Story Reader / Affection / Lilith: Daemonissa / Story
Lilith: Daemonissa VI
You put the protective suit back on and inject the third dose of serum into your body.
Under the toppled bookshelf lie the items you left before coming here.
Of course, the Standard Pistol previously placed here is also revealed.
With the smallest possible movements, you check the gun's condition before tucking it back behind your waist.
Eleanor leans against the VIP room doorway, the elegant umbrella once again in her hand.
Ready?
Eleanor's movements take on an uncharacteristic gravity as she presses the terminal into your palm.
Three minutes remain until the game begins.
The terminal displays that three opponents have already completed their selections for this round.
At this moment, Eleanor's terminal displays the same symbol as yours.
Scissors and Paper.
Another choice to make...?
Based on the calculations, there shouldn't be any difference.
Input the results into the terminal.
Moments later, the screen displays the confirmation of game results.
No. 1: Rock No. 2: Rock No. 3: Rock No. 4: Scissors No. 5: Scissors
Input the results into the terminal.
Moments later, the screen displays the confirmation of game results.
No. 1: Scissors No. 2: Scissors No. 3: Scissors No. 4: Paper No. 5: Paper
An unbelievable result appears on the terminal screen.
Your terminal screen and Eleanor's both turn a glaring red.
A blood-red scissors symbol slashes across the display, stabbing into your vision, freezing your pulse mid-beat.
Processing results...
The most thrilling possibility... boom!
Result of this round: No. 4 and No. 5 are defeated.
Eleanor's tone remains eerily calm as she pats her own shoulder.
Madman or a corpse, which will it be?
Fingers trace over the small text etched onto the terminal screen.
—The authority of freedom belongs to the victor.
Yes?
Is this the opening line of your deathbed confession?
No one's ever ready to die.
Is that a survival instinct or just denial?
I'm not interested in philosophical debates.
So, this is what you've been fixated on all along.
What you're after is... to outlast the game.
You want to cheat fate and death, to face your enemy at the finish line?
Hehehe... quite the captivating line, and a wildly crazy theory.
Yet you still haven't fully understood everything about the woman standing before you.
My footsteps gradually come to a halt. With my back to Eleanor, I take two prepared vials of serum in hand.
The empty glass vial falls toward the ground.
With lightning-fast reflexes, she catches the falling vial. The metal accents on her pure white gloves gleam under the warm light.
Sigh.
The woman before you—a Construct—releases her hand the instant after catching the vial.
A crisp sound of shattering glass rings out. A soft light begins to emanate from her knee.
Almost simultaneously, on the terminal screen resting on the table—the one that determines life and death in this game—the meter symbolizing Punishing concentration reaches its final level.
Electricity crackles across its surface with a crisp sound, and the terminal begins to emit a thin wisp of smoke.
Even though it's still far from reaching the limit a human body can withstand, at this concentration the virus corrosion already puts your skin at risk of ulceration.
But this is definitely not the time to focus on pain.
What?! Two losers in one go!
The harsh sound of a broadcast rings out, yet fails to break the frozen atmosphere.
Remaining participants, watch your backs. When will the next elimination hit?
Eleanor's gaze shifts in this seemingly endless moment of eye contact.
Her eyes are filled with... pleasure.
A little white lie makes our relationship smoother, right?
If I wasn't interested in you, things wouldn't have gotten this far, little Commandant.
That was quite the show.
Your eyes can't lie.
Geez... and I was actually starting to believe your story.
Surely you have procedures for dealing with someone like me?
Will you slap on some special cuffs, or just execute me here and now?
An incredible result! Two more eliminations, and the game—is over!
Mechanical sounds echo once more from the walls that stretch up to the ceiling.
The long-awaited winner, are you ready to claim your grand prize?
Relax, little Commandant.
The moment those words leave her lips, several other possibilities begin to dominate your thoughts.
She isn't lying—these words aren't meant as a taunt or an act.
A roulette wheel seeking precise answers begins to spin in your mind.
Fighting through the intense pain, you shift into a stable shooting stance, though your aching body still causes your words to falter.
The person before you shows no reaction or unusual movement. Under virus corruption, she hasn't transformed into the infected Constructs you've seen before.
The steel ball in the roulette wheel lands on the very position I'd hoped to avoid.
The music for the victor is playful and cheerful, cutting through the stagnant air.
The spatial constraints are fully lifted as the walls enclosing the room begin to rise, vanishing into the hum of machinery.
What?! Two losers at once!
Crimson bleeds into the Construct's vision. He presses his hands to his ears—anything to drown out that damned sound.
But soon, the turbulent agony in his mind once again tempts him to simply surrender to madness.
Faulkner delivers a forceful kick to the corpse on the ground—Rabio, the one who tried to stab him in the back an hour ago.
But clearly, he failed.
Faulkner forces himself to stabilize his mind, but he knows deep down it's like struggling against underwater currents.
Futile and agonizing.
Faulkner looks toward the area he had tried to pass through earlier—the very place where he was contaminated by the one thing he should have avoided at all costs.
If even he couldn't last long in such an environment, then that human who once tried to save everyone would have even less chance of survival.
To confirm whether that human was still alive, Faulkner had decided to cross through the partitioned areas to find that human.
But in the end, Faulkner found nothing, only coming into contact with the Punishing Virus—capable of completely destroying his will.
Ha.
He doesn't even realize he's let out a soft chuckle.
But he manages to regain his senses. According to that broadcast, two losers...
A glimmer of hope helps "Faulkner" recover part of himself. He rushes toward the three terminals he had thrown on the ground earlier.
Destroy two of them, and the game will end.
Faulkner picks out two wristband terminals and tosses them into the room filled with the virus.
The broadcast seems to say something, but he doesn't care. He knows he's already won.
He knows his victory is certain.
The walls that had descended earlier begin to rise, ending the claustrophobic and anxiety-inducing partitioning of the area.
The long-awaited winner, are you ready to claim your grand prize?
Faulkner hears these words.
He also hears sounds from the other side of the room.
Why are there other people here?
He absolutely cannot allow this to happen. The playful, cheerful music for the victor plays as pure madness in his ears.
The Construct abandons his resistance against the noise corrupting his M.I.N.D., and the gates of the hunting ground open before him.
The final curtain is falling.
What kind of show will you put on now to survive?
Eleanor stands holding an umbrella, facing the weapon raised against her.
In the arena where predator-prey relationships have become completely blurred, a dark figure also lunges at the Ascendant from behind.
Blood-red liquid splashes through the air.
The bullet grazes her neck, its high-speed spin striking the pearl necklace she wears.
From the shattered necklace, pearls roll down one by one, scattering across the floor.
Vital fluid seeps thinly from the abrasion on her neck.
She covers the wound, her face lighting up with an excited smile like never before.
The Ascendant turns to look at the corpse lying behind her.
Finally, she draws a period on the forehead of the Corrupted named Faulkner.
To have a chance to break the stalemate and choose this...
Eleanor tilts her chin up slightly, her right hand stained with the vital fluid. She carefully applies the pale purple liquid to the corners of her lips, which are curving upwards uncontrollably. A soft, sunset-like flush of light red gently appears on her face.
Is that your final answer? Hahahaha...
The sound of gunfire rings out again.
This time, the bullet lands right in front of Eleanor.
Before completely losing the strength to stand, you catch a glimpse of pleasure reflected in her eyes.
The gunshot echoes through the empty room.
Lilith remains rooted in place, her expression caught between hunger and frustration.
Is this the human's way of toying with people's minds...
Or is it just a stroke of bad luck?
At this thought, the corners of her mouth involuntarily curl upward.
Hah...
Haha...
Hahahahaha... Human from Babylonia, you certainly know how to cater to one's tastes.
Then... I'll give you a chance to tell me the answer yourself, face to face.
Ms. Eleanor.
Accompanied by a mechanical female voice, a jazz tune begins to play, completely out of place in the moment.
Lilith taps her left foot on the ground, the spikes hidden inside her leg already primed to strike.
She turns around to see a CUB that resembles an old display terminal wearing a clown hat.
Oh my, long time no see, little Billie.
Lilith doesn't lower her weapon until the terminal screen flashes a disarmingly human smile.
Sure has.
I still prefer your original self.
It seems you're Aunt's final sense of humor.
You are the sole winner of this game. Congratulations.
Not really.
Lilith looks toward the fallen human.
That human's condition...
The vital signs are perfectly stable.
That's compared to the other participants, who are all pushing up daisies.
Ms. Eleanor, I didn't expect to see you at a game like this.
Just a final courtesy to a few people.
A constantly shifting gladiatorial arena, hardly elegant.
Elegant events tend to have a certain viewing barrier.
Whatever. Are you here to hand over the key? Las Prados' "grand" key.
Her tone carries contempt.
Oh, of course! The key... the key...
A mechanical device floats in front of Lilith.
From its back, a storage unit slowly ejects.
Looks like just another puzzle.
Lilith carefully examines the storage unit in her hand.
Normally, Madam Monzano would meet the winner at this point, but she's tied up with other business.
That's right, she's on an extended trip...
If she gets back, she'll be in touch, Ms. Eleanor.
By the way, Billie, has anyone ever told you you're a bit loud?
I think it's because—
Lilith suddenly grips her CUB tightly. Under a shroud of crimson light, static flickers across the worn screen.
Beep beep beep—
These sound effects aren't coming from any actual circuitry, but from a voice with an exaggerated inflection.
The static gradually clears from its face, allowing expressions to reappear on its display.
However, the expression on the terminal has transformed into a grinning clown face.
I should have done this when you were infected.
Giggle... no problem, Lilith.
Lilith tightens her grip on the storage unit as she approaches you, dazed. Leaning down, she brushes her lips against your ear.
I still have a big fish to reel in. Just bear with me a little longer.
She injects a dose of serum into your body.
At first, there is nothing but boundless darkness.
Afterward, the sound of birds flapping their wings reaches the ears.
And the calls of a flock of birds.
Within the bright, warm light before the eyes, a flock of crows flies toward the horizon.
Good afternoon?
Your mind screams at your limbs to move, but your body refuses. Every wound howls in protest, the pain crushing you to the floor.
Pain throbs in time with your pulse, but it's the constricting embrace of the bandages you notice most.
Because of your rather puzzling choices.
My curiosity hasn't been satisfied just yet.
Eleanor places a water bottle in your hand.
Gamblers don't mind betting their lives because they always trust the odds.
But everything you've done is about breaking free from those odds...
The Ascendant's voice pitches higher as she drifts toward you.
You believe in the unpredictable possibilities of "human nature"... so we're essentially cut from the same cloth.
It's only natural to feel a kinship with such a rare sight of your own type.
When the same darkness finds you, we'll understand each other even better, Commandant from beyond the stars.
Eleanor pops a biscuit into your mouth. The immediate sugar rush steadies your hands, sharpening your focus.
Speaking of which, why did you deliberately shoot the floor at the very end?
Surely you weren't just playing a deathly prank, were you? Please, tell me.
Haha... could you tell more of those wonderfully inappropriate jokes?
Eleanor looks at you. She seems to be searching for answers in your eyes.
One day I'll figure it out, and I'll make you admit it yourself.
Eleanor's tone remains calm, with no trace of threat in her words.
But no matter, I'm sure we'll cross paths again.
Even in this state, you're still a little raven full of curiosity.
Eleanor turns toward you, pressing herself against your body and pinning down the hand you have just hidden.
But questioning an enemy in this situation probably isn't the smartest move, is it?
Although, we don't really have such clear lines between us.
Is that another line you prepared to butter me up?
That sounds rather suggestive.
Your body is completely immobilized by the overwhelming difference in power.
Eleanor makes a "shh" gesture to stop you.
Shh... I'd like everything that happened here to stay here.
How does that proposition sound, "Honorable" Commandant?
Your unresponsive hand jerks upward at her command. Pain uncurls your fingers—the terminal slips free, hitting the ground with a hollow clang.
She picks up the terminal, which sparks in her hand and turns into a useless heap of metal. The Ascendant tosses it aside.
Can't let your buddies catch you fraternizing with an Ascendant.
Eleanor presses down on your shoulder, and pain shoots through your wound. Once again, she stops you from trying to get up.
She stands up, turns toward the Horizon, and gazes at the setting sun's afterglow.
You grip her arm tightly.
In the last warmth before sunset, your right hand feels the hard, cold metal decorations on her glove.
Eleanor seems unbothered as she breaks free with an almost "gentle" force.
The glove stained with blood from bandaging is pulled down with her hand.
It exposes the prominent mechanical structure at her wrist joint.
The Ascendant looks back at you beneath the setting sun.
In the afterglow, half her face burns like fire, half remains in inscrutable shadow—just like her enigmatic smile.
Think of it as something to look forward to for our second date.
Eleanor raises her umbrella with an elegant gesture, blocking out the last dazzling rays of light.
Beneath the umbrella, her silhouette melts into darkness before the land around her.
The distant roar of a flying vehicle accompanies the countdown to nightfall.
Umbrella in hand, she walks toward the horizon, her heels clicking rhythmically with each step.
