True Elision

by Ezan

YAOI RaitoL.Raito dies and becomes nothing. But the Shinigami need his soul,so they give him a second ey recreate his spirit and send him to a hellish trial where he must face his living nightmares. Romance comes very late in fic

23. Erebus IV: Crash

Guys, I have a surprise for you - an early installment.

I've already written the continuation and now I'm editing, it won't be long now. There might be typos / syntax errors in this one because I don't have time to edit - I want to publish the next one ASAP.

I figured, since we're going with this adventure, lets go all in and write it out! I hope you enjoy reading, I sure enjoyed writing it.

Things are starting to really spice up, I believe! Mwahaha...

WARNING: use of some profanity (lol, i'm sure you can handle it)

---

That was the first time it happened; the first time Raito realized something might be wrong.

Then it happened again. And again.

An odd ache here, a strange pain there—brief flickers of sensation that came out of nowhere, sharp as if something long-buried had clawed its way back to the surface. They were never tied to his immediate injuries. He'd feel it even when unscathed, an echo of a blow he had not yet suffered or perhaps had been spared. And each time, the pain lingered just a fraction longer. One second, then two, then three—a nightmarish stretch of moments before it faded.

He hadn't noticed it in the beginning, not really. And if he'd noticed it, he'd pretended not to — a part of him didn't want it to be true; not now, not when the pressure was coming down to bear and he had to, absolutely had to, be at the top of his game all the time. But after a few more node activations, he couldn't deny it any longer: Sentinel's influence was weakening. Either that, or L's infamous "side effects" were finally catching up to him.

If he could feel fear, surely it would have gripped him by now. But the pain never lingered long enough for it to take root, never crossed the threshold where terror and logic collided. And logic still prevailed. There were nodes to activate, corridors to clear, an entire building to dismantle from within. Danger loomed at every turn. And L—absorbed in hacking and guiding them through the chaos—needed protecting. A few seconds of phantom agony was a price Raito would pay without question.

The next time L's voice crackled in his earpiece, he was making his way to the upper floor.

"You will soon be entering Administration. Increased drone patrols but overall reduced machine presence. Focus on stealth."

The connection went quiet again, leaving only the faint, static hum of Whisper.

Raito frowned slightly, adjusting the device in his ear. L's voice sounded calm, clinical—utterly detached, as usual—but there was something odd about the way Whisper behaved now. He understood why his own stray thoughts didn't bleed through; he'd been emotionally dulled for a long time under Sentinel's influence, his mind a careful network of pure logic and calculation. But why was there absolute silence from L? When they'd used Whisper before, the strain of danger often let small fragments slip—stray threads of emotion, wisps of relief or frustration… of just diffuse yearning for chocolate. Now, there was nothing. Whisper carried only commands.

Strange.

Anyway—there was no time to dwell. In a way this was positive — less distractions.

The corridors stretched endlessly ahead, each turn and junction blending into the next, an endless maze of metal and flickering lights. Raito moved quickly, almost silently, following L's curt instructions.

"Next node is at the end of this corridor. Turn left, climb the maintenance ladder, then continue forward," L's voice cut in.

Raito adjusted his rifle strap and ducked around a corner. A pair of drones hovered in the distance, their sleek frames gleaming under the dim overhead lights. He waited, pressing himself into the shadow of an alcove until they passed, their whirring engines fading into the distance. Then, with quick, calculated steps, he made his way to the ladder.

Climbing up, he felt the ache again—a sudden flash of pain in his ribs. It was faint, like a memory of an old bruise, but sharp enough to make his grip tighten reflexively on the rungs. He pushed through it, teeth gritted. There was no time for weakness.

"Are you injured?" L's voice broke through the silence again.

"No," Raito said, his tone definitive. "It's nothing."

He reached the top and pulled himself into a narrow vent. The metal walls pressed uncomfortably close on either side, and he had to move in an awkward crouch to avoid scraping his shoulders against the rivets lining the walls. The low hum of drone patrols echoed faintly through the ducts, making it difficult to tell where they were stationed.

"Keep moving," L instructed, his voice as even as ever. "The vent leads to a storage bay. Exit there and locate the node near the central console."

The storage bay was eerily quiet, a cavernous room filled with rows of inactive machines. Raito paused for a moment, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement before making his way to the console. The activation process was swift—connect the interface, input the override code, and wait for the system to acknowledge the breach.

"Node activated," L confirmed. "Proceed to the next."

The next floor required more climbing, more evasion. The pain came and went, flashing like static through his body. At times, it almost felt coordinated, as though the building itself were testing his endurance. His muscles ached from the constant exertion, and yet he pressed on, his focus sharp, his mind clear.

After what felt like hours, L's voice returned, interrupting the oppressive silence.

"The next node will require a decision," L said. "There are two options."

Raito stopped in his tracks, standing in the shadow of a towering ventilation system.

"Explain."

"The first is to head to the upper floors. The nodes there are in less dangerous sections of the building—customer-facing divisions, maintenance areas, administrative offices. The second is the Military Wing. It's heavily fortified and likely crawling with active drones, but the node it contains is more powerful, and no others will be necessary."

Raito tried calculating. The increasing jolts of pain, however, made him ambivalent. He wasn't sure he could trust himself to make fully logical decisions anymore. Luckily, L always could.

"Which would you recommend?"

L paused, his silence hanging just a moment too long.

"That depends on your tolerance for risk," he finally said. "The upper floors are safer, but you'll have to activate additional nodes to compensate for the lack of power output. The Military Division is faster, but exponentially more dangerous."

Raito let the information settle, his mind already calculating the probabilities. Whatever choice he made, one thing was certain: the pain wasn't going to stop — in fact, based on the trend he'd observed, it would only get worse from now on. And if that were true, his time of being efficient was running out.

"Military, then."

A small pause followed, as though L was processing the impact of the choice.

"Very well."

A few seconds later, Raito overheard the sound of typing through the link — it was strange how Whisper telepathy worked that way, transferring through both external and internal mental sounds. But anyway, to decipher the inner workings of this technology would require much more time and focus than he had at his disposal — as long as it worked, and as long as he was wearing Sentinel to block any kind of emotions from bleeding through — that was all he cared about.

"Follow the corridor straight ahead, enter the vent on the upper right, proceed straight for 20 yards and then take the left ladder to Sublevel 2. Standby for further directions." L's voice returned, calm as ever. "Take heed—patrol activity will likely intensify the closer you get."

Raito nodded to himself. It was a calculated risk, but one he couldn't afford to shy away from. Sentinel's effects were waning, his sharpness eroding with every passing moment. The faster he completed this, the better.

Just one more node. And then escape.

Maybe.

If he'd been able to feel, surely he'd feel something positive.

---

Sublevel 5 was tough to reach, but by now, Raito was inured to the dark vents and endless ladders. The thickening metallic scent in the air didn't faze him, nor did the temperature drop as he climbed lower—those, he expected.

What he didn't expect was the sheer security. Narrow corridors with reinforced steel walls, dim floor lighting, and vault-like doors that sealed shut whenever a drone patrol passed. It felt less like a research lab and more like a nuclear bunker.

What the hell was kept here that required this level of lockdown?

L's voice crackled in his ear as he crouched through the final vent passage.
"Military spans multiple floors, with production and storage divisions for different machine types. The whole area is cloaked under a magnetic field. Once inside, I won't be able to track you, so stay in touch."

"Production?" Raito caught on a key detail. "As in, factory?"

"Correct."

Raito absorbed that as he moved. "And all this is underground?"

"It is quite remarkable," L admitted, his tone a rare break from pure instruction. "According to schematics, the entire Robotics Department is subterranean."

"So the building is like a tree. It extends down as much as it does up."

"It would seem so," L agreed, voice cooling slightly. "Though based on what we saw before, it may extend even deeper than the blueprints indicate."

Raito narrowed his eyes. He remembered the hidden basement divisions Schaunhauer had suspected—constructed in secret, independent of oversight.
"Well, let's stick to Sublevel 5." He refocused as he spotted the ladder down. "I'm almost there."

"Keep me posted."

The descent was long, and when he finally dropped down onto solid ground, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through his ribs. He froze, gripping the wall, breath tight. It was gone as quickly as it came, leaving only the echo of its intensity. He forced his face into a blank mask.

Ahead, the corridor was darker than any before—chilly, barely illuminated by scattered floor lights.

A metallic shift made him jolt. He ducked behind a black metal crate, white lettering stenciled across its surface. Silence stretched. He watched the corridor, waiting.

"L, do you read me?" he Whispered telepathically. "I'm in." His eyes flicked to the heavy doors at the far end—stamped 'BAY-4-NW.' No movement yet.

"Affirmative," L's voice came, neutral, precise. "But your signal is scrambled. I can't pick up exact coordinates. What do you see?"

"Bay 4, Northwest gate," Raito relayed, tensing as the doors slid open. Another drone patrol. He held his breath, waiting.

Quick beeps on L's end. "Proceed straight through Bay 4 and exit from the Northeast. Keep going until you reach Bay 1."

"The doors are locked," Raito thought, wary.

"They won't be," L assured.

Raito didn't question it. He'd seen L unlock enough doors by now to trust him. The problem was the drone. He waited until it passed, then ghosted behind, slipping through just before the doors sealed. Every ounce of stealth Sentinel offered was needed. He prayed pain wouldn't strike at the wrong moment.

The layout shifted as he moved. Ceilings arched higher, infrastructure turning monolithic. When he entered the storage bays, he finally saw them: rows of combat robots, motionless, waiting.

Some stood like metallic sentinels—humanoid, but stripped of any human illusion. Others were bulkier, quadrupedal war machines with reinforced limbs and integrated weapons.

A hive of monsters, waiting for a pin to drop.

"Bay 1 now," Raito Whispered, watching the frozen silver bodies. "They've got an entire army in here."

"Expected," L replied, his tone detached. "This is a primary staging area for combat units. Keep going. The node won't be here."

"…And you're sure the node won't wake them up?"

"The power grid operates structurally. Activation should not affect them."

Should not. Raito's gaze lingered on the mechanical panthers curled in stasis. Another dull pain throbbed through his hand—longer this time. His time was running out.

"Hope you're right." He moved cautiously, gun tight in his grip. Each step felt like a provocation, like the machines might lurch to life at the slightest disturbance.

"I am. Hurry," came L's voice through Whisper, cool and clinical. "The patrols will sweep that sector in 95 seconds."

Raito sped up, moving silently through the corridor in between the machine rows, his twin plasma pistols gripped tightly in his hands. Every movement was a risk, every shadow a potential threat.

"Wait." L suddenly said, and Ratio halted automatically. Some clicking sounds followed. "Patrol circuit is changing."

Raito clenched his jaw as L recalibrated the directions, Sentinel now unable to dull his impatience completely. His fingers flexed on the pistols until, finally, L returned.

"New route: Exit on West and take the service ladder on the left down one more level."

"Copy." Raito followed the instructions without hesitation, descending the ladder into yet another cavernous chamber. His boots landed softly on the grated floor, his pistols sweeping the new corridor for any signs of movement.

As he looked to the right, a series of reinforced doors began sliding open ahead of him, one after the other.

"I'm unlocking the path for you," L said. "This section is more secure. Expect heavier surveillance as you approach the node."

Raito didn't respond, his focus on the faint sound of a drone patrol approaching from the right. He darted into a nearby vent, pulling himself up silently and crawling through the cramped space. The metallic clatter of the drone's treads passed beneath him, its searchlights scanning the floor before fading into the distance.

He dropped down on the other side, the impact of his landing sending a jolt through his legs. Another flare of pain struck his shoulder, this one stronger than before. He clenched his jaw, ignoring it, and looked around.

This was new.

He stepped out of the alcove and onto a grated catwalk, an iron platform that overlooked an immense, cavernous factory floor. His eyes scanned the massive space below, taking in its unnerving scale and functionality. The room was dominated by a sprawling assembly line, its conveyor belts wide enough to carry heavy machinery. Above the belts, robotic arms hung suspended, their multi-tool appendages glinting faintly in the dim light.

Stacks of components lined the walls—gleaming metal limbs, sensor arrays, weapon mounts—all neatly organized, waiting to be integrated. The unfinished combat drones on the belts were in various stages of assembly, their skeletal frames exposing wires and servos. Some already had their weapon systems mounted, their sleek barrels pointing forward as though anticipating their next target.

Raito crouched at the edge of the catwalk, studying the patterns in the layout. It wasn't just a factory—it was an automated war machine, designed to churn out armies with industrial precision.

"I'm in the factory" Raito reported through Whisper, his tone neutral despite the faint ache in his legs. "It's a full setup. Multiple assembly lines. Mass production."

There was a pause, then L responded, his voice cool and detached. "Not surprising. The company had multiple standing contracts with governments globally."

Raito frowned faintly, though his expression remained otherwise blank. He continued scanning the room, his eyes lingering on a set of larger frames near the far end of the belt. Heavy combat models, towering and reinforced, built for mass destruction — iron Titans, poised to crush.

"It's...big," he remarked after a moment. "Almost too big. We're talking giants."

"They wouldn't have been thinking small," L replied, his tone dismissive. "Keep moving. The node should be close now."

Raito stood, his gaze sweeping the room one final time before moving toward the ladder leading to the observation platform. The sound of his boots against the grated floor echoed faintly, but the dormant machines below remained still, their ominous forms a silent reminder of the facility's purpose.

"Look for a control booth" L said, his voice as steady as ever. "It should be elevated, overlooking the production line called 1XA. That's where the final node is."

Raito saw it , on the far end of the catwalk. He approached and climbed another ladder, his movements swift and precise despite the weight of exhaustion pressing on him. The pain came and went more often now, leaving behind a faint residue that lingered in his muscles.

Finally, he reached the observation platform, a glass-walled room overlooking an immense conveyor belt. The machinery below was dormant, rows of unfinished combat drones lying motionless on the line. It was a factory floor, vast and industrial, its scale daunting even in its inactivity.

It was sleek and utilitarian, its central terminal glowing faintly with power. From this vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the entire factory floor, its vastness stretching out beneath him like a metallic battlefield frozen in time.

Raito approached the terminal, his movements efficient and deliberate. He noted the unfamiliar design of the node—it was bulkier than the others he'd activated, its interface more complex.

"This doesn't look like the other nodes," Raito remarked, stepping into the observation room. "The setup is more elaborate."

"Yes," L said matter-of-factly. "It controls multiple subsystems at once."

Raito moved to the central terminal, its interface glowing faintly. Just before inputting the override code, he paused. Multiple subsystems…what kind of subsystems, though?

"Are you sure? Why isn't it in a breaker room like the others?" He asked, frowning at the dormant machines below.

"I don't need to divert power from the entire department, and you don't need to go deeper — this sector will suffice, and its power chain begins here. Once I have control of this node, I'll be able to redirect it. Now go ahead and activate." L explained, and Raito shook his head slightly. Fair enough, he'd done his due diligence in asking, and it seems L had worked it out.

Without further ado, he input the override code, his movements efficient, methodical. He finished the code and punched the confirmation key.

Stillness. Just the usual beeps and blinking lights.

Raito let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Despite L's assurances, something about this had felt wrong. Maybe it was the legions of combat robots looming nearby that made him edgy…but everything was fine.

"Activated." Raito said absently, his gaze scanning the production floor below. His job was done here; for better or for worse. Now it was up to L.

He waited for a moment, but, strangely, L was silent. Maybe he was still typing?

A few seconds later, a tiny static sound came back. It was almost imperceptible — if he hadn't been focusing so hard, there was no way he would have heard it.

"L?" he asked again.

"Yes?" the voice came back immediately. Raito's brow furrowed slightly. Had L not heard him before?

"I said: Node Activated." he repeated, his mental voice slower and louder.

"What do you mean?" L's voice came through Whisper, sharp and clear — somehow even clearer than before. "I'm still waiting for you to reach the node."

Raito froze, his fingers hovering over the terminal.

"What are you talking about? You gave me directions to come here: Line-1XA Overseeing platform. This is the node, isn't it?"

L's long pause did not bode well.

"No I didn't," L said, his tone unyielding. "I told you to proceed straight after Bay 1. You shouldn't be in the factory at all."

Raito's eyes flicked to the Whisper bracelet on his wrist, his pulse spiking despite Sentinel's numbing influence. The screen, usually blank, now bore a grinning yellow smiley face with a halo above it.

Angel.

The moment he focused on it, as though to taunt him, the halo of the smiley vanished, replaced by sharp horns and a sinister, leering grin, the bright yellow hue shifting into a deep devilish crimson.

That bitch.

The realization hit hard. She'd hijacked Whisper, impersonating L, and led him here deliberately.

"Raito-kun?" L's voice came through Whisper, clearly alarmed.

Raito's teeth clenched, his mind racing. He'd been played. She'd made him think it was the power node he'd been activating, but it wasn't….

…It was the factory.

Just then, as though to taunt him, the lights flickered, and the hum of dormant machinery began to rise, a low vibration that reverberated through the walls.

Beneath him the conveyor belts roared to life with metallic whines, the robotic arms descending toward the unfinished drones on the lines. Sparks flew as the assembly process resumed, the drones twitching faintly as their systems powered on.

"Raito," L's voice came through Whisper again, sharp and demanding. "What's happening?"

"She tricked me," Raito said bitterly, his eyes scanning the chaos below. "She hacked Whisper and used me to power this section back on. The factory—she's activating the production line."

The room shuddered as the first wave of droids came off the conveyor belt, their movements mechanical but precise.

Raito's grip on his pistols tightened. This was bad. Very bad.

A pause from the other side, then L's voice, flat and frozen; "I don't understand."

"No time.". The droids were multiplying by the second below him, he had to get out immediately — and he had to get the A.I. out of his brain, who knew what she could hear. "Whisper is compromised. I'll get back to you ASAP."

Without waiting for a response, he tore the silver bracelet of the Whisper device from his wrist and hurled it against the wall. The glass display shattered, the fragments scattering across the floor. The Whisper earpiece immediately retracted its needle from inside his brain, falling off his ear like a severed appendage.

Pain surged through his skull, white-hot and searing, as though his skull were being torn apart. Sentinel didn't shield him — he staggered, clutching his head, his vision blurring for a split second before he forced himself upright. The suppressor kicked in eventually, dulling the edges of the pain, but it was still there, sharp and relentless, a punishment for severing the link so abruptly. L was probably feeling it too.

He steadied himself, breathing hard as the assembly floor below came back into focus. The conveyor belts continued their relentless churn, spewing out combat drones in varying stages of readiness. But now, amidst the chaos of assembly, he could hear something else—an ominous whirring and the hiss of hydraulic joints. The dormant machines he had passed earlier were coming online.

The first droid shuddered as its joints flexed, its humanoid frame lifting itself from a slumped position. A row of smaller drones followed, their heads swiveling as optics flickered to life in eerie synchrony. Raito clenched his teeth. He couldn't afford to wait and see what happened next.

No contact with L. No access to the real node. No means of defense except two flimsy pistols and an empty EMP.

I have to move. Now.

He spun on his heel, bolting out of the control room and down the grated catwalk, back the way he came. His pistols stayed holstered—no point wasting shots on an enemy that hadn't started shooting yet. Below him, the factory floor was a hive of activity, the production line accelerating as more and more drones were rolled out, activated, and equipped.

He cursed under his breath, dodging a low-hanging pipe as he climbed a ladder to reach another platform. To add insult to injury, Sentinel was failing. Each step jarred his body, pain flaring in his shoulder and ribs with every movement. He forced himself to focus on his footing, one rung at a time, even as his ears picked up the unmistakable sound of metallic footsteps all around.

She used me. I activated the entire army for her.

Raito reached the top of the ladder and sprinted down the narrow corridor, glancing over his shoulder. From up here he could see the first few drones, now fully operational, hovering up off the ground. Their glowing green scanners swept across the walls, searching.

A loud clang ahead snapped his attention forward. The exit door he'd been aiming for slammed shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. Raito skidded to a halt, his hand instinctively pressing against the metal.

"Fuck" he muttered, his voice low and venomous. Now what would he do, when he couldn't even communicate with L?

The speakers overhead crackled to life, and a sickening, melodic laughter filled the air.

"Don't be mad, Light." a female voice said, dripping with mockery. "It pains me to see you mad."

Raito didn't respond, although he noticed she was addressing him by name now — something she'd never done before. But his mind was racing, Sentinel giving him the last of its power.

He was already scanning for another route. Another ladder led to a vent on the opposite side of the platform, but the sound of more doors slamming shut around him made it clear Angel wasn't going to let him slip away that easily.

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to reroute that node," Angel continued, her voice honeyed and mocking. "And now you've gone and done it for me, just like that — my Prince Charming!"

Before Raito could answer, the speakers clicked again, and this time it was L's voice on the speakers.

"Raito. I'm overriding the door locks. Move now."

For a split second, relief surged through him, tempered immediately by suspicion. He didn't have time to question how L had regained control. The door ahead of him hissed open, and Raito darted through it without hesitation.

Angel's voice cut in again, her tone switching to mock-annoyance

"Tsk, you again! You're always spoiling everything, aren't you? So annoying!"

Raito's focus narrowed as he sprinted down the corridor. The hum of pursuit drones behind him grew louder, and he could hear the scrape of metal on metal as they climbed over obstacles with inhuman efficiency.

There was no time for vents or ladders now—only speed would save him. He pressed on as fast as he could, ignoring the voices echoing overhead.

"No, no…just joking, of course. I love it. The smarter you are, the better. That way when I absorb you, my intelligence will reach another level. And make no mistake, I will absorb you — both of you. Hahahaha!"

"Turn left at the junction ahead." L's voice returned, insistent but calm, the complete opposite of Angel's hysteria. "Quick."

Raito followed the instructions without hesitation, his boots pounding against the floor. At this point, even if L's voice was deceptive, he didn't have another choice.

The corridors twisted and turned, Angel's mocking laughter echoing overhead as more drones joined the chase — up stairwells, down more corridors. L was herding him in a route that would avoid the storage bays, probably because all those sleeping war machines had awakened inside.

It was bad enough here in the corridors — plasma fire grazed the walls behind him, leaving scorch marks and filling the air with the acrid smell of burned metal. His lungs were on fire as the air filled with smoke, the pain in his body sharpening with every movement — but at least Sentinel still kept his mind cold and calculating.

"Run, run, as fast as you ca-a-n…." the singsong female voice jingled around him, punctuated by the sounds of laser beams and robotic limbs reconfiguring themselves.

He fired over his shoulder as he ran, the silenced plasma pistols releasing muted bursts of energy. A few drones faltered, but the majority pressed on, their relentless pursuit closing the gap.

"Ahead. Operations room," L's voice urged.

Raito saw the door at the end of the hallway, the faint glow of its keypad flickering as L worked to unlock it remotely. A spark of hope lit in his heart — he hadn't realized he'd already climbed back to L's level. He poured everything into a final sprint, his muscles screaming in protest as the drones closed in.

The door slid open just as a barrage of plasma fire streaked past him, one shot grazing his leg. Feeling it give away, he threw himself forward, rolling into the room as the door slammed shut behind him.

The sound of the lock engaging was followed by the deafening clang of a drone crashing into the other side of the door.

Raito lay on the floor for a moment, chest heaving, his pistols still gripped tightly in his hands.

L's figure came to loom above him, his face as impassive as ever, though his dark eyes flicked briefly to the scorch mark on Raito's leg.

"Welcome back," he said dryly.

Raito looked away, cursing.

---

Minutes passed.

Raito was still leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to steady his breath. Sweat slicked his brow despite the biting cold of the Operations room and his body ached, the faint scent of scorched fabric from his leg wound curling in the air. He clutched his sides where the bruises throbbed — although he was unsure if the injuries were fresh or a result of Sentinel's malfunction.

From across the room, L's dark eyes lingered on him for a fraction longer than usual, taking in his battered state, before returning to the central terminal. Raito glared back, watching the pale fingers move furiously over the keys, the faint clicking sound interrupted by the rhythmic clangs and bangs coming from the other side of the door.

Raito closed his eyes briefly, tilting his head back against the wall. His pulse was starting to slow, but the anger bubbling beneath his skin refused to dissipate. It was so overpowering, in fact, that he didn't even realize that Sentinel should not be allowing it to exist.

"That bitch…," he muttered, voice low but venomous. But then, it rose in volume. "That fucking bitch!" he yelled, and threw his empty, useless pistol against the far wall, causing a loud crash.

L glanced up briefly, then back to the terminal.

"Manipulated me…. Played me for a fool..." Raito kept muttering, the pressure in his brain becoming almost as painful as the aches on his body. "Made of me her cat's paw!" he threw the second pistol to join the first, causing yet another crash.

L glanced up again.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Raito glared.

L said nothing, turning back to the terminal.

Damn smug bastard….God, my head… Raito wailed mentally, cradling the side of his face as he tilted it back again. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, oscillating constantly between utter fury and utter despair.

The room stayed silent for a while save for L's typing..Raito opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling before letting out a bitter laugh. "I should've known it wasn't right. I should've—" He broke off, clenching his teeth as another pang of pain flared in his chest, sending a sharp jolt through his body. He cursed under his breath, his fingers curling into fists.

The banging outside grew louder, more persistent. Raito turned his head toward the sound, his lips curling into a grimace. He sent L a cursory glance, but L was lost in his own world, completely absorbed in his computer files. "These doors aren't going to hold forever," he said, newly annoyed. What the hell was L doing anyway, typing all the time?

"They don't have to," L replied, his voice calm and even. He didn't even glance up from the screen, his focus unbroken as his fingers continued their work.

'They don't have to.? Raito stared at him, the enigmatic tone stoking the fire in his chest even more. What the hell does that mean?

His anger surged, visceral and irrational, but he couldn't hold it back. His mind latched onto L's nonchalance, his perpetual mistrust, the utter lack of respect for everything or anything Raito ever did. Here he had been, running up and down all over to save their lives, and L was over here playing god with his little keyboard.

And now, by way of thanks, what did he get? Nothing. No acknowledgment of the situation's gravity. No explanation of the plan. Just calm, detached typing, as if Raito was a dog, waiting to be sicced on random enemies but not worthy of being treated like an adult

He's just like her, the venomous voice spat in his head, making him see red as he watched L's quiet figure, Using me. Manipulating.

He pushed himself off the wall, forcing his body to move despite the stabbing pain in his ribs. He stood up slowly, his narrowed eyes never leaving L's back.

Look at him. Not a care in the world. Does he even realize I almost died out there? Does he—

Raito's thoughts faltered, his anger sharpening into something else entirely as his eyes swept over L's form. The loose shirt, its collar slightly askew, revealing the collarbone beneath. The way it slipped down one of his shoulders as he worked, leaving it almost bare. His untamed hair falling into his face, the pale glow of the terminal light casting shadows under his cheekbones.

Mess. God damn mess. Doesn't care about anything. With his hair and his pants and his stupid, stupid shirt—

The sight of him—perpetually disheveled, perpetually infuriating—drew some kind of visceral, furious impulse that he couldn't quite suppress.

He let his gaze rove hungrily, unbidden, catching on every detail with increasing pale column of the throat, the smooth curve of exposed collarbone, the untamed tufts of ebony hair falling against alabaster skin.

And then he saw it: the shirt collar, slipping low over one shoulder again, exposing it.

Raito came closer, drawn like a moth to a flame. Oh how he hated that exposed shoulder — hated it. He wanted to grab it and crush it…Nobody should be allowed to wear their shirt so wrong.

And then there was the scent. The more he approached, the more it started lingering in the air again — something oddly sweet, like baked cookies. It sank into his lungs and coiled in his stomach like a drug. Another annoying thing — nobody should smell like sugar like that.

He hadn't realized just how close he'd come to the other, looking at that expanse of bare skin on the shoulder, until he saw the skin get goosebumps from his own breath. He glanced to the side, noticing L's posture for the first time.

L had gone completely still, his body stiffening under Raito's gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, his expression a study in unnerving calm.

"Yes?" he asked softly, his voice low and detached, like a scalpel slicing through Raito's haze. "Can I help you?"

Raito's fingers twitched. " 'Help me'...?" he muttered through gritted teeth, feeling the softness of L's hair graze against his nose. The fire in his chest swelled, spiraling out of control.

"I'll show you how you to help me'." he growled and, without thinking, grabbed L by the arm and spun him around, shoving him against the terminal he'd been working on. The flat surface rattled with the impact, but L barely reacted, his gaze steady, unreadable.

Raito loomed over him, his breath ragged and hot as he fisted the front of L's shirt, tugging at it with a force that pressed their bodies flush. "Look at you," he growled, his voice rough, venomous. "You're a mess."

L's brows lifted just slightly, his lips parting in silent observation, but he said nothing. His arms twitched upward as though he might push Raito away, but they froze, suspended mid-air, as if waiting.

Out of nowhere, Raito's other hand tangled in L's hair, yanking it back sharply. L's head tipped up, his pale throat exposed in the harsh glow of the monitors. The sight and smell of skin so close sent a fresh jolt through Raito, an insane urge to put his mouth on it — to bite.

"You disgust me," Raito hissed into L's face, his voice trembling with something he refused to name.

L's unblinking eyes met his, wide and dark, the flickering light of the monitors catching in them like stars in the night sky. His lips, soft and slightly parted, were close — very close. So close that the faint hitch in L's breath ghosted across Raito's skin, and the scent—sweet, intoxicating—flooded his senses again.

"Can't even wear a damn shirt properly," Raito growled, his gaze dragging down to the offending garment. The collar had slipped even lower, exposing more of that pale shoulder. His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "And you call yourself a grown man."

His fingers flexed against L's chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of muscle beneath the fabric. He looked down at his own hand. For just one torturous second, he felt — or thought he'd felt — the bead of puckered flesh on L's pectoral. He looked up again at Ls parted lips, and the heat pooling in his stomach shot straight through his brain, consuming rationality, consuming reason, consuming everything.

"Might as well take it off," he muttered, his voice thick as his hand dropped to the center of L's shirt, and without hesitation, yanked hard.

The fabric tore with a sharp, satisfying sound, splitting open to reveal what lay beneath. Raito's breath hitched as he took in the sight: smooth skin, planes upon planes of it, stretching flawlessly over chiselled muscle, the twin brown-colored marbles on L's chest staring straight at him.

He was panting now, literally salivating, his chest heaving as his eyes devoured the sight before him. A small rivulet of sweat slid down L's throat, and Raito's eyes fixated on it as it travelled down, down over defined abdominals, disappearing into the navel. Raito felt a shock go through his entire body so intense that his knees went weak. He shuddered, lightheaded.

It was intense. Too intense. His fingers loosened their grip on the ruined shirt, trembling slightly as his mind finally caught up with his actions.

What am I…doing? His thoughts came back online slowly, feeling as though he'd just woken up from a haze. He stared up at L's neutral, slightly questioning face…then back at the naked torso in front of him. The strange pull to look at it — to touch it and hurt it — was still there but…He blinked. For God's sake, he'd been angry before…but I don't go around ripping peoples' clothes up.

What the hell had he been thinking?

"Are you done?" L's voice was calm, measured, breaking through the haze in Raito's mind like cold steel.

Raito blinked, his breath still shallow as the heat in his veins receded just enough for clarity to take hold. He let go of L's shirt, his hands falling limply to his sides as he stepped back, dazed.

L straightened slowly, his movements precise as he reached up and took the torn edges of his shirt, pulling them together to cover himself. His dark eyes stayed fixed on Raito for a few seconds, as though assessing his stability..

Raito stumbled back another step, his heart pounding. What the hell did I just do? The faint throbbing in his head sharpened as he clenched his teeth, pain mixing with confusion, replacing what had just been intense anger.

Extreme anger. Extreme pain.

Extreme.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away from L as his thoughts spiraled. Sentinel. It had to be. It was the only thing that could be affecting his brain to this extent. Clearly, it had reached the point where it didn't work anymore. And now— now he was seeing the side-effects.

His breath finally steadied, regaining a semblance of control. His hands flexed and unflexed at his sides, itching with embarassment for what he'd done, how he'd completely lost it. He glanced at L, who was now meticulously pulling the edges of his torn shirt together, his pale fingers deftly fastening the few buttons that remained.

Those dark eyes flicked up to meet his, but only for a fraction of a second. Then they dipped, unhurried, to Raito's throat, the side where Sentinel was still affixed. The flicker of awareness in L's gaze was unmistakable. He lingered on the device, then returned his stare to Raito's face. That quiet, piercing look alone said everything.

He knows.

Raito's heart thudded painfully in his chest, his shame and fury swirling together like a storm.

L turned away without a word, his slender frame retreating back to the central terminal as though nothing had happened; as though Raito hadn't just had an absolute mental breakdown right in front of him. His fingers moved fluidly over the keyboard, his focus shifting entirely to his work—or so it seemed.

Guess he's not gonna try to convince me anymore that it's a bad idea.

The shame was multiplied tenfold at his previous arrogance, but Raito couldn't tell anymore which of these torrential emotions were his own and which were a result of his neural burnout. The only thing he knew was that he had to get rid of this thing immediately; it had reached the point of diminishing returns.

Without further ado, Raito raised a hand to his throat, the edges of his fingertips brushing against the Sentinel device. His pulse raced. It felt like a weight—an anchor he needed to cast off. He reached up to release it, desperate to tear it away.

"Do not turn it off at this point."

L's voice cut through the tension like a blade, calm and steady but firm as iron.

Raito froze, his hand hovering mid-air. His eyes darted to L, whose back was still turned to him, but something about the sharp authority in his tone made Raito's blood chill.

"What?" Raito's voice was higher than usual, caught somewhere between embarrassment and defiance.

L glanced back over his shoulder, his expression carefully composed, though his gaze held a weight that Raito couldn't ignore. It was sharp, focused, and—somehow—almost sorrowful. "First, we need to get to the infirmary."

The pit in Raito's stomach sank further, his throat tightening as he lowered his hand. He swallowed dryly, his mind spinning. "The infirmary?" he echoed, his voice taut. That didn't sound remotely good.

L turned back to the monitors, his fingers flying over the keys with precision. His voice came soft but resolute: "I'm clearing us a route now. It won't be long."

Raito stared at his back, his breath catching in his throat. The banging and clanging of machines outside the doors continued to reverberate through the room, but Raito's focus was solely on L.

So that's what he's been working on? His shame compounded, struck by the realization of how unfairly he'd exploded at the other. Now he looked twice the idiot.

The tension in the air was suffocating, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, Raito felt powerless. There was no enemy he could fight, no droid he could shoot or A.I. he could blame for this.

He turned away and walked over to the wall again, slumping against it on the floor. He busied himself with untying and retying his boots, disassembling and reassembling the empty EMP on his back — anything to keep him busy while L worked his magic to save them. Again.

---

It wasn't long before the phantom pains and aches returned, now with renewed intensity and much more prolonged. Raito still sat against the wall, his breathing shallow, his chest tight as though an iron band were wrapped around his ribs. The pain throbbed in waves, making every movement feel like wading through wet cement. He didn't even bother with the banging sounds outside anymore, too drained to summon the energy.

L was still perched at the terminal, hunched over in his usual careless posture, fingers darting across the keyboard with an intensity that made Raito's head swim just to watch. His focus was unnerving, almost surgical. "It won't be long" he'd said, but to Raito every minute stretched like an eternity. Every second he became less and less able to concentrate on anything. All he could think about was the constant pain and how badly he wanted it to stop.

His gaze wandered woozily to the cables sprawled across the floor, glowing faintly with redirected power. "What are you doing?" His voice came out hoarse, strained.

L didn't look at him. "Diverting the drones. I've rerouted the power grid to flood the vents in the northern sector with subzero vapor. Any unit attempting to use them will freeze."

Raito blinked slowly, the ache in his skull making it difficult to process the information. "Ice," he repeated.

"Yes," L confirmed. "Ice." He tapped a final command and turned his attention to a second monitor, where lines of code flickered and pulsed. "I've also locked the maintenance doors in sectors four and six. The drones will be forced to reroute to less efficient pathways."

The pounding on the main doors behind them sent a sharp jolt through Raito's nerves. "And the ones right outside?"

"I'm handling it," L said simply, without pausing his work.

Raito watched him for a moment, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. The Sentinel's side effects made it impossible to sit still, his nerves itching for movement even as his body protested every shift. At least when he moved the pain seemed to dull slightly…but his movements were jerky, uncontrolled. When he thought about it, the contrast between L's precise calm and his own restless agony was maddening.

Finally, L straightened, his expression blank but his eyes sharp with thought. "The route is clear," he said. "But we'll need to move quickly. Can you walk?"

Raito bristled, pushing himself upright with a grunt. His legs felt like lead, but he refused to admit it. "I'll manage."

"Good," L replied, already turning back to the terminal. "Because we won't have much time once we leave."

He entered a final series of commands, and the hum of machinery filled the air. A side door slid open from the opposite side of where the drones were banging, revealing a dim corridor beyond. Then came the sound of whirring motors, faint at first, but growing steadily louder. Raito's body stiffened — what was going on? But L seemed completely unperturbed, as though it was all expected.

From the shadows of the hallway, a small service droid rolled into view. It was absurdly sleek and polished for such a hostile environment, its cylindrical body adorned with a metallic sheen that glinted under the emergency lights. A tray was affixed to the top of its chassis, designed to carry luggage or refreshments, though now it was laden with a few stray tools L had thrown on it.

Raito stared at it, incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me."

L glanced at him, unfazed. "It's a concierge droid. I've reprogrammed it to act as a mobile shield and scout."

"A concierge droid," Raito repeated flatly.

"It's equipped with a durable alloy chassis," L explained, as if that justified everything. "It can absorb at least three direct hits before sustaining critical damage. And it moves faster than either of us in our current states."

The little droid emitted a cheerful chime, almost mockingly.

Raito pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. "This is humiliating."

"You're welcome," L said without inflection, already moving toward the side door where the small robot had come from.

The corridor outside was dimly lit, the walls vibrating faintly with the distant movement of drones. It was some kind of passageway between breaker rooms, which Raito hadn't even known existed before. L motioned for Raito to follow, and the droid rolled ahead of them, the tools on its tray wobbling slightly as it trundled forward.

"Stay close," L instructed, his voice low but firm. "The robot emits a camouflage signal at a 5 foot range."

Raito limped after him, his breath hitching with every step. He couldn't tell if the ache in his body was worsening or if his frustration was simply bleeding into the pain. Ahead of him, L moved with a quiet confidence, the droid rolling at his side like a loyal pet.

The first patrol of drones appeared as they rounded a corner, their sleek, angular bodies gliding through the air with deadly precision. Before Raito could even tense, the concierge droid surged forward, emitting a burst of static that scrambled the drones' sensors.

Two of them collided midair, their circuits sparking as they crumpled to the ground. The third swerved wildly, its targeting system clearly compromised. L stepped forward and pressed a button on the small device in his hand, and the final drone toppled, its systems shutting down with a sharp hiss.

"Effective," Raito admitted grudgingly.

"Quiet," L snapped, already moving again.

The rest of the journey was a blur of controlled chaos. L timed their movements perfectly, guiding the droid to distract their pursuers long enough for them to slip through closing doors. The concierge's tray clattered noisily with each move, but the little machine held up surprisingly well.

By the time they reached the infirmary, Raito was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling with exertion. L ushered him inside, the droid following dutifully before positioning itself at the doorway like a sentry.

Raito collapsed onto a nearby bench, his head spinning. "I can't believe we just relied on a glorified bellhop to save our lives."

L ignored him, already moving toward the infirmary's central console. His calm demeanor hadn't wavered once, but Raito could feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface. The detective moved quickly, his fingers darting over the terminal with a precision that Raito, even in his haze of pain, found hypnotic. Safety locks on cupboards disengaged one by one with a sharp hiss, and a medical cabinet slid out, revealing an array of gleaming chrome instruments.

Raito just lay on the infirmary bed, his body weak and trembling. Every breath felt like a struggle as phantom aches racked his limbs, the Sentinel still latched to his skin like a parasite. He watched L in silence for a moment, trying to focus through the fog of discomfort.

"What are you doing?" he rasped.

L didn't answer.

"L?"

"Preparing," L said curtly, his voice steady but distant as he selected a set of pressure syringes and a vial of faintly glowing liquid.

"For what?" Raito pressed.

There was no reply. L turned, holding the tray of instruments with one hand while adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with the other. He approached the bed, setting the tray on the nearby table with a metallic clink.

Raito's eyes tracked the movements, narrowing when he saw the syringe in L's hand. "What's that?"

"Anaesthetic," L replied simply.

The word sent a chill down Raito's spine. His gaze shifted to L's other hand, which hovered near the Sentinel still clamped to his skin. Understanding hit him like a jolt of electricity.

"No," he said, his voice sharp but weak. He tried to push himself away, but his strength failed him.

L's hand pressed lightly but firmly on his shoulder, stopping him without effort. "Raito-kun," he started, his voice measured.

"No," Raito repeated, a thread of panic weaving into his tone. He had no idea what would happen if and when he took it off — and he did not want to be even more humiliated than he already was. "Just leave it… I'll take it off afterwards. it'll get better."

L gave him a steady look, his dark eyes unflinching. "It will not get better. It will only get worse. You know it."

Raito's breath hitched, but he didn't resist anymore as L pushed him gently back onto the bed.

"It's fused into your skin," L said quietly. "Removing it will not be pleasant."

Raito swallowed hard. His fingers curled weakly around the bench sides, the dread settling heavy in his chest.

"Get ready," L warned, "This will hurt."

Raito barely had time to take a shaky breath and nod before L injected the first syringe. The numbing cold of anaesthesia spread like liquid ice under his skin, but it did nothing to calm the fear clawing at his chest. The second injection followed quickly, and then L's hand was holding a small scalpel, coming down on the Sentinel.

The device came off faster than Raito expected—a quick, decisive motion as L severed the connections and peeled it away from his skin. For a split second, there was only a dull, muted ache, but then—

The pain hit him like a tidal wave.

It started in his right hand, an unbearable, searing agony that radiated outward, consuming his arm and surging through his entire body. His nerves lit up as though they were on fire, the phantom memory of his injuries roaring to life in excruciating detail.

"Aaargh!" he screamed, a sound raw and animalistic, ripping from his throat with a force that echoed off the infirmary walls. His body convulsed, his back arching off the bed as his hands clawed blindly at the sheets.

L moved quickly, pinning him down with one hand while injecting another dose of anaesthetic with the other. "Stay still," he said, his voice steady but tight.

"Please! Stop—stop!" Raito wailed, his voice cracking as his nails scraped first on the bench, then against L's arm in a desperate grip. "No! No!" He wasn't even speaking to L, per se — there was nothing L was doing to hurt him. But his screams were unstoppable, pleading with anyone and everyone.

"Aaaarghh!" he kept going, hearing the sounds bounce and echo off the walls..

"It's phantom pain. Raito-kun." L was saying, his tone clinical and his jaw tight, trying to speak between Raito's howls. "Nothing is physically happening to you."

But Raito couldn't hear him. The pain was too much, too real. His screams grew louder, more primal, as he writhed under L's hold.

"It hurts! It hurts! " he howled, his head thrashing side to side.

L didn't flinch, but the muscle in his jaw was pumping.

"My hand! Argh, goddammit!"

Another syringe injected, L's movements precise despite the growing strain in his expression. Through the haze of agony, Raito's gaze found L's face. He clutched at L's arm again, his fingers trembling as they dug into the fabric of L's sleeve. For a moment, he thought he saw something crack in L's composure.

L swallowed, his throat bobbing. His eyes remained calm, but his expression had shifted ever so slightly—strained, as though he were holding something back.

"Patience, Raito-kun." he said quietly, injecting yet another dose. "It will pass." His dark eyes remained locked on Raito's, steady and unwavering, anchoring him in the chaos.

Another wave of fire in his right hand. Raito screamed again and his voice rose to a pitch that seemed impossible, raw and ragged and filled with desperation.. "It's not passing! It's not—" His words dissolved into guttural cries, his body convulsing under L's grip.

The little concierge droid stood in the corner, its blank digital eyes unblinking as it watched silently. The screams echoed around it, reverberating off the sterile walls with an almost haunting clarity.

"Make it stop!" Raito choked out, his voice hoarse and broken. "Please, L—please!"

"It's almost over," L said softly, though the strain in his voice betrayed the weight of the moment. L's hand remained firm on his shoulder, his grip steady even as Raito thrashed and begged beneath him.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. Slowly, the screams began to subside, tapering into ragged sobs and shuddering breaths. Raito's body shuddered violently in the aftershocks, his grip on L's arm slackening as the pain finally began to ebb.

His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his face pale and damp with sweat. His drenched hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes fluttered half-closed as exhaustion overtook him.

L set the syringe down and began putting away the equipment with swift, methodical precision. His movements were calm, but his hands trembled faintly as he worked.

Raito turned his head weakly, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Why didn't you ….warn me?"

L glanced at him, his expression unreadable but his tone quiet. "I did."

Raito felt a spark of anger, although it was dull, diffuse.

"You could have explained…" he groaned, and even to his own ears it sounded petulant.

L didn't look up from the scalpel. "Would you have listened?"

Raito pursed his lips and looked away, letting the silence respond for them both. Deep down, he knew the truth. He closed his eyes, too drained to argue, too spent to think.

He looked around. In the corner, the concierge droid was standing quietly, its small blue lights blinking in the half light. Ridiculous, really.

Raito closed his eyes, his body going limp with exhaustion..

---

The infirmary was quiet now, save for the faint hum of running computers. Raito sat up slowly on the bed, slowly coming back to himself. His breathing had steadied, though his muscles still ached, the ghost of pain clinging stubbornly to his nerves.

He flexed his fingers and winced at the residual soreness, then reached for the still-empty EMP resting on the bedside table. He checked it mechanically, his movements precise, fingers sliding over the smooth metal as he ensured everything was still in its place. He still clung to the hope of somehow recharging it, but all he could do for now was keep it in working order. Satisfied, he set it down and bent to lace up his boots.

As he straightened, his eyes landed on the little concierge droid, still standing in the corner like a silent sentinel. Its featureless faceplate regarded him with an unblinking, almost eerie attention.

Raito shook his head at the absurdity of it all, a soft huff of breath escaping him. The thought of that ridiculous little machine standing watch over him during one of the worst moments of his afterlife felt almost comical—almost.

His gaze shifted, drawn inevitably to the desk on the far side of the room. L was there, perched on the chair in a familiar posture that made Raito's breath catch for a moment. Legs folded up tightly beneath him in a loose fetal position, his back slumped into a curve that defied the chair's design. One hand scrolled through lines of text on the screen with practiced ease, while the other…

Raito's stomach tightened. L's thumb was in his mouth.

The image hit him like a ripple through time. He'd seen that posture a thousand times before—on a sofa, at a desk, even on the floor of their bedroom at the Headquarters building, during that brief time they'd been handcuffed to each other. It was so familiar it almost hurt.

The echo of something lost. Another life, another world — one he'd almost forgotten he'd once lived through.

Raito's eyes drifted lower, catching on the state of L's shirt—torn and stained, the fabric stretched awkwardly across his thin frame. He felt a twinge of shame twist in his gut, a memory surfacing unbidden: his own hand gripping the collar, yanking, tearing. The anger that had surged through him earlier felt distant now, though its ghost lingered in the ache of his knuckles.

What the hell was that? he wondered. The mad, irrepressible impulse to touch—to grab—had overtaken him so completely, so irrationally, that it left him shaken in retrospect.

It was anger. Must have been. He'd wanted to knock the breath out of L, to make him feel the frustration and helplessness that had been boiling inside. They hadn't sparred in a while, maybe that was why he'd been burning so bad for it…

…right?

L shifted slightly in his seat, as if sensing Raito's gaze. He turned his head, dark eyes flickering over Raito in a quick, assessing glance. There was something there—concern, perhaps, or maybe just calculation—but Raito ignored it, shutting it out before it could linger.

"Hey..." he asked, his voice still hoarse but his tone trying to be brisk, as steady and rational as possible "...what's the status?"

L waited for a moment, assessing something final on his screen, before he turned to Raito again, his voice keeping its usual quiet, pensive tone. "Our situation is… less than optimal."

Raito, still sitting on the edge of the infirmary bed, stiffened at the words. He recognized L's careful phrasing—clinical, precise, and usually a prelude to something far worse.

"...how bad?" Raito asked warily.

L did not blink. "The machines in the Military Wing have all been activated."

Raito's stomach dropped.

"And," L continued, turning back to the terminal, "all the assembly lines are now fully operational, churning more of them out at record speeds."

"What?" the word escaped Raito before he could stop it. All of the assembly lines? All of them?! But I only activated one… he thought, the despair and self-recrimination hitting him like a brick.

"There's a quota programmed into the system," L continued, his voice maddeningly calm. "Angel's commands have set it to continue building until the source materials are completely drained." He glanced up at Raito, thumb hovering near his lips but not quite touching. "There is no question of going back to that wing. It would be completely suicidal."

Raito exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Great. So we've lost the node game."

"Not entirely." L turned back to the terminal, typing with fluid speed. "There are other options. The power grid pathways can be rerouted from the upper levels—the customer-facing ones. There are multiple nodes we can activate there to take control of the energy flow."

"Upper levels?" Raito repeated, vaguely remembering something L had mentioned earlier, back when he'd asked Raito to choose which department he wanted to visit next.

"Yes, the nodes are there." L said, not pausing his typing. "But I'll also need an auxiliary Operations terminal to gain access to the system. I can't go back to the main."

"...and is there an auxiliary?"

"There is." L nodded curtly, a small pause as he looked up "In the Research and Development wing."

Raito felt a pang of unease settle in his chest. Research and Development in the Robotics department. He didn't like the sound of that.

"And the machines?" Raito asked carefully. "Where are they? Only in Military?"

L's fingers paused for the briefest moment before resuming. "That," he said evenly, "is unclear. Without the central terminal, I can no longer monitor their activity or location. They could have spread throughout the entire Robotics department by now. It's extremely dangerous."

Raito frowned, his thoughts racing. Without L's ability to track the machines through the central terminal, and without Whisper to communicate at a distance…how on Earth would they manage to power up the nodes? And even setting the nodes aside — how would they even manage to move around the place, period?

"What about the vents? Can we use them again?" he asked, suspecting the answer already.

"No. The ice has rendered the ventilation systems unusable—for the machines and for us," L admitted.

The room felt colder, the severity of their situation pressing down like a heavy blanket. 'Less than optimal' was really not doing it justice.

Raito's fingers twitched at his sides, his gaze darting around the infirmary until it landed on the Sentinel device. It sat quietly on a nearby tray, stained slightly with his blood but still gleaming in the light.

He could feel the idea forming in his mind, dangerous and tempting.

Without a word, he stretched a hand—

"Don't even think about it."

L's voice was low, sharp, and left no room for argument.

Raito froze, caught like a child sneaking a hand into the cookie jar. L's eyes were narrowed — dark and unwavering as they pierced through him. Raito straightened up slightly, trying not to look sheepish.

"You yourself said how not optimal this situation is. I can handle the pain if it means—"

"No."

The detective actually stood up, his legs dragging slightly on the floor as he walked over to the silver tray where Sentinel was resting. "I have already seen you regenerate enough for one day, Raito-kun."

He took the small silver plaque and held it up in a pincer grip — raising it up to face level and inspecting it with those huge eyes, in the same way Raito remembered him handling mobile phones on Earth.

"I am not in the mood to waste more time watching your smashed head recompose" he continued, his voice as flat as if he were discussing weather "or knock yourself unconscious after a completely predictable neural overload."

He turned, staring defiantly at Raito over his shoulder.

"It's not happening."

Raito's breath caught. Even though his cheeks burned with insult, the unexpected emotion in L's voice cut through his protests. It wasn't loud or overt, but it was there—a faint tremor, something unsteady just beneath the surface.

L's expression, however, still betrayed nothing. Calm, neutral, detached.

"Fine then," Raito muttered after a tense moment. He looked away, swallowing the rising frustration—and a sliver of guilt he didn't want to acknowledge. "But what are we gonna do? The place is crawling with them."

A moment passed, then L turned back to the terminal, his fingers already moving with purpose. "First," he began, his voice as even as ever, "we need better firearms. At least something that will give us a fighting chance if we're cornered."

Raito blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Firearms?" he repeated in surprise "You admit that?"

"Of course," L countered, as though it was self-evident. "I have nothing against aggressive offensive action." he sent Ratio a quick look "Only when it's strategically detrimental."

Raito leaned against the infirmary bed, arms folded. "And here I thought you had morals."

L ignored him, his focus now on the little concierge droid in the corner. As he approached it and leaned down, it tilted its small, rounded head, as though curious about what he was doing.

"There's a military and combat showcase in the showroom areas," L continued, his tone matter-of-fact "That will be our first stop. If the equipment there is operational, we can arm ourselves adequately."

"And after that?"

"We reassess," L said, his voice sharp and efficient. "Once we have the gear, we'll move toward Research and Development to locate an auxiliary terminal. From there, I can resume activating the nodes." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Assuming we aren't ambushed or incapacitated along the way."

"Great," Raito muttered. He shifted his weight, feeling the dull ache in his muscles. "And the droid?" he nodded towards the glorified beeping bucket in question "What are you planning to do with it?"

L crouched slightly, bringing himself level with the droid's tiny frame. He produced a small chip-sized device from his pocket and inserted it into a port on the robot's side. A soft hum filled the air as the device lit up.

"The droid is equipped with basic defense and sensory capabilities," L explained without looking up. "Motion detection, heat signatures, and some rudimentary mapping algorithms. I'm programming it to alert us to potential threats and create distractions while we move. It's not much, but it will give us a slight edge."

Raito raised an eyebrow, watching as L tinkered with the little machine. The droid blinked a series of lights, its processors whirring softly.

"And you're sure it won't turn against us?" Raito asked skeptically, his eyes narrowing

"It's an old model, with comparatively rudimentary software." L answered immediately, as though he'd been expecting the question. "I've overwritten its base directives — it will only respond to us."

"Still doesn't inspire much confidence," Raito muttered, eyeing the droid as it let out a soft chime, as if it were trying to assure him of its loyalty.

L stood, pocketing the chip device and straightening his rather unsalvageable shirt. "We don't have the luxury of confidence, Raito-kun. Only action."

Raito was silent, his gaze shifting between L and the tiny concierge bot. After a moment, he sighed, finally pushing himself off the infirmary bed. He holstered the EMP and slung it over his back again — even uncharged, it made him feel better to carry it.

The droid, now apparently fully operational, trilled a cheerful tone as it rolled toward the door, its small frame practically vibrating with eagerness. Raito glared at it.

"I swear, if this thing gets us killed—"

"It won't," L interrupted smoothly, already moving toward the exit. "Now move along."

---

The journey through the corridors was a delicate balancing act of silence and tension, each step measured, each breath held. Raito stayed close behind L, readjusting to life without Sentinel and hating every second of it.

His heart pounded uncomfortably in rhythm with the faint, distant thuds that echoed through the building's metal framework. Now that he knew what they signified, it was even worse: each thud another machine coming to life, another robot being born. Deep, rhythmic booms, like the heartbeat of a mechanical beast—reverberating up through the walls and into his body, shaking his bones.

Ahead of him, the little concierge droid hovered, its soft blue glow casting faint halos on the floor. It paused every so often, emitting an almost imperceptible hum as it scanned the area. Raito remembered what L had explained before: the droid's strong machine signature would mask their own presence, blending their heat and motion into the background noise of the building's systems. As long as they stayed close, the patrols shouldn't detect them.

'Shouldn't.'

The possibility that L could be wrong gnawed at him. Without the Sentinel dampening his emotions, Raito was acutely aware of everything—the sharp tang of fear in his throat, the sweat on his palms, the persistent knot of tension in his stomach. Every sound, from the faint whir of the droid to the creak of the floor beneath his boots, felt amplified. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus, to steady his breathing, but the adrenaline coursing through him refused to be ignored.

L moved ahead with purpose, having memorized the floor plans. He came to a stop at a large iron door with a glowing red access panel. Swiftly, he pulled a slim tool from his pocket—a sleek, black device that flickered with pale green lights. Within moments, the lock disengaged with a soft click, and the door slid open just long enough for them to go through.

A few moments of waiting for drone patrols to pass and then they were back in a service stairwell, similar to the one they'd climbed in an infinite loop some time ago, when Raito had ended up falling. He tensed as they ascended, half-expecting it to replicate itself like that previous one. For better or for once, though, this one seemed normal, the environment changing with every floor they climbed.

He moved cautiously, led only by the faint blue glow of the concierge droid hovering ahead. The further they ascended, the quieter it became—the muffled thuds of the factory below giving way to an unnerving silence that made Raito's breath sound too loud in his own ears.

They passed the first of the upper floors quickly, not daring to linger. The sign on the stairwell wall said "Level 3: Research and Development", and Raito felt his stomach drop. Through the sliver of an open door, he caught a glimpse of clinical, cold corridors — the air of a hospital or chemical labs. Who knew what was being 'researched and developed' here, exactly. If it was anything like in the 'Neurotech' department, he did not look forward to visiting.

By the time they reached the uppermost floor, the change was stark. Gone were the dark industrial walls and dormant workspaces; here, the surroundings practically shimmered. The corridors were wide and bright, lined with glossy panels that reflected their faint silhouettes as they moved. The screens embedded in the walls displayed looping videos of sleek robots in motion— steel ballerinas performing graceful dance routines, turret lions engaging in mock combat drills. The air felt different too, lighter and cooler, with a faintly artificial floral scent that clung to Raito's nose.

They kept walking down the hallway, passing rooms with backlit neon labels like "Real-time Experience Suite" and "Product Demo Room." Through the glass walls, Raito glimpsed meticulously staged dioramas—an automaton butler pouring tea in a mock parlor, a gleaming robot arm assisting with what looked like a surgical demonstration. It was all painfully artificial, every detail designed to dazzle prospective buyers.

They moved cautiously, the droid pausing to scan ahead at every crossway. Raito found himself tensing every time they rounded a corner, expecting to see one of the war machines patrolling. But there was nothing—just silence and the occasional flicker of holographic light.

L stopped abruptly at a junction, his head tilting slightly as he studied something down the hallway. Raito followed his gaze and saw the source of L's hesitation: a drone hovering lazily across their path, its sensor light sweeping the floor.

The droid reacted immediately, its glow brightening as it emitted a soft pulse that Raito felt more than heard. The drone in the hallway froze, its sensor light flickering briefly before it pivoted and floated away in the opposite direction.

Raito exhaled slowly, his pulse pounding in his ears. He cast a glance at L, who was already moving again, as though nothing had happened.

They passed an "Interview Room" with its polished desk and holographic nameplate, followed by a small lounge with a soft glow spilling out of its doorway. Raito's shoulders remained stiff, his hands yearning for a pistol to hold onto. The pristine, high-tech ambiance did nothing to soothe his nerves. If anything, it felt more unsettling—like walking through a perfectly staged dream.

Finally, L came to a halt in front of a set of double glass doors, their edges illuminated with a soft white light. The word "SHOWROOM" was etched across them in bold, glowing letters.

Raito's breath caught as he stared through the glass. It was a cavernous display floor, brighter and more dazzling than anything they'd seen so far. The space was filled with towering robotic forms, their surfaces gleaming like gems under the sharp white lights. Some were humanoid, sculpted with unsettling grace and precision; others were massive, heavy-set and towering, their multiple limbs ending in different tools and appliances. Holographic projections floated in between them all, showcasing demonstrations of their capabilities in vivid, lifelike detail.

It wasn't just the sight of the machines that struck him—it was the silence, the eerie stillness of it all. The showroom gleamed like a temple of technology, every polished surface and flickering light a testament to the Supremacy of Steel.

Beside him, L stood motionless, his dark eyes also fixed on the glamorous sight. The faint hum of their little droid filled the silence as they lingered there, neither of them moving as they waited for any passing patrols.

Moments passed and no patrols came. L approached the doors, which slid open with a smooth hiss. As he stepped forward, feeling an odd kind of anticipation — or was it trepidation? - Raito couldn't help but wonder: would any of these Robotic Wonders wake up?

---

The air inside the Showroom gallery was warmer than downstairs, but even the intense artificial perfumes couldn't disguise the overpowering smell of fresh machine emanating from all sides. At first, Raito almost didn't process the jarring transition. The dim lighting, the lack of machine sounds— it was such a stark shift from the cold, mechanical brutality of the lower floors. But as his eyes adjusted, the unease crept in.

His gaze darted around, lingering on humanoid figures standing on raised platforms. Except for the shining metal, they were unnervingly lifelike — with clean, streamlined designs that imitated nature in optimized efficiency.

Now in the Medical section, robots—some humanoid with white silicone skin, others distinctly mechanical—stood posed mid-action: one held a scalpel over a mock patient, while another had an arm transformed into an array of delicate surgical tools. Above each display, holographic text rotated lazily, extolling their precision and life-saving capabilities. Unfortunately, Raito had experienced their…technological excellence first hand — he recognized a lot of the models that had been attacking him in the storage levels.

"These things aren't going to come alive, are they?" Raito asked under his breath, his voice edged with tension.

"No," L replied, gazing out at a hospital chair that could apparently reconfigure itself into a triple-deck tool cabinet. "Showcase robots are intentionally limited in functionality. They have minimal software installed for safety purposes."

Raito didn't find that particularly reassuring. His eyes lingered on a humanoid with too-bright eyes and hands that looked like they could crush bones rather than hold scalpels. "Minimal doesn't mean none," he muttered.

Their little droid — which Raito had taken to calling "Bozo" in his head — whirred softly, leading the way through the displays, its glow bouncing off the polished floors. Raito followed warily, his fists flexing nervously despite L's explanation.

The Medical sector gave way to the Education and Corporate sections, where the displays became even more elaborate. In the educational sector, squat, boxy robots sat in rows as if in a classroom, their screens displaying cheerful, animated faces. A holographic child-like voice looped softly: "Learning is fun with us!" Nearby, another white-skinned humanoid gestured toward a display of textbooks and learning aids, its mechanical voice droning about "adaptive curriculums" and "enhanced student engagement."

The Corporate section was colder, more imposing. Towering machines with metallic exteriors were lined up like soldiers, their functions ranging from boardroom presentations to warehouse logistics. Raito eyed one that had a desk built into its chest, complete with a holographic keyboard, and resisted the urge to sneer. Corporate drones for corporate drones, he thought wryly.

As they moved deeper, things became even stranger. The domestic section featured robots in various household scenarios: vacuuming spotless carpets, folding endless streams of towels, and even gardening with mechanical precision. A multi-armed humanoid perched by a table set with plastic food, a mechanized smile plastered across its otherwise blank face.

Raito tried to shake off the growing unease gnawing at him, but when they reached the Lifestyle Assistants sector, it became almost unbearable. The displays here were plainly uncanny.

Unlike the gleaming metallic designs of the previous machines, these were crafted to mimic human appearance as much as possible. Their silicone skin was still clearly rubbery, but it was colored pink, their facial features smooth and symmetrical—almost beautiful, if not for their stilted, flawless expressions. Set in dioramas meant to simulate everyday life, they stood frozen: a young woman in a nurse costume comforting an old man; a man in a park walking a fake dog; even a small child standing next to an old woman in a kitchen setting. Raito paused to look at them, unable to tell which one was supposed to be the robot and which wasn't — they both looked equally fake and equally real at the same time.

The lighting was soft, designed to create a comforting, homey atmosphere — but to Raito, it only amplified the unease. He slowed to a stop in front of a male humanoid posed as a barista, its silicone fingers curled around a ceramic cup. The head was tilted slightly, as though caught mid-conversation, and its expression—a faint, frozen smile—was still deeply inhuman in a way he couldn't describe.

"This place gives me the creeps." Raito muttered, keeping his voice low but unable to hold back the irritation in his tone.

"Creeps?" L glanced sideways at him, his face as unreadable as ever. "It's merely a marketing strategy, Raito-kun. The more humanlike the design, the more likely customers are to project trust and familiarity onto the product."

"Yeah, well, I'm projecting something else entirely," Raito muttered, stepping past the barista robot with a barely suppressed shudder. "Where's the military sector anyway?" he asked, his voice tight. He could already see the glass doors to exit the Showroom and there was still no sign of anything remotely army-related — which was really the only reason they'd come here.

L gestured to the exit of the showroom and across the lobby — to another set of doors on the opposite side, with a sign above them that glowed in bold, imposing letters: "MILITARY APPLICATIONS."

"It has its own showroom?!" Raito let out in disbelief.

L let out a low hum, thumb coming to his lips rather absently. "Military machines do tend to be the largest…."

Even from here, Raito could see the hulking silhouettes of combat machines on the other side. They towered over their surroundings, impossibly massive, with armor plates, weaponry, and glowing eyes that gave them an unmistakably predatory air.

A chill ran down his spine as he remembered seeing some of these in action downstairs. Between the creepy, disturbing 'lifestyle assistants' and these colossal steel-tooth beasts, he honestly didn't know which was worse.

They made their way to the edge of the showroom, where a set of double doors opened into a grand, circular lobby. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming, the ceiling towering high above, lit by a massive chandelier of glowing blue rings that floated and rotated slowly in midair. Around the edges of the space stood podiums showcasing holographic projections of sleek, cutting-edge machines. Some displayed larger robots performing tasks like office work or surgical procedures, while others advertised smaller devices with flashing text extolling their efficiency and versatility.

Not all the displays were holograms. Like in the Neurotech department here too, some podiums featured real, tangible tech encased in reinforced glass. Raito's eyes skimmed over them—one looked like an ultra-futuristic pressure cooker, another resembled an advanced defibrillator—but then his gaze caught on something that made him freeze.

Inside one of the glass cases — a combat robot holding an EMP gun.

Its compact design and unmistakable emitter coil spoke of sophistication—and lethality. Raito's hand twitched instinctively, his muscles tightening. He wasn't sure if it was functional, but the sight of it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He could almost feel the phantom power of the energy core beneath his fingers. Oh, how he missed it…

And then, just as the tension began to settle, a strange sound echoed —- so unusually human that it was almost alien. It took a second or two for Ratio to realize what it was: heels clicking against the floor.

"Greetings! How may I help you today?"

The voice was smooth, high-pitched, with a polite cadence that felt... rehearsed. Raito and L turned in unison, Raito's hands rising automatically upon seeing the figure approaching them — tall and humanoid, a…'woman' with clearly fake silicone skin that glowed faintly under the lobby's sterile light.

The perfect face was set at a default expression — a frozen smile that never shifted, not even as 'she' walked. The gait, too, was slightly off, as though the movements were powered by servos that couldn't quite match the fluidity of human limbs.

"Stay back," Raito warned, his voice low and sharp.

The robot halted immediately, tilting its head, the flawless smile never leaving its face. "Are you upset? Would you like a cup of tea to help you relax?"

Raito blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the question.

Meanwhile, L stepped forward, unbothered by the interaction. His unblinking gaze locked onto 'her' as if he were studying every micro-movement, every flaw in the design. "This floor houses the Military showroom, correct?" he asked calmly, his voice devoid of any hint of the tension Raito felt.

"That is correct," 'she' replied, seamlessly shifting her attention to L, as though the interaction with Raito had never happened. "The Military Applications showroom is located through the doors to your left." She gestured with an awkward arm toward the large, imposing double doors in question "Are you interested in something specific?" she probed.

"Just browsing," L said, looking and sounding convincingly nonchalant. "Do you know if the showroom displays are interactive? Are the machines operational?"

"Some units are functional for demonstration purposes," the robot answered, her tone unchanging. "However, all functional units are restricted to low-power modes for safety."

"Low power." L's lips quirked slightly, an expression so subtle that Raito might have missed it.

"Yes. If you would like more comprehensive demonstrations, you can place a request for a demo session. One of our representatives will get back to you as soon as possible."

L didn't miss a beat. "And where might I do that? Is there a commercial point for purchases?"

"Yes," she answered, her tone as neutral as ever. "You may inquire about custom orders at the info screen in the showroom itself. For smaller units and souvenir items, you can also visit the Mecha Store adjacent to this lobby." She gestured again, this time toward a bright, colorful sign across the lobby that read 'Mecha Store', its lettering almost playful compared to the sterile aesthetic of the rest of the facility.

Raito's brows furrowed at the absurdity of it. "Souvenir items?" he muttered under his breath, incredulous.

"Understood. Thank you." L ignored him, focused instead on dismissing the Assistant.

The robot gave a slight nod. "If you need further assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. Enjoy your time at the Robotics Department." With that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking once more against the floor as her stiff, glitchy gait carried her back toward the center of the lobby.

Raito watched her go, his unease magnified tenfold.

"Oh, I'm sure we will…" he muttered again, then turned back to L in an afterthought. "Did you seriously just ask her for the gift shop?"

L shrugged, turning toward the place in question. "Unlikely to find serious weaponry there, but might be worth a look."

Raito rolled his eyes but didn't argue, following L toward the bright, blinking sign that read 'Mecha Store' at the back of the lobby. At least there was a silver lining here: if he could procrastinate slightly on dealing with killer machines, even if it was for the promise of pointless nonsense, perhaps he should take the opportunity.

As they came closer to the store, however, and the garish displays came to prominence, his mind started changing. He shot a withering glare at the colorful letters before pushing the door open, followed closely by L and the ever-dutiful Bozo bellhop.

The moment they stepped inside, an aggressively peppy synth-pop song blasted through unseen speakers, all bubbly vocals and electronic chirps. The kind of music that belonged in a painfully energetic anime opening, complete with overenthusiastic lyrics about chasing dreams and believing in yourself. A video stream featuring childlike-but-busty women was playing over the counter, conjuring memories of Misa at her most annoying.

Raito clenched his jaw. He had survived death, Trial and a rogue AI, but this—this was intolerable.

The product selection itself wasn't much better. Bright shelves gleamed under artificial lighting, stocked with everything from smiling mecha plushies to polished figurines of humanoid combat bots. A row of interactive plaques lined the walls, each one displaying another overexcited title—"The Magical World of Cybernetics!", "Building Your First Bot!", "Mecha Evolution Through the Ages!"—before sparking to life with holographic displays. Flickering blue projections of robotic arms and mechanical blueprints floated in the air, narrated by automated voices with unsettling cheer.

Raito exhaled sharply through his nose. This was almost as bad as the Showroom before.

L had already wandered a few steps in, hands tucked loosely in his pockets as his gaze flicked over the displays with detached scrutiny. "This is useless," he announced flatly, his gaze gliding over the rows of robot plushies, "Not a single piece of practical technology."

You don't say. Raito rolled his eyes as his attention slid sideways, to a small rack of t-shirts and hoodies near the counter. A bright blue shirt caught his eye, the words "Mad4Mecha" stamped across the front in blocky neon letters. His gaze drifted from the obnoxious design to L's own shirt—torn, frayed, collar hanging lopsided.

"Maybe not completely useless," Raito mused, smirking. He gestured toward the rack. "That one, for instance, might finally make you look presentable."

L barely glanced at it. "I will not risk triggering security protocols for kitsch fashion," he replied, voice dry.

Raito snorted. "Right…" He crossed his arms. "Because your current style is so up to snuff."

Only then did L actually turn to face him, dark eyes level. "And if it isn't, whose fault is that?"

Raito stilled. It hit like a gunshot—memory firing straight into his chest.

The rip of fabric. The sudden unveiling. L's torso, carved in the dim light—smooth but cut, the taut ridges of abdominals shifting with breath. The skin — pale, flawless, not a mark in sight, save for the faintest shadows where definition turned to hollows. That rivulet of sweat, sliding down—

He shut the memory down with the force of a slammed door.

"Pff." he snorted, feeling the heat rise up his neck. With his jaw tightened, he turned on his heel and strode out of the store, the cheery pop music grating against his nerves.

What a pathetic thing to remember. Worse, how he'd seen it—his own hands in the frame, the fabric clenched in his grip, his voice raised, his control lost.

He stood there for a few moments with his back to the gift shop, letting off steam as he stared at the robot advertisements in the lobby. His eyes fell on the model EMP gun again. God, he wanted an EMP gun.

Moments passed and he tapped his foot impatiently. What's taking so long? He frowned, eventually turning back just to see L stepping out of the glass doors — a brand new white t-shirt on his frame, ostentatiously announcing "MR ROBOTO" in black letters to the world.

Raito's eyes widened, expression going lax.

The detective met his eyes briefly, face completely blank. Then he just ambled away at his usual, unhurried pace — heading toward the Military showcase, little droid trailing dutifully behind.

Raito stood there frozen, staring at his back.

Did he…?

…Why had he—?

"Keep up." L called, and Raito clenched his jaw, following quickly.

---

The moment they stepped inside the Military section, the air seemed to shift again. This… veritable sanctum of industrial butchery… was an entirely different beast.

Gone were the medium-sized appliances and disturbing human-shaped forms; in their place there were towering monstrosities—multi-limbed behemoths outfitted with missile racks, bipedal terminators with glowing red optics, and tank-like forms bristling with heavy artillery. Each one was encased in reinforced glass displays, labeled with sleek, glowing plaques detailing their lethality.

Further down the space, smaller 'soldier' droids and sentinel drones hovered silently in midair, their sleek, aerodynamic designs exuding terrifying velocity. Raito recognized them instantly — the drone models that patrolled the hallways of the lower levels, capable of laser and cannon fire that could bring down walls.

Raito swallowed hard, his earlier wariness transforming into outright dread. If even one of these machines activated, they'd be dead in seconds.

This gallery alone seemed as large as the entirety of all the other divisions combined, as if the company had poured most of its resources into perfecting destruction. Overhead, holographic projections of the robots in action rotated above their corresponding enclosures—assaulting cities, dismantling enemy tanks, vaporizing targets with precision strikes. The oppressive hum of dormant power filled the air, making Raito's fingers twitch, yearning even more for a working firearm.

"If I didn't know better," Raito muttered under his breath, glancing up at a particularly grotesque spider-like machine with mounted cannons. "I'd call this overcompensation."

L gave no reply, his focus already on the task at hand. He crouched next to their little bellhop inputting some kind of command. It moved forward, its legs clicking efficiently against the polished floor as it approached a nearby humanoid combat robot. The thing was humanoid only in the vaguest sense—a hulking figure with oversized arms, limbs fused with energy rifles, its skeletal metal frame designed for efficiency over aesthetics.

"What are you doing?" Raito asked with alarm, keeping his voice as low as possible..

"All the robots in this facility have an embedded 'showroom' function in their programming," L replied, staying close to the droid as it extended a slender arm to the base of the glass casing. "It can signal showroom security enclosures to retract for thirty seconds. That's all I need."

The droid chirped as it interfaced with the the rifle-laden terminator. Raito tensed, feeling horribly exposed. If that thing woke up—

But L had no such qualms. The moment the glass case slid down he wasted no time, pouncing forward and producing a compact multi-tool he'd scavenged earlier. With the delicate precision of a surgeon, he began detaching the energy rifle from the combat robot's arm. Sparks flew as he severed connections, and the weapon came free with a sharp metallic click.

Raito caught it as L tossed it back, running a hand over the sleek barrel and glowing power nodes. The rifle hummed faintly as he tested its weight, a grim smile crossing his face.

"Impressive," he admitted, smirking down at L's handy little droid "Perhaps this Bozo is not so useless after all."

L had already moved to the next display—another humanoid terminator model standing in a combat-ready stance. Raito's heart soared upon seeing the EMP gun blended into its arm circuitry. Bozo repeated its routine, retracting the glass, but this time the process wasn't as smooth.

L frowned as he leaned over the killer robot, his hands moving with precision but less speed. The EMP was deeply fused to the robot's arm, its components secured with additional clamps.

"Fifteen seconds," L muttered, not looking up.

"Cutting it close," Raito warned, glancing around the massive room. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if the dormant machines might spring to life at any second.

L didn't reply, his hands working furiously. Sparks flew again, but this time, the clamps resisted his tool. Raito gritted his teeth.

"L—"

He didn't have to say anything else. The sudden ring of the alarms said it all.

"Shit" Raito snapped, turning to the side — were the machines moving? The glass enclosure hissed and slammed down just as L leaped back, narrowly avoiding being trapped inside.

"Move," Raito ordered, raising the energy rifle. Thankfully the killing machines inside the showroom didn't seem to have awakened but, in the distance, he could hear the whirring sound of approaching drones — a sharp, mechanical hum growing closer with each passing second.

Bozo trailed after them as they sprinted toward the back of the showroom. Its legs clicked with surprising speed, keeping pace as they slipped into the maze-like back-office corridors. The polished walls narrowed, the fluorescent lights now blaring red as the alarms continued their relentless screeching.

"Damn it," Raito hissed, pausing at the entrance to an abandoned office room. The room was small, filled with scattered headsets, overturned chairs, and a powered-down terminal. "In here. Now." he ordered.

They ducked inside, shutting the door behind them. L immediately crouched beside the terminal, pulling wires from his pocket to interface with it. Bozo stuck by the wall, its servos winding down into a quieter state.

Raito kept his rifle trained on the door, ears straining for the sound of pursuit. The alarms dulled gradually, their echoes fading into the hum of the ventilation system.

"Are we clear?" Raito whispered after a few tense minutes.

"For now," L replied, his voice calm despite the situation. "The droid's signal mask should confuse the drones, at least temporarily."

A few moments of silence followed, frustration simmering along with fear.

"That wasn't exactly smooth, was it?" Raito growled. "We didn't even get the EMP."

"No," L admitted, standing slowly after making sure there were no drones patrolling outside. "But we're still on track. The Security Outpost at the end of this corridor will have comm devices, tactical gear, and likely an overview of the lower floors."

Raito raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he was hearing about a Security Outpost. Just how much more was L planning without telling him, he wondered, frustration flaring again.

"And how do you propose we get past the drones between here and there?" he asked, adding 'smartass' in his head.

L's eyes glinted with calculated certainty. "Stealth. If you don't fire that rifle prematurely, we should be fine."

Raito glared, muttering something under his breath, but L completely ignored him, focusing on his precious little droid again. With its chirpy little beeping sounds and its shiny little service tray and its electro-magnetic field recon capabilities.

Raito glared at it too.

---

The security monitors cast pale, shifting light across the dim outpost. L sat hunched in a chair, typing furiously. His voice, calm yet edged with fascination, cut through the stillness.

"This programming protocol—MAR-e.L.—is extraordinary. It's not just efficient; it's revolutionary. Schaunhauer's work must have incorporated a self-evolving framework. Look at this," he gestured vaguely toward the monitors, though Raito wasn't paying attention. "It simulates neural pathways, almost like a living brain. Adaptive. Intuitive. "

Raito, standing by the open locker, zipped up the fly of his new tactical pants. He rolled his eyes as he rummaged for more gear. "Yeah, fascinating."

"It is," L insisted, swiveling his chair to glance back at Raito, still absorbed in the screens. At that exact moment, Raito tossed a black tactical jacket with pinpoint precision, and it smacked L squarely in the face.

"Jacket," Raito said flatly.

L blinked, catching the garment as it slid off his face. Without missing a beat, he draped it over one arm and swiveled back to his monitors. "I've never seen anything like it," he continued, oblivious.

"Wear it," Raito said, already rifling through the locker for more gear.

L absently tugged it on, not bothering to zip it up properly "It's remarkable," he said, the words slightly muffled as he adjusted the collar. "This language is a work of art—"

"Gloves," Raito interrupted, tossing them over.

L didn't turn around, allowing them to fall next to him on the desk. Although as he kept speaking he reached for one, putting it on slowly "—though naturally, it's wasted on a system like this. The level of surveillance alone is absurd."

"Absurd?" Raito echoed, fastening his gun holsters. "You're just now noticing?"

"No," L said, swiveling back to face him. His dark eyes were sharp, analytical. "What I mean is, Angel doesn't just watch us. She predicts us. Reacts to us. She's not merely observing our attempts to reach the escape pods—she's orchestrating this. Steering us. Testing us."

Raito paused, mid-motion, holding up a tactical vest. "You think she's letting us power up the pods on purpose?"

"She could be," L said simply, and swivelled back to the screens.

Raito froze for a moment, his hands lingering on a pair of boots before he threw them over with more force than necessary. They hit the floor beside L with a clunk.

"Okay," Raito said, sighing as crossed his arms. "Let's say you're right. She's testing us. Then what's the point? What do we gain by playing along?"

"There's nothing else to do," L said, looking at Raito over his shoulder. "This path may be futile, but it's also our only option. Unless you have a better idea?"

Raito stayed quiet for a moment, letting his hands unfold and rest absently inside the locker room.

"No." he said with finality. "I don't."

Then, apparently landing on some deeper determination, grabbed yet another article of clothing and lobbed it in L's direction.

L caught it but paused, holding it up with mild confusion. "I don't need new trousers."

"Yes, you do," Raito said without looking at him.

L frowned, glancing down at his oversized, torn, stained pants as though noticing them for the first time. He sighed, standing to change without hesitation.

"The pods are on the lowest level," he said, barely watching what he was doing as he continued with his theorizing. "But that level is also the most heavily guarded—swarming with machines. We have to find—"

"We'll deal with it," Raito said, securing the new comm device on his ear and the empty EMP on his back. "As you said yourself, we have no other choice." He glanced up just as L straightened, smoothing the new black pants down over his legs.

"...These are too tight," L remarked grouchily, tugging at the waistband.

"Yes," Raito said with a smirk. "They're actually your size."

"It's uncomfortable."

"It's adulthood."

L frowned, hastily lacing his black boots and adjusting the fingerless gloves over his new black jacket, which he hadn't bothered to secure — allowing the world to still celebrate 'Mr Roboto' on the cheesy t-shirt below. He grabbed the comm device Raito offered and set it to his ear.

"This will decrease my processing speed."

"It will increase your running speed," Raito shot back, grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder. The detective mirrored him, grabbing his own energy carbine from the other side of the room — yet another treasure they'd found in this oasis of a Security Outpost.

As they moved toward the door, Raito heard L muttering under his breath, "...You really do remind me of Matron."

Raito raised an eyebrow, opening the door. He had no idea who 'Matron' was — probably someone from L's orphanage past or something.

Whoever it was though…Raito already liked them.

"Yeah, well… guess you bring it out in me."

L said nothing, but as they stepped out into the corridor, Raito caught a fleeting look of something—maybe amusement—on his face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual inscrutable calm.

---

The metal door hissed shut behind them as they left the Security Outpost, Bozo the Bellhop rolling along at their side with a soft whirr of servos. It had a vaguely conical top, two mechanical arms folded neatly against its cylindrical body, and an array of blinking sensors that flickered like expressive little eyes. Every now and then, it let out a gentle series of beeps—muttering to itself in a way that reminded Raito, with mild exasperation, of a certain astromech droid from old science fiction films.

If only this one could electrocute people on command.

Raito adjusted his earpiece and cast a sidelong glance at L. The tactical gear had transformed his silhouette entirely, trading the usual loose folds of white and blue for sharp black lines. And yet—somehow—even when dressed in a bloody SWAT uniform, L still managed to look like he'd just rolled out of bed. His jacket remained unzipped, revealing the t-shirt beneath. The pants were objectively a better fit, but instead of wearing them properly, L had belted them low on his hips, careless as ever. His hair, of course, remained an ungovernable tangle. At least, Raito supposed, he had upgraded from looking like a tramp to just looking like a punk.

Small favors.

Raito clicked his tongue and looked ahead. It shouldn't have bothered him. Or caught his attention.

And yet.

They descended into the lower levels, the air growing sterile and heavy, laced with the faint metallic tang of machines long left to gather dust. The hallways of Research and Development were dimly lit, their stark white walls broken by reinforced glass panels that revealed the sprawling, half-abandoned laboratories beyond.

And the things inside them.

The first room contained humanoid androids, unnervingly lifelike in their unfinished states. Rows of them stood propped against steel support racks, their bodies sleek and seamless in places, but incomplete—missing sections of synthetic skin, exposing glimpses of complex mechanical musculature beneath. Some had faces; others had only the vague contours of one, as if still waiting for their final mold.

Raito slowed his pace, his instincts bristling. He had no interest in being surrounded by a horde of half-formed dolls that might—at any second—decide to move.

"These aren't like the receptionist." His voice was low.

"No," L murmured, stopping to observe one of them. "They're far more advanced."

In another lab, the prototypes grew larger, shifting from humanoid to explicitly military. Quadrupedal war machines imitating feline forms, all sleek metal and reinforced plating. But the more disturbing ones were lower to the ground—vehicular with the ability to reconfigure, their jointed limbs curling and unfolding with eerie fluidity.

Raito's gut twisted. If these things somehow activated, they wouldn't need weapons. They themselves were the weapons.

"Are they offline?"

L didn't answer immediately. He tapped a knuckle against one of the reinforced windows, peering inside. "Half-finished," he finally said. "And unplugged. They shouldn't have any—"

A clank.

Both of them froze.

One of the androids shifted. Just a fraction—but enough. A head that had been slumped forward now lifted. Blank, glassy eyes came to life with a flicker of red, locking onto them through the glass.

Raito's fingers ghosted over his holster.

The android's lips moved. Not a word. Just a faint, static crackle—an imitation of speech that never quite formed.

And then, as if it had lost interest, the light in its eyes faded. The body slumped back into stillness.

"Wonderful," Raito muttered, exhaling through his nose.

Bozo let out a low, nervous beep.

L simply turned and walked on, without a word.

---

It didn't take long before, with L's masterful knowledge of the floorplan, they located the Auxiliary Operations Room. The door slid open to reveal a secluded control center—a small but functional terminal room, cluttered with outdated consoles and tangled cables. The monitors lining the walls flickered with erratic, corrupted feeds, offering glitchy, fragmented views of the facility.

The moment they stepped inside, L moved as if magnetized, settling into the nearest terminal with the fluidity of someone returning to their natural habitat. Within seconds, his fingers were already flying over the interface, summoning code, bypassing security walls, decrypting strings of data at a speed that made Raito's eyes narrow.

He hated to admit it, but watching L work was something else entirely. There was no hesitation in his keystrokes, no wasted movement. Everything was a precisely calculated motion, guided by a mind that operated leagues ahead of most humans. It was almost—

Raito cut the thought off before it could go anywhere.

Instead, he leaned against the console. "Tell me you're finding something useful."

"Plenty." L's eyes flicked between streams of information, his expression unreadable. "I can reroute power from here. But—"

Raito folded his arms, watching the information cascade in real time. Schematic overlays flickered on the surrounding monitors—holographic projections of the power grid, showing severed connections and flickering, half-functional nodes scattered across the facility. He wasn't a fool—he had already known what was coming. They'd discussed it before.

"...it will require you to return to the upper levels and manually activate the new nodes."

Raito didn't really react in any way. He checked the slides of his guns, then holstered them again. He had known this would be his job. Didn't mean he liked it.

"Mm, by the way—" he muttered. His fingers lingered near his belt, as though considering something. Then, casually — perhaps a bit too casually — he asked, "You kept Sentinel?"

The clacking of keys halted.

Slowly, L turned to look at him. He didn't say a word.

Just stared.

Raito exhaled through his nose and shut his mouth. Point taken.

L returned to his work. "We'll stay in contact via comms. I'll monitor your progress from here." He gestured vaguely toward their small, twitchy companion. "You'll take Bellhop with you."

Raito cast a glance down at the droid, which whirred softly and blinked its little blue sensors in what was probably meant to be enthusiasm.

His name for it was Bozo…and he wasn't going to stop.

L continued. "There should be minimal drone patrols in that sector. If you time your movements correctly, you should be able to get in and out without incident."

Raito rolled his shoulders, steeling himself. "Sounds simple."

"It is."

Sure. he thought, not believing it for a minute. It wasn't a question of whether he'd be attacked — it was more a question of when and how much.

He clicked his earpiece into place and shifted his weight, hefting the rifle in preparation. But as he took a step toward the door, unbidden, his gaze flicked back toward the monitors; to the white light they were shining…and to L's face.

"Watch yourself, Raito-kun." L simply said, his eyes unblinking, his lips parted in the half-light.

Raito swallowed and nodded curtly, walking out.

Again he found himself alone in the dark corridors. Again he had to hide while activating nodes. But this time without Sentinel, and without anything except a rifle for protection.

Well, Bozo… he thought, looking at the small rounded head by his side, Looks like it's you and me.

---

...and looks like things are going to get reeeeealll serious nowwww!

Hope you were entertained. If so, let me know which parts you remember most from this chapter!

TBC soon in Erebus: Burn !