as it walks deeper into the windswept desert.
Your M.I.N.D. is quite impressive, perhaps you'll pass the Filtering.
When that time comes, you'll be able to redefine the boundaries of the "new world" with far greater clarity than you can now—at present, your eyes are merely blinded by a beautiful mirage.
I'm patient. Even if you're reluctant to embrace reality for now, I'll give you ample time to prepare yourself.
Once you possess eyes that can see through to the truth, your return to the Ascension-Network will become inevitable.
Oh, right. You can call me <b><ud><color=#34aff8ff><link=23>Gabriel</link></color></ud></b>.
