The night that wrapped around Elma settlement was deathly still. In the darkness where only starlight could be relied upon, the pale glow of the plant bulb pulsed at the settlement's center. Deteriorated from age, its output had dropped to forty percent of its rated capacity, its former brilliance long lost. Even so, it was enough to sustain the lives of eight hundred people. Arisa lay on a crude bed, clutching Vash's dog tags in her hand. The coldness of the metal seeped into her palm. She closed her eyes, trying to draw forth distant memories, relying on that sensation alone. The day that gunman had saved her. Amidst the flying gunshots and screams, his crimson coat fluttering, he had been laughing. How much had that smile saved her heart? "...Vash..." Arisa spoke his name in a small voice. She held the dog tags to her chest, curling her body as if in prayer. Until the day they might meet again, someday— That was when it happened. Far in the distance, she heard a low rumble like the groaning of the earth. Arisa opened her eyes. She looked outside the window. Beyond the settlement's boundary line illuminated by the plant bulb's light, something was there. A massive shadow was approaching, churning up clouds of sand. □ Caravane Noir. An armored convoy stretching three hundred meters in total length, it was a mobile fortress cobbled together from the wreckage of old-era transport ships. The twelve linked steel cars were painted a uniform black that melted into the darkness of night, with armor plates welded on at various points exuding a rugged, oppressive menace. Anti-vehicle cannons and machine guns were mounted on the sides of the cars, and they slowly turned their muzzles toward the settlement. The command room of the lead car. Galen Vollhardt looked down upon the Elma settlement spreading out beyond the thick armored glass. His silver-gray, close-cropped hair was impeccably neat, without a single strand out of place, and his right eye—a deep, dark navy iris—was narrowed coldly. Beneath the black eyepatch covering his left eye, his golden prosthetic eye, implanted with plant cells, throbbed with a faint, prickling ache. Unconsciously, he traced the mark engraved on the back of his left hand with the fingers of his right. Proof of his direct service to Knives. The memories of the days he had been picked up by that man and served as a technical officer made the old burn scars sting. "[cold]Course locked. We'll infiltrate from the east side of the settlement." Kestra Vael, who had been standing by behind him, narrowed her amber eyes. Her long, deep crimson hair was tied up high, and the tattoo of the plant crest carved from her left shoulder down to her upper arm stood out in the dim light inside the vehicle. She began her report, operating the data terminal in her hands, her voice carrying a cynical undertone. "[serious]Just as the advance reconnaissance data showed. Minimal defenses, zero armed security. Most of the residents are elderly and children. We can't expect any real resistance." "[cold]Naturally. There's no way a frontier settlement like this has any decent fighting strength." "[serious]A night raid is the most efficient. Right now, while the residents are asleep, is the best possible opportunity." Galen nodded. The index finger of his right hand moved with a faint, almost convulsive twitch. It was a habit. An unconscious ritual to maintain himself as the cold, calculating man he was. He turned around and gave a short order to the Grief soldiers waiting in the rear of the car. "[cold]Commence the operation. Leave no survivors. Wipe out the entire settlement clean." There was not a shred of hesitation in his voice. The soldiers, dressed in uniformly black modified military uniforms, silently took up their guns. The plant crest was sewn onto the left shoulder of every one of them. Former mercenaries, former engineers, fanatical believers of the Plant cult—their origins were varied, but to Galen, they were all tools. Expendable items. But he wouldn't waste them. That was his way. "[cold]Kestra. You wait in the vehicle and prepare for data analysis. If we find that 'key,' cross-reference the biometric data immediately." "[serious]Understood. Results are everything. I have no use for pointless deaths." Kestra turned back to her terminal. The thin sword scar running down her right cheek twisted slightly. Galen spun the cylinder of his favorite large revolver, "Vesper," confirming its load. A relic of the old era, this gun, capable of using the plant-derived special warhead "Breach rounds," was one of only three that existed on the planet. Its power, which incinerated a three-meter radius upon impact, could erase a human body without a trace. As he walked toward the car's exit hatch, he felt the throbbing in his left prosthetic eye intensify. The golden eye was capturing it. Within Elma settlement, a blue phosphorescence shining with exceptional intensity. A life reaction with abnormally high plant affinity. That was the "key" he had been searching for. "[cold]Arisa... is it." Galen's lips trembled with a twisted ecstasy. His dry lips cracked, and the faint taste of blood spread across his tongue. □ Gunshots tore through the settlement's silence. The first shot pierced the chest of the old man standing on the watchtower. Without even a chance to cry out, the old man crumpled from the tower. The dull sound of him hitting the ground was swallowed by the night's darkness. The next moment, shooting erupted all across the settlement. Residents who had been sleeping were shot through on their beds. A mother holding her young child was shot from behind before she could even flee. A man who ran out of his house screaming had his head blown off by a waiting soldier, collapsing as his brain matter scattered. Flames rose. Fire spread to the thatched roofs, and the settlement began to transform into an orange hell. The stench of gunsmoke and burning flesh hung thick in the air. The footsteps of fleeing residents and their dying screams. Amidst that chaos, Galen walked slowly. Toward the direction the blue phosphorescence his left eye indicated—toward where Arisa was. Grief soldiers surrounded him. The soldiers gunned down one villager after another who tried to resist. "[sad]Stop... please..." In the shadow of a crude house, Arisa trembled. Her long, silvery-white hair was disheveled, and her pale aquamarine eyes were wide with terror. She clenched her fists tightly in front of her chest, hiding the dog tags inside them. The small plant flower birthmark on her left temple glowed faintly in the firelight. One of the Grief soldiers spotted her. "[cold]There she is! The girl!" The soldier raised his gun, aiming at Arisa. She backed away on trembling legs, desperately holding back her sobs. "[scared]Stay away... please stay away...!" Her voice shook, but the words themselves were surprisingly clear. She bit her lip, forcing herself to act brave. Then— "[cold]Hold it. I'll finish her myself." A cold voice rang out. The soldiers parted to the left and right, opening a path. Galen Vollhardt slowly approached. The flames of the burning houses eerily illuminated his silver-gray hair and black eyepatch. Arisa gasped. From the man standing before her, a cold, oppressive aura emanated, as if his mere presence lowered the surrounding temperature. An iron mask revealing not a single emotion. But his golden prosthetic eye alone glinted like a starving beast. "[cold]Arisa... So it is you, after all." Galen looked down at her, murmuring lowly. He observed her entire body with both his right eye and left prosthetic eye, as if licking her all over with his gaze. "[scared]W-why... do you know my name..." "[cold]That doesn't matter. What you're holding—hand it over." Galen dropped his gaze to the fist clenched tightly at her chest. Reflexively, Arisa hid her hand behind her back. "[angry]No...! This is... this is mine...!" Galen stepped in. The movement was efficient and fast. He grabbed Arisa's wrist and forcibly pulled it forward. With her strength, she couldn't resist. One by one, her slender fingers were pried open. What appeared in her palm was a worn piece of metal. Dog tags. On the surface, the engraving: 'VASH THE STAMPEDE.' "[cold]Vash the Stampede... the Humanoid Typhoon. You, this is..." Galen's voice wavered for the first time. It wasn't the voice of a cold calculator. It was a murky sound, a mixture of dark jealousy and twisted longing. He snatched the dog tags from Arisa's hand. "[crying]Give them back! Those are... they're everything to me...!" Arisa screamed. Tears spilled from her aquamarine eyes. "[sarcastic]Vash, huh. So that man is even adored by a little girl like you. I feel like I understand, just a little, why my brother—why Knives was so obsessed with him." He toyed with the dog tags in his palm, looking down at Arisa's tear-streaked face. "[cold]Let me tell you something. To that man, you are nothing more than one human being among many. Because Vash is a hypocrite who loves all humans equally. You're not special to him." Slowly, he dropped the dog tags onto the ground. The metal fell onto the dry sand with a faint sound. And then— Galen stomped on them with the heel of his boot. A nasty sound of grinding, warping metal. The engraving was crushed, countless scratches carved into the surface. He put his weight into it, twisting his heel again and again. "[crying]Stop... please stop...!!" Arisa collapsed on the spot. Covering her face with both hands, she sobbed like a child. Her emotional support had been literally trampled underfoot. The sand-covered dog tags no longer retained their original shape. Galen crouched down and peered into her face. "[cold]Don't cry. You have been chosen. As the one and only key to activate Absolute Zero—the ultimate weapon Knives left behind." His voice was strangely gentle. A twisted gentleness. It wasn't compassion, but closer to the fixation of a predator toying with its prey. Galen removed his military gloves and wiped Arisa's tears with his bare hand. At the sensation of his fingertips tracing her cheek, Arisa stiffened with fear. "[cold]You don't need to be afraid. You will become a saint who purifies this world. Take pride in the honor of becoming the cornerstone that will sweep away the vermin that is humanity and build a paradise for plants alone." With a trembling voice, Arisa showed her utmost rejection. "[sad]I... never wanted... something like that..." "[cold]It's not a matter of wanting or not wanting. Your body has decided it. This is fate." He stood up and gave a short order to the soldiers waiting behind him. "[cold]Take this girl to the Caravane Noir. Lock her in the detention cell. Do not harm her. She is a valuable 'resource.'" Having lost even the will to resist, Arisa was grabbed by both arms by the soldiers and dragged away. Just once at the end, she looked back at the ground where the twisted dog tags lay. But even that was soon lost from sight beyond the flames. Galen remained there, looking down at the trampled dog tags. "[cold]Vash. You're always like this. You obtain everything, yet you can't protect a single thing. This girl, too, is ultimately in the palm of my hand." He turned on his heel and, with the blazing settlement at his back, walked toward the armored convoy. □ Elma settlement was completely engulfed in flames. Every fleeing resident was shot to death by the Grief soldiers, without exception. The old man hiding in the shadow of the well, the children who had fled into the barn—none were spared. Bodies piled up, and the spilled blood was absorbed into the sand. The plant bulb emitted a low-frequency sound like a scream. As if mourning the death of the settlement, its deteriorated output weakened further. Inside the Caravane Noir. Galen stood before the detention cell. Beyond the iron bars, Arisa sat on the