The light of dawn streamed through the windows. At least, the simulated version did. The light of the sun could not reach within the Arcology, but the internal light fixtures could simulate triggers for the circadian rhythm.

They had not slept a beat. All night, Jennifer would cry, then calm down, then begin crying again. They did not speak a word. She just hugged him tighter and tighter, eventually climbing on top of him. All he could do was embrace her like a lover might, which was not how he had intended it — he just wanted to comfort his friend. Even though he had no right to comfort her. After all, he was probably responsible for what she was going through.

He thought about that fact the entire night. His hands felt like they were doused in oil and set on fire — a guilty man’s hands. He hated himself for thinking that her hair smelled nice and that her body was so soft and warm. He hated himself for many things. Most of all, he hated himself for feeling an ember of excitement, because movies and media had conditioned him that in these types of situations things tend to happen — which was entirely unrealistic. It didn’t help that her knee was in a really inconvenient place.

He was disgusted with himself.

Before he might have thought that Ermin Saltzer was scum for experimenting on Arnel, but now, he thought that compared to him Ermin Saltzer was a saint.

No, there was one other thing that he hated himself for even more than for the wayward impulses of his body; it was the fact that it was his shoulder that Jennifer cried on, or rather, his chest and neck. His guilt and shame were overwhelming, to the point that he considered telling her that it was his fault, and hoping that she would just kill him.

He could not repair this anymore. This was not a premonition — he couldn’t go back to that day and not give orders to that drone. He couldn’t see the future like AGMI. He was just human.

But no matter how guilty he might feel, no matter how difficult this was, he would not let Jennifer die. No matter what, he would not let anyone die. If this is what he had to do, then so be it. He would hold her. He would comfort her. Even if he hated himself for it, and even if he felt like he could throw up for doing something this wrong, he would do it. He had to do it. He owed her this much. That is what made everything so much worse.

Ever since they were just kids, she had held him in high regard — to the point that she cared more about Arnel than herself. This was not that unusual — AGMI matches usually ended up like this when they found perfect couples. But an AGMI did not order her to feel the way she did about Arnel. It was of her own will.

Had his mother not died, Arnel would’ve surely married Jennifer by now. But that day, when he lost someone that important, everything changed.

If one day Jennifer learned the truth that the person she dedicated herself to the most was the one responsible for taking away everyone she loved… what would happen? Could Arnel even keep such a secret forever?

He even considered quitting Singularity and dedicating his life to her, trying to make up for what he had done. But that would not be enough — it could never be enough.

At the very least, he was glad that she wouldn’t die. That was all that mattered.

To put into words the complex emotions he felt towards Leviathan or whatever allowed him to have that premonition and change this rotten fate was impossible to describe. But it was something akin to gratitude. It was not that simple, however. If Leviathan stopped him back then, when he gave that drone the order, this never would have happened. If the AGMI prevented the incident at Icarus-4, this never would have happened.

Gratitude and hatred were diametrically opposed, but in this instance, they united into one new emotion that Arnel felt. Perhaps, it was just his mind trying to blame someone else for what happened. At the end of the day, Arnel realized, he was just projecting the hatred he felt towards himself.

___

Arnel laughed.

“Why are you laughing? I am trying to feed us!” This year, Sai was only fifteen. Though he was among the youngest, he was around the longest. He was forced into the military when he was only nine.

“The fish won’t approach Ciel,” Arnel said.

“Says who?!” Sai protested and cast the line into the water again. It was true, though, that he hadn’t caught a single thing.

Arnel chuckled. “They don’t like this island.”

Sai frowned but did not say anything.

Arnel patted Sai on the head and smiled. “We’ll reach your homeland soon. You can catch all the fish you like then.”

Sai returned Arnel’s smile. “Mm,” he hummed happily. “I will prepare us a feast.”

Arnel ran his fingers through Sai’s hair. “I can’t wait.”

“By the way,” Sai began, hesitating. “Where is your home, Nineteen?”

Arnel looked towards the sky, pondering.

“Ah!” Sai suddenly exclaimed and stood up from his chair. “I think I caught one. Guys! I think I caught a fish!"

___

The rubble crumbled beneath his feet. The flames roared around the wreckage a scant few meters ahead of him. It was just the cockpit block, though — the rest of the mangled remains were scattered all over the place.

But the treacherous footing did not deter him from approaching. He was not afraid of the flames or the chances of secondary explosions, or the danger-close artillery. He was not afraid of anything. His heart was dead. He could no longer feel happiness nor fear.

He found his footing and climbed onto the side of the oval-shaped cockpit block, and scrambled on top. The hatch was already warped half-open, and completely jammed. But it was enough to see through.

Arnel reached within the cockpit block and placed his hand on Sai’s cold cheek. Sai looked like he was sleeping peacefully. His blue lips were covered in blood.

Arnel smiled but it was not without pain. “I forgot to tell you,” he whispered. “To me, the place where you and the others exist is my only home.”

Arnel saw the fuel-air bomb explode in the sky in the reflection of Sai’s eyes, which Arnel closed a moment later.

Arnel’s tear dripped on Sai’s blood-covered cheek. “And the finest part of you will remain there forever,” he whispered, lightly stroking Sai’s hair. “So don’t worry, and rest now. You’ve earned it.”

He covered the twisted hatch with his jacket and slid off the cockpit block. He was wrong. His heart could still experience at least one emotion.

“Welcome home, Sai.”

___

Arnel’s eyes slowly opened. He blinked the tears out of them, and then wiped them away from his cheeks with the back of his hand. Thankfully, it seemed that Jennifer had finally fallen asleep. Well, he did too. At least he hoped that Jennifer had more pleasant dreams than he did.

His dreams were so vivid — more like memories than dreams. He felt such sorrow in those dreams and a sense of connection that he, in the real world, did not possess with anyone else. They were bonds forged in war. They were not just like memories. They were memories. Someone’s. Nineteen’s?

Of course, there was also the possibility that he went completely insane, but Camille said that they were memories, not insanity. How was that even possible? How could he see someone else’s memories?

Perhaps Leviathan showed them to him? But then, why didn’t Leviathan speak to him anymore? And that message he received on his comm — he didn’t only dream about the Lost Battalion anymore. The flashes of memory were becoming more frequent, and it was happening even when he was awake.

Carefully, Arnel extracted himself from the bed. Even asleep, Jennifer didn’t want to let go of him and held on to Arnel’s sleeve for as long as she could. Eventually, she gave up and turned to the other side.

His comm buzzed as he walked down the hallway towards the exit. It was probably his clanmates, who must’ve been worried about him. It was unusual for Arnel to log off for so long. By now, they were probably fighting the Orkin in the Catacombs. Unfortunately, this time, he didn’t think he could help them.

He looked at his comm.

Huh, that was odd.

[ S-Messenger ] Jennifer: I really need to talk to you.

How could Jennifer send him a message while she was asleep? Maybe it was scheduled or delayed somehow?

In his premonition, Arnel ignored this message because he was fighting the Orkin. He blamed himself for what happened because he didn’t immediately log out and go to Jennifer. She must’ve felt lonely and abandoned when she needed someone the most.

Arnel narrowed his eyes.

Something didn’t make sense. Self-harm was unheard of. There was not such a case in decades. AGMI were capable of recognizing even the most minute signs of such intentions, and to send help before it developed into something serious. How was Jennifer able to hide from the AGMI?

Arnel stared at the message as an uncomfortable feeling descended upon him. Who sent him that message?

“Welcome, Zzzbt,” the female voice announced, glitching out, as the door opened.

In the doorway stood a man with short, black hair. He wore a suit and held a length of rope in his gloved, left hand.

[ Failsafe ]

That was the only piece of information hovering above the man’s head.

It was when Arnel saw the gun in the man’s right hand that he realized that Jennifer never took her own life.

A blast of light filled the room and Arnel felt the bullet dig into his stomach. The feeling of getting shot could not be described. It felt like he was hit by a train and had a blazing hot rod inserted into his body. The bullet hit his hip and fragmented, creating a nasty exit wound.

He fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Another suppressed shot and the second bullet went through his chest, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs. That one didn’t hurt as much. Actually, he couldn’t feel any pain at all anymore.

He couldn’t feel anything.

“Mother, this is Owl-one,” the man spoke. “Unidentified male at the objective. How proceed? Over.”

A pause.

“Owl-one, proceed with plan delta echo. Over.”

“Mother, Owl-one copies. Proceeding with plan delta echo. Out.”

The man stepped over Arnel’s form and headed towards Jennifer’s room. Then, he suddenly stopped.

Slowly, the man turned around, his expression twisting. “What the f—“

He pointed the gun at Arnel, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Arnel had crossed the distance and slapped the man’s extended wrist with the back of his hand.

The gun went off, and before the bullet dug into the ceiling, it passed through the shimmering, crimson death line attached to the man's throat.

The man leaned his head backward, trying to clear his most vulnerable body part from the reach of this unexpected close-combat expert. His eyes reflected his fear. It was not only because of Arnel's perfect, uncanny movement, but also the fact that not only could he stand up, after being shot twice, but the fact that he could move as if he couldn't even feel any pain.

Arnel could read his surface thoughts as if they were as clear as day to him. Why can he stand? Why does he not bleed? Is he human?

Arnel gave into the pull of death's crimson fate, and his body reacted accordingly. Arnel slammed his palm into the man’s jaw from underneath, cocking the man’s head back so violently that the man released a strained “Ghrrrk” sound. His wrist cracked as it absorbed the shock.

Without hesitation or pause, Arnel twisted his body sharply, and unleashed an elbow strike from the opposite side into the man’s throat, producing another disgusting sound, and causing a mouthful of blood to erupt from the man’s mouth.

As the man fell backward, he released the pistol and crashed to the ground.

Arnel snatched the pistol just as it left the man's hands and aimed it at the downed person's head.

No words. No curses. No questions. Just two suppressed gunshots.

It was all over within three seconds.

Slowly, Arnel reached into the man’s pocket and retrieved his comm device. He pulled out the internal speaker device, and immediately, the comm came to life.

“—wl-one is not responding. How proceed? Over.”

“Owl-four, wait for confirmation. Over.”

His body knew what to do before he did. Arnel pushed the transmit button on the display.

“Mother, this is Leviathan,” he said. “Proceeding with mission.”

Arnel’s eye could instantly go through all the messages on the comm device, and all the terminals connected to this one. A map developed in his mind of where these other units were located. All he needed now was a secure wireless transmission from Mother to find their location as well.

“Leviathan, this is Mother. Your callsign is unknown,” a reply came. “State your mission. Over.”

A message displayed on the comm device.

[ Deucalion: Code, strike team is in position. What is your order? ]

Arnel once more pressed the transmit button. “Deucalion. Proceed,” he said, and then threw away the comm device.

A moment later, a loud, sustained roar of gunfire echoed through the Arcology streets from nearby. Hundreds, if not thousands, of rounds were expelled in the span of only a few seconds. The sound was overpoweringly oppressive. Elsewhere, a series of loud explosions shook the entire megastructure. Then, just as suddenly as the sounds appeared, it was all quiet once again.

Deucalion’s message appeared on the holo-system main screen, as Arnel passed by next to it.

[ Deucalion: Callsign Mother is not on site. What is your order? ]

He stopped next to the display and seemed to consider the question. He would never forgive anyone who tried to harm his friends. No matter who or what they were, if they raised a hand against those Arnel loved, he would show no mercy or moderation.

As the old saying goes: Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.

“Proceed with railgun strike.”

When he saw his reflection on the display that darkened when Deucalion’s message faded, he couldn’t recognize himself. Those were not the eyes of someone who was unaccustomed to war and tragedy.

Arnel pressed his hand against his reflection’s cheek. “I will protect you, Code. For as long as we live in your memories, our lives, and our home, will never disappear. We won't let you fall. For the glory of Humankind.”