The Fallen Angel's Insatiable Thirst

Test Nexus run—

The first test site was Lab 1, Aleph Sector—the empty expanse where I'd clashed with Mastema.

As expected for a test, nothing in the lab was particularly challenging. Just move around like this and that, take out the dummy targets set up here and there. Simple stuff.

But—

Paang!

The moment I triggered the burst, it accelerated far faster than anticipated. I reflexively sucked in a sharp breath.

"Ugh."

I'd seen it before, but experiencing it firsthand from inside the cockpit made it crystal clear. The mobility was insane.

'Pilot safety features are on this thing, right?'

Inertia dampeners, gyroscopes, that sort of deal. Even with all that, the shock was this bad. In the chaotic flux of a real battlefield, if speed spiked suddenly, I couldn't guarantee what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would happen to the pilot.

I squinted and followed the instructions.

Paang, paang, paang!!

"Guh."

It felt like my guts were flipping inside out. Guess the human body really does have bones and organs in there after all.

Just saying my physical durability is low, huh. Thanks for the useless info.

Anyway, the tests dragged on like that. And at some point, I noticed something.

'Hmm.'

The problem wasn't just the mobility overwhelming for a human.

'My senses are getting sharper...'

Cold sweat beaded up, my vision suddenly shifted wildly—bad signs cropping up. It felt like electric worms were wriggling inside my body, a phantom pain crawling through me.

'This is the Fallen Angel's burden.'

I recalled Mastema's words. The devil that sucks the pilot's blood dry.

I pulled up the pilot status window—something I'd never consciously checked while riding a Nexus before. Red warnings flashed everywhere, screaming anomalies. Neural load blatantly exceeding baselines.

Kuung!!

My body trembled faintly from the strain, but I finished off the heavy exo-frame.

The camera caught it exploding in a small blast.

I wiped my hands on the pilot suit and sighed. No rest for the weary.

Another target locked on from across the sector. Gripping the controls again, I crossed the lab.

'By the way...'

What the hell happened to Mastema while piloting the Fallen Angel to turn him into that ghost? That was the biggest reason I climbed into this thing—to find out.

During the tests, I'd been scanning for anything off, anything unusual, but nothing stood out.

'The suspiciously high load is the only red flag.'

Was it just the output ramping up pilot strain? Either way, this machine felt wrong to pilot. Like...

'Yeah.'

It felt like it was wresting control away. I like the sense that I wield the Nexus in battle, but the Fallen Angel felt like the Nexus gripping the pilot, trying to use me as its bio-engine.

No way a mere Nexus frame had ego, but that's how it hit me. The intense load creeping in from outside, that vivid invasive sensation.

Clack, clack.

"I'm the one moving."

'Your brain is mine.'

My hand tried to veer the stick off-course on its own. I scolded it and shoved forward hard. Conscious resistance.

That's when it happened.

Jijik—

'Ah.'

Sudden noise spiked the sensors. Vision blacked out for a split second.

Something like that alarm flashed amid the noise, I think.

'Huh...'

But maybe a hallucination? Senses snapped back to normal.

"Oh...?"

Somehow, the load felt lighter. The resistant stick moved smoothly now.

"A sharp drop in system load was observed in the data. Can you describe what happened at that moment?"

"...Hmm."

After the first test wrapped, it was feedback time. I took the lab coat guy's handout and just stared blankly.

'More like, the average system load numbers look off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the start.'

Shouldn't I point that out first? And they planned to release this to market?

But no one would listen anyway, so I focused on the drop.

'Definitely.'

Average system load—enough for permanent damage if sustained long-term—plotted steady from boot-up through most of the test. Then plummeted at one point. Even a layman could see something was wrong from the graph's sudden dip.

'But.'

Nexus op data logs fully to the black box. Why ask me?

I narrowed my eyes at the researcher, wondering. No sign he was testing me. Genuine curiosity.

"Didn't feel like anything special... Ah."

The drop hit right when I thought sensor noise glitched—when the resistance in my movements eased.

But the researcher tilted his head.

"Sensor anomaly? Nothing like that was observed."

"Oh, right."

It had vanished so fast, I'd chalked it up to imagination anyway.

Still, the load drop there was noteworthy. We tacitly agreed it was just a glitch and moved on.

But whether looking at him or checking inside myself, it was obvious. Something was in that fake-out noise. Something deeply suspicious, unlogged.

I broached it.

"By the way, the Fallen Angel feels leagues beyond any Nexus so far."

"Ah, yeah. Thanks to Arc Angel's superior tech."

"Even accounting for that, it jumps several tech generations ahead..."

I eyed him carefully. Stone-cold poker face—no bite.

"The load drop is likely a black box logging error. If it recurs consistently, that's another story."

"Yeah, probably."

"Indeed."

We stared meaningfully for a beat, then he turned and left first.

'If something's fishy, you'd think he'd share and brainstorm.'

Security's airtight. I felt a twinge of regret heading off for round two.

"An anomaly occurred during the test, per the report."

The Fallen Angel project lead sat alone in the dim conference room, conversing remotely. He tapped his laptop at the big screen's request.

"Sent. Can you confirm?"

He sighed.

"You can handle it, so no need to trim—just send raw, you said."

Grousing, the analyst still skimmed fast. Soon, nodded at the lead's flagged spot.

"What is?"

Out of left field. Lead frowned.

"What's that got to do—?"

"What?"

"Isn't it?"

Hint dropped, the analyst toyed with his hands playfully.

"...?"

"..."

The lead stared at the screen, half-grasping, half-not. Silent.

With that, the analyst cut the line.

Click.