Story Reader / Floating Record / ER10 Deceivers' Rapture / Story
<size=45><b>"All units KIA except for ■■■. Commandant Ravenge has defected to the Ascendants."</b></size>
Those grim words flash in crimson on the mission briefing screen.
Below, in the more discreet section, there's a comprehensive record of how often the frontline units have been in contact with this so-called "Ascension-Network".
...Letting a desertion this severe happen in the first place is a glaring dereliction of duty by the military.
The officer in a sharp suit is the first to break the silence.
Don't blame yourself too much. If a soldier on the front line can't resist temptation, then both the duty—and the fallout—lie on his shoulders alone.
And the intel we gather from the war-torn fallen is instrumental in refining our Construct research and development.
Identify the new threat and stay prepared. Their sacrifice must not be in vain.
A true leader is someone who never loses sight of what lies ahead. Still, no matter how composed the words, they won't simply erase a military commander's concerns.
"Only by standing alongside the Ascendant who holds sway over the Punishing Virus can humanity hope for a future." This statement was recovered from the audio logs found on our squad member, Hiro.
Up to now, we've mainly encountered Corrupted with minimal cognitive capacity...
If this intel is accurate, it means the enemies who seek to wield the Punishing Virus's power—now operating in organized cells—are growing more active.
We're all aware that, compared to a single commandant's defection or the loss of one Construct, this is a far graver turn of events.
That's why I advocate tackling the issue at its source.
Use the combat logs to study the Ascendant's moves—then we lure in our biggest catch.
Besides, there's a chance practically falling into my lap at this very moment.
What do you think?
Ever heard of a place called Las Prados?
Desert
Outskirts of Las Prados
A few days ago.
A few days ago, desert, outskirts of Las Prados
Contact. The target is on the move—all units, stand by.
Sensing an anomaly on their instruments, the Construct squad leader quietly issues orders to the teammates on either side.
Copy that. Target location confirmed.
Copy!
His unruly streak doesn't fade, even in the midst of an operation—taking orders from a so-called "rookie" is about as far as he's willing to go.
Still, Discord's exceptional skills are enough to impress absolutely anyone.
Issarius, stay alert for any Corrupted movements. Daemon, the moment I open fire, move in and lock them down.
Wind speed is holding at 13.9 meters per second. A sandstorm will hit the mission zone in thirty minutes. Infrared scans are still running—no additional hostiles detected beyond our primary target.
The restraint gear for the target is set and ready.
A brief flicker of doubt crosses Discord's eyes—unusual for someone so composed—but she quickly reins in the surge of emotion swirling through her M.I.N.D.
All right—everyone, move into combat positions.
In the vast desert sands, the stumbling Construct singled out as the target remains oblivious to its looming fate.
Ch-choose me... give me another chance...
I... I still... can... this body... isn't... everything...
The target appears partially aware—its Memory not yet fully consumed by the virus.
Though the guarding Construct keeps its guard up, it still acknowledges the undeniable truth.
Oh? So you're thinking of having a word with him? Trying to convince him to return with us of his own free will?
Boss, do we still proceed with lethal force?
He pays no heed to his teammate's remark and turns straight to Discord with a proposal.
I'll ensure the target is fully disabled. Our assignment is to confirm the identity of that unidentified Construct that's been lurking around. Command hasn't ordered us to neutralize it—just to verify.
She fine-tunes the electronic scope on her precision sniper rifle, works the bolt, and chambers a fin-stabilized armor-piercing round.
Roger that.
Discord raises her rifle, locking onto the solitary Construct who trudges on through the howling sand.
The deafening blast—like a tank's main cannon—erupts behind the rocks concealing the squad, flames licking the air. A brilliant flash of silver slices through the haze of dust and rubble.
Before the two Construct allies can even register what's happening, the target's left leg is blown apart, sending him crashing to the ground in hopeless defeat.
...Daemon, subdue the target.
She lowers her weapon as though nothing has happened. The mask conceals her face, leaving only those cold, unblinking eyes to assert her undeniable authority.
Leave it to me.
Acting on the order, the Construct scales the rocks and races toward the fallen remains of its comrade.
He squeezes the trigger twice on his launcher, then locks the target down with a crackling electric restraint.
The sandstorm is set to hit the mission zone in twenty-eight minutes. No trace of Corrupted activity so far.
Discord nods once in acknowledgment, guiding the rear-guard teammates as they close in around the target.
Which fireteam are you with...?
Purifying Force. You can't see our insignia?
If you want to stay alive, start talking. If our leader's feeling generous, you might just walk away with your life.
...
Sure, Discord's secrecy can be off-putting, but it's Daemon's nonstop chatter that truly grates on everyone's nerves.
He always seems to find one more thing to gripe about.
Fireteam? What's that supposed to mean?
Wait—you're not the retrieval team from Monzano?
This time, even Daemon spots the leader's momentary slip. For those tense few seconds, she makes no response whatsoever.
Or... maybe you've come to take me out...
No big deal! I'm not about to trust some phony Memory-transfer scam!
I... I've seen the Network's revelation! We are immortal!
Arcs of blue light dance across the Construct's mangled frame, sending sparks every which way. Still, it lets out a wild, nonsensical howl—as though it couldn't be more excited.
Who's Monzano?
Still bound by her duties, she fires off her question in that quick, clipped way she's known for.
Captain Eleanor left me behind—are you all going to be just as heartless?!
Quit the act... you fool! You're just a mindless puppet that only knows how to follow orders! I am eternal!
Taking back Earth—what a lie! The network chose me! I was this close—this close to... to...!!
The ravaged Construct thrashes, its sensors glowing red like a predator's savage, bloodshot eyes.
Stay alert! The Punishing Virus inside the target is spiking at an alarming rate!
Discord ignores everything else. She closes in, her voice brimming with that same crushing intensity as she interrogates the target.
Eleanor? She's been gone for years.
Heheh... Hahahahahahaha!
Monzano's right-hand person—the lead commandant of the Construct Corps. No way you haven't heard of her!
An inexplicable weightlessness grips Discord's mind, as though her very sanity is plunging into a bottomless void.
But obedience to orders practically defines her entire mental framework. She must complete the mission.
And what of the other Ascendants? Have you pinpointed their targets? Speak—now!
You really think I'm an Ascendant? I'm hardly worthy of such a title!
Eleanor abandoned me—and my entire squad—in that godforsaken pit. It was the Network that brought me back from the brink!
It jump-started my vital fluids, fortified my body... and showed me things I never dreamed possible...
A planet completely consumed by the Punishing Virus—crimson, decaying, flourishing, utterly majestic!!
...
He seems lost in a daze, leaving his weapon silent—no new arcs to seize control of his target.
The contamination is about to breach its critical limit! The sandstorm will descend in 20 minutes!
The sole sane Construct issues a warning no one can afford to ignore.
Send us your original retrieval coordinates. We'll bring you back.
Go back? Why on earth would we return?! That so-called garden is doomed to bloom with toxic flowers sooner or later!
I let the Network down once—never again...
Spent electro-javelins crash to the ground and vanish into the swirling sand. The target breaks free from the arcs' grip.
Get dow...
She instinctively orders her squad to drop down, but two abrupt gunshot blasts ring in her ears.
The Construct charges at her, only to have its head blown clean through. A second bullet shatters the metal shell, sending fragments flying in every direction.
I had no choice—I had to use lethal force.
The shooter reloads, offering a terse justification for pulling the trigger.
You're remarkably quick to respond.
Though she's out of immediate danger, the terror and chaos echoing in her mind threaten to rob her of breath.
Gather the target's data chip and get ready to leave. Daemon, call for transport.
...
The Construct standing nearby offers no reply.
Daemon? Sandstorm's closing in—we have to pull out, now.
Constructs... If there were a way to live as humans do, who would ever choose to become something like this?
He quietly laments to himself, then opens the comm channel.
Cut the chatter and stay on your guard.
Unmoved by her teammates' bickering, Discord deftly turns over the shattered Construct and retrieves its data chip.
<size=40>Universal Enhancement Frame</size>
<size=40>Snow Ferret Fireteam</size>
<size=40>Ferret-2</size>
The inscription on the chip looks unfamiliar, but what truly shatters her composure is the manufacturing label at the bottom.
[Eden III Colony Ship, Construct R&D Department.]
It's a lost legend of the Golden Age—something that should have faded into the depths of time long ago.
This nightmare haunts her from before she ever received her mechanical frame.
Mission Briefing Room
Two hours later
Two hours later, Mission Briefing Room
...That covers the entire mission report. The retrieved data chip has been backed up and handed off to the Science Council.
The moment she steps off the transport plane, she barely has time to check her ammo or assess the battle damage before Collins's message arrives, demanding a report.
When Gray Raven Commandant Ravenge contacts the Ascension-Network and defects, what was once dismissed as mere rumor instantly becomes the primary concern of both Kurono and the military.
So you're telling me the target handed over the original retrieval coordinates? Let's have the exact location details.
If the target's intel holds up, they would've headed to the New Neilis Air Force Base on the outskirts to evacuate.
You mean the old air force base? That godforsaken dump has been left to rot for ages...
One thing is certain: they're definitely not from Babylonia. Also, Monzano is officially listed as missing.
Discord cuts the man off mid-sentence, and Collins understands all too well what's fueling her outburst.
Oh, that reminds me... Guess hooking up to the Ascension-Network scrambled his mind, huh? Because if he's telling the truth, all your old buddies are still alive and kicking.
...I'm submitting a request to investigate Las Prados.
She's suddenly sick of humoring the higher-ups' bluster. Maybe for the first time, she states exactly what she wants.
Don't rush; we'll get there soon enough. But remember—you're part of the army's official Purifying Force, not some private hire from Kurono.
Given the recent stir in the Ascension-Network, we've just joined forces with the Arctic Route Union to advance Project Winter to its next phase.
And it looks like the Parliament is every bit as invested in the Ascension-Network as we are...
Las Prados is already a wasteland. Whatever tricks Monzano might pull, it won't be enough to cause real trouble.
We'll use that as our bait, convincing the military to launch an official investigation—and along the way, we can eliminate Monzano.
Any intel they gather there should align perfectly with Palangoski's previous statements.
This confirms once again that the previous experiments have ended, and Monzano's actions no longer have anything to do with Kurono.
Project Winter can continue without a hitch.
Regarding that "Eden III" you mentioned, I'll pass the details along to my bro Liszt—this kind of thing is right up his alley.
He senses that Kurono is poised on the very brink of the Ascension-Network—the idea of taking that leap has him so exhilarated he's on the verge of tears.
If he can wield that sort of power... then every sacrifice so far will have been worth it!
The man seems utterly lost in his own fevered fantasies.
...I have to learn the truth.
She shows no reaction to his attempts at provocation.
We'll get the answers we're after—every last one. And for that, I should thank you, little one...
We all assumed your old contact had been dead for ages. Who would've thought that, after all this time, she'd be the one to open a door for Kurono? Whatever Monzano's up to now, her creation has already caught the eye of the Ascension-Network...
Twists and turns—so many twists and turns! After all this time, our hard work finally bears fruit in the most unexpected way!
He clears his throat, pulls out a pouch of chewing tobacco, and pops it into his mouth.
Go get some rest, hero—you've earned it.
Understood.
She throws the man a frosty glare, then pivots on her heel and strides back into the hallway.
Beyond the porthole, the stars never cease their glow—not even when a tiny planet in the far reaches of the Orion Arm finds its civilization stalled by catastrophe. They shine on, radiant and timeless, forever breathtaking.
And so they wait—patiently letting their light journey across countless millennia, only to be glimpsed at last by mortal eyes.
But from Discord's perspective, for the first time, those distant stars seem strangely unreal.
It's like a meticulously orchestrated light show, flaring on cue and then winking out in perfect unison.
And there are new stars—ones you'd never catch a glimpse of from down here.
She recalls that plea, now so distant it's as if someone else entirely had spoken it.
The stars keep drifting slowly, a trick of the eye caused by the giant ship's rotation beneath her feet.
For the first time, the view beyond the porthole makes her head spin.
Babylonia Conference Room
Now
Now, Babylonia Conference Room
...Las Prados?
Las Prados—once the shining City of Entertainment of the Golden Age. It's where Kurono previously conducted studies on starship ecosystem reliability.
Kurono invited us to investigate? From what you've told me, they've got more than a few secrets hidden out there.
Las Prados is seeing a sharp rise in Punishing activity these days. Just a few days ago, the Purifying Force subdued a suspicious Construct and returned with its data chip.
Collins is probably fully aware of his actions. For all we know, Kurono might be intentionally letting this secret slip right under our noses.
He takes a moment to reflect, then the leader delivers his verdict.
Are we talking about the retrieval operation led by Discord? How far has the Science Council gotten with their analysis?
That's the biggest question in this whole affair. Even if we exclude the possibility that the target Construct ever linked to the Ascension-Network, its M.I.N.D. model still doesn't match those of Babylonia's Constructs...
The only frame with a similar pattern is the so-called "Poster Hero", whose origin remains unknown.
What do you mean...?
...You remember that drifter Construct—the one who claimed it could transmit its own Memory and carried a hidden Inver-Device? We briefly had them in our ranks.
The atmosphere is so tense. No one anticipated that this discussion would stray into such disruptive intel from outside the Ascension-Network.
Honestly, I think the military should put an end to this entire propaganda effort.
The President exhales quietly, a trace of resignation in his voice.
From the start, we have no idea where he truly comes from... we've only ever seen him as a miracle.
Yet the moment you try to exploit a miracle, it loses the very essence that made it one.
For the most part, this isn't mine to decide. Now that the rumors are out, the soldiers cling to this so-called miracle. I can't bring myself to rob them of the hope that keeps them going.
Besides, any sermon can wait until after we've won.
The commanding officer seems eager to jump into the fray.
...If we can unravel this secret with our own hands, maybe that manufactured myth will crumble on its own.
Learning more about the Ascension-Network and winning a ground-level battle—this hope outweighs any legend told on the front lines.
I'll handle the Parliament's affairs. The battle plan is all yours.
Nikola offers a ceremonial salute, then strides out of the conference room.
Las Prados...?
During his talk with Nikola just moments ago, he feigned ignorance of that city's name. And for a leader constantly juggling countless responsibilities, being unfamiliar with a city devoted to leisure seems only logical.
Yet the truth is, his ties to that name stretch back a very long time.
Babylonia
The Acadia Evacuation
Era of the Acadia Evacuation, Babylonia
A narrow seam opens along the sleek fuselage, and the compact landing gear settles onto the platform without so much as a whisper.
It's nothing like the heavy, clunky military transport planes still in service.
This is the final sortie of the day. Each battlefront has stabilized enough to endure until the staged withdrawal concludes.
He doesn't expect to be greeted by someone of such high standing, but he still delivers his report with meticulous care.
You must be exhausted. Take a good break, okay?
Passengers file out of the transport plane one by one, marveling at the sprawling hangar of Babylonia—though it might be more a burst of relief at having made it through in one piece.
Hassen steps onto the platform, taking a slow, measured walk around the fuselage.
Um... Oh! Mr. Hassen! I mean—uh, not "Mister"—I, I...
The maintenance worker, in the middle of servicing the aircraft, spots a face they've only ever glimpsed on the news and suddenly doesn't know where to put their hands or feet.
No worries—take it easy.
This model really is rare. It's more advanced than the military transports we usually use.
Oh, uh, there's nothing advanced about it. It's just a civilian jet from the City of Entertainment—looks fancy, sure, but it's squishy! Can't even take one hit!
Surprisingly, the big shot starts talking about something he's totally in his element with, and he slips right into the conversation.
Still, it works. At a time like this, as long as it can get airborne, that's all that really counts.
That previous President is a real scumbag. Even in the thick of an emergency, he's still angling for bribes!
If not for your efforts, we'd never have secured such precious transport resources!
The workers respond with genuine enthusiasm, and Hassen senses their heartfelt gratitude.
Sadly, some stories are fated to rest forever with those who lived them, never to be passed on.
...I wonder who was behind the construction of these transport planes...
That, I couldn't tell you. But one thing's for sure—the rich sure know how to flaunt it. All this fuss for a single city, and they've got entire fleets of aerospace transports on standby...
Hassen runs his hand over the smooth heat-shield plating, as if it's some marvel from a world beyond this one.
The hastily painted World Government emblem stands out starkly against the white hull, while the faded word "Las Prados" still lingers underneath.
