As everyone begins to shuffle out—Gadolt trying to make small talk with Mumkhar, who could not smile genuinely to save his soul—I head out to follow them.

Xord grabs my arm and twists me back around, his eyes bright and electric with something he desperately wants to say. But then he falters, and he only rubs his scruffy black hair. "You seem familiar t' me," he says in a cockney accent that's so rough I can't understand where he could have picked it up. Yet it sounds… "Not like I remember anymore!"

A jolting sensation lurches in my chest. "You made me a sword once," I reply, "in your forge. It was several years ago. You wanted me to be able to protect my friend."

As he vacantly smiles, I blink and shake my head.

So this one is more eager to speak, I see.

"It's a pity he turned you so young!" Xord remarks, shaking his head in humor as he walks out. I hear, in the distance, Mumkhar commenting to him about something or another—something about some battle of Sword Valley, not like there has ever been any battle in Sword Valley, Sword Valley is just as desolate as it has always been. I go to join them, perhaps correct them, but a voice stops me.

"Sung."

I turn around and cock my head. "S-sir?"

Egil gestures for me to stay; I hastily comply.

"You do understand the details of your mission?" He glances off, as if in distain over the current shape I'm in.

My mouth clenches up. "Yes, I do. Being shut down for a few years hasn't corroded my mind, Egil." I shift where I stand, then snort. "Everyone else seems to think so."

"No, you are just obsolete. There's a difference." He hesitates. "You have to remain in your Face for this mission. I cannot have you speaking or making any movements that will betray that you are a Homs."

I move in a little closer to him. Vanea remains statuesque by his side, totally unflinching except to throw a guilty look toward the Meyneth shrine. "Why?" I ask. "Why attack the Homs? What do you have against them, I don't care about them, it's Zanza who did every—!"

He holds up a hand, and I recoil. "Homs are the creations of Zanza. Therefore, we must treat them as enemies, as Zanza can control all of them," Egil says, voice jumping up in volume. "The Homs have found the Monado. As long as they have that, anything is left as possible."

They've finally…?!

"Then it's happening." I can't control the shiver in my voice, though I hope Egil doesn't notice.

Vanea glances at her brother, presses her lips together. Egil only smirks in that calculating way, as if he's working some design in his mind that he knows is just perfect—either that, or laughing about his own personal joke. He, as if remembering that I'm still here, jerks ever so slightly and turns back to me. "Not if I have anything to do about it. I would prefer we don't kill them, as I have said to the others before you arrived, merely," A smile touches his face. "eat them."

I only stare. Vanea stammers something and extends out a hand, finally breaking from her position next to her brother. "No, just take them hostage. As long as we can make more Faced Mechon, it's an advantage for us. Egil just has a sense of humor." Her tone is absolute deadpan.

That make a small, short laugh burst from Egil's lips, like an adolescent trying not to show his childlike side. It's short lived, but it makes me giggle nonetheless.

"It is great to see you awake again." His soft expression reminds me of the old Egil. The worry eating at me lightens a bit. "I wish I could have expressed sentiment earlier, but difficult situations called for difficult solutions. A pity Xord recognized you," he notes in distain.

"He seemed too destroyed to recognize me," I reply, "though with this body, who can tell?"

Vanea says, "He was not the first to be damaged by the modifications, but he seems to take well to playing the role Egil needs him to." The way she speaks of him, it is as if she pities the Homs.

"The Ether Mines will be a good place for Xord," Egil says to her. "As long as he does not try anything reckless, he should remain out of sight. His pathetic drive to succeed should not be wasted, whether that is accompanied by a stable mind or not." He pauses, silent for a moment. "You worry about their memories."

"It is not Xord I am worried about. The Gadolt one seems hindered," Vanea replies. "So does Mumkhar."

"Your judgement is probably correct on 20814. However, I want to see how the other acts; he has yet to protest to the modifications."

Vanea glances down into Agniratha. "He is too old to adapt so fast—his zealousness could cause us problems."

"I'll wait and see," he dismisses. "Regardless of our new Core Units, we at least need not worry about you, do we, Sung?"

I look up at his question. "Uh, no. No, of course not. I just didn't expect more like me."

"A temporary solution to counteract the Monado. The Homs blood will repel it until its chains are released. We are so close, Vanea."

"Yes," she replies softly, "close."

Shifting in my spot, I think of the last time I was here. Egil's last impromptu meeting with only me. "To be honest, I'm surprised I was awoken at all. I would have understood, but I'm glad you didn't decide to scrap me, Egil."

Egil is like a big brother to me—always watching out, never letting any of his small circle of "family" get hurt; I guess this extends to all his Faces. Vanea's the same way. They took care of me when I needed help, and I feel I owe them quite a lot.

"That would have been a waste of good parts. Your previous ones have been hinderances, but from what Vanea informs me, this time it will be worth the effort. Then again, maybe someday I'll make a Mechon out of you yet," Egil adds with a slight smirk. "Perhaps an M63X Android Unit, sleek, well-balanced, and precise."

Vanea leans in toward him and murmurs something into his ear, gesturing a long finger at me. "I needed to…so he felt more comfortable…"

Egil sharply nods and pulls away. "We'll give you some modifications, Sung, but after the attack on Colony 9. Unfortunately, time is the one spare part we're short on. The faster we deal with this final colony, the faster the Homs will be eradicated, and the slower Zanza has to revive. My sister will help you get ready, and I can only pray that your pilot-prowess blood wasn't lost in the accident."

I chuckle, only to have it fade as quickly as it leaves my mouth. "I believe the only blood I lost then was my courage, Egil."


Vanea glances at me as we walk down the halls of Central Factory. Busy Mechon scurry around our feet, and the Majestic Mordred thunders at our side. Despite I knowing her baleful attitude toward us, the sounds and her sheer size still gives me shivers.

"You have to be the most loyal Core Unit Egil has," Vanea says abruptly.

I trip and look up at her. "Hm? Really? The others looked so much stronger, I'd assume they were more…"

"Age and strength are the nemesis of loyalty," she replies. "They have already established their lives on the Bionis. Most do not take too well to being ripped out of their roots."

"Oh." A thought crosses my mind. "W-when did you make these newest ones…?"

She lifts her gaze to the vaulted ceilings, miles above us, and gets a distant look on her face. A flashing machine pulsates at the top, its red lights glowing like the veins of a Face Mechon. I don't recognize it. I don't seem to recognize a lot any more. "The Battle of Sword Valley, roughly around a year ago. We had several Homs that the others abandoned on our sword after they fell back. They wound up not being quite as dead as we thought they were, so Egil decided to…fix them," she says with a careful infliction, "the way we fixed you."

I stumble again. Vanea is quick to catch me. Blinking in confusion, I kick my leg out and bluster a sigh as it moves completely normally, the heel catching and sputtering on the smooth metal flooring. Lifting my head to meet her widened eyes, I fumble my lips into an apology and straighten. Gah… I can't wait until—

That twisting feeling occurs again, as if it's squeezing my soul and throwing it aside like an unwanted object. I bang hard on my chest to clear the discomfort, and it soon fades. Swallowing hard, I start forward again. The Machina follows with her usual brisk stride, but falls back into line with me. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I feel bad," I admit. "I have to decimate their colony."

"It's a necessary task." She pauses. "They are starting to affect you, are they not?"

"Starting to? Ha! Now you sound like Egil," I reply. Turning to her, I give her an odd look. "Do you really believe that? What his plan is, I mean."

"I believe a lot, Sung," Vanea replies in a sad tone, "but what Egil believes is far more twisted around his own demons."

A heavy silence falls around us. Then she exhales, and I only look down.

"Sung," Vanea starts. I blink and shake my head.

"What is it?"

"Please, do not battle him."

I stare at her. "What?"

"Sung, it is happening, you know why you were put away into storage."

"I really don't," I reply coldly as I turn away.

"I think you do."

"Why do you bring this up now?" I ask, tipping my head so it is like I'm speaking to the smog-filled air. "That was, what, five years ago? You promised." My tone is accusatory, but it shakes. "You promised not to do that again."

"I am sorry, I had no choice, your injuries—"

"I have worked through worse!" I shout.

The Machina's heels click on the floor as she walks around me. She stops at my side. "Even a head injury? You fell unconscious after the crash. This is the first time you've been awoken since then, and I do not want you pushing yourself to the point of a breakdown!" Slush floods my body at her raised voice. She never yells, not normally. I don't know what I did wrong. "You know what happens when you do that."

"You're such a control freak, Sung."

"Did he finally die?" I ask, trying not to look at her.

"I will not answer that question lest you not destroy again."

"I don't hate him, I'm just curious."

"Try being courteous next time." Vanea begins to stride off, and I hasten to follow her. "Face Nemesis has already been prepared. Do not force this one too far." As she speaks, she brushes her hand against my shoulder blades. "He's frightened."

I jerk away from her. "I'll try. How's that?"

"Good enough," she murmurs.


The interior of my Face Mechon feels warm, as if it is breathing around me like the Bionis used to breathe. In and out, slowly, steadily. Its assuring pattern brought a comfort in the back of my mind when I was younger, when my father taught me how to connect to it, hear it.

Though I haven't heard it in years.

As I get myself seated, the transparent wires attack my body as they burrow into the inscrutable holes in the armor. Relief floods though my veins along with my excess blood. How can anyone tolerate being outside their Face for long periods of time? How can anyone tolerate living without a Face at all? Maybe it's just me being too used to this for my own good.

Vanea smiles to me from the cockpit hole, and it closes to this smile. With the sudden darkness of the Face, I jump a little and exhale in frustration, then focus on the control panel: a dull orange plane presented in front of me. Its circular hand controls twist and turn as if with a mind of its own, clicking like a clock. Hurry up, it seems to say, see what I can do now.

I dart a hand out to activate the machine, then place my fingers confidently into the circles. The glowing panel casts a deep, bright light and eases the terror of night from my mind. Yet another remnant, it's quite bothersome. How my mother scoffs at such fears.

The exterior of Nemesis thumps—Vanea's way of letting me know she's ready—and I turn on the vocal functions.

"Okay, Vanea. I think I have it…?" My voice trails off in sheer doubt, which baffles me. "The controls are starting to come back to me now." A small laugh escapes me. "I can't believe I forgot them."

"You have it? All right, Sung, just let me know if any of them are unfamiliar to you."

I throw on the video feed. Vanea nods in the cross-haired screen presented to me, then steps back and folds her arms.

Pressing my lips together, I turn off the vocal projection—Egil's threatening words coming to mind. "You're such a mother to me, Vanea." A sigh escapes me as I lean back. "I wish I could stay here with you." I wish I could always just stay here with the only family I have left and quietly slip away.