Story Reader / Main Story / 27 Aeon Reforged / Story
Hey buddy, it's time for the shift change.
You're late, you son of *****. I've been waiting forever.
The other resident retrieves a liquor flask and takes a few swigs.
Finally! I couldn't have a drink on duty and was dying for it.
Hey, don't do that in front of me! You're making me drool!
Wanna have a sip?
The flask is handed over, and the man inhales deeply, savoring the aroma of the liquor within.
Emm...
Nah, forget about it.
He reluctantly pushes the flask away and even steps back, as if fearing he'd regret his decision in the next second.
The mayor said no drinking on duty. I don't want to land myself in trouble.
Dude, who knows when his son will show up for inspection?
What's the big deal? If you get caught, it's just a few days of no drinking. You can tough it out.
The flask is handed over again.
Hey, come on, join me for a drink. It's no fun doing it all alone.
The person offering the drink will get punished too...
The flask is pushed back to its owner's hand.
You know, I reckon we should stick to the mayor's rules. It's not that I'm scared or anything.
Tch... I just don't get it. This place was just a shabby old bar. What's there worth keeping an eye on?
Not even scavengers come around here.
Ah, forget it. Let's just do the job. Long as we get paid, who cares if the mayor's hiding gold in there or something.
Besides, this ain't the only spot with beefed-up guards.
He raises his chin toward the distant cliff.
They also put more guards at that entrance. Seems like they ain't just defending against those"Heater-Creatures".
Shouldn't it be Hetero-Creatures?
Yeah, right. Those smart-asses in Babylonia sure got a knack for giving things names that are a mouthful to say.
I reckon they're probably keeping an eye out for them Forsakens too, eh?
After they went and turned the whole darn town upside down a few months back.
If it weren't for the mayor stepping in, them bastards would've dragged a few folks down with 'em. Ptoo!
He spits on the ground in annoyance and takes another swig.
Well, ain't that a fine example of the non-interference deal or whatever? Just look at what happened.
The mayor was boiling mad back then... I thought he'd start vaporizing right then and there.
You even know about this vaporizing word?
I did go to school for a little while, even though I only graduated from primary school.
Then help me read this, will ya?
The man takes out a newspaper and directs his companion's attention to the headline at the top of the page.
Man, you didn't even make it through preschool, eh? Lemme see... "Death Belongs Not to the Forsaken... Honoring Our Most Trusted Leader, Watanabe..."
****!
He snatches the newspaper, accidentally spilling some of his drink onto the ground, yet paying no mind to the mishap as he reads intently.
Hey, not the drink...
Why are you getting all riled up? It's just someone kicking the bucket, ain't nothing unusual these days.
Where did you get this?
The wind blew it over.
?
What's got you all riled up? The wind blew that thing right into my face.
Then stick to your duty. I'll report this to the mayor.
He hastily tucks the newspaper into his coat and dashes off to the other end of the town as fast as he can.
Hey, tell me what it says after my shift ends!
While he shouts after his departing companion, he fails to notice the door behind him discreetly opening ajar.
Watanabe places the bouquet in his hand at the foot of a tombstone.
Father, Mother, I've come to see you.
A new tombstone has been erected next to the old one.
In the same location, at the same time of day, only the person here to mourn looks completely different from before.
More than one new gravestones now populate the area. On the adjacent hill, low gravestones span across nearly every inch of land.
Following the catastrophic defeat, the World Government took an extensive period to account for all the casualties incurred.
Despite the mounting pressing issues at hand, the World Government still held a grand memorial ceremony to honor and remember those who were lost.
The challenges we face should not become reasons for us to forget their sacrifice.
Hans, now with a crown of white hair, uttered these words in his televised speech.
But Watanabe has also noticed many changes taking place...
The supermarket shelves are no longer abundantly filled, with many items quickly vanishing as soon as they are restocked.
People have shifted their attention away from art to news and prices.
Pedestrians are now a rare sight on the streets, and those who do venture out are only seen rushing in a hurry...
The original Acadia Transfer has been renamed to the Acadia Evacuation.
Watanabe, you came too...
Ballard, too, has changed a lot. The shadows between his brows have deepened, and an unintentional aura of menace surrounds him, making it feel more difficult to approach him than before.
He gently places the white flowers he held in front of the two gravestones, but unlike before, he refrains from uttering more words.
I heard you were assigned to the air force?
Yes, and they designed a special aerial combat frame for me.
You indeed have a talent for that.
He nods but still doesn't turn to look at Watanabe.
I kept trying to convince Shin to transfer you to the previous aerospace squadron before, but he always insisted on not interfering with your choices.
Heh, he might have looked young, but he surely was as rigid as those old fossils.
Father said the same thing about someone as well...
Oh, who was it?
You...
He said that you're the kind of person who doesn't tolerate any nonsense. Once you make up your mind, you'll disregard everything else, and no one can sway your opinion.
Ballard finally shifts his gaze from the gravestones and turns to look at Watanabe.
Did he really say that?
Watanabe nods.
...
Hmph, he had quite the knack for seeing people through.
The shared topic dissolves the subtle estrangement between the two, and as a result, Ballard's brows relax ever so slightly.
After changing your frame, didn't they correct the color of your eye?
Can't make the same mistake twice, can they?
I asked them to keep it. I'm used to it, and I kind of like it this way.
With this eye that doesn't belong to me, I can see the world for them... Though it's not perfect, it's not all bad.
Don't dwell too much on the past. There's only so much one can hold onto.
Of course, I won't stop moving forward because of it. They're never a burden to begin with, but my motivation to keep going.
...
I heard you're also in charge of transporting Gestalt's central core this time?
I'm not the only one... You even know about that?
This mission involves more than just the air force. The Purifying Force will also take action.
Could it be...
Thinking of the recent rumors about the Purifying Force, Watanabe frowns.
Don't overthink it. Leave those despicable opportunists to us.
But I've also heard that sometimes, the Purifying Force's methods tend to be... a bit extreme?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. There's no need to hold back against those guys anyway.
That central core will be sent to Eden II, right?
It's now called Babylonia.
Ballard... do you think we're doing the right thing?
What do you mean?
We both have witnessed Gestalt's riot and know the direct cause of the current situation, yet those in power chose to hide it.
Even after they conducted months-long inspections and implemented quarantine measures, they still decided to rely on this flawed thing.
I understand that they're probably out of options—Babylonia's operations need Gestalt's support.
But aren't they exposing themselves to the risk of repeating the same mistake?
Silence lingers between them for a long time before Ballard finally speaks.
I meant to let you figure it out on your own, but now that you're asking...
He lets out a soft sigh.
Watanabe, you can't save everyone as a soldier. The true arbiters of fate affecting the majority are often the leaders who make decisions.
Unlike soldiers, those who assume such positions are bound to shoulder the lives of their followers.
So they must use everything they can, unite everyone they can, and defeat everything they must.
As for whether it's right or wrong... How can we, who are in the midst of it, pass judgment?
Everything can only be left to history and the future. For now, it all comes down to our stance.
If you wish to save beyond what lies before your eyes, then it is time to begin thinking more.
Feel more and think more about what else you can do and influence.
But there's one thing for sure, whether as a soldier or a leader...
When we fight for those who can't speak for themselves, we are strong.
I...
He wants to say something, but the storm of thoughts swirls within him, hindering him from articulating any coherent words.
I need to go meet the team.
In the end, he can only find an excuse to leave.
Alright, get going.
I still have a few old friends to visit.
Ballard looks up at the tombstones on the nearby hill.
Quite an unconventional meeting location that you picked.
It's pretty reasonable for two soldiers to have a small talk when they meet at the cemetery, isn't it?
When did you learn to pull this kind of trick?
Just get to the point.
Hans is dying.
The blunt statement leaves Cyril dumbfounded.
What did you just say?
He was secretly sent to the hospital last night and hasn't returned to his post yet this morning.
His lieutenant is in command now, and many have already started speculating about his whereabouts.
Could it be...
Ballard shakes his head.
Hans isn't someone they can deal with that way.
Given to whether his position as the military commander or his personal prestige.
If they still want to get rid of him through assassination, it won't be easy to cover it up with just some small fry taking the blame.
There's only one reason for this situation...
He's too old and too tired.
Since the failure of the Great Transfer, he's been under unimaginable pressure.
During the planning of the Acadia Evacuation, every decision has been tormenting his conscience, but he can't question it or allow guilt to consume him.
Moreover, he also has to deal with those trying to take advantage of the situation in the meantime.
Trillard's sacrifice brought about a brief period of peace, but the deteriorating situation is causing more people to lean toward their side.
It's a vicious cycle with no end. Perhaps things can only change in a new environment.
You must've noticed the change within the World Government as well.
Cyril responds with a nod.
If Hans doesn't make it this time... well, even if he does, the demands for his replacement will only grow louder.
Are you thinking about placing your bet early?
Ballard doesn't answer, seemingly still hesitating.
Wells?
No. He's too emotional.
Smith?
Too young to command respect.
Then... Nikola?
...
This time, Ballard doesn't offer a response immediately.
After a long pause, he shakes his head.
It's still too early.
Looks like we have to go with our safety precautions ahead of time.
Are you sure about that?
Yes.
Ballard looks up, his eyes devoid of any lingering hesitation.
To prevent soldiers from becoming tools, and to defend the final glory.
We need to start gathering our forces.
Are you saying they are gathering their forces?
Within the dimly lit basement, a doctor donning a white coat is reading a crumpled newspaper under the feeble light.
Honoring our most... Nonsense!
Aunt Jada, don't go tearing it up. It wasn't easy for me to get these back, you know.
I'm not your aunt!
Eh, I can't call you that?
Sigh... I can't believe I become grumpier as I get older.
The woman, who looks no longer young, sighs softly.
If only Philip were still around. He was way ahead of me when it comes to treating Constructs.
What a shame...
Jada turns to look at the person lying quietly in the center of the equipment. Despite the physical injuries being treated...
His consciousness remains in a dormant state.
I've been saved twice now, if counting what went down in the Pulia Forest Park, but I can't even get the guy to wake up.
I-it's not your fault, Au... Jada.
I heard you used to be just a designer. What you've done so far is already pretty impressive.
Ha, which researcher from the Post-Pandemic Age isn't a jack-of-all-trades?
I'm probably the worst of them, no wonder I ended up getting abandoned.
Says Jada in frustration.
Ah... Well...
The red-haired soldier finds himself at a loss, not knowing what to say.
So he decisively seeks help from the other person present.
Commandant, say something too!
Sitting on the makeshift bed, you put down the newspaper.
Can you still handle it?
Jada extends her arm to point to your nose, indicating her concern.
You wipe away the blood from the previous long Deep M.I.N.D. connection. Your fingers seem thin and delicate.
