Whiteford brushes the snow off, shoulders his heavy pack, and takes up his weapon. He looks up into the polar night. It stretches on—empty, quiet, and brazenly certain that nothing alive belongs here.
Damn weather! Boss, are you sure the "rabbits" we're chasing really came all the way out here?
Bill's clueless whining interrupts Whiteford's thoughts. Seeing the irritated twist on Whiteford's metal face, the mechanoid beside Bill smacks him on the head with his mechanical arm.
Rabbits? What kind of junk code are you running in that antique processor of yours?
Huh? Isn't that it? We're just after some helpless Babylonia Commandant and a heavily damaged Construct, right?
You idiot. That's Babylonia's ace—the Gray Raven Commandant. And the frame they're using is top-grade Arctic Route tech, operated by the Forest Guard's chief.
Uh... weren't there just two targets? When did it become a whole squad?
Jack rolls his eyes, done arguing with the underpowered idiot. He just remembers how stunned he felt when the boss delivered the briefing without a single expression.
Our Phase One objectives are nearly complete. Over 90% of expected results achieved. But...
One part of the operation failed. The newest Arctic Route frame, which was supposed to be recovered during the battle, was stolen. Our mission is to pursue and reclaim it.
Expressionless, the mechanoid Whiteford syncs the mission details to his team. The brief overview includes two portraits—their assigned targets.
B-boss...
Hm?
Is that... that person?
Yes.
After confirming again and again, Jack points at himself, questioning his own programming.
Me? We're taking down the Gray Raven Commandant?
(Remain silent)
Based on Phase One results, the human Commandant has lost Babylonia's protection. Their only combat asset, Rosetta, is severely damaged. We...
...still have a chance.
If Whiteford's mechanoid frame could load human expressions, Jack would've seen just how miserable his self-deception looked.
Sounds like easy money, boss! We're gonna hit the jackpot! When do we move?
Of course, the one who needs a processor upgrade is the first to speak.
...
We wait for the other teams to assemble.
Over ten mechanoid teams have been deployed to track you and Rosetta. Following orders, they'll spread out like a casting net, converging on the last recorded signal on the snowfields.
The signal interference blanketing the entire Arctic doesn't spare their own troops. These "bloodhounds" follow their preset routes with absolute precision, sweeping across the untouched snow like a giant filter meant to remove any "impurities."
Whiteford's team is the closest to the targets, and by sheer luck, the underpowered Bill is the one who spots the tracks left by you and Rosetta.
Boss... maybe we should regroup with the other teams first, and then—
Looking at the tracks left by their targets, Jack hesitates. Even Whiteford, their leader, wavers for a moment.
...
You can't blame them. Every strike team watched the footage from the institute raid before deployment. Rosetta tearing through enemy lines on her own left a deep fear in all of them.
Even knowing she's badly damaged now, they still can't be sure their small team has enough firepower to take her down.
This means our chances of being spotted by our "prey" will be much higher. And also...
Whiteford glances at Bill, who is practically hopping with excitement, as if discovering the tracks alone already earned him the mission reward.
I'm guessing Bill isn't the type to share credit with other teams.
Share? Why would we share?! We found them! Nobody steals our victory... nobody!
After shouting, Bill charges off following the footprints. Whiteford and Jack don't stop him. Just like that, every option they were debating gets vetoed by their simple-minded teammate.
Boss... this is...
What are you waiting for? Move.
Whiteford sighs, but he and Jack still follow Bill. The three mechanoids remain on the same fire team, though Bill is clearly the one who loves "fire" the most.
Snowfields
Arctic region
Unknown coordinates
Since the attack, they've been like blind men groping in darkness, completely cut off from information. They don't know who the enemy truly is, how their location was exposed, or what method could silence communications across the entire Arctic.
The "tail" following you now is like a tendril reaching out from the darkness. Risky, yes, but also the perfect chance to learn more about the enemy.
Well? [player name], how many of them are there?
Buried beneath the snow, you and Rosetta observe the pursuing group. The polar night and deep snow give you perfect cover. The night-vision binoculars issued to every Babylonia Commandant are invaluable now.
What about their combat power?
Can I take a look?
You hand her the binoculars. Rosetta sees the three pursuers arguing among themselves.
Standard three-man fire team. The big one—the dopey-looking one—is the only real threat. The other two aren't much. We can take them.
Rosetta quickly sizes them up—at least the strength they're showing. But something still bothers her.
Strange...
What are they hesitating for? Waiting for backup? They've stopped a few hundred meters out and haven't moved.
The forest after snowfall is silent. Occasionally, an animal darts across the snow, unaware that the prints it leaves behind can become clues for hunters.
Grandpa, why isn't it moving? What's it hesitating for? If it steps a little closer, we can make our move.
Rosetta and Puff are completely buried beneath the snow, leaving only two tiny observation holes on the surface. A faint wisp of breath leaks out, but the prey doesn't notice a thing. Its full attention is locked on the bait lying over the trap.
It's an extraordinary, strong reindeer.
Be patient, Rosetta. Prey isn't as foolish as we'd like to think.
Puff studies the reindeer for a moment, then relaxes and lies back, handing the trap's trigger line to Rosetta. It seems he doesn't expect to spring it anytime soon.
It knows there's danger. It's deciding whether the risk is worth getting the bait.
With the snow piling up, food is getting scarce. Animals need to survive the winter just like we do. Deer take risks to feed, and wolves take risks to hunt the deer. That reindeer doesn't have the luxury of hesitating for long...
Rosetta, you're the one who will help it decide.
Me? How am I supposed to do that?
Puff turns to her beneath the snow. His nose is red from the cold against his deeply lined face, and his features gather into a sly, almost playful smile beneath his gray beard.
She watches him cup his hands and let out a wolf howl—so convincing it's hard to tell if it's real.
It actually worked.
Hearing the howl, the reindeer grows more agitated. It checks its surroundings several times, then finally commits—it's going for the bait.
Good... good. A little closer. You want the bait, don't you? Just one more step.
The reindeer inches forward, testing the ground. It moves right to the edge of the trap. One more step and Rosetta could loosen the trigger line, letting the trap finish the hunt for the seasoned pair.
Schween—
A familiar whistle cuts through the forest—an arrow, but poorly aimed. It misses the reindeer entirely, but shatters its fragile resolve.
The reindeer doesn't spare the bait another look. It stares straight at Rosetta's snow mound, their eyes meeting for a moment, then bolts into the forest without hesitation and disappears.
Ugh!
A shame. Come on, Rosetta, let's go back.
But Grandpa... we were so close.
Doesn't matter, child. You've still got tomorrow.
And the day after that. There's no rule saying you must finish the hunt today.
But... Grandpa, we still need to—
The words "survive the winter" catch in Rosetta's throat. That ritual belongs to a life she hasn't lived in a very long time. Here and now, neither she nor her grandpa truly needs this deer to survive.
The departed simply follow the habits they carried in life, nudging the living to replay the ordinary scenes they once knew. And that momentum—the reason these scenes still repeat—comes from the memories the living refuse to let go of.
But... Rosetta, you'll have a hunt of your own. In your own time.
It's snowing. Time for you to go back.
Snow begins falling without warning, drifting down until the forest disappears under a soft white veil. As the flakes thicken, night settles in with it, wrapping the world in darkness.
Go back? To where?
Nightfall is the forest's gentle way of asking you to leave.
No... I mean—it's just...
You've gotten used to Rosetta drifting off like this from time to time. Even so, your expression betrays your concern.
Yes...
Not this time. We were hunting.
Rosetta looks toward the three figures waiting a few hundred meters away and gestures lightly.
Yes. That kind of hunt.
Patience comes first. And then... we guide our prey into making a choice.
Your footprints and Rosetta's lead straight into the cave. There's only a single trail going in, which suggests the two of you are still inside.
Not far outside, Whiteford's team lies in ambush. Jack has followed the faint traces of spilled vital fluid, and the pattern tells them exactly what they need to know: Rosetta, your only fighter, is bleeding more heavily. Her condition is getting worse.
That realization sparks a dangerous thought in Whiteford's processor: maybe Bill was right. Maybe their team alone can take the entire reward.
Bill, the boss and I are sticking our necks out for you here... so don't go charging in. We scout first. If this looks bad, we pull out.
Yeah, yeah, I know...
Quiet!
With a single low bark from the captain, Bill shuts off his speaker, which had been blaring like an emergency siren.
Same formation as always. Jack, you take point and scout ahead. Bill, weapons up—you're next. I'll hold the rear.
Ugh... boss, let me take the rear this time, yeah?
Not a chance. Can't have you making a solo escape.
Caught immediately, Jack reluctantly moves into the cave first. Bill follows behind—his massive frame sealing off any path of retreat. Only after confirming nothing unusual near the entrance does Whiteford, the only mechanoid in the team with support capabilities, finally step inside as well.
The cave isn't large. After a single turn, it opens into a stone chamber. There, waiting for them, is their so-called "reward" for pushing this far—the Gray Raven Commandant standing right before the three of them.
Huh? Why are you alone?
You idiot! Move! It's a trap!
Jack's warning is still echoing through the chamber when you raise your "weapon"—your ultra-lumen tactical flashlight.
The blast of light hits them head-on, blooming in their faces like a flashbang. It's only a flashlight, not a real stun grenade.
But it's more than enough.
We just have to push them into choosing. They hesitate because they aren't sure how much strength we still have.
If we keep showing weakness, make ourselves look barely functional, their greed would do the rest. Greed always makes prey reckless.
So we fake the vital fluid trail and make them believe I'm already down. That'll lure them into the cave.
And after that... I need your flashlight.
Yes. With our supplies running low, improvising is our only option.
It doesn't have to be. One opening is all we need!
But isn't that too risky for you, [player name]?
Yes. I won't let anything happen to you.
Your flashlight erupts in a sudden burst, a white cascade flooding the entire cave. In an instant, all three of them see nothing but blank, blinding white.
SLASH—!
Uurgh!
Rosetta's halberd tears through metal, Bill's scream echoing with it. As the glare fades, Jack and Whiteford barely manage to dodge her follow-up strike, only to see Bill's frame split cleanly in two on the cave floor.
When your flashlight dies, the cave plunges back into darkness. Only the burning sweep of Rosetta's halberd cuts through the darkness as she rushes in from the entrance, closing off the last of their escape routes.
The cave becomes a chaotic dance hall from before the Golden Age.
Gunfire and energy bursts flicker like frantic strobe lights. The roar of weapons and the clang of blades pound together like an old, violent rock track, hammering against your ears.
Thankfully, the performance is short-lived. Silence returns to the cave soon enough.
All targets down. The "hunt" is complete.
You switch the flashlight back on, meaning only to check on her... and instead hit Rosetta with another unexpected flash to the face.
Too... too bright, [player name]. Turn it off, please.
I'm fine. Just a few grazes, nothing serious.
A softer warmth fills the cave as you light a torch and bring it close to her. As expected, her already-damaged frame has accumulated several new wounds.
Just scratches. Nothing to worry about.
You kneel beside her, inspecting the damage from the fight.
That fight got intense. I couldn't keep an eye on you... Are you hurt, [player name]?
Good... though it's a pity none of them survived for questioning.
She glances toward the remains of the three mechanoids, a faint trace of regret in her expression.
That's another lead gone.
You, however, wear a satisfied smile—the plan has worked.
You open your palm. Lying there is Whiteford's storage core.
