Story Reader / Border Pact / K-44 Defense Line / Story
NO.49 Residential Area
Any news?
An hour and forty minutes ago, signals of a huge moving horde had appeared around the residential area and the Titan Trench.
They met up around the hangar passageway, but then moved another 30 kilometers in the opposite direction after they converged.
An hour and forty minutes... It all makes sense now...
Re-task squads to mount a rescue effort for 19-1, immediately!
...But sir...
The Forsaken do not abandon our own.
Ready your men!
Roger!
As the battle goes on, the explosions and whizzing weapons have become a blur to Bexonidas.
As Bexonidas stumbles, dazed by the explosions and gunfire-induced smog, his father's story suddenly flashes into his mind with intense clarity.
His father said the predecessor of the two Forsaken squads, the squad that watched their "Majesties" leave, was well-known for achieving their objectives at any cost.
To their enemies, they were relentless. Tactical disadvantages, severed supply lines, and lack of fire support never once slowed their advance.
If they ran out ammunition, they fought with daggers. If the daggers broke, they fought with their fists. If they lost their arms—well, their teeth would work too.
As long as their enemies fell before they did, it counted as a victory.
All that sustained them was "Loyalty": the same loyalty burned to ash by the transport's departing engines.
However, as his father said, Watanabe's arrival made him realize that they were right to fight to the death.
It was just that they hadn't found someone worth dying for.
That was what Watanabe said, according to his father, facing down their gun barrels, never flinching.
After all we've been through, it's time to remember why we became soldiers in the first place.
We're all that's left of the old guard, relics with guns, abandoned by those 'above us' when our usefulness ran its course.
They hoped we would be forgotten, but I hope that we remember.
Remember why we were forsaken. Remember the responsibilities we bear. Remember the people we must protect.
We, the forgotten ones, the ones they left behind, are the only ones who can prove they were wrong to forget.
We are the Forsaken. We remember.
We bear the memories of every life, every death. Our remembrance is proof that they once existed.
If you can sympathize with this, please stop this meaningless fighting and join us.
Bexonidas feels something like a punch in his chest, and he falls forward, head lolling to one side.
—Meeting Gryphon's shattered, lifeless face.
My Leader...
...I hope that... we are worth remembering, just like you said...
He must be imagining things, but he could swear he hears Watanabe's voice shouting over the short-range comms.
...Unlikely. After all, short-range comms only have a radius of 500 meters.
Either way, this is no longer an issue Bexonidas needs to think about.
