Dead Sector 3

After retrieving the clones and data, I returned to the tunnel where everyone except me was already waiting. Urged on by the frantic gestures of the exploration team staff yelling for me to hurry, I broke into a run.

"Neige? You okay?!"

"Yeah!"

Clea spotted me and asked immediately, and I gave a spirited reply.

"Miss, please head inside. We'll guard the entrance."

The fifteen-person formation deployed in the tunnel was straightforward. Up front, Svetlana and the five other secretaries formed the line. Behind them, four exploration team members frantically handled radios and various programs. Me and my fellow trainees—five in total—stood at the rear, backs to the bus, watching the situation.

Once everyone had entered the tunnel without stragglers, one exploration team staffer grabbed the radio and shouted urgently.

No response.

Still no answer.

"Those fucking idiots! Where the hell did they go?!"

The staffer finally lost it and hurled the radio away.

"Secretary-General, the connection's still holding."

Svetlana, standing at the front line, listened quietly before speaking in a resolute voice.

"Secretary Team 3, this route leads straight to HQ inside the Erebus core. You all know what that means, right?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The secretaries responded with crisp precision, their military discipline crushing the tension like a vice.

"If a cyberdemon breaches the Erebus core systems, it's game over. We stop them here or buy time."

Last time demon code was spotted at HQ, the chief secretary handled it personally. As long as Erebus stood, ImmuneWire had no choice but to be hypersensitive to assaults on headquarters.

The atmosphere thickened with tension until the staffer monitoring the data net spoke up.

"It's getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closer. Only minutes until the demon arrives."

Unable to bear the suspense from the report, the exploration team leader finally yelled.

"...Gray!"

"Yes! Leader Alto, sir!"

So the leader's name was Alto. And the bus driver was Gray.

I only remember the important ones. And now they are.

"Take the trainees back to HQ! Call in reinforcements, send people to cut the damn cable. The rest of us stay with the Secretary-General and fight."

"Got it!"

I half-interrupted, jumping into the conversation.

"I'll stay too. You'll need me."

Alto's face paled.

"...But the Chairman—"

"No, let the miss do as she wants."

Alto tried to stop me, but Svetlana intervened, backing me up.

"If Neige stays, I'll stay too!"

"M-me... me too..."

Clea and Saints followed my lead. Ayaka and Lorenzo gauged the mood before chiming in. Lorenzo spoke first.

"I'm not here to cower like some coward."

Ayaka followed.

"Isn't this training too? Sounds like a great lesson."

With all the trainees opting to stay, Alto looked deeply troubled.

"If all the trainees stay, that's a problem for us too..."

As the situation dragged, Svetlana turned to us and approached.

"No time for this. Straight to the point: depending on the enemy, we could all die. Are you really ready to fight?"

Svetlana asked firmly, and all five of us nodded.

"Good. If you're fighting, then fight. You're Gray, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You can get to HQ faster alone?"

"Less data for the bus to transmit... yes, possible."

"Go now. Secretary Team 3 will protect the trainees on-site."

Gray leaped onto the bus. Confirming it, Svetlana immediately issued orders.

"Front line is Secretary Team 3. You all find ways to support from the rear. You're all smart; I trust you'll do well."

"Yes!"

"Exploration team, you're fighting too, right?"

The exploration staff sighed before replying.

"You think we'd drag a cyberdemon into HQ and see what happens? No choice anyway."

"We don't wanna be the exploration team's first training accident squad. We'd get made examples of..."

Svetlana nodded, pleased with their resolve.

"Only the exploration team knows how to handle your programs. Count on you."

"Yes!"

The situation sorted and roles assigned in seconds. Svetlana excelled in crises like this—experience and authority to match her position.

Svetlana rejoined the secretaries, and the data net monitor shouted again.

"Contact in one minute!"

"Secretary Team 3, by the Secretary-General's authority, arbitrary permission granted for Ouroboros Protocol and lethal code use."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The secretaries' booming response hung heavy in the ensuing silence. Time ticked by until, from the Dead Sector's depths, a red glow flickered.

Then three red streaks shot forth, slamming into the secretaries.

My mind flashed to my first cyberspace dive—the man whose brain and nerves burned out from a sneak attack.

But this time was different. Each secretary reacted, blocked, then neutralized the demons with their weapons in a blink.

Clea gasped in surprise.

"Neige, this is...!"

"Yeah, same thought."

Meeting again. The first cyberdemon I'd faced. I'd thought Alphabet killed it, but maybe it just shoved it away?

That makes sense.

Overhearing me and Clea, Svetlana shouted.

"Miss, you know this enemy?"

"Met it at five!"

"Remember its patterns?"

Starts with high-speed blitz attacks. But if they fail?

Old memory resurfaced: horizon filled with countless demons charging.

Back then, I thought they were individuals. Now I knew—they were mass-produced drones controlled by one core.

"It's gonna overwhelm with numbers!"

"Numbers?"

As Svetlana echoed, cyberspace shifted.

"Fuck... what the hell is that...?"

Alto's gruff curse summed up the sight beyond Svetlana's shoulder.

The entire Dead Sector's hue turned blood-red. Nothing like the zombie horde analogy from before.

A tidal wave approached.

"...Data net's... nothing but red dots."

Crushed by the overwhelming numbers, everyone stared silently. The dread of being swept away without resistance loomed.

As I opened my mouth, Svetlana bellowed first.

"All personnel, fall back twenty paces!"

"Formation shift, one!"

One secretary began counting off, and everyone retreated in sync. The tunnel's narrow straight stretched naturally.

I grasped her intent instantly. No matter how many, the data net had bandwidth limits.

"This is a tunnel. Numbers don't matter—we can hold. No need to fear them."

A snake burst from Svetlana's pocket, coiling around her. Soon, each secretary's snake emerged, shielding its master.

"Secretary Team 3, hold formation. Rush forward and we break; panic back and we break. For your comrades and yourself—never break ranks. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Release the Ouroboroi."

Starting with Svetlana's, six snakes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠surged tunnel-ward, ballooning house-sized mid-flight. They thrashed like sandstorms, blunting the wave's force.

But the wave pressed on.

"Initiate parallel processing."

As Svetlana spoke, the secretaries transformed. Eyes glowed gold, thickly linked. Yellow data streams flowed visibly between nodes.

Just before wave-secretary collision, they moved as one machine.

Frontline demons swept away instantly. Trailing ones met unyielding resistance—each swing shattered them to fragments. Perfectly meshed gears, flawlessly covering gaps and flanks, they evoked war machines.

"So that's how it's meant to be used."

With me, it was just for siphoning compute power.

Despite the secretaries' valiant stand, the wave didn't halt. Demons slipped through gaps, engaging the second row's exploration team.

They fought with weapons but paled against the secretaries—not combatants anyway.

A handful breached to us. I said,

"Let's go."

All eyes turned to me.

"Gotta guard the adults' backs. If those demons turn, it'll hurt."

I led, Clea followed, then the rest.

Lorenzo stomped a demon's data weapon flat. It resisted, but he crushed it with compute and punched it to bits.

Ayaka's black swords trailed her gestures, impaling and dissecting the demon code by code.

Clea activated her signature mask protocol, neatly slicing targets one by one.

Saints unleashed a DDoS wave that distinguished friend from foe, striking multiple demons at once.

And me. I met the charging demon's longsword with mine. Sparks flew on clash, but I poured compute—their blade sliced like tofu, cleaving the body.

Only then did the demon wave halt before us.

But from the tunnel's far end, they poured endlessly.

We had to hold. Until reinforcements.

V, this is just a slugfest. Any other ideas?

Like back then, wall up and hold?

These are linked to a main body, right? Infiltrate?

Dirty strategy. Weak against superiors in brute force, but never yields to equals or inferiors like us?

Slicing another demon in half, I kept thinking.

Need a game-changer. Playing their game is foolish.

Observing, I eyed the tunnel-shaped data net.

Right—this is a tunnel because it's over a cable IRL. Remember, cyberspace.

Demons bottlenecking entering the cramped space. Not cramped—cable bandwidth overload.

V, can I blow the cable?

Success crashes cyberspace. Demons gone too.

I formed a dagger, stabbed the floor. No fancy code—overwhelm with volume.

Ramp compute to limit.

Clutching my heating head, I poured data. As the net reddened, some noticed and glanced my way.

But...

"Ah, shit...!"

Headache won; dagger dropped.

No matter how much compute, cable held.

Megacorp quality. Thanks for the premium cable on a training op—tears.

Cooling my head, I pondered anew. Flashy ideas won't cut it. Need reliable, powerful—comfort food level.

I'm French. Baguette? No, focus.

Eyes shifted to distant snakes massacring demons. Raw overwhelming power, crushing without strategy or creativity.

Right, programs. Never needed one before—V sufficed.

But facing this horde, I felt the need.

And I had one now.

I spread my hand, manifesting a data block. Ellyra's "gift" like it was nothing. Used by one of the ten heroes.

Humanity's lost tech, right?

V, restore it.

Restore just combat parts. Partial help too.

Why?

No ordinary program. Worth hiding in danger zone?

Enduring compute-spiked headache, I downed another demon. Soon V spoke.

One minute too long here. All-in during that.

Glancing at battling secretaries, then bus-vanished abyss.

Ears filled with grunts, gasps, data debris crunch.

Decision made. All-in needs resolve.

"Clea, one favor."

Grabbed fighting Clea.

"Neige? What?"

"Buy me one minute."

"One minute?"

She eyed my cube, grasped, smiled.

"You found a way."

"Protect everyone while I'm out. You got this?"

Clea touched her mask.

"Of course."

Mask shifted. Berserker mode—I'd seen it.

Blade-dancing Clea shredded demons. I closed eyes.

Start it, V.

That instant, consciousness plunged deeper than cyberspace.

When consciousness returned, I stood on a beach. Ahead: blue sea, soft sand. Behind: massive Jesus statue, outdated 2000s city.

"Jesus statue...?"

Brazil's, right?

"Well, well~ If I'm here, guess I died somehow?"

A voice drew me. Cheerful, joyful tone rare nowadays.

A young Hispanic man lounged on a sunbed, tanning.

"So, who's the successor who found me~?"

He lifted sunglasses.

"Ooh, a little kid? Nice to meet ya. Last sight a pretty princess? Not bad."

The surreal setup dazed me. Just activating a protocol felt like time travel.

"Who are you? Where's this?"

"One question first. The ten heroes who set out to slay the Alphabet demon king. Know 'em?"

"Yes."

"Ha, our leader documented hard—left their mark on history."

He rose, ruffled my hair.

"Cute. One more: how'd it go?"

"What?"

"Alphabet. How's that guy now?"

"Quietly separated from humanity, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just li—"

"Success!"

He whooped, spun in place, scooped and bounced me joyfully.

Always like this—what's it learning?

"Alright, little miss. Codename 'Sao Paulo.' Former owner of the program you found, one of ten heroes who suicided to save humanity."

Met new faces heading to Dead Sector: Ayaka, Lorenzo, even demon Ellyra.

But this man—I knew he'd be the most special.

"Davi Alencar."

One of ten presumed to end Alphabet War. Their bitmancer, no less.

"This is my hometown beach. Planned to return post-mission. All fake, though..."

He set me down, reclined.

So, manifested delusion. Hero's longed-for home.

"Said you died—how're you here?"

"Me? Easy. Copied my data into the program. Cyber ghost, sorta."

Just like Alphabet reviving me. Perfect dead-person copy. Original still dead.

"...Real me died on the field. This clone just enjoys."

Davi gazed horizon, bittersweet. Then grinned.

"Little miss, tell me. What year outside? What happened after our success?"

"I... sorry, but..."

No time. Friends still fighting out there.

"Outside situation? I see, fine. This is dream-in-dream. Perceived vs real time differ. Depends on your brain power..."

He tapped his head.

"You're a genius, right? Program says so. Rest a bit together."

"..."

We shared a bond: data fragments in cyberspace.

Past lives differed, but same end—odd kinship.

Slowly, I shared my world: 2170s plight, Erebus Line, megacorps, nations. How the ten were forgotten, only found restoring shattered data.

Davi ignored being forgotten.

"Humanity survived, but no paradise."

Staring blankly at horizon, he smiled faintly, added,

"Guess that wasn't our role. Successor's here now."

Right, he called me successor.

"What's 'successor' mean?"

"Humanity did anything to win—even taboos. This program's packed with banned tech from then."

He snapped fingers, conjured booze, sipped.

"But fear-locked it: not for anyone. Chosen one only. Funny part?"

Gulped, sighed contentedly, continued.

"Owner dies, hope dies. So succession enabled. Humans only—no AIs."

I pieced it, stared. He grinned, ruffled hair.

"Ready, kid? Inherit humanity's most dangerous program?"

He called them hero party slaying demon king.

Then it hit: by that metaphor, this program was humanity's sword to slay Alphabet.

The Holy Sword.