Logos, What Are You?
Logos, What Are You?
Cheonrang closed the distance. A blade fell from above. I raised my shield and caught it.
Chiiiiiing!
The blade scraped across the shield's surface and slid off. And the moment it slid off, a second strike followed.
And immediately a third.
Short, fast trajectories filled my vision.
I caught it.
I caught it again.
And again.
And again.
The blade of a top-50 ranker danced wildly.
I could clearly visualize the trajectory of where it started and where it would land in my head. But physically catching it was not easy. Every time the impact was transmitted to Logos, my consciousness grew dizzy.
Still, I could hold out for now.
But that wasn't the problem.
By now, that bastard Cheonrang should have backed off.
In Apocalypse Core, melee combat wasn't a drawn-out fight like this. You clash a few times, and if you don't see an opening, you increase the distance again and return to poking. That was the basic melee combat method for Advents.
A guy who's a ranker should know that even better.
Especially an Apostle who received a state-of-the-art 6th generation Covenant as his own machine. But Cheonrang didn't retreat.
Instead, he dug in one step closer toward me.
He pushed me away with his sword and shoved his fist into the opening. Blade and bare-handed strikes mixed together. Metal clashed with metal right in front of my face, sending sparks flying.
There was no sign of him increasing the distance.
'...What is this?'
I don't know this fighting style.
I know how to do melee.
But.
There was no such thing as a melee brawl like this in Apocalypse Core. The image of Advents standing still and trading punches didn't even exist. At most, you'd shove in a kick when your weapons ran out. And even that was close to a desperate struggle right before defeat.
On a battlefield that crosses Mach speeds, melee combat is about grazing, landing one shot, and pulling out.
A mud-slinging fight where you stand still and exchange steel fists. That kind of thing wasn't anywhere in the game.
...As long as we're this close,
I'm tied to a battlefield I don't know.
Unfamiliar distance. Unfamiliar rhythm. Unfamiliar fighting style. I can't win here. Then I have to shake him off.
I tried to force him to evade by slamming a hail of rifle bullets right in front of Cheonrang's nose. That was the only answer to shake off an enemy stuck to me.
I raised the rifle and overlapped the crosshairs on his cockpit. Cheonrang had already read that choice. He swatted the muzzle away with his sword.
{Even if you've blocked your thoughts, you can hear me, right? Earl Grey's Apostle?}
Cheonrang's intent flowed over the Afterglow Field.
{I'll admit it. I can't beat you in a battle between Advents.}
Even to an Apostle who had spent his whole life in the top 50, my piloting style was a realm he couldn't even dream of catching up to. If he kept his distance and used standard tactics, he'd just get toyed with until the end. So that's why he chose melee?
{But I saw awkwardness within you.}
Cheonrang's blade soared from bottom to top.
I barely blocked it with my shield.
The impact traveled up my arm to my shoulder.
{The direction of your movements was perfect. Your judgment was fast, too. But your body's reaction was slightly slow.}
Damn it. I've been found out.
{Even if your head is a genius, there are realms your body can't follow. For a guy like that, all I have to do is drag him into the spot I've spent my whole life honing.}
Cheonrang's intent burned with fighting spirit.
{A distance where we stand still. A brawl where we clash flesh. Here, real-world experience moves faster than calculation!}
Borame killed its thrust, ditched its speed, and stuck close.
Every time I looked for an escape route, he cleared that path with the tip of his sword. The longer the close-quarters battle dragged on, the more anxious I became.
"Evan?"
"...I can break through."
I raised the rifle.
Cheonrang's eyes didn't miss it.
Come to think of it, it was obvious. This was the only thing that could shake him off. Just before my rifle spat fire, Cheonrang moved first.
'Defend—'
Too late.
His sword grazed past the joint between the shield and the arm.
Kwaddeuk!
The massive shield I trusted was sliced off. The exterior spun through the air, dragging a friction sound like a scream.
I can't pick it up.
Rather, the rifle—
Before that thought could even finish, Cheonrang's fist slammed into the cockpit.
Kwaang!
The inside was shaken entirely. My vision bleached white for a moment, and the rifle slipped from my fingers.
"Evan!"
Earl Grey's scream erupted from behind the cockpit.
The rifle fell to my feet.
It was a pathetic sight.
Far from forcing an evasion, I lost all my weapons.
My mind went blank. As expected, the enemy in front of me wasn't an NPC in a game. He wasn't a lump of data moving according to a set pattern.
He judges for himself, makes decisions,
A human who finds the next move immediately if the answer is wrong.
If I can't provide an answer to his solution, I die. ...To survive, I must pick up a weapon.
I threw my body and reached for the rifle.
And the winning chance was cut off there.
Cheonrang stuck to me.
Borame's toe kicked Logos's chin.
Kwaang!
The impact surged through the neural network. My mind flew away for a moment before barely returning.
But there was no such thing as mercy for a guy fighting for his life. As I barely regained my senses, his fists poured down.
Solar plexus.
Face.
Solar plexus again.
"Keuheok..."
I tried to catch them.
My hands were slow.
I tried to block.
I couldn't block.
This was where the real problem started.
As the impact accumulated, my mind grew blurry layer by layer.
At first, a handful of concentration was enough to block a single sword. But now, I had to scrape the bottom of my mind to barely get the same result.
I could feel my thoughts burning away. It was becoming too much to handle.
Finally, Logos's knees buckled.
{Farewell. Apologize in hell.}
Cheonrang raised his laser blade.
It's falling.
Just before getting hit by it.
I gathered my remaining concentration and raised my hand.
Logos's hand caught the blade.
Chiiiiik!
The plasma wrapped around the blade dug into my palm. The exterior melted and flowed down.
The Covenant binds the Apostle and the machine through nerves. The higher the synchronization rate, and the lower the Apostle's aptitude, the more the wounds the machine sustains are fed back to the body.
In other words, for someone like me with low aptitude, this pain feels like it's on my real body, or perhaps even more terrible pain.
The sensation of both hands burning traveled up my nerves.
I gritted my teeth. A groan must not leak out. Because Earl Grey would make a sad face.
I could still avoid being found out.
The problem was on the other side.
"Ugh..."
Earl Grey groaned from behind me.
The barrier Earl Grey had been using to block my thoughts from leaking to Cheonrang, even as my emotions intensified, had cracked.
"Ughhh..."
{Yes. You're finally opening your mouth.}
Cheonrang's intent flowed in clearly.
It was as clear as someone chatting in the seat next to me.
{I was surprised that not a single word had leaked out until now. The Saint attached to your side must be quite something.}
I swallowed blood and retorted.
"I'd only mix words if you were worth talking to. Do you guys, who got beaten up after three of you jumped me, have the right to do that?"
{Your tongue seems to be fine.}
Cheonrang laughed lowly.
{Cheolgyeon.}
The weight on the sword increased by a notch.
{Do you know the Apostle codename Cheolgyeon? His real name is Masaki. He's my comrade whom you pierced the cockpit and killed. ...So this is revenge.}
My memories raced back. If it's the guy I killed, then on the first day I fell into this world...
Ah.
Is it that guy from that day?
That son of a bitch who tried to kill Earl Grey. He started all this just to get revenge for such a son of a bitch? I forcibly endured the rising pain and answered him with a sneer.
"That bastard died of natural causes. And do you guys, who burned down the entire slum and killed people like that, have the right to scream about someone's revenge?"
You and that guy called Cheolgyeon are no different. Making such a fuss just because your own blood is flowing after spilling so much of others'.
{The weak are guilty. Those slum dwellers gain salvation by helping us, the strong, in our revenge.}
However, no remorse could be felt in Cheonrang's thinking.
"You crazy bastard. Earl Grey and the citizens of this city are all people!"
Are all the guys riding omnipotent Advents just full of crazy people like this?
{Earl Grey? Isn't she the Saint that even Southern Cross threw away, saying she was useless? A defective product that rolled around without an Apostle. Since it's a life thrown away by those above, isn't it only right for her to die quietly?}
The inside of my solar plexus went cold.
My favorite is useless? After pouring in countless hours. While repeating countless deaths. My Saint, who always maintained her kindness, is useless?
Such trash dared to speak of her value.
"Right? Fine. I'll return that high-and-mighty standard right back to you."
{What?}
"You said the weak are guilty. Then let me ask. Which side is currently smashed after three of you swarmed me?"
I put strength into Logos's hand that was supporting the blade.
"By that standard, the weakest sinner here is. You guys."
{......}
Cheonrang put his weight into the sword without answering.
My half-melted hand slipped. And the blade dug in another span through the gap created by the melting. Logos's posture collapsed.
{Well. I think I'm superior in close quarters.}
A sneer was embedded in his intent.
"Shouldn't we see how that turns out?"
Even as I said that, I didn't feel confident that I could win. But I will win. Because losing to this bastard who insulted Earl Grey was worse than dying.
It was then. A red window popped up inside Logos's cockpit.
[Revelation Auxiliary System — Activated]
It was a window I hadn't requested.
The next moment, my vision was flipped entirely.
The vision flipped like that collapsed.
Cheonrang's next movement.
My action to counter it.
Everything was laid out in front of me in bright blue lines. The opponent's moves were read. If this were in the game, it would have been banned for breaking the balance.
But the price was just as clear.
"Kuuuuuuugh."
A pain like driving an awl into both eyes surged in.
It felt like someone was scratching my nerves with fingernails from inside my eyeballs.
Still, I had to hold on now.
Because to save Earl Grey, this is the only way.
I endured the agonizing pain and stepped on the line that Logos had laid out. Because I was the one who said I hated losing more than dying.
ㆍㆍㆍ
Strength gradually entered the hand holding the blade.
Crossing limit after limit...
__
Deudeudeu—
The blade of the sword began to bend slightly.
{...What is this?}
Cheonrang hesitated. I realized it. The precision and power of Logos's control had become completely different from just before.
The movements I had shown until now were the ideal of a perfect pilot. Always extracting the ideal value a pilot could produce through calculation. An excellent, but ultimately just machine-piloting method.
Now, the feeling was different. In the motion of gripping and twisting the sword. How should I put it, the 'hand feel'? It was imbued with a very human and raw sensation.
Logos lifted it while holding the blade. And it pressed Borame back in reverse.
The drive system screamed. Cheonrang's joint motors growled, squeezing to their limits.
{This makes no sense...}
Cheonrang's intent rippled.
Borame's feet dug into the ground and were pushed back. The concrete cracked and surged up like plowed soil.
It was being pushed back in output. A state-of-the-art 6th generation Borame, by an old 4th generation Advent of unknown origin.
I was just as flustered.
What I had rolled in the game was up to the 5th and 6th generations. I had never touched that 4th generation. I had read the setting that Logos was a technology demonstrator for the 4th generation, but this wasn't something that opened as a playable item.
"Earl Grey-nim... what is this?"
"It's because it's a 4th generation..."
Earl Grey said from behind me.
Her voice was trembling low.
"Because the 4th generation was made for the purpose of ending all wars... its class is different."
Was it not just junk? There was a lot I wanted to ask, but I didn't pry further. There was no time for that, either. If I could make Cheonrang kneel with this. That was enough. Whatever it took in exchange.
As the blade bent, Cheonrang threw away the half-broken sword and pulled back. Then he pulled out a machine gun and fired.
Logos stood up from the ground.
And it ran.
Wait.
But did I input this movement?
The black-colored Advent dug in like a beast through the pouring barrage. The Revelation Auxiliary System constantly pointed out the next direction. I stepped on the line and twisted my body.
Not a single shot touched me. The movement was surprisingly smooth. It felt like I was only controlling half of this machine.
I directed the direction, but I didn't feel like I was manipulating the actions.
No, in the first place, even that direction was suggested by Logos.
In reality, Logos is moving on its own.
Goosebumps rose.
Perhaps it doesn't even intend to hide that it wants to maneuver on its own now.
Even the paths that were given as options didn't appear.
As Logos ran, it grabbed the debris of a collapsed building. And it swung the entire chunk of special alloy pulled from that debris.
Kwaaaaaang!
Cheonrang's armor was intact, but the debris blocked his vision.
In that gap, Logos sprinted and approached in front of him.
And. It grabbed Borame's head. At the same time, it pulled up its knee and drove in a knee kick.
Kwaji-jik!
Borame lost its balance and tilted.
Logos.
It was holding the blade Cheonrang had thrown away at some point.
When on earth did it pick it up? It was so natural that even I didn't see it.
The blade went up. The laser blade was driven into Cheonrang's right arm.
Chiiiiik!
{Kuaaaak!}
A scream tore through the Afterglow Field. Control was no longer in my hands. Logos had escaped outside my will.
Like a beast with its own will. Who on earth are you? Instead of answering, Logos clenched its broken hand tightly. And holding onto Cheonrang's machine.
It stabbed the cockpit wildly with the edge of its hand.
Puk. Puk. Puk.
The armor dented, and the metal folded inward.
"Evan? Evan, what is this—"
Earl Grey asked in a trembling voice.
I kept rubbing both eyes with my hands. My eyes were hot as if burned by fire because of Logos.
"...This."
I barely opened my mouth.
"This, I'm not the one piloting it."