Reunion with My Revered Mentor
My mentor had appeared out of nowhere. "Heavens, Master! You're safe!"
"Indeed, shamefully and pathetically, I've survived. I have no face to show."
"Don't say such things. I'm thrilled to see you again!"
My revered mentor, Kurayami Gawa Reizo, was actually my other bodyguard. We'd grown close during my rehab when I took up kendo as an indoor sport, and that's when I started calling her "Master." It was genuine joy to see her again. But separate from that, there was one thing I needed to address.
I pondered how to broach it when Bell beat me to the punch.
"Kurayami Gawa, are you still truly on the young master's side?"
"...What do you mean by that, Bellatrix?"
Bell's blunt question froze the atmosphere in an instant. It was exactly what I'd wanted to ask, but her tone was too sharp. Come to think of it, those two had never gotten along. Master furrowed her brow, her eyes sharpening, while Bell pressed on without backing down.
"Let me be frank. Given the circumstances, aren't you here as an agent or lackey of some third force?"
Master didn't resist; she simply nodded calmly. But beneath that composure lurked a shadow of melancholy.
"I won't deny it. Due to my own shortcomings, I had to grasp the hand extended by the faction eager to intervene this time. After all, I had to rescue the young master."
"Rescue? Isn't that kidnapping? They didn't even hide their impure intentions."
"I'm mortified to my core. But there was no other way. Even if we escape here now, you know that's not the end of it."
"Ridiculous. My high regard for your resolve must have been a mistake. If you're going to grovel like a beaten dog, then get lost and—"
"Enough. This isn't the time for us to fight among ourselves."
The argument was getting too heated, so I stepped in. What we needed now was information, not this emotional waste of breath.
Bell bowed her head as if ashamed and stepped back. Master fell silent, her face heavy with worry. That's when I noticed something under the brace on her left arm—an artificial joint.
A prosthetic...?
It gleamed black like lacquered ebony, something I hadn't seen before she was conscripted amid the worsening situation. Besides, Master wasn't the type who needed cybernetic implants.
She caught my gaze, her expression darkening further as she unfastened the brace and revealed the arm that had replaced her original one.
"This is proof of my frailty, unable to bear even my own incompetence. Thus, I could only stand before you by borrowing another's backing and resources."
"So you accepted their support to come persuade us."
"If you're disappointed and cast me out, I have no defense. But... please, at least recognize that my words aren't farce, and my sincerity is true. Their aims may be presumptuous, but they can aid us in breaking this deadlock for now."
Master finished and lowered her head. Bell eyed her with displeasure before shooting me a look that demanded a decision.
We truly couldn't delay any longer. My revered mentor had allied with a third force to save me. Now she was urging me to shake their hand. Was grasping a fishing line while fleeing a shark the right call? I didn't know. But one thing I had to nail down.
"Master, no matter where you stand, you'll fight for me, right?"
"Of course. On that, I swear with my life."
"Yes. Then I'll trust your word and accept the offer."
"...Thank you. Time is short—we should depart at once. I'll lead the way to the escape route, so follow without delay."
With that, Master reattached her brace, drew her odachi from its scabbard, and leaped out through a square hole in the stairwell wall. The cleanly severed edges suggested she'd cut this new entrance to enter the building.
As I headed down to follow, Bell spoke anxiously from behind.
"I'll respect your decision, of course, but can we truly trust her words?"
"It'll be fine. I trust her as much as I trust you."
Moreover, the situation was dire. A force that could monitor us near the City, even risking conflict with Anastasis, could strike our backs anytime. That meant pursuit by two factions. Overwhelming with one was bad enough; two was impossible. Better to take the friendly overture from an acquaintance while it lasted.
"Whoa."
Bell tried to scoop me up princess-style, but I anticipated it and jumped through the hole first. Four stories up, but my body could handle the impact.
I considered switching back to infrared vision, but outside, the thick smog that had choked the area had cleared considerably. Someone—likely for their operation—had purified the air. Thanks to that, normal vision sufficed.
Straight ahead, several dispersed Mosaic units lay processed, courtesy of Master. Bell landed behind me, and we dashed after the trail she'd carved through them.
"Hey, Terry, Harper. You two, check inside those burning trucks over there. If any survivors are hiding, shoot them on sight."
"Yes, Team Leader!"
The net-masked operatives moved at their orange-banded team leader's command. Their target: the armored trucks ablaze from heavy weapons fire. They obeyed without complaint, but inwardly, they grumbled at the hassle. Even if someone survived the explosions and was hunkered down, trapped in that inferno's heat and smoke, they'd long since succumbed to burns or asphyxiation.
Well, better than chasing the scattered fighters still shooting it up. Honestly, dying on a merc job is my loss.
Harper, the one so named, aimed his extinguisher at the trucks. White urethane-like foam sprayed on, devouring the flames on the surfaces and sealing in the smoke.
With the fire somewhat subdued, Terry advanced rifle-ready. She approached the trailer and tried to inspect the cargo hold. Opening the door unleashed residual heat and exhaust that hit her full force. Her suit blocked the heat and toxins, but the stench still induced dry heaves.
"Kek! Kek! Ugh, nothing much."
As expected, the first hold was packed with charred, mangled corpses, still warm. The second was similar. The third held pricey electronic warfare gear, but fire damage and impacts had ruined it—no salvageable parts worth selling. Wreckage too severe even for slum scrap dealers.
Terry, hoping for some pocket money in the lull, eyed the fourth truck disappointingly and opened its hold. Among the hefty armored rigs, this one was especially massive, sparking faint curiosity about its contents.
What... what the hell is this?
Unlike the others, Terry recoiled in shock. Filling the hold was a massive device, scarred with soot and melted patches here and there, yet somehow giving off a vibe that it could still function. Like a critical patient hooked to life support in ICU, it was linked everywhere with cables to other internals. Metal tentacles draped the floor, and a huge, spindly metallic arm loomed—its frail, emaciated form unnerving.
Terry couldn't fathom what it was or its purpose. Though her merc career was short, she trusted her instincts, and this screamed bad omens. She yelled to her partner outside.
"Harper! Come here and look at this! What the fu—ow, hot!"
Terry slapped her palm to the sudden pain at her nape. A metal cable had pierced her suit, jacking straight into her neural accelerator.
Panicking at the unforeseen hack, she yanked to disconnect. Too late. Something flooded her mind through the cable—like acid dissolving her anxiety, fear, doubt, hostility, confusion in seconds. Then, seamlessly, it implanted the desired actions as if they'd been her own idea all along.
Task complete, Terry detached the cable from her neck, blinked blankly under her net mask, and stepped out of the trailer. As she casually shut the door, Harper—extinguisher down, rifle up—rushed over in alarm.
"Terry! What was that? Didn't you call me? What's inside?"
"Oh, that...?"
Terry slowly turned to Harper, flashing an input-commanded smile no one could see.
"Just called 'cause your honey-sucking pisses me off. Let's go report to the team leader."