Story Reader / Floating Record / ER08 The Long Goodbye / Story
ER08-26 EX - This Journey
Shorthalt can't believe his rotten luck—Shiva's jinx actually came true for him.
At his mission destination, he ran into deserters and an Ascendant. When he regains consciousness, he finds himself in completely unfamiliar surroundings, his limbs all removed, and even his M.I.N.D. throbbing with pain.
Tsk, am I locked up here?
He carefully examines the items both inside and outside the cage, reaching a conclusion—this is likely to be an abandoned research facility.
(What are the Ascendants up to with this abandoned facility...)
I knew you would be here.
A male Construct appears in the doorway. Upon seeing Shorthalt's dismembered body, he sets down everything in his hands.
...
Any Construct in this area must be a deserter—Shorthalt knows this well and has no time for pointless talk.
Yet the figure before him seems to know who he is.
You're the captain of Scarab, right?
Seeing Shorthalt remain silent, he introduces himself.
I'm Sawada. A long time ago, our squad went on a mission with you.
Sawada mentions a squad's name—one Shorthalt has seen on the casualty list.
...Your entire squad should have been "killed in action" by now.
I'm the only one left alive... Whatever, I'm a "deserter" now anyway. I'll never return to Babylonia.
But I'm not here to reminisce with you.
Sawada glances around cautiously before pulling several artificial limbs from the box.
...?
Take a look—see if there's anything you can use.
Though Shorthalt is taken aback by Sawada's action, he wastes no time in identifying the usable parts.
Moments later, Shorthalt rises to his feet once again and opens the prison door.
Thanks for helping our squad back then. This is all I can do to return the favor, though.
No way out? Heavy security?
Not exactly. I've heard of successful escapes, but they force everyone into hibernation before letting them leave. Can't risk exposing ourselves—who knows how many times we'd have to relocate if they find out our whereabouts. You'll have to figure something out on your own.
You didn't choose to leave either.
Truth is, I'm sick of this place, but I've got nowhere else to go. If Babylonia finds me, the Purifying Force will eliminate me for sure.
...
What is this place?
An old research facility. The building has multiple floors. The Ascendants are located at the bottom level. They've been testing the M.I.N.D. stability of Constructs lately—those who meet the standards are taken away.
None of those who were taken ever came back. I don't know what they did to them.
Just as they speak, the device on Sawada's body flashes briefly.
Someone's coming. Get out of here—I'll hold them off.
The newcomer is a young female Construct. Shorthalt slips behind the corner, listening in on the sporadic conversation between Sawada and her.
Didn't know you were here. I've been looking for you.
I just arrived. I'm here to watch Shorthalt.
What's there to look at? He caused a huge mess at the last place and almost exposed everyone's location. Had to remove his limbs for him to settle down.
He sure knows how to stir up trouble. They must be out of their minds to drag him into this mess.
He might be a handful, but who cares? Someone tested the stability of his M.I.N.D. and proved it useful. Once that Ascendant sets eyes on him, there's no escaping for him.
Huh? They've already tested his M.I.N.D.?
...
Catching the warning in Sawada's words, Shorthalt checks his equipment before making a swift exit.
The situation appears far more complex than Shorthalt could have imagined.
He weaves through the massive building, narrowly avoiding—or swiftly eliminating—the deserter Constructs on patrol.
The number of enemies he has taken down has reached a disturbing count—so many that he wonders if anyone even cares about these deserters' lives. He has been on the move for so long, yet not a single person seems to notice his escape and sneak attacks.
He has lost track of how long he has been circling on the first floor. He could see nothing but identical pipes and corridors.
At last, he admits the eeriness of this place and decides to explore in the opposite direction of the escape route.
He heads down to the first basement level.
...What is all this stuff?
The moment Shorthalt steps into the basement level, he can't help but let out a gasp.
The basement floor is even more unsettling than above—it resembles an orphanage more than a research facility.
He checks every door along the corridor, only to get more confused with each door opened. Beyond the empty rooms, he finds scattered paintbrushes and dolls.
A "class schedule" posted on the corridor wall sends chills down his spine—the paper has yellowed and grown brittle with age, yet the many names written on it remain chillingly legible.
Each name is followed by a series of ticks and crosses. He notices that the crossed-out names all end with three crosses.
What are all these right and wrong marks about? Three mistakes and you're out?
...S0143, S0145...?
He frowns as he reads through the crossed-out serial numbers, unable to make sense of this mysterious chart.
Just as he is about to look away from the "class schedule", he hears a soft "shh" from behind.
?
Shh... There's something strange about him. We need to get out of here.
...A child?
In front of the last door at the end of the corridor stand many children. He has no idea when they appeared, but none of them seem older than ten, yet their eyes are filled with wariness.
Why are you here? Who brought you in?
Knowing this is a research facility, Shorthalt questions the children with a mixture of shock and anger.
Without answering him, the children scramble back toward the door at the end of the corridor. The girl in front looks visibly terrified of him.
I-I'm sorry... It's not evening break yet, we thought we could still come out and play... We'll go back right now! We promise to be good!
Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. Come here.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry...
We can't stay here any longer!
Seeing the terror in the children's eyes, Shorthalt realizes something must have happened to cause such an unnatural response.
With no time to waste, he gently takes the lead girl's hand, ready to escort them all to safety.
The moment his hand touches that slim wrist, he suddenly understands what happened in this place—
Beneath the girl's bionic skin lies the same hard metal found on his body. Under her loose white clothes is the distinctive joint structure unique to Constructs.
...
They won't even spare children this young?!
Shorthalt catches himself before cursing in front of the children. Taking a deep breath, he suppresses the rage.
Phew... Listen, all of you—follow me now.
Sorry, Uncle! We can't do that... The researchers here told us never to listen to strangers...
Researchers... So there really are mad scientists here after all, hah...
Look at me—you can trust me. I'm just like you, understand?
Shorthalt deliberately raises his arm, showing the children his newly assembled, awkward-looking body parts.
Uncle... do you also need to attend the classes?
...
Only then does Shorthalt realize what that "class schedule" truly is.
He is out of words. He has only one purpose left in his M.I.N.D.: get these innocent "test subjects" out of here.
But alarms soon blare through the corridor. He hears many footsteps approaching from ahead.
Run! We just detected him up ahead! Whatever you do, don't let that thing get near you!
Better to be captured by Babylonia than be killed by that freak!
It's the researchers. They're coming.
...Tsk!
Counting the footsteps, Shorthalt gauges the number of enemies ahead. A brutal fight seems inevitable.
We'll be spotted if we move forward. Do you know any other way out?
I-I don't know. The Cultivation Area's right behind us... It's bedtime, Uncle. Let's go back.
Beads of condensation liquid form on Shorthalt's forehead as the footsteps and shouts draw closer.
They're going to find us...
He pushes the child into a nearby room, draws the weapon he scavenged from upstairs, and takes his position in the middle of the corridor.
These guys have long abandoned their research ethics... They deserve to die!
In the next moment, fleeing researchers and guards in security uniforms appear before Shorthalt.
Without hesitation, he opens fire.
He has lost track of time.
Huff... Puff...
He tosses aside another broken dagger, scavenging new weapons from the bodies of researchers and security guards.
How strange... Every researcher here knows how to fight...
When will this ever end...
His M.I.N.D. gradually descends into chaos. Perhaps he has stayed in the building for too long.
He seems to be in the process of forgetting—he can't even remember what is on the floor above anymore. He suspects he is experiencing symptoms of M.I.N.D. deviation.
If only Valeria were here... or Wanshi... Anyone would make my life easier... Phew...
He's lost count of how many enemies are in the research facility. No matter how many he takes down, an endless stream of white-coated personnel keeps rushing in, but he has no supplies, no connection to the commandant, and his internal circulation system is on the verge of collapse.
He directs the children to take shelter behind the door at the corridor's end. The children say it's the Cultivation Area where the adults "raised" them—it should be safe for now.
No new enemies are rushing in for now, and he needs to take this chance to catch his breath.
Notably, he hears everyone screaming in terror about a "monster"—supposedly a failed test subject that hatched from some strange "egg".
Along the way, he comes across numerous bodies that were not killed by him. Their bodies bear massive, gruesome wounds, as if torn apart by some large creature.
Seems they had quite a variety of research projects going on here... Heh, destroyed by the very monsters they created with their own hands?
With a sardonic smile, Shorthalt straightens up and checks his remaining equipment.
The brief moment of peace lowers his guard—he fails to notice the enemy approaching from behind.
Shorthalt?!
!!!
The M.I.N.D. deviation has not slowed Shorthalt's reflexes. He spins around, thrusting his weapon into the enemy's chest cavity, lodging it between the ribs before withdrawing it and making a deep cut across the carotid artery.
Gargh... Ugh...
Vital fluid gushes from the male researcher's wound.
Another one down... so much vital fluid... Wait, vital fluid?
The vital fluid has soaked through the lab coat, staining it in an odd hue reminiscent of the coating on Babylonia's Constructs.
...
Shorthalt squeezes his eyes shut, fighting to stabilize his M.I.N.D. as he recalibrates his visual module.
When his eyes open again, he sees a familiar Construct lying at his "feet".
...A Construct? Sawada...?
...
...
He looks at the Constructs strewn across the ground, recognizing some familiar faces from the deserter list.
Ascendant... stronghold... deserters...
An inhuman, guttural sound emanates from his "voice module" as everything before his eyes begins to warp, spin, and meld together—like patterns in a kaleidoscope or oil spreading across water.
"He" seems to have realized something.
"He" crawls through the long-abandoned corridors, searching until he finds the stairs. Upon returning to the upper floor, "he" discovers shattered incubation tanks and more remains of deserter Constructs—all bearing wounds "he" personally inflicted.
...
Chaotic sounds echo through "his" M.I.N.D., shrieking like Hetero-Creatures. Whenever "he" tries to identify these voices, "he" loses control of the body.
I heard about it! The first "egg" hatched into a scorpion... They're preparing a second one! And—
Run when you get the chance. Better to be caught by the Purifying Force than to end up like that.
It's not just me! We're all doomed! The Ascendant let out that monster!
Soon, "he" cleaves through the panicked deserter's body, splitting open the terminal at their waist and exposing the communication components within.
"He" is not Shorthalt—"he" is but one of countless shattered M.I.N.D.s, writhing and tearing within the shell of this scorpion-like construct.
My teammates... they all died right in front of me... their legs blown to pieces...
I must run... far from the Punishing battlefield... the farther the better!
I just want to survive!
SURVIVE!!!
All M.I.N.D.s deemed stable are being fed into the Ascendant's massive "furnace". According to the purple-haired Ascendant, this is all preparation for a mother to give birth to a satisfactory child.
Their screams merge into one as they "live" in this twisted form—some by choice, others by force.
Even the Punishing Virus here joins in. The information stored inside floods into the Furnace, allowing him to witness the stories that concluded years ago and see those children—those phantoms of the experimental Constructs.
So I'm nothing but a phantom after all...
"He" looks at the damaged terminal. It is a standard-issue Babylonia equipment.
While "he" briefly takes control, "he" makes a quick decision.
He leaves behind special signals, drags the remains to one spot, and marks warnings of danger everywhere. During this time, he passes by a Corrupted that's just as peculiar as he is.
"He" finds his own voice in a barely functional terminal, leaving messages for potential future visitors. Among these grave warnings, the one to be wary of is none other than "himself".
As "he" grows weary, about to slip back into chaos, he finds a candy wrapped in green paper.
...
...
Finally, at the Cultivation Area's back door—the path leading to his Ending—he gently places down the "candy".
Alright. This is it.
In "his" delusion, Shorthalt, having regained some stamina, returns to the Cultivation Area where the children he has sworn to protect await.
The children, seeing the reassuring Construct approach, instinctively gather around him. Together, they silently wait for a future that will never come.
Shorthalt spreads his arms wide, welcoming the children.
The kaleidoscope-like world opens up in front of him again.
