Author's Note: The fic-within-a-fic segments are written to be intentionally clunky and cringy. I hope readers find them entertaining despite the colourful prose.
Content Warnings: Mind control, canon-typical violence, references to stalking. If you're sensitive to stories with grim or depressing endings, this one will have a happy ending but it'll take some time to get there.
Chapter Five: The Last Man on Earth
Meltryllis found herself in yet another cafe.
This one was less wonderous than the earlier cafes. She would go so far to call it a visual cacophony: the dark beams lining the roof forced the eye down to the sickly golden floorboards, only for the observer to look back up in disgust and this time notice the dated glass light fixtures.
The cafe's single blessing was its dramatic location, perched high above an ocean wharf. Crashing waves dominated the surrounding docks. If it wasn't for the nebulous threat hidden in the simulator, Meltryllis felt she could watch the tides until they ripped the human structures apart.
A fierce wind ripped across the harbour, rattling through the cafe's shingles. The surge that followed nearly drowned a docked boat. Meltryllis's heart raced as the bow dipped below the water, then bounced back up. Maybe next time.
She caught a movement in the window reflection. Arnaldur poked his head up from behind the cafe counter. The only reason she stepped into this awful building was his assurances of a system access point here. Instead of announcing he finally found it, he stared up at the roof worryingly. "I don't like the sound of that."
"You complain too much." She flashed a playful smirk to accent her insult. The man narrowed his eyes back at her. She rolled hers. "We both know the wind isn't real."
He ducked below the counter again, shuffling through what sounded like cardboard boxes. "Then pray I find the access point before that storm tears this building apart."
She brushed the bruise on her back as she considered his warning. It still tingled at her touch. Resting it against the glass helped with the pain. Having the roof come down on their heads wasn't an exciting idea, especially if she'd feel every hideous beam as they fell. She raised her voice so Arnaldur could hear her over the wind. "I thought the access point would be a signal. You said you had a weak connection earlier."
"You need a physical connection to properly access it!" Arnaldur yelled back. "Or a metaphor for a physical access point. It's a design feature. Makes it easier for human users to access the settings."
She stroked the window with her hand. It didn't feel like much of anything; the contrast to her back was unexpected. "I'm disappointed that you think I'm human."
"The software decided that, not me! I didn't build it. If I had, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
She rested her forehead against the glass, clenching her eyes shut in frustration. This conversation established two important details: Arnaldur Bekanson was both an exceptionally unpleasant and strange NPC. NPCs shouldn't be able to think about designing systems, let alone voice opinions about them. She was still undecided if that quirk made him worthy of absorption once she dispatched the corrupted data.
At least their time together would be finite. She opened her eyes, letting her attention wander again. Across the harbour was an island, rising out of the horizon like a dark shadow. Based on her nautical intuition, it was too far for a human to reach by swimming. It wouldn't be a challenge for her, of course, but what about her critic? Sanson was still missing. He could be out there, tossed out by the system on a remote rock, surrounded by water and darkness. No one to explain where he was. The despair in that scenario was delectable. Inspiring, even.
But her draft was still missing. She wasn't going to ask Arnaldur for paper and a pen before he found the access point. He was taking too long already. That left her formulating a story idea in her head.
The Last Man on Earth
The sky above me was an empty, vast wasteland.
At first I thought my vision was blurry and my eyes needed to refocus. Maybe I hit my head during the summoning. I tapped my fingers along the sides of my head, preparing myself for a jolt of pain, reminding me of an injury I had quickly forgotten. None came.
I could hear things without any problem. The constant rhythms of crashing surf and screaming seabirds told me I had been called somewhere near a shoreline. The salty ocean air stuck to my tongue.
My eyes eventually adjusted to my new surroundings but no lights appeared in the firmament. No stars. No moon. No Master spoke up to make a contract with me. The flow of mana coming into my body felt like a stale trickle, not the hot surge of power I expected. Even sitting upright strained me, leaving a dull ache in my limbs.
If the Counterforce called on me to correct the course of humanity, it had done so too late. I was alone. Alone at the end of the world.
Meltryllis tapped the glass gently. Drafting this story in her head wasn't as amusing as she expected. The only emotion in the piece was loneliness. Thinking about her critic in that way didn't feel right. Plus, as much as she dismissed what Kiyohime wanted, she knew the Berserker's ideal story would involve passion, not dwelling on oblivion. She needed another perspective.
"Tell me! If you woke up at the end of the world, what would be your first reaction?" she demanded, looking back over her shoulder at Arnaldur.
A tattered box landed on the cafe counter with a thud. "Why the hell are you asking me?" Arnaldur had an expression of unflinching disdain, leaving no room for humour. Even Robin was more fun to tease.
"I'm an advanced program. I'm always thinking ahead for potential eventualities. Yes, eventualities." She tossed her hair back and let her attention return to the view outside. "Imagine arriving at the end of time. It's cold and dark. All signs point to you being the last person in existence. What's the first thing you do?"
"The first thing I would do is realize the world wouldn't end like that," he explained as he slowly approached from behind. She watched his reflection in the window, noticing he was carrying a flat object. Her body tensed as his description continued in unsettling detail. "The end of the world should be wonderful. The last humans would bask in endless ecstasy and light. It would be a uniting of everything and everyone in a single brilliant moment of euphoria."
He stopped beside her, casually presenting the mystery object. She turned her head slowly to examine it. In truth, some part of her expected to find a weapon in his hands. She was relieved to discover it was only a clipboard.
"At least, that's my opinion. I'm just an insignificant minor program, after all." He smiled, as if there was nothing unnerving about what he had said. "This is the access point you requested. Let me know when the deep thoughts you're pondering are important enough to share with me."
She was definitely going to kill this freak without absorbing him once this was all through. In the meantime, he was more valuable as an ally. She took the clipboard. It was exactly as he described: a way for humans to interact with the systems. The paper attached to the front displayed a file directory in the underwhelming way humans would visualize a computer system. Icons represented paper file folders, similar to what she remembered seeing in Chaldea's offices. The surface of the clipboard functioned like a tablet, responding to her fingers as she tapped.
The directory was open to a location folder labelled " Iceland: Reykjavik ". That matched what Arnaldur had told her when he found her on the breakwater. The Last Accessed timestamp was last night, despite the system using that information right now. Listed in the folder were additional subfolders with obvious names: Fauna, Flora, Leylines , Personnel, Weather. She guessed they were databases of variables. The file at the bottom of the folder didn't match that naming pattern: " Final Conclusions'' . She tapped it and a text file loaded up on the clipboard.
The early findings detailed in the Icelandic study produced encouraging results. Electricity is inexpensive in this location and the island is bisected by a major leyline. Researchers speculated these could eliminate the need for the Seraphix Offshore Oil Rig project. The high standard of living is a strong asset for attracting staff and candidates.
When the data was reviewed by magical specialists for a secondary opinion, they expressed two major concerns. First, the leyline the island sits on is historically unstable. The destruction of G'll-Hoo following the Eldfell eruption in 1973 was cited as a relatively recent incident (see attached digitized scroll for more details). Second, construction in the Highlands would require negotiations with the four Landvættir. The Antarctica proposal was cited as a cheaper alternative in this regard.
"Found anything useful about the infection yet?" Arnaldur prodded. She had suspected he was reading the file over her shoulder. He was staring intensely at the counter instead for some reason. He shook his head silently, then tilted it towards her expectantly.
"Only that these simulated locations were created for research purposes." Meltryllis tapped out of the Reykjavik folder. Countless location file folders filled the screen. There were too many to quickly find a pattern connecting all of them. Whatever was being studied was a huge undertaking.
If a problematic stray bit of data was hiding anywhere in the system, she guessed it was probably lurking in here. Pinning it down required understanding more about why these files existed in the first place. She had been attacked directly in the cozy cafe, the one with the bread pudding Sanson recommended to her. There might be more answers in that location folder.
She manipulated the folder listing, switching from Alphabetical Order to Time Last Accessed. " United States of America: Morristown " sat at the top, still the last location accessed through proper means. She smiled, thinking back to the gentle morning, and tapped open the location's " Final Conclusions" file.
The Morristown location was tested due to its historical significance. The city was fundamental to the founding of the United States, being referred to as the "The Military Capital of the American Revolution". The Heroic Crucible theory presented by the magical specialists suggested locations directly connected to the forging of nations may have a superior summoning potential. Building the headquarters for Chaldea in such a place may ease the resource strain, allowing time and energy to be redirected to adjacent projects.
The location was dismissed after a team of non-magical engineers questioned building the installation so close to a large human population centre. Follow up simulator tests proved these concerns correct. All probable outcomes resulted in the headquarters being discovered. Mystery itself collapsed in some scenarios.
"They were testing potential Chaldea installation locations," Meltryllis muttered to herself. The commentary in the file made that conclusion undeniable.
"What?!" Arnaldur's mouth hung open in genuine shock. He grabbed onto the clipboard, tugging at it. "Let me see that!"
She pulled the clipboard away from the NPC and held it close to her chest. She needed to read more. Perhaps Chaldea had accidentally poisoned itself with this corrupted data. "Can't you look up the locations with your own connection?"
He clenched his fists and opened his mouth to complain again. His grating voice was cut off before he could speak as the cafe door swung open with a bang. A soaked man in a black trenchcoat staggered across the threshold. He pushed back his plastered hair, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.
Meltryllis relaxed, reaching for the internal elegance she had let slip. She had an image to maintain. Her critic had returned.
"Mademoiselle Meltryllis," Sanson coughed out, shaking the excess water off of his sleeves. Puddles formed on the floor under him. "I'm relieved I found you. Are you injured?"
Pushing aside her previous thoughts, she tossed the clipboard back into Arnaldur's hands. He fumbled with it; she didn't bother to watch to see if he properly caught it. Suppressing a grimace from her strained back, she took several broad strides towards Sanson.
"Imagine! Thinking that a perfect existence like myself could get hurt!" she boosted loudly. To be honest, her critic expressing concern for her wellbeing felt good. It was also a very human response and therefore terribly amusing. It was thrilling, through and through.
Her posturing got a small smile out of him. "Forgive me. I'm a fool for thinking you were in danger."
She bit her lower lip as she reflected on his words. Her comments were a jab at him, of course. That part was fun. His reply was a joke at his own expense. That wasn't how the game was supposed to be played. He should have been flustered at her overwhelming competence.
"Don't worry, I accept your concerns, as misguided as they are," she replied with an honest smile. She could lead their social dance again later, once they had finished checking in. "What about you? Are you hurt?"
"You found Arend as well." Sanson didn't bother to answer her question. He instead walked up to Arnaldur, who didn't lift his eyes from the clipboard.
"My name is Arnaldur," the NPC corrected flatly.
Meltryllis frowned back at the distracted Sanson. There was something off about him; he moved slower and with more hesitation. The brisk pace he kept earlier was missing. "You didn't answer my question."
"Right, yes," he replied quietly. The smile had fallen from his face. "The harbour broke my fall. It was a more unpleasant entrance than I expected but I wasn't seriously harmed."
She would have been more satisfied had he told her nothing happened while they were separated. Still, she trusted his judgement. Their professional relationship was dependent on that. Considering that, she needed to bring him up to speed with her discoveries.
She yanked back the clipboard from Arnaldur. It was easier than she expected; the NPC didn't resist and let the clipboard slide out of his hands. He hadn't even opened up a new location file despite holding onto the clipboard for several minutes. That made things easier for her, though. She scrolled up to the top of the "United States of America: Morristown; Final Conclusions" file and held it out to Sanson. He stared down at it, squinting his eyes in confusion as he read the file name aloud.
"I was analyzing our situation while you were taking a swim and found an access point for the system files." She gestured to the clipboard. "Our new locale was the result of something internal loading a recent location file, rolling back to one from last night."
"I must admit I'm familiar with this place." Sanson looked away from the clipboard, hiding his face. Meltryllis didn't need to lean in to guess why he was so evasive. His ears glowed a bright red against his white hair. "Robin and I were here yesterday evening, although it was more pleasant circumstances."
She traced the side of the clipboard with a finger, thinking back to her recent exchange with the green Archer. Robin wasn't lying when he said he hadn't followed her. Perhaps this ugly location was his idea. Yes, that was absolutely what happened; Sanson had better taste. That meant it was only a matter of time before he caught up with them.
"That's not all I uncovered," she continued proudly, tucking the clipboard under her arm. "I'm betting the corruption or whatever my mother is looking for is in the simulator's data files. The locations you were accessing are the vestiges of a Chaldea research project, one testing potential installations."
"I had assumed that touring wasn't the intended use." Sanson raised his head, looking around the cafe as he spoke. "But what you're suggesting doesn't make any sense. Why would Chaldea keep sensitive information in a place so accessible?"
"I, um," she sputtered. She didn't have a good answer to that. The realization that she didn't actually understand what was happening stung. Her, failing? She straightened out her neck as she pondered how stupid that idea was. The answer had to be here, right in front of her.
"I don't mean to insult you," Sanson said in reaction, the words not soothing in the slightest. "But I've never had to use a... what was it called? A password?"
Except he was saying she was an idiot, only in different terms. And he was right— if the files were so important, why was there no security protecting them?
The floorboards creaked as Arnaldur paced, his arms folded behind his back. "Look up a completed installation," he suggested. She shot him a glare. He smiled back unnervingly. "Maybe there's a clue in there. Think about it. They researched those locations too, obviously."
She pulled the clipboard back out at the NPC's suggestion. "It's logical to conclude that those exist as well. Right, completely logical."
Finding a successful study was easier said than done. The location list didn't filter by what locations had been built, only by names and access times. She scrolled through the list. No continent and ocean was left untested.
Arnaldur peered down as she flipped through, resting his hands on his hips. "Stop here. The North Sea file. That'll work."
It was an oddly helpful and specific suggestion, too helpful for her comfort. She would have suggested the Antarctica file first, a study everyone in Chaldea knew resulted in an installation. Anything else would either be guessing or revealing what they knew than they should.
Arnaldur had not enjoyed making guesses earlier.
She rested a finger above the location file, then slowly raised her eyes up to the NPC. He quirked a corner of his mouth as she lingered far too long on the directory. Behind Arnaldur, unbeknownst to him, Sanson stared back. The Assassin's face was cold and expressionless. He came to the same conclusion.
There was one piece of the puzzle she needed confirmed. She tapped the folder icon and tipped her hand: "Why didn't you open the North Sea file when you had the clipboard earlier?"
He quickly grabbed hold of the clipboard with both hands. That uncanny smile returned, but his eyes had lost all friendliness. "The system locked out after I loaded this location. Open the file."
She felt the arrow before she saw it; a pop of air sliced between her and Arnaldur, barely missing her arms as it flew past and pierced the far wall. Her hands slipped as she pulled them back and the clipboard landed with a clatter. The NPC was equally surprised.
"I'd back away from that clipboard if I were you," Robin announced. He pulled back his hood, revealing his position behind the cafe counter. His cloak was completely dry despite the wind and water outside. He must have been inside the cafe the whole time.
Sanson raised his hands to Arnaldur, showing he was still unarmed. He stepped closer slowly, watching for the situation to change at any moment. "We don't want to harm you. We just want to talk."
The two men had obviously planned this and intentionally kept her in the dark. How insufferable. No matter. She'd become the lead again soon enough. There was only one person in this room experienced with dispatching rogue NPCs and it was definitely neither of them.
The clipboard lay at her feet, completely ignored by Arnaldur. His eyes were locked on Sanson. There was something important in the North Sea files. She could grab the clipboard, glide away and end this awkward standoff quickly. Maybe. Her success depended on her arms moving faster than Arnaldur's reflexes. She wasn't comfortable with those odds.
The NPC and Assassin were now an arm's length apart. Arnaldur didn't attack physically; he leaned back on one foot and sowed distrust in his opponent.
"I'm surprised such a polite pacifist would ally with a monster and a thief," he goaded.
"What do you mean by a monster and a thief?" Sanson's words may have led a casual listener into thinking he was surprised, but Meltryllis knew better. His voice was measured and controlled. He was buying them time.
If her arms wouldn't move fast enough, then her legs could. Another person needed to grab the clipboard. It so happened she had such a tool at her disposal. She flashed Robin a grim expression, then flicked her eyes towards the clipboard. Her message was simple: keep up with me .
Then she leapt towards Arnaldur's neck.
Her form was honed if not exactly orthodox. That was her only saving grace when Arnaldur yanked Sanson into her path. A less skilled attacker would have followed through and sliced her critic open. She, however, pulled back at the last second. Her heel was held firmly in mid-strike, the blade a hair's width away from Sanson's chest. Her critic stared down at her weapon, his chest shifting with uneven gasps.
"Pathetic," she hissed at Arnaldur. He grinned back from behind her critic. And then the floor gave out again.
She fell with more refinement this time, keeping her balance as she landed upright on a dock. Her heels stabbed into the wooden planks, the shockwave flaring through her spine. She bit down to suppress the scream that wanted to follow. The men weren't as lucky. Sanson landed in front of her with a loud groan. Arnaldur smacked against the dock closer to the shore. Despite his loud landing, he didn't voice any complaints. Robin wasn't in her line of sight.
The wind and waves whipped through her hair. She pushed back stray bangs to gauge the scene. The cafe was above them on the shore. The dock was definitely the one she was watching earlier. Their position had shifted but the location file hadn't changed.
"I can't turn the simulation off!" Robin yelled, confirming he was behind her. She could hear his hands hitting something. The clipboard. That must have been it. He still managed to secure it. Impressive.
Not that she would tell him that to his face. She snapped back at him instead, "Try harder!"
Arnaldur climbed back up effortlessly, stepping over Sanson as he stalked towards her. "Pathetic! That's the worst you've got?"
"Sordid," she spat back. There was no way she was going to let him walk away. Not now. Not after putting her critic in the line of fire. She pointed her toe away from her body, then pirouetted, aiming for his head this time.
He dodged, ducking under her heel at the last moment. The sharpened edge only caught a few strands of dark hair. He mocked her from below, "The Alter Ego found a thesaurus! How scary!"
She was about to stab down at Arnaldur where she noticed a short length of mooring line in his hands. A counterattack. There wasn't any time to launch one of her own. All she could do was leap up as he swung the cable across the dock. The metal grinded against the wood as it passed under her.
There was a scream of pain followed by the clipboard skipping down the dock. The NPC must have caught Robin in the attack. The clipboard passed by both Arnaldur's feet and Sanson, slowly coming to a rest between Sanson and the shore.
Wait, how did Arnaldur hit Robin? It didn't fit her calculations. The cable he attacked with was too short.
"What the hell is this!" Arnaldur cried out as he looked at the cable, still gripped tightly in his hands. It had grown somehow, now long enough that the far end trailed off of the dock and into water. It would be too heavy to swing a second time.
His shock gave her a few seconds to reassess. Sanson had rolled over, now facing the clipboard. Good, that problem would take care of itself. She chanced a peek behind her. Robin was still knocked over, a pile of limbs and green cloth.
"I'm fine," he growled back at her. He tried to fumble upright, only to immediately wince and grab a knee. "Get the clipboard before he does!"
Hopefully her critic could take a hint. She spun back around, coming face to face with Arnaldur. The NPC shifted his feet and smirked, readying to attack her with bunched fists. It was as if he expected her to strike. Wanted her to strike him, even.
The air around her was electric. Every voice in her head ordered her to thrust her blades into his chest and revel in the gore and mayhem that would follow. She licked her lips; she would relish every last death throe.
"Stop this," Sanson interrupted. Her critic had staggered to his feet, a massive black sword now summoned in his hands. His arms strained under its weight.
Arnaldur grabbed Sanson's crimson scarf and drew him close. Her critic didn't flinch. She did instead.
"Or what?" the NPC snidely demanded. "You still want to negotiate? God, you're stubborn."
Meltryllis's eyes grew wide as a realization hit her. The cable. Arnaldur must have manipulated it and caused it to grow long enough to hit Robin. And if he could change that data by accident...
She stabbed her heel towards Arnaldur's back. It never connected with flesh; her leg was brought to a jarring halt by the executioner's sword. She grit her teeth as her head and body rang painfully. With a shove, she disengaged and slid back across the dock towards Robin.
Arnaldur was gone. Only Sanson remained on the dock. There were no glowing trails of data or mana dissipating into the night air.
The terrible truth manifested slowly at first. Sanson looked himself over, as if he had never seen himself before. He tossed his sword handle casually in his hand, testing the weight and feedback. The pain he was suffering from earlier had seemingly vanished.
"I always wanted to control an Alter Ego, but this is fine." The voice sounded correct for her critic but the words were wrong. "What did I want to say back at that stupid cafe? Wait, I remember! If you're doubting your own existence, make space for someone who doesn't."
Rage. That was the only name of the emotion that Meltryllis felt now. Burning, searing rage at the data that dared to corrupt her critic. Robin shouted something at her. She couldn't make out the words. She had to undo this. She needed more time to figure out how.
The Sanson took a cautious step forward, then effortlessly swung the sword at her. She twirled to the side, letting the blade pass by harmlessly beside her. His aim was bad, but the weight of the sword would make up for his lack of experience.
There was no way she could nonviolently disable such an unpredictable opponent. She needed to retreat and regroup. The clipboard was behind the Sanson. Robin was behind her. There was only enough time to grab one.
She braced herself against the dock and lunged back towards Robin. Her arms were weaker than she expected for such a dramatic display; they slipped around his body as she scooped him up. He threw his arms around her in a desperate attempt to hold on, unwittingly pulling at her injury.
Robin didn't shower her with praise for her selfless gesture. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Saving your incompetent ass!" she snapped back.
The dock beside her shattered as the Sanson brought the sword down hard, leaving wood particles in his wake. His timing was still off but his aim was quickly improving.
There was only one escape route she could think of.
She leapt off the end of the dock and dove into the turbulent water below.
