Story Reader / Floating Record / ER10 Deceivers' Rapture / Story
ER10-21 Exodus from the Park
Beyond the far edge of the plains, Punishing's crimson flare scorches an unknowable realm.
A petite figure with lavender hair quietly turns away.
He's still struggling to synchronize his thoughts with this newly forged body—and that unsettling dissonance has plagued him time and again.
Lithos... I see you've managed to secure a new body.
Do you remember me? Mister sent me to get you.
A statuesque woman offers a gentle greeting.
Confronted by this straightforward question—one that leaves no room for interpretation—Lithos's muddled Memory conjures countless possible answers.
Last encounter with her? She pulls her consciousness from her shattered body, the last flicker of sight fixed on that magician's top hat.
In a forceful, almost imperious voice, she challenges him—demanding greater chances born from greater risks.
Those nebulous possibilities lie far beyond reach, like a former life sealed away beneath dense, mundane burdens in a crimson dreamscape.
At long last, he speaks.
Certainly... Lilith. Thank you.
Sir has more plans in store—we'd better move out now.
Lilith offers a subtle tip of her hat. Her impeccable composure forms a haunting contrast against the surrounding ruins.
I understand.
Under Vonnegut's command, the Apostles advance quietly through the city ruins. Neither of them says a word.
Every high-risk mission brings her so much thrill that she ends up with the best seat in the house—but to her, that's just a minor perk.
It reminds her of that cryptic "right moment" the phantom promised after the nuclear blast near Las Prados all those years ago—vague enough to grate on her nerves.
She craves more chances to place her very life on the line, wagering her suffering in exchange for the Ascension-Network's greater favor.
She yearns for the next fierce soul who's willing to risk it all.
...This must be about that other agent, isn't it?
Lithos is the one who breaks the hush, shattering the silence.
Hmm? What exactly are you suggesting?
Mister's latest plan—it involves another agent, doesn't it?
Yes. It's just not our concern right now.
Lilith halts, lowering her folded Moon Umbrella at her side, instinctively using it as a makeshift cane for support.
Then she raises her head, turning her eyes to the silver-white full moon hanging in the night sky.
The "other agent" is held captive by the humans of Babylonia on that satellite, two hundred and forty thousand miles away.
Even the Ascension-Network can reclaim the very strength it once granted—wouldn't you agree?
Lilith murmurs, lost in thought, but it's clear she isn't really directing the question at anyone around her.
But I'm not really interested in her. The one who fascinates me is that other Ascendant—the one who "broke away" from Babylonia.
She keeps talking, almost absentmindedly, as though she's happy to fill the silence with small talk while we walk.
You know something, Little Lithos?
Lilith turns to regard the slight figure at her side.
Project Cthylla, Project Winter... all that past suffering gave us strength. Yet we remain the victims of those reckless experiments.
Whether it's forging a body mighty enough to withstand anything or blending our meager minds into a single force—either way, these are humanity's paths to surviving the long winter.
What they once called "winter" begins as interstellar colonization and later takes the shape of the Punishing Virus. At one point, the promise of shielding everyone from this winter is so alluring it almost deceives all of us—every last one, the so-called "cost of progress".
...We've been pushed so far that we've nearly lost the ability to recognize our deepest desires.
But now we all realize that instead of fighting against it... laying ourselves bare before the storm is how we endure.
...I appreciate what you did for the person I used to be, Lilith. At least now, we stand together again.
He doesn't give a straight answer, only murmurs a soft, general agreement.
There's no need for such formality.
That defector, however—she appears to have chosen an entirely different path...
And I'm certain that when the time is right, she returns to that far northern realm.
Lilith's voice all but trembles with excitement.
...Are you thinking of recruiting her for Mister?
If that's what you have in mind, I'll gladly play along. But...
Facing off against a force driven by a different kind of resolve—that's a far rarer opportunity than any routine assignment.
She retrieves a finely crafted fountain pen from behind her back, and with a quick glance, Lithos realizes that the diamond accent on its barrel is actually a hidden button.
I've even prepared a small gift for our reunion.
Lilith gently presses the diamond, and a small bouquet of flowers springs out from the gap in the pen cap.
That's quite an intricate trick.
I believe she'll be fond of it.
No one really knows the answer until we meet her, do they?
She pivots, letting her gaze drift across the plains toward the dim midday horizon.
That's enough rest, wouldn't you say? We need to be on our way.
Yes.
In the days that follow, Lilith can be found roaming the desolate plains, where broken walls and rotting corpses lie scattered.
As dawn's light spreads across the sky, the moon lingers low in the west, keeping its distant vigil.
The sun blazes white-hot, while the moon is nothing but a pale imitation.
They're like the rotating cylinder of a revolver, with time itself serving as the hammer—each click unleashing fresh destruction on a world already on its last legs.
The Red Tide etches a dark enigma into the wreckage of humanity's creations. In the days ahead, towering structures will fracture, crumble, and drift away in the wind.
The sun keeps circling over and over, until every last trace of civilization vanishes.
The wind buries these ruins in dust; there are no ghosts, no scribes left to recount how humans in their Golden Age once lived here—and how they met their end.
If people live in constant mystery and fear, they never grasp the truth of this destruction.
Yet for those who wager their very lives, the universe presses forward at this crucial moment, forging onward until a new cosmic sieve descends.
She doesn't need any more rest—nor does she feed on gold and silver's greed anymore.
She alone drifts between silver showers and red silk, deftly teasing apart the verdict woven by fate's own goddess.
In the Ascension-Network—where surrendering everything grants your every wish,
Across this boundless stretch of once-fertile earth, bathed in crimson rain and strewn with rotting remains,
she's determined to become the happiest person alive.
