Story Reader / Main Story / 27 Aeon Reforged / Story
Hey, man, you got a smoke?
You're on guard duty. Aren't you worried about getting busted by the squad leader?
Come on, we're not like those Constructs on the other side. Our bodies don't allow us to be on high alert all the time.
The folks who were supposed to take shifts with us got reassigned to escort supplies. I'd knock out in no time without a smoke.
Alright, alright, here you go.
A hand-rolled cigarette is shoved into the rookie's hand.
Heehee, I'll pay you back next time... Wait, where's the lighter?
Rookie, you dare to use a lighter?
Want the sniper on the other side to blow your head off?
The rookie instinctively shrinks his neck in response to the threat.
N-no way, we're not in a full-blown war yet, aren't we?
The other side shouldn't want to get blamed for firing the first shot, right?
If a war actually kicks off, who gives a damn about which side fired the first shot?
Then how am I supposed to smoke without a lighter?
The young man gazes at the cigarette in his hand, his expression troubled.
Unwrap it like this...
The veteran unwraps the tobacco-filled white paper, pinching a few strands and placing them between his lips.
Chewing it can also help you stay awake.
For real?
After hesitantly putting the remaining tobacco into his mouth...
Whoa... This sure kicks hard...
He shakes his head vigorously before taking a while to regain his senses.
You don't even know this trick? Where on earth did you come from, rookie?
I just finished my training period.
Training period? When did you join?
About four months ago, when that strange purple forest spread near our camp.
A bunch of monsters rushed out. With our lousy gear, we couldn't fend them off.
We couldn't fight back, couldn't make a run for it; all we could do was pray those monsters had their sights set on anyone but us.
That camp was nothing but a patchwork of strangers who hardly even knew each other's names. But their dying screams still ring in my ears.
Then, these Forsakens with flags popped up. Armed with guns just like the one I had in my hands, they blasted away the enemies like nobody's business.
He pats the brand-new rifle cradled in his arms.
After that, they went up to the survivors and asked if we wanted in on the Forsaken crew. Almost everyone agreed without thinking twice.
We were taken for three months of hardcore training and then got brought here.
Now we have food, shelter, and guns. The days of living in fear are finally over.
If only I had known, I would've joined the Forsaken sooner.
Upon hearing the young recruit's somewhat regretful tone, the veteran responds with a scoff.
Hmph, you wouldn't have enjoyed these perks in the past.
Huh?
You think the gear in your hands just fell from the sky?
Without the reopened production lines, you'd be holding something no better than a wooden club.
Unlike Babylonia, Watanabe never took the easy way out by simply blowing up infected factories in the past.
Instead, he went through all the trouble of yanking out those crucial control chips and other bits, hauling them to safe spots, and making sure he kept the nearby Corrupted in check on the regular.
He's always had this belief that the Punishing Virus would eventually get expelled, and all these stored items would come in handy down the line.
Even in the hardest times, he never thought of abandoning them.
Thanks to his persistent attitude, when the Clean Zone rolled in, we were able to kickstart a bunch of production lines in no time.
Armed with guns and cannons, we stood tall and took back our turf from those Babylonia folks.
That's why you have food, shelter, and guns now.
Watanabe... I kept hearing that name during training. Is he the reason why things are so tense between us and Babylonia?
Who exactly is he?
He is... the root of the Forsaken.
Now... someone has taken your root. Will you forgive them?
The veteran spits out the chewed tobacco, aiming it precisely into the buffer zone that lies between the Forsaken and Babylonia outposts.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the buffer zone.
That old geezer spit toward us again?!
Alright, enough sweating the small stuff. You wanna spit back or what?
What's the status of the micron drone?
The other soldier casts a glance at the terminal on the ground and shakes his head.
No luck, still can't break through their defense net.
Damn it, these past few days, we haven't gathered squat for intel, except the fact that the guard over there is a chain smoker.
And he likes to spit at us.
Shut up already.
They sure know our tech inside out. Even if they took in those defected Constructs, it ain't supposed to be like this.
This micron drone is still a prototype, not even mass-produced yet.
Could there be another mole?
Speaking of moles, have you heard about that thing?
What thing?
The one where the Gray Raven Commandant went missing... Word on the street is the commandant got sold out to the Ascendants by some mole.
You can't just run your mouth like that!
The soldier immediately looks around and lowers his voice.
Do you want the Purifying Force to come and interrogate you?
What's there to be afraid of? Didn't they come around with a photo asking if anyone had seen the Gray Raven Commandant?
I guess they didn't get their act together and coordinate the witness search because they were keeping an eye on certain folks.
But here's the weird thing. It's not just the Task Force, even some of the Engineering Force who rolled in a few days back were asking the same question.
Does the Gray Raven Commandant owe them for some construction fee?
...Rein in your imagination.
If the higher-ups don't say anything, I can only guess with my imagination.
...Yeah, you're right. They haven't even given a proper response to all the accusations thrown by the Forsaken.
It's making me lose confidence sometimes.
There's no way a war's gonna break out, right...? After all, we still have the Longinus Arsenal...
But if they're pushed to the brink...
After reassuring the other Forsakens one last time, Ballard returns to his office.
This is our top-secret plan to counter the Longinus Arsenal. Rest assured, everyone.
If Babylonia decides to use the Longinus Arsenal, they will pay a heavy price.
Now... the final pep talk is done.
Ballard turns his head to look out the window.
It's getting foggy.
Shrouded by the dense fog, his vision fails to reach far, and his attention is abruptly redirected by a notification from his terminal.
In New Oakley, huh?
He's still alive... When did it go wrong?
Gazing at the brief message on the terminal, Ballard ponders his next move.
Leave it to me, Generalissimo.
A gray figure silently emerges.
