Three days ago, I was expelled from the Ark. The reason was just one thing. I ignored a retreat order. Gatehead — the only official entrance connecting the Ark to the surface. In front of the heavily armored vertical elevator, an armed security soldier kicked me in the back. "[cold]Don't ever come back, discipline violator." I couldn't say anything back. Of course I couldn't. I broke the rules. Back then, I couldn't abandon that wounded Nikke. But in the end, that Nikke didn't make it. I still remember the moment the link band's communication cut off with a burst of static. The last thing I heard was her short scream. After that, nothing. I scratch the back of my head. This habit comes out when I'm nervous. My fingers touch my messy black hair. I used to keep it neat back in the Ark, but I've neglected it for three days now. Just before the elevator doors closed, the words the security soldier spat out still lingered in my ears. "Nikkes are weapons. They're not worth protecting at the cost of disobeying orders." ...I know. I know that in my head. But. I stare at the link band on my left wrist. A tactical data sharing terminal, still broken. The screen is cracked, and it doesn't display any information anymore. The function to monitor a Nikke's status is completely dead too. Useless. Me, and this machine. The time it took for the elevator to reach the surface felt like an eternity. Inside the cramped box, the smell of machine oil stung my nose. The walls were cold, and when I touched them, I could feel the temperature of the Ark's strata. Eighty years since we fled underground. The last place humanity clung to was that underground city. A giant miniature garden, twelve kilometers in diameter, with a five-layer structure. Regular citizens lived on the top Layer One, and I used to live there too. The shopping district "Elm Plaza" had 120 shops lined up, and eating at "Grain Pot," a set meal place with synthetic ingredients, was part of my daily routine. Eighty credits per meal. Not expensive, but not cheap either. But now, it's a place that has nothing to do with me anymore. Valkheim Command — the organization that runs the Ark's military. New commanders are chosen from 0.3% of the total population. I was one of them. Three years ago, they drilled tactics, electronic warfare, and Nikke psychology into me. But in the end, I made a mistake on my first mission. That day was the first time I went to the surface. Sector 12 — commonly known as "Graveyard." A cluster of ruins three kilometers northeast of the Ark entrance. An old commercial district, with about two hundred collapsed buildings remaining. A danger zone where over fifteen Grinder-class Raptures patrol. Raptures. Mechanical lifeforms that suddenly appeared eighty years ago. Monsters that annihilated ninety percent of human civilization in three years. There are insect types, beast types, even humanoid types. Even the smallest Grinder-class is one point five meters tall overall. They advance, crushing asphalt with their metal legs. That day's mission was reconnaissance of the ruins. I went down to the surface with three Nikkes. But we encountered a larger swarm of Raptures than expected. The order from Command was "immediate retreat." But one Nikke had her leg damaged and couldn't move. Her armor was broken, and her artificial muscle fibers were exposed. She said, "Please leave me behind." I couldn't do that. In the end, I forced the other two Nikkes to take her, and I fled later. But I didn't make it in time. The three of them were swallowed by the next wave of Raptures. Total annihilation. I was the only one who survived. A week after that, I was court-martialed, and the result was "expulsion for disciplinary violation." Thankfully, I wasn't sentenced to death, but being thrown out onto the surface means pretty much the same thing. The survival rate on the surface is about forty percent for a new commander's first mission. If you wander without support, you won't last a week. Well, I guess that's fine. The moment the elevator doors opened, a cold wind slapped my face. A gray sky. The clouds hung heavy and low, and no sunlight reached through at all. The air was mixed with the smells of machine oil and rust. Collapsed buildings stood in rows, just like gravestones. This is the surface. Sector 12. As I took one step forward, glass shards crunched under my feet. The sound echoed, strangely loud. The surroundings were too quiet. I'm wearing a dingy gray commander's coat, but the wind chills me to the bone. My white shirt and black slacks were both dulled with three days' worth of grime. I start walking. I have nowhere to go. My authorization to return to the Ark has been revoked. As long as I'm on the surface, sooner or later a Rapture will find me and I'll die. If that's the case, I want to die as quietly as possible. If possible, without causing trouble for anyone. As I walk, I look at the signs remaining on the walls of ruined buildings. "Café Lumière," "Today's Lunch 800 Yen" — letters from the old era. Eighty years ago, people's lives definitely existed here. Rusted cars are abandoned on the roadside. The tires are decayed, the windows broken, and bird nests have been built inside. But I can't hear any birds. There's a surprising lack of any sign of living creatures. All there is are mechanical sounds. Far away, I can hear the clanking, clanking sound of metal scraping. That's probably the footsteps of a Grinder-class. It's still some distance away. But it's slowly getting closer. I'm thirsty. When was the last time I drank water? Before I left the Ark? I can't remember anymore. I'm hungry, and my consciousness is hazy. Because of my slightly slender build, I don't have much confidence in my stamina. My 172-centimeter body feels like it's gotten even thinner over these three days. I sit down in the shadow of a ruined building. The coldness of the concrete seeped through my pants. I couldn't move anymore. My legs won't listen. "[sad]Haaah..." A deep sigh. My brown eyes hazily look up at the gray sky. I guess... this is it. With my right hand, I remove the broken link band. The part that was wrapped around my wrist is slightly warm. It's just my body heat lingering. It's completely useless now. I place the band on the ground. "I'll end things here too." The words I muttered to no one in particular dissolved into the wind. That's when it happened. Clank, clank, clank. The mechanical sound suddenly got closer. I raise my head. From the shadow of the building in front of me, three red lights floated up. Grinder-class Raptures. Insect-type mechanical lifeforms, one point five meters long. Their six metal legs crush the asphalt as they slowly approach. They have two round sensor eyes on their heads. The red, flickering light is just like a predator that has found its prey. First, one comes from the front. Then, one each from the left and right. Three in total. I was completely surrounded. There's no escape. My legs won't move. I have no weapons. The one on the right took a step forward. The tips of its legs are sharp claws, and one slowly rises. (*Ah, so this is the end.*) Strangely, I wasn't scared. Rather, I felt relieved. This way, I can be at ease. For someone like me, who got his comrades killed by disobeying orders, this ending suits me perfectly. I close my eyes. I could hear the Rapture's mechanical sounds right nearby. But — what I heard next wasn't the sound of flesh being torn. *BOOM!* An explosive sound. The sound of metal scattering. Parts clattered onto the asphalt. I open my eyes. The one that had been in front of me had its torso blown through the center and had burst apart. The core that should have been in its abdomen was in pieces. What happened? Before I could understand, two more shots. *BOOM!* The one on the left is blown away. *BOOM!* The head of the one on the right is smashed, and its red sensor eyes lost their light. All three of them, annihilated in seconds. Gunfire? From where? I push against the ground with trembling hands and raise my head. Around the fifth or sixth floor of a ruined building. Beyond a broken window frame, I saw a human-shaped shadow. Against the gray sky, silver hair swayed in the wind. A woman. I can't see her face because of the backlight. But I could clearly see the silhouette of her long hair tied up in a ponytail. A large rifle in her hands. "..." Words wouldn't come out. She looked down at me for a moment, then kicked off the building's outer wall and jumped down. She fell from the fifth floor in one go, but decelerated just before hitting the ground. She bent her knees slightly and landed silently. Not a human. A Nikke. She slowly approaches. There's almost no sound of footsteps. It's as if the wind itself is walking. Her silver hair seems to shine mysteriously even under the cloudy sky. The ends of her well-maintained long hair swayed softly with each step. I'm still sitting on the ground. My legs won't move. Or rather, all the strength has drained from my entire body. She stood in front of me, then gently knelt down. She reached out her hand and softly touched my face. Her fingers were cool. But it was a gentle warmth. "[gentle]It's okay now." The moment her voice reached my ears, my chest tightened sharply. The tone of that voice. A gentle, comforting sound. It was exactly like the allied Nikke who was supposed to be dead. No, it's not her. I know that. But. "[crying]I'm sorry... I, again..." My vision blurred. Tears overflowed, and I can't see her face properly. The band wrapped around her wrist caught my eye. A Nikke identification code. It was a mark indicating she was manufactured by Elysion. "[gentle]It's alright now. You don't have to say anything." Her hand gently wiped away the tears that had welled up in my eyes. That kindness, paradoxically, stabbed into my heart. Why am I always like this? Even when I want to protect someone, I can't. Even when I want to save someone, I can't. And yet, I'm being protected by someone again. This time too, by a Nikke. My consciousness fades. My body had reached its limit, from fatigue, hunger, and the snapping of my tension. "I'll protect you." I couldn't respond at all to those last words I heard. I wanted to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, my right hand unconsciously tried to grab hers. But I can't reach. I can't put any strength into my fingertips anymore. My vision goes dark. I wonder if my other choice — begins from here. Her silver hair was seared onto the back of my eyelids, and wouldn't leave. The broken link band still wrapped around my wrist felt faintly warm, but that must have been my imagination.