In the confinement cell, the only sound was the beating of her own heart. Arisa awoke to the weight of iron shackles. Cold metal bit into both wrists, and the chains gave a faint rattle with every slight movement. Her back was pressed against a hard iron-plated wall, her legs splayed motionless across the floor. Her silver-white hair, long enough to reach her waist, was matted with sweat and dust, clinging to her cheeks. A low vibration transmitted from somewhere. Proof that the armored vehicle continued its relentless course across the desert. Beyond the wall, machinery hummed; in the distance, something creaked. Caravan Noir—the mobile fortress commanded by Galen—pressed onward, bound for some unknown destination. Her pale aquamarine eyes slowly crawled across the cell. The darkness grew familiar. Iron bars. Exposed piping. Dry sand scattered across the floor. And then— Outside the cage, it lay there. Vash's dog tag. The metal plate, trampled and warped under Galen's combat boots, rested carelessly on the floor. A distance that seemed reachable if she stretched out her hand. A distance she could not reach. Arisa's fingers trembled faintly. She strained desperately, reaching out with her shackled hands. The chains scraped coldly against her skin, a sharp pain shooting through her. But her fingertips could not reach it. A few dozen centimeters more. Those few dozen centimeters felt impossibly far. She bit her lip. She fought desperately to hold back the cry threatening to escape. She knew Galen had placed it there deliberately. To break her spirit, he had placed the thing most precious to her right before her eyes, yet ensured she could never touch it. (—Vash-san) She called his name in her heart. She remembered when that gunman had saved her. His crimson coat billowing in the wind, his face laughing even amidst the hail of gunfire. That smile alone had helped her endure the long solitude of Elma Village. But now, he was not here. He did not know she was trapped in a place like this. Arisa closed her eyes. In the distance, she could hear the low resonance of a plant valve. The sound of a small plant operating somewhere within this vehicle. That sound alone was proof she was still alive. □ The iron door of the confinement cell opened, heavy and ponderous. The air changed. A sensation as if the temperature had dropped. Arisa raised her head. Standing in the doorway was—Galen Vollhardt. His short, silver-gray hair was impeccably groomed, not a strand out of place, and his deep navy-blue right eye gazed down at her coldly. A black eyepatch covered his left eye. Beneath it, the golden prosthetic eye implanted with plant cells must have been throbbing with a prickling sensation. The old burn scar running from his left temple to his forehead stood out in the dim light. The index finger of his right hand twitched slightly. An unconscious habit of a man who harbored both impatience and cold calculation simultaneously. Behind Galen, two Grief soldiers stood at attention. Men clad in all-black modified military uniforms, the plant crest embroidered on their left shoulders. But Arisa's eyes did not turn to them. The two soldiers dragged something into the cell. Arisa's breath stopped. It was an old man. Over seventy, his body emaciated. His coarse farmer's clothes were covered in mud and dust, his white hair in wild disarray. His face was marred with bruises as if he had been beaten, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Sebas. "—Sebas-ojii-chan!" Arisa's voice tore from her throat. Sebas was the old man who had raised her like a father in Elma Village. He had taught Arisa, who had no real parents, how to till the fields, how to offer prayers to the plant, and above all—he had taught her the warmth of an ordinary family. Why was he alive? She had thought he was killed along with everyone else that night the village was attacked. Galen's mouth twisted. "[cold]Surprised?" His voice was as cold as ice. "[cold]I owe you my thanks. Thanks to this old man, the location of the last pillar supporting your heart has become clear." His right index finger twitched again. "[cold]When we attacked the village, I intentionally kept him alive. As a trump card to completely break your spirit." Galen drew his Vesper. A large revolver from the old era. Its long barrel gleamed dully in the dim cell, its cylinder loaded with special plant-derived warheads—Breach Rounds. Upon impact, they incinerated everything within a three-meter radius with heat and light—leaving not even a trace of a human body behind. The color drained from Arisa's face. "[sad]Stop... please, stop...!" The chains rattled. The iron shackles bit into her wrists, splitting the skin and oozing blood. Yet still, she pressed her body against the cage and continued to scream. Galen did not answer. He simply positioned himself behind Sebas. The old man was trembling. His battered body shaking, yet his eyes remained fixed on Arisa's face. "...Arisa... don't cry..." His voice was hoarse. "You were... like a granddaughter... to me..." Galen's prosthetic eye flashed brilliantly. "[cold]That, too, ends now." The trigger was squeezed. —The Breach Round roared. A thunderous boom. White flash filled the cell, a heat wave searing Arisa's skin. The brightness was so intense she could see nothing. After the ear-splitting detonation, the air was scorched, carrying the smell of burning flesh. "Nooooooooooooooooo!!" Arisa's scream was swallowed by the walls of the confinement cell. It was over in an instant. Where Sebas had stood, nothing remained. The thermal energy that scorched a three-meter radius had erased the old man's outline, his bones, his flesh, his clothes—everything. Only the floor was charred black, faintly emitting smoke. Amidst the smoke, Galen holstered his Vesper. His was the gaze of an observer. Arisa's screams, her trembling shoulders, her face wet with tears—he coldly recorded it all. "[cold]With this, your last bond has vanished." Arisa wept. She screamed until her voice gave out, cried until her throat felt torn. Her shackled hands clawed uselessly at the air. Her fingers, reaching for that dog tag, for Sebas who was no longer there, reaching for nothing at all, simply trembled. □ How much time passed before the screaming stopped? Slowly, Arisa raised her tear-streaked, ravaged face. Her pale aquamarine eyes stared directly at Galen. What resided there was not fear. Nor was it despair. Something deeper dwelled within—a quiet, still flame. "[whispers]...You..." Her voice trembled, yet her words did not falter. "[whispers]You were never loved by your brother." Galen's right eye narrowed slightly. "[whispers]That man, Knives... he never even considered you... a brother. You were just a tool he used and discarded." Weeping, she still twisted her lips into a smile. "[whispers]You're in the same cage as me. You too... have always been alone." Silence. For an instant, Galen's left prosthetic eye wavered. A mere fraction of a second where the golden pupil lost its light, then regained its glow. His right hand reflexively gripped the handle of his Vesper. So tightly his knuckles turned white. He could kill her. Here and now, if he pulled the trigger, it would all be over. But—he could not kill her. She was necessary. The key to activating Absolute Zero. Without her, Knives' great cause could not be completed. Calculation suppressed his fury. Yet that very suppression was Galen's first defeat. An uncalculated reaction. An agitation not in the plan. Wordlessly, he turned towards the cell's exit. On his way out, he glanced back just once. He saw Arisa's face, wet with tears. A gaze he could not name—neither hatred nor pity—met hers for a single beat. And then Galen left the cell. Silence fell, heavy and accumulating. □ The iron door of the confinement cell opened once more. This time, the person who entered was a woman. Her long, deep crimson hair was tied up high, and she had sharp, narrow amber eyes. An intricate tattoo of the plant crest was etched from her left shoulder down to her upper arm. A single thin knife scar marked her right cheek. With every step she took, the hem of her military uniform swayed faintly. Kestra Vael. In her hands, she carried instruments for collecting biometric data. A small device with a fine needle, and a terminal for recording the data. Arisa lacked even the strength to lift her head; she simply stared at the floor. Kestra silently knelt beside her and took her shackled arm. A thin arm. Bluish-white veins were visible beneath the skin. "[cold]This will sting a little." Kestra's voice was superficially polite, but laced with a cynical undertone. The collection needle pierced Arisa's arm. A sharp pain. But Arisa no longer cried out. The terminal began reading the data. Arisa's biometric information, plant affinity, energy resonance patterns—all were converted into numbers one after another. Kestra worked efficiently. The eyes of a technician, devoid of emotion. To her, this was merely a job. "[gentle]...Don't you want to protect the plants?" Arisa's voice was hoarse from crying. Kestra's hands stopped. "[whispers]Your eyes... they're the same as mine. The eyes of someone who has lost something precious." Desperately suppressing her trembling, she still gazed at Kestra. Kestra did not answer. However, her amber eyes flickered for just a moment. (—What did this girl perceive?) Something snagged deep within Kestra's heart. A contradiction she herself hadn't been aware of. Even as she believed in Knives' great cause, a technician's interest in the anomaly of this girl's biometric authentication had begun to sprout. "[serious]This is my duty. Don't ask anything further." She continued her work. Once the collection was finished, she wrapped a hemostatic cloth around Arisa's arm and swiftly put away the instruments. As she stood up, Kestra confirmed that the collapsed Arisa's breathing was stable. For just a fleeting moment, her right hand touched the girl's shoulder. —That was the only, yet definite, human action Kestra displayed. The cell door closed, and Arisa was alone once more. □ The Operations Room. Maps covered an entire wall. Monitors from the old era emitted a pale blue light, displaying the data Kestra had extracted from her terminal. Galen leaned both hands on the central desk, glaring at the screen. His right index finger twitched incessantly. "[cold]Report." Operating her terminal, Kestra read out the numbers dispassionately. "[serious]Analysis of Arisa's biometric data is complete. Plant affinity is 0.98. Energy resonance patterns exceed theoretical upper limits. Biometric information required for the first stage of Absolute Zero's activation sequence—80% satisfied." Galen's mouth twisted. "[cold]Sufficient." "[serious]We should proceed to the next phase. Bring Arisa into contact with actual plant remains and execute the activation authentication—the optimal location is the Seventh Ruin." "[cold]Yes. The Seventh Cradle." Galen stared at the operational plan map. The Seventh Cradle—the site of the Seventh City Annihilation Incident. The place where Knives had incinerated one hundred and twenty thousand people. In that scorched earth lay the colossal remains of a plant. It was there that Absolute Zero would be activated. However, another voice echoed in his mind. (You were just a tool he used and discarded.) (You're in the same cage as me.) Galen realized he was recalling those words over and over. They clung to a corner of his consciousness, refusing to leave. (—Useless.) As if to admonish himself, he struck the desk with his right hand. "[cold]Change course to the Seventh Ruin. All vehicles, battle preparations. This is the final stage towards the great cause." "[serious]...Understood." Holding her terminal, Kestra left the operations room. Left alone, Galen tou