Dust swirled in the aftermath of the skirmish, settling over the wreckage left in the wake of the Blacksteel mercenaries' efficient onslaught. The scene was one of grim finality; the Rusthammer marauders, notorious for their ruthless pillaging, now lay silent in the dirt.
The mercenaries had moved like a single, well-oiled machine, their strategy flawlessly executed with military precision. The munitions, brazenly stolen from a Columbian convoy a few days ago, were now safely in their possession, a small victory in the grand scheme of the ongoing conflicts that tore through the continent.
Alda, with the swift grace of a panther, chased after the lone survivor attempting to flee into the scrubland on a burdenbeast. Each stride brought her closer, her eyes fixed on her target with unwavering focus. Yuri, perched high, the red-haired Sankta's rifle flashing as she covered her partner.
The chase culminated in a single, powerful leap from Alda. Her sword, an extension of her will, cleaved through the air with a whistling ferocity, decaptitating the animal and unseating its rider. The bandit tumbled to the earth, his ragged armor doing little to break his fall. As he lay there gasping, his eyes locked onto Alda's, and he begged for a mercy that would not come.
Alda's blade, now little more than a jagged shard of steel, plunged into the man's chest with a merciless precision. As life fled from his body, her mind echoed with the words, "That's that, and this is this." It was a refrain that hollowed out the guilt, segmenting her actions as a mercenary from the girl who once played in the fields without a care in the world.
Her mother's voice haunted her—a plea for her not to follow in her footsteps. But it was Auntie Iori's assurances, the promise of purpose and the allure of adventure, that had tipped the scales, steering Alda into the life she now led. She tied her black hair back into a short ponytail, the ends coated in dried blood.
"Captain, I've finished off the stragglers," she reported upon her return, her voice betraying none of the inner conflict she harbored.
Captain Gregor, a Sarkaz man with a rugged countenance, was in the midst of loading the reclaimed crates of ammunition onto their armored truck. His prosthetic hand made a distinct sound as it clamped onto the metal containers. He looked up at Alda's approach, and his face broke into a tired grin, one that had seen many such battles and would likely see many more."The 7th blade you've broken this month, Alda. Your strength is as much a curse as it is a blessing."
"But I cut down 18 enemies this month," Alda retorted, finding solace in the camaraderie of her fellow mercenaries. Her mood lightened, a rare moment of levity amidst the carnage they dealt in.
The armoured truck roared to life, ready to carry them from the scene of their latest engagement. As they drove away, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched behind them, mingling with the darkness that was slowly enveloping the land.
...
In the melancholic tranquility of twilight, a solitary figure stood on the balcony of an ethereal building, his gaze lost in the vast expanse of a barren desert stretching before him. The Library, once a beacon of accumulated Light, had relinquished its hoard, yet even in its relative dimness, it pulsed with a serene luminescence under the setting sun's caress. This was a place unmarked by the chaos of the Outskirts; The Head had cast them adrift, not just from location but from expectation and familiarity.
Ayin, founder of L Corp and now the Patron Librarian of General Works, allowed his mind to drift through memories of struggle, the Library's once-constant battle with the City, and the profound realizations that came from such conflict. Angela may hold onto her grievances with him, her trust not fully restored, but a bridge had been built, however tentative. His mind, turned inexorably to what happened at the end of it all — an encounter with Carmen.
I wanted to live. The desire to live was stronger than anything… That's when regret finally ran a shudder through my body.
I'm just a human being like any other. I thought sacrificing myself for everyone's sake would be the perfect ending… but that wasn't the case.
I doubt there's anyone in this world who can sincerely decide to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others. Humans can only love themselves, after all.
I whispered into people the essence of life. So that they will cherish their own emotions and focus on them only. So that the fluctuating shape of the mind can be exposed to the world.
"I'm sorry, Carmen... for everything I had done to you, for you. But you have forgotten the original shape of your dream."
Back in the present, Ayin's gaze drifted over the serene desolation that spread before him, his thoughts intertwining with the echoes of the past. "Despite everything, the Library endures," he murmured, his voice a mix of resolve and regret. "I will make you see that the path you chose is a mistake."