Enter the Void 3

She was a dangerous woman. One glance was all it took to know that much. To begin with, machine eyes shaped like glowing hearts were proof enough that she was not operating within the bounds of sanity.

And she certainly didn't stop there. Her cybernetic body — a full replacement like Santa's — shimmered with light even in this moment, most of all the pair of arms wrought from silver chrome.

Her outfit drew the eye as well. Over a bodysuit that laid bare every curve of her figure, advertising slogans from a dozen corporations blinked and flashed in endless geometric patterns. Then there was the lilac hair that glowed all on its own, and the pair of legs shaped like high heels.

If Sanctum's gaudy splendor and chaos were ever sculpted into human form, wouldn't it look something like this? Ash thought so.

"Ta-daaam! Your most hated bitch has arrived!"

Something flew out the instant the woman finished speaking. Baseball-sized micro-drones. They circled around her, spewing multicolored light like stage spotlights.

Hidden behind the debris, watching it all unfold, Akina drew in a sharp breath.

"Ifrit...!"

Ash turned his head at that. Then, dialing his volume down as low as it would go, he murmured,

"What do you know of that woman?"

"A little. She's a Pathfinder affiliated with Halloween Entertainment."

"Halloween?"

Ash rapidly sifted through his internal database, pulling up information.

While Ash was verifying the information, a Pathfinder who had lost a leg and collapsed onto the ground screamed out.

"Why! Fucking why are you doing this!"

The man, groaning in agony, bellowed at the top of his lungs — a surprisingly shrill roar for a face contorted with pain and terror.

"What did we ever do to you!"

At his shout, the flamboyant woman — Ifrit — let out a giggle.

"How the hell would I know?"

"Wh-what...?"

"How would I know what you did wrong? You're just gonna die because you're a Restman. Restmen are what I hate most in this world."

"You crazy bitch!"

The man drew the pistol strapped to his thigh.

But Ifrit was faster.

BOOM!

The pistol in her hand — plainly no ordinary weapon even at a glance — roared fire, and one of the man's arms shattered into fragments.

"AAAAAAGH!!"

The man rolled across the ground. One of the drones filming the woman drifted over to him, panning back and forth between his pain-wracked face and the mangled stump.

"Whoa!"

Eyes wide with genuine surprise, Ifrit grabbed one of the drones filming her and held up her pistol for the camera.

"You all saw that, right? That insane firepower! The latest model from 'ChakaChaka Industries' — the Bloody Heart Mk.7! The design is to die for—"

"Ughaaah! Ughaaaaah!!"

The Restman's screams rang out between her cascading ad read. Clearly annoyed by the interruption, the woman scowled.

And then, once more.

She aimed at the Restman's face and fired.

BOOM!

With the deafening report, the screaming stopped. Pleased by the silence, the woman winked at her drone.

She didn't forget to show off the pistol in her hand, either.

"...The Bloody Heart Mk.7! Killer design, right? The performance is even killer-er! Buy yours right now! Oh, and don't forget to use referral code 'Ifrit'! Be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sure to claim your 5% discount!"

The woman's bizarre theatrics continued long after that. She grabbed the half-obliterated face of the Restman and posed for photos with it, had her drones play music while she danced, then tripped over the corpse and flashed an embarrassed grin.

After chattering away for a good while, Ifrit suddenly put on a mournful expression.

"Everyone! Hate to say it, but I gotta go charge up for a bit! I'll be back later, okay? Promise me! See you in an hour! This has been Ifrit!"

With a flourish of flying finger kisses, Ifrit activated the cyberware on her shoulders. The two drones that had been circling her emitted a soft beep of broadcast termination, returned to her shoulders, and vanished without a trace into her frame. That, apparently, was how she charged.

And with the broadcast over, silence finally settled over the ruins.

"Phew."

With the short exhale, the smile she'd worn this whole time vanished. A small frown filled the space it left behind.

"Ugh! How the hell am I supposed to use this thing?"

Flinging the pistol away, Ifrit rolled her shoulders in wide circles. The recoil was serious enough to strain her entire frame.

"A pistol firing large-caliber rounds — whose idiot brain spat out THAT idea? What are arms made of, titanium? Those ChakaChaka bastards are certifiably insane, I'll give them that. Argh! If it weren't for the contract—"

Ranting in an irritation-drenched voice, she abruptly fell silent. Then she stared hard at something.

"...Huh?"

Beside the discarded pistol. A small, translucent wrapper had caught her eye.

"..."

Ifrit picked up the wrapper along with the pistol. Then she brought her nose to the inside of it and sniffed. A faint sweetness lingered there.

Proof that it had been opened recently.

Her gaze turned toward the corpses.

The fleeing Restman had suddenly gotten hungry and stopped to eat an energy stick? Nonsense. Ifrit scanned her surroundings. Until now she'd assumed this was just another corner of the Outer, but now that she'd found something off, the strange details began to stand out.

Footprints, for instance.

Prints pressed into the dust layered thick upon thick — and they led toward the blocked-off heap of debris.

"I mean, it's the Outer and all, but still. Littering like this — that's a bit much, don't you think?"

Ifrit said.

No answer came back.

"Honestly, banana flavor beats strawberry anyway. What do you even know."

Still no answer. And so Ifrit trained her muzzle on the debris and followed the footprints.

"Come out."

"..."

"I know you're there, so come out."

A heavy silence flowed between them.

"No? Fine, I'll come to you, then?"

Ifrit advanced toward the debris slowly, unhurriedly. Just as the unnameable tension was beginning to swell —

"That is far enough."

An electronic voice drifted out from behind the debris.

"Do not approach any further."

"...A humanoid?"

"What I am hardly matters, does it? I concealed myself only to avoid needless commotion, so I would ask that the yeohyeop simply carry on her way. I shall let the killing of a moment ago pass without question. That is all I have to say. Go."

Ifrit felt a moment of vertigo. It took her a beat to process the situation.

Which is to say — the humanoid hiding behind the debris was issuing threats in an impeccably refined tone of voice, without even showing its face.

She mulled it over for a moment, and then suddenly thought: why am I even hesitating over this?

"Cut the crap and show yourself."

"Must I?"

"Or I shoot?"

"..."

A moment later, Ash stepped out of the darkness. The steel blade still hung in his hand.

"So it really was a humanoid."

Ash gave no answer. He merely lowered his bladed hand naturally and took a few more steps forward.

When barely five paces remained between them, Ash brought his hands together. A fist-and-palm salute, performed sword still in hand. Within that flawless, untouched formality, Ash lit up his cyan optical sensors and spoke.

"Greetings. I am called Ash Blade."

Startled by the sheer antiquity and bearing of it, Ifrit unconsciously took a step back.

"Ah — yes. Nice to meet you—"

Having slipped into honorifics without thinking, Ifrit quickly caught herself and shook her head.

"I'm Ifrit."

"I know."

"Good for you, then. You alone?"

"I am."

She held up the energy stick wrapper.

"Then it was you who ate this?"

"It was."

Silence.

Ash and Ifrit stared at each other, unblinking.

Ifrit spoke first. Her voice carried something cold where the playfulness of moments ago had been.

"I'll ask again. You ate this. A humanoid — like you?"

"I did."

"You're not alone, are you?"

"I am alone."

The cold turned to frost.

"I don't like liars."

Ash answered.

"And I do not care for those who take life as sport."

Between two utterances with not an inch of retreat in either, the tension of a drawn bow stretched taut. The LED heart and the optical sensors locked on one another, each blazing with its own light.

And at that very moment —

"Wa — waaah! It's Elementary Girls!"

Akina, who had been hiding in the debris, cautiously revealed herself. She tucked herself half behind Ash — precisely, behind Ash — and kept talking.

"Waaah! Could you be Ifrit-unni from Elementary Girls? I'm such a huge fan! I even know the songs. Um, how did it go? Set your heart ablaze, Fire in the Hole! Yay!"

The girl hummed a clumsy bar of the song — a total mess, wrong pitch, wrong rhythm, wrong lyrics, everything.

Watching her, Ash exhaled a short sigh inwardly. Akina was doing her best, in her own way, to break the deadlock.

As Akina moved on to actual dancing, Ash waved a hand.

"Ah, Sohye, I see it, so if you could just stop—"

"PUHAHAHAHA!"

Ifrit, who had been watching Akina's antics with a look of pure idiocy on her face, suddenly burst out laughing.

"Hey. Squirt. You got every single bit of that wrong. And what are you doing, singing something that ancient? When do you think Elementary Girls broke up?"

Ifrit lowered her gun.

Ash was, inwardly, considerably taken aback.

This actually worked?

Knowing nothing of what a fan meant to an artist, Ash could not make heads or tails of the situation at all.

"Ah. Haven't laughed like that in a while."

Ifrit slid the pistol all the way into its holster ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and looked the two of them over.

"You two a team? Out on a survey?"

"Yes! We came to do mapping. What about you, unni?"

"Hobby stuff."

Hobby stuff.

A phrase that could mean a great many things.

"Ah, ahaha..."

"I know what you're thinking, so don't worry. I only ever beat down Restmen."

She shrugged and said it like it was nothing.

"Well, anyway. As long as you're not a Restman, we're fine. You're good at mapping or whatever it is, squirt. If things get dangerous, hide well like you just did—"

Ifrit reached out to pat Akina's head. But Ash's hand blocked hers.

"I wish the yeohyeop well in her hobbies as well."

"...I worried over nothing, it seems."

Ifrit slapped Ash's hand away and turned on her heel.

"Bye-bye, unni!"

"Right. Let's never meet again."

The woman waved a hand a couple of times and melted into the darkness. After she was gone, Akina let out a long, long breath and sank down where she stood.

"That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt like... like an ion storm just swept through."

Ash, who had retrieved his pack at some point, pulled out a water bottle and handed it to the girl.

"That was not yours to do, Sohye. That one is a truly dangerous creature. In body, and in mind."

At his words, Akina pulled a sulky face.

"I know. That's why I stepped in. Before you two came to blows. Ifrit's actually a pretty famous idol, you know."

"All the more reason you should have stayed out of it."

At Ash's stern, unyielding tone, Akina stuck out her lower ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lip. But perhaps she felt a little guilty herself, because she conceded quickly enough.

"...Fine. Sorry."

Ash answered by twisting the cap off the bottle for her. Then he looked around.

"I see no reason to linger here any longer. There has already been one disturbance — other things may come sniffing."

Akina, rubbing her stiff neck, nodded.

"Shall we head out now?"

"Let us."

With that brief exchange, the two readied themselves to leave. Just as they were about to slip back into the darkness of the ruins, Akina spoke up.

"Wait a second."

She picked the energy stick wrapper up off the ground and stuffed it into her pocket. It was what had given them away, after all — perhaps her own small resolve never to repeat the same mistake.

And the two of them walked quietly back into the now-hushed ruins, as if the whole disturbance of moments ago had never happened at all.