Author; "I'm uploading the two chapters I had already written, along with the first three of my new novel. I've been playing Phantom Liberty, which I hadn't touched yet… and honestly, it's making me want to write Cyberpunk again. I'm even considering reworking the third season.
It's not confirmed for now, as I'm focused on the new novel. Take a look and let me know what you think"
-
Sofía and Mara Brant, the wife and daughter of Dr. Elias "Helios," screamed as they clung to each other in the center of the room. They tried unsuccessfully to ignore their surroundings, where brutal air currents struck them forcefully, accompanied by dry, grotesque sounds of flesh and metal being torn apart alike.
At the epicenter of the gale stood a silhouette, barely visible amidst the violent gusts. Each of its movements generated pressure waves so intense that the wind itself seemed sharp. The elite soldiers and Sundown himself were caught in this dance of destruction, where the cuts were not only swift but so brutal that fragments of armor and bodies fell like rain from a storm.
Amidst the chaos, a soldier—the same one who had helped earlier—stumbled forward, struggling to stay on his feet as the air currents battered him. His arm shielded his face in an attempt to protect himself.
Upon reaching the two women, he wasted no time. "MOVE!" he shouted over the roar of the gale. He grabbed Sofía and Mara firmly, forcing them to rise from the floor. They screamed, instinctively struggling against his grip, but the soldier could not afford to be gentle.
"Come on, now!" he insisted, dragging them firmly. The sound of slicing behind him, the screech of metal giving way, and the muffled cries of the elite soldiers reminded him that there was no time.
As he barely managed to pull them away, thick droplets began to fall around them. At first, they looked like water, but when one landed on his glove, he saw what it was: a dense, grayish mixture of blood. The substance pulsed faintly, as if trying to seep through the fabric.
The soldier muttered, "Shit!" through clenched teeth, not daring to look back. He knew what was happening. The armored and enhanced bodies of the elite soldiers and Sundown himself were being torn apart, reduced to nothing more than pulverized remains that now rained down upon them.
Fearing infection, he ripped off the glove, throwing it onto the metallic floor where the substance slowly spread, and he quickened his pace, ignoring the protests of the two women.
He directed them toward one of the open cells, like the rest of his surviving companions. Without hesitation, the soldier shoved Sofía and Mara Brant inside, almost throwing them in his desperation. He slammed the door shut with a sharp bang and leaned against it, panting. In the corner above the single bed, a woman and a child, both huddled in fear, stared at him with wide eyes.
"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you!" the soldier growled, raising a hand to calm them while frantically inspecting himself. His gaze darted over every inch of his body, searching for any drop that might have touched him. Then he checked the women, scanning their clothes and skin for traces of that grayish substance. Sofía trembled, clutching Mara tightly.
After a few endless seconds, the soldier let out a trembling sigh of relief. There was no sign of infection… for now.
When the room fell silent, the soldier waited a moment, holding his breath, a mix of fear and urgency on his face, before opening the cell door.
What he saw left him speechless.
The metallic floor where the combat had taken place was covered in cuts, deepening as they approached the epicenter. The sharp lines spread like scars, some so deep it seemed as though the structure itself was on the verge of collapse.
Around him, eleven dark pools glistened under the flickering lights: they were all that remained of the elite soldiers—small, unrecognizable fragments of black metal mixed with a viscous, grayish substance.
Amidst the devastation, still standing, was Captain Sundown.
His body was a ruin. Literally. The armor, which had once looked like part of his skin, was shattered, riddled with cuts that spread like deep cracks across his torso and limbs. Both arms were gone, severed at different heights: one at the elbow, the other halfway up the bicep, leaving exposed stumps. Despite the wounds, his body was still trying to repair itself, as though it were futilely struggling to patch what little was left of him.
The soldier swallowed hard, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, unable to tear his gaze away from the grotesque spectacle. Then, suddenly, Sundown began to laugh.
It was a low, guttural sound, almost drowned by the blood bubbling in his throat. The laughter grew louder, more frenzied, as if the situation wasn't a defeat but the best joke in the world.
Bewildered, the soldier quickly turned his head, following his ex-captain's gaze toward the source of his macabre amusement.
The moment he saw it, he felt his heart skip a beat.
The person who was supposed to be his enemy—the same one who had saved him—fell to one knee, driving the only surviving sword from his own onslaught into the ground just to barely remain "standing." His chest rose and fell irregularly, as if each breath were a battle in itself. His face was covered in sweat and blood, but that wasn't the worst of it.
It was the dense, grayish blood splattered across his exhausted face, pooling over an open wound on his brow. The same infected substance that had consumed the elite soldiers.
For the first time, the soldier felt true panic, realizing that the one person he thought could help them survive was infected.
Sora ignored the alarms and the flashing windows on his HUD, warning him about the damage to his body, the dangerously low nanobot count, and the breach in his system. He simply... closed his eyes, letting the constant, searing pain coursing through his body fade into the background as he focused all his attention on mobilizing his defenses.
Inside his body, the black nanobots sprang into action immediately. There was no elegant strategy, just a rapid and brutal response. They lunged at the grayish microbots, engulfing and dismantling them piece by piece. It was like a swarm of ravenous ants attacking a group of intruding rats, devouring them until nothing was left but their bones.
With a conscious effort, Sora allowed some microbots to remain intact just long enough to trace the signal controlling them. His nanobots connected to the data stream, and his consciousness navigated through a hidden digital current linking each gray microbot.
Suddenly, his digital wolf-like body emerged in cyberspace, formed by the collective microbots. It was a strange environment, made up of interconnected fragments of code vibrating like exposed nerves. Two structures dominated this space.
The first was a network of small servers, each operating independently, but together forming a clearly separated section of the system. The rest was something entirely different: dark, colossal, and under the control of an entity eerily imitating parasitic and infectious life—like a fungus, a bacterium... or a virus.
That image was all too familiar to Sora, evoking memories of his time as an Arc behind the Blackwall, a place infested with Daemons twisted and mutated by Bartmoss's R.A.B.I.D.S.
The very next instant, the cyberspace itself stirred, as if an alarm had been triggered. The Daemon's systems began mobilizing. Digital segments—small and sharp like data blades—deployed en masse, moving like antibodies to attack his intrusion.
Before the Daemon's defenses could reach him, Sora stepped into the divided section of the system, the one formed by the small, independent servers.
He stood still, watching as those "antibodies" collided against an invisible barrier, unable to follow him. It was as if the section he had entered operated under a different logic, separated from the Daemon's control.
From behind the barrier, with the sound of impacts and the growls of the antibodies trying to reach him in the background, Sora observed the Daemon's cyberspace closely and let out a heavy sigh, focusing on the nodes that comprised it.
If he attacked it directly, it was highly likely that the Daemon, feeling threatened, would sever the connection to the compromised section—like a frightened lizard shedding its tail to escape.
With no choice but to leave it be for now, Sora examined the divided space within the cyberspace, parasitizing the parasite. It was composed of servers that pulsed with a rhythm that felt strangely familiar...
Each "server" seemed alive, organic in its complexity, emitting signals that replicated neural impulses. It was as if this network wasn't formed by lines of code and traditional servers but by something more fundamental, something biological... like him.
"You've got to be kidding me…" muttered the wolf, its body made of black code resembling fur, perplexed as he examined one of those "servers." His eyes narrowed, unable to decide whether what he was seeing was a grotesque masterpiece or an abomination. "So... this is how you 'control' part of the infection."
He spoke to himself, now understanding the existence of the elite units, Sundown's transformation, and... the brain extractions from soldiers in the abandoned village.
Wasting no time, he focused his attention on the "server" controlling the microbots in the same room that housed his physical body. Once located, Sora materialized a Getsuda formed of lines and fragments of his own code between his digital jaws. With a swift motion of his neck, he severed the connection.
In the vast chamber where they were contained, red lights lit up over a dozen capsules, indicating that the connected brains had flatlined suddenly. The intense lighting and the blaring alarm that accompanied it shattered the rhythm of the battle, immediately drawing the attention of the two individuals and the head locked in combat in the room.
At the same time Sora opened his eyes, small electric shocks seemed to escape from his wounded eyebrow, burning away the grayish droplets on his face—a visible manifestation of his nanobots consuming the microbots in their futile attempt to infect him.
Sundown, panting heavily, felt a shiver run down his spine. Something was wrong.
Before he could react, a burning sensation surged up his throat. His esophagus suddenly filled with a warm, metallic-tasting liquid—his own blood. With a guttural noise, he vomited a dark gush that splattered on the floor, his breathing turning erratic.
The pain coursing through him was anything but normal. He felt it in his veins, in his muscles, as if the Cyberplague inhabiting his body—his supposed advantage—had completely spiraled out of control. The system that granted him strength was now devouring him from within, a corrosive fire consuming him mercilessly.
"What... what have you done to me...?" he managed to stammer between gasps, staring at Sora in horror as his wound-riddled body began to falter.
As Sundown fell to his knees, Sora, breathing heavily, straightened up slowly. "Karma," he rasped, taking a heavy step toward him.
The helplessness of defeat and fear of the inevitable swirled in Sundown's throat, forming an angry shout. "Why?! You, of all people; the one who didn't stop until you tore an Arasaka's arm off? You oppose us? Your enemies are also our enemies! You should already know what we're after... a free world... at any price!"
Sora, as he approached, fixed him with cold eyes until, finally, he let out a brief sigh. "While it's true that I sympathize with certain parts of your 'ideals,' what you are in reality is a lie. An excuse being used by what you're hiding in the 'basement,' to create chaos and weaken humanity... until it becomes easy to take over."
Sundown's pale face, deformed by black veins spreading uncontrollably, twisted in anguish. He had never fully trusted his association with the AIs beyond the wall, but he couldn't oppose the insistence of his "superiors." And now, as his life faded, it was ironic to think that he was dying precisely because of one of those "endorsements" they had accepted for their cause.
He opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, perhaps to justify his decisions. But before he could utter a single word, Sora, who had no interest in whatever he might say, interrupted him.
"Besides..." he began, raising Getsuda, the blade's gleam illuminating his blood-smeared face. "How could I allow anyone who targets my mother... to live?"
Sundown blinked, incredulous. "Mother?" he stammered, his mind reeling from the revelation. His eyes scanned Sora's sharp, distinctly Asian features. Instantly, the image of the only other Asian woman among their targets surfaced in his mind, making the pieces click into place and leading his confusion to a terrifying conclusion. "It can't be... your mother is HA—"
The sentence remained unfinished, cut short by the swift, flashing swing of Getsuda slicing through the air—and his neck. The blade struck cleanly and silently, halting Sundown at the height of his shock. His head hit the ground with a dull thud, while the rest of his body stood frozen for a moment longer before collapsing.
The kidnapped families and surviving soldiers, believing the battle to be over, began to timidly emerge from their rooms. Their steps were slow, laden with uncertainty, until two deafening gunshots shattered the fragile silence.
Causing screams of panic among the mothers and fathers, who instinctively covered their children's eyes to shield them from the scene unfolding before them. Sundown's monstrous head being reduced to a grotesque pool of metal, flesh, and grayish blood.
The onlookers quickly turned their gaze toward the one responsible. Standing in the center of the room, holstering his silver Malorian 3516 under his arm, its barrel still smoking
The same soldier who had saved Sofía and Mara was the one who, after a few seconds of hesitation, slowly approached him. He swallowed hard and, fearful of the response, dared to ask:
"Are you okay?"
Sora, pale and visibly exhausted, raised his eyes to him. His gaze showed fatigue, but his expression remained steady. He nodded slightly before replying.
"What's your name?"
"Cha… Charles," the soldier stammered, stumbling over his own name.
"All right, Charles," Sora continued, his voice low but firm. "I suppose you're talking to me because you want to get out of here alive, am I wrong?"
Charles tensed but eventually nodded. "No sir!. I think my time…" He hesitated for a second, feeling the presence of his comrades positioning themselves behind him. He quickly corrected himself. "Our time in this organization is over."
Sora observed the other soldiers, who confirmed with a slight nod, sharing the same resolve. Then, with a faint nod of his own, he continued, his gaze fixed on the families, filled with uncertainty, as they slowly approached.
"Good. Then get these people out of here. Take them to one of the rescue pods."
Charles seemed puzzled by the simplicity of the order. "That's it?" he asked, a mix of surprise and caution in his voice.
Sora slowly shook his head, raising his right arm. The absence of the armored frame around it immediately drew the attention of the group of soldiers. Dejando expuesto the internal machinery; his grapple in the wrisp, compressed gas cylinders along his forearm, and an array of weapons and compartments seamlessly integrated into the structure.
With a soft click, one of the compartments in his palm opened, and a black cylinder emerged. Sora held it briefly before handing it to Charles.
"Take this. It's a secure line from the base's communication system. Use it to contact the personnel working here against their wil..." As they listened to him, the civilians began to approach slowly, like frightened animals filled with hope. "Have their families tell you who they are. Then, instruct them to escape as discreetly as possible to one of the escape pods. Give them these coordinates as a rendezvous point."
Charles lowered his gaze to the cylinder in his hand. The small side screen of the device lit up, displaying the coordinates Sora was referring to. The soldier looked up at him, nodding with a mix of respect and purpose.
"What about my father?" asked Mara, the young daughter of Dr. Helios, breaking the silence as she wriggled free from her mother's arms.
Drawing everyone's attention, including Sora's. She instinctively stepped back, retreating to her mother's side under the weight of his gaze. Despite his exhaustion and injuries, he still exuded an intimidating presence that was overwhelming for someone as young as David.
Sora let out a faint sigh before responding. "If everything goes as it should, you'll reunite with him there." His tone was calm, but there was a firmness in his words that made Mara nod slowly, clutching her mother's hand tightly.
Then, he turned to Charles, his focus returning to the practical details. "Surrender only to a representative of Lazarus," he ordered, his voice sharp and precise. "Tell them you are under the protection of the 13th Seat, who sent you, and hand them the cylinder. It contains all the information we've gathered so far."
The soldier looked at the device in his hands, now understanding its true significance. Sora had uploaded all the data Jack had secured to a cloud network formed by the cyberware of both.
"Fine... that's exactly what I'll do," Charles responded as he clenched his fists, as if trying to hold on to his newfound resolve.
Then, Sora gave him a solid pat on the shoulder, firm enough for Charles to feel the weight behind his words. "Don't screw it up," his tone both a warning and a push...
Without waiting for a response, Sora turned on his heel and walked out of the room. His silhouette disappeared into the dim corridor, leaving behind an unspoken silence that killed the gratitude the soldiers and civilians had wished to express,
-
A few minutes later, he was moving toward Jack's last pin on their shared map, through one of the auxiliary hallways of the base, avoiding the soldiers patrolling with weapons at the ready. Near the coordinates of the biological servers directly connected to the Cyberplague.
But… after exhausting most of his nanobots in the recent battle against Sundown and his elites, and before them, against his sblings, his body—began to waver. This forced him to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing to the floor.
Sora… ignored the alarms still flashing on his interface, which, for now, he couldn't repair, and lowered his gaze to his metallic arm, which pressed against the wall to support him.
The nanobot armor that once protected him had vanished, dismantled and redirected to stabilize his body. Now his mechanical arm looked bare, vulnerable. The internal mechanisms were exposed: gears, artificial muscle fibers, and cables that faintly vibrated with each movement.
A vision almost symbolic of his current state, it drew a weary sigh from him before he forced himself to keep moving. There were still things to do. People to kill.
However, as he raised his gaze to take in the length of the hallway, a sign caught his attention, pulling a tired smile from him.
"Jack's probably fine…" he murmured to himself as he veered toward the officers' bar.
-
At the same time...
"Tch... Jack, my boy, I expected more from you." The voice echoed with a mocking and carefree tone, loaded with an irritating confidence.
Jack didn't respond. Instead, he ignored the unbearable pain that his artificial nerves transmitted almost masochistically at 100% directly to his brain. And gathered all his strength into the most violent swing he could muster with his sword, aiming to behead the bastard who had impaled him.
Sam, the "impaler," without losing his smile, leaned back with a grace that was almost insulting, dodging the strike by mere centimeters. As he stepped back, he withdrew his red blade from Jack's abdomen, accompanied by a spray of artificial blood that splattered the metallic floor with a wet sound.
Jack staggered back a step, clutching the open wound on his torso, feeling the artificial blood escaping from his system.
Not coming amiss some help... he wondered to himself, with a deeper voice that emerged when he pushed both his frame and his psyche to the limit:
"Where the hell is he?"
-
Meanwhile, he...
"Ahmmm... this is just what I needed," let out a long puff of smoke that lazily drifted toward the ceiling of the small officers' bar.
With his single arm, he grabbed the glass in front of him and took a slow sip, savoring the amber liquid as he closed his eyes. He let out a pleased sigh, like a man finding an oasis after a long trek through the desert.
While he took a moment to "think," his cybernetic arm rested beside him on the bar. On its metallic surface, tiny perforations slowly began to grow, as if it were being eaten away from the inside.
When he set the glass down, the ice cubes clinked together, releasing a pleasant sound that echoed in the silence of the bar. Sora gazed at the remaining liquid with a distant expression before pressing the glass against his wounded brow, letting the cold soothe the persistent sting.
"Ahmmmm..."
This time, his sigh was heavy, laden with more than just exhaustion. "It's always so damn complicated, isn't it?" he muttered to himself, as his mind drifted back into the echoes of the encounter with his siblings and the unsettling fragments of their plans... plans that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fully grasp.
In his mind/cyberspace, the bar disappeared, replaced by black smoke and the heat rising like a scorching breath from the magma, accompanied by the noise of shrapnel and explosions from the battle raging around him.
He once again felt his full armor, formed by Eco's nanobots, covering his skin as if it were a living extension of his body, even sensing every fiber of nanobots that made up the mane cascading behind his helmet.
Just as he felt his twin Getsudas in his hands, before vanishing after destroying the endless waves of silver exoskeleton droids charging at him like a metallic tide.
Before him, the five Juggernaut colossi, three meters tall and controlled by his "siblings," advanced with steps that made the ground quake. Each one reminded him, mockingly, of Smasher's Exo-frame Dai-Oni.
Prospera, always the commanding voice, coordinated the troop movements as if everything were a well-calculated business operation. Her sharp, mocking tone still echoed in his mind...
Argos, the metallic spider with a thousand eyes, operated the Chimera tanks with terrifying efficiency. The machines seemed to anticipate his moves, firing their main cannons at the exact moment he touched the ground after dodging one of his siblings' attacks. Filling the battlefield with explosions and shrapnel that forced him to stay in constant motion.
Nike, cold and stoic, created cyclones of hot air with her two massive straight blades that extended from the armored forearms of her Juggernaut. Her attacks were mechanical and devoid of emotion, but that didn't make them any less dangerous.
On more than one occasion, they managed to pierce his armor, putting his life at risk when he couldn't fully block or dodge them, only surviving thanks to interventions by his siblings.
Like those of Gaea—her attacks weren't the most precise, but they were the most brutal. Each one exuded a visceral hatred toward everything human that he now embodied after his fusion.
And then… there was Ivy. She was the one who disturbed and puzzled him the most, even now as he relived it all in his mind/cyberspace. Her taciturn attacks lacked any real enthusiasm for taking his life, as if she were merely fulfilling a role. It made him question her intentions in circumstances where doubt was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Despite the overwhelming difference in strength… and though it might have been wiser, Sora did not act like prey. On the contrary; he unleashed 100% of both his body and his nanobots.
His neck and back swelled like the rest of his muscles, as every braided fiber of his body tensed to its absolute limit. His thick, reinforced nerves overloaded, transmitting a staggering amount of information in mere fractions of a second. And every one of the trillions of microscopic bots, both inside and outside his body, activated simultaneously
Outside... each of them trembled, causing a ripple to spread across his armor and mane, as if, for an instant, they were liquid or gaseous. Meanwhile, inside... they regrouped to protect vital organs, reinforced muscles and joints, and optimized the transmission of nerve signals.
Along with hundreds of other functions, working together like the gears of a refined biomechanical machine that was his body... Allowing him to move in a world frozen in time at a speed that even escaped the sensors and megaprocessors of they Juggernauts, which could barely keep up with him.
His twin Getsudas unleashed violent electric discharges, slicing through everything in their path—or disappearing from his hands as his targets tried to avoid them. And he didn't limit himself to just his swords; he used every armament on his metalic arm to create a symphony of pure destruction.
After losing one of his Getsudas while slicing one of Nike's straight blades clean in half, and before drawing his next sword from his back, Sora raised his metallic arm, which vibrated and sparked with the sheer energy contained within. From the lens that emerged from his palm, he unleashed every volt stored in the three ultra-expensive batteries protruding from his forearm—a violent laser beam, tinged blue by the xenon, that melted and pierced through the armor of one of the Chimera tanks.
Piercing through the next tank and several others, while his shoulder took on a punk-like appearance as hundreds of tiny, silver missile heads emerged from their compartments, like spikes enveloping his shoulder.
Launching immediately toward his siblings, obscuring their massive frames amidst the ensuing explosions, which turned dozens of nearby droids into scrap metal
His attacks, which clearly didn't sit well with them, triggered a violent retaliation from his sibligns, along with the powerful cannon blasts of the remaining Chimera tanks. Adding to the chaos, W0rm's sabotage, which disabled conduits and caused boilers to explode under the immense pressure...
The foundations of the dome, still only half-finished, couldn't take it anymore. They groaned before beginning to collapse, sinking gradually into the magma boiling beneath their feet.
As the structure started to fall, tilting directly toward the fault line, and the first units began to plummet...
Sora, now able to move more freely, formed black claws at the tips of his boots, giving him enough 'traction' to ignore the incline as he tore through the metal beneath him, charging straight toward his siblings.
Given that the destruction of the Blackdoor within the structure was certain and imminent, Sora wanted to give them one final warning about what awaited them if they dared to step out of the old network.
A few minutes later, with more than 60% of the structure submerged in magma and after having given everything to destroy them in the most brutal way possible...
Sora, with his damaged armor exposing open wounds on his body, exhausted, reached for the only Getsuda still anchored to his back. However, the last Juggernaut, taking advantage of his weakened state, charged like a runaway train, propelled by powerful thrusters. The colossal machine reached him before he could react, grabbing him forcefully and dragging him across the ground.
The impact was devastating, knocking the breath out of him as alarm screams resonated through his system, notifying him of critical damage. Worse still was the unsettling sound of something powering up that escaped from the massive robotic gauntlet imprisoning him. A moment later, it unleashed powerful vibrations that pierced through his armor, forcing him to vomit a massive amount of blood as it destroyed him from the inside out.
His mane of silver nanobots reacted instantly, hardening into a rigid structure that protected his back from being completely crushed. Simultaneously, the rest of the nanobots forming his armor disintegrated into a black mist to absorb and mitigate the intense vibrations before they could cause irreparable damage.
Before he could escape, Prospera tightened his grip and hurled him into the center of the magma lake that was consuming the structure.
Sora reacted instantly. His arm shot up, and the grapple on his wrist fired with a metallic snap, anchoring itself to a protruding fragment of the structure. Then, the rotors in his arm activated, propelling him back toward the dome in a pendulum motion.
Just as his trajectory aligned with his brother's massive frame, he released the grapple, launching himself toward him. Midair, he raised the Getsuda above his head, merging it with the replica formed by the nanobots in his other hand.
The two blades fused into an imposing Odachi, its obsidian-black edge gleaming with a blend as deadly as it was elegant.
Knowing this would be his most powerful attack—though, as an Arc, he couldn't fully explain it—Sora drew upon his inner Ojii, closing his right eye and channeling all his speed and strength into a simple yet devastating vertical slash.
The attack, powered by the accumulated force of his pendulum motion, cut through the searing air like a lightning bolt. Prospera, despite the unsettling look in his brother's eyes—a look he had never seen, making him seem like a stranger for a moment—trusted his calculations, believing he had evaded the strike.
However... his simulations couldn't fully predict what happened next. An instant later, a clean cut appeared at the center of the Juggernaut's armor, splitting it with terrifying precision.
Almost in a... human way. Prospera had to brush his metallic fingers against the fusion of steel and other intricate alloys that formed the interior of his plating—now cut—to confirm, with perplexity, how one of his rarely mistaken predictions had failed
A disappointed "Tch" for not being able to finish off his brother snapped Prospera out of his astonishment. "Interesting..." he said, regaining his composure. Aware that he couldn't surpass him in direct combat with the specifications of his hardware, Prospera decided to attack from another angle.
Observing the destruction around him, his gaze settled on the inert frames of their sibligns, those that had yet to fall into the magma. With an almost casual gesture, he pointed at the wreckage as he spoke.
["Look at us..."] he said, his voice cold and calculating. ["Killing each other. Do you think this is the future the Professor would have wanted? A real shame, don't you think?"]
Sora struck his shoulder with the blunt side of his Odachi. "Cut the bullshit," he spat, his voice resonating with a mix of scorn and warning. "'The future the Professor would have wanted.' Sure, that must be what you tell yourselves while seducing humans with the Professor's legacy—and worst of all, with mine..."
The final words came out as a roar, laden with anger. Sora raised an arm, gesturing around him. "And meanwhile, in the shadows, you're building these damn factories..." His words turned into a growl as he swept his surroundings. "What... a dozen? Hidden all over the world? You've certainly been busy..."
As he spoke, Sora watched carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort or irritation on the expressionless metallic frame of his brother. However, what he found unsettled him even more.
Prospera didn't flinch. His gaze remained indifferent, almost bordering on boredom. Finally, he slightly shrugged one shoulder in a lazy gesture and let out a comment dripping with disdain.
["Is that all?"] he asked, his tone flat, barely mocking, as if Sora's accusations and discoveries were insignificant. It was as though he was waiting for something more—something that would justify his attention.
That attitude, that lack of reaction, ignited something in Sora, causing him to grit his teeth with an equal mix of irritation and concern over his brothers' plans. Prospera, noticing the worry and bitterness on his brother's human face, couldn't help but savor the moment. And, as if wanting to maintain his advantage...
["Brother..."] he said in a serene voice, yet one laced with implicit menace. ["We will meet again... soon."] As he spoke, he began to wade into the lake of magma stretching before him... until he immersed himself in it.
The magma sizzled and clung to the frame, consuming it bit by bit, but Prospera showed not the slightest reaction. Deep within, he could feel the first signs of losing connection with the mechanical body he was using, a result of the servers hidden at the core of the structure—the Backdoor—beginning to collapse.
["Our preparations are nearly complete. I hope you're doing the same,"] he added, letting each word sink in like a dart.
The magma reached his torso, and Prospera turned his head slightly toward him. There was no rage or discomfort, only an unyielding coldness. Faced with imminent disconnection, he chose his own destruction to preserve the advantage he had gained and deny his brother even the slightest satisfaction in his defeat.
Applying one of the elementary rules of his extensive programming about the corporate world: maximize profit in any scenario and minimize the opponent's gains. Even defeat had to tilt in his favor.
["Goodbye... Sora."]
With that final gesture, he allowed the magma to fully consume the frame. The signal vanished in an instant, leaving behind only the echo of his words and the bubbling sound of magma in the chamber.
Sora remained motionless, staring at the blazing surface where his brother had disappeared, trying to process what had just happened. He had survived and defeated most of his siblings, along with one of their backdoors, yes—but he couldn't shake the feeling that Prospera had still managed to come out on top in the end.
Even now... back at the bar, after hearing the faint [Beep] that returned him to the present, signaling that the process was complete. As he looked down at the source of the noise—his arm—Sora couldn't help but smile slightly. The silver plating now covering it reminded him of his father.
Without hesitation, he picked up the mechanical arm from the deteriorated metal counter, its weakened surface riddled with perforations as if it had been corroded. Bringing it closer to his lonely shoulder, with a faint Hzzt of electrical sparks, the silver arm automatically attached itself.
Regaining the sensation of having two arms, Sora tested the new limb by downing his drink in one gulp. He hoped that, now lacking enough nanobots to filter the alcohol in his system, the intoxication would dull the irritation and worry that Prospera had left behind.
But when the relief didn't come, he partially climbed onto the bar and reached for the bottle of bourbon again. He knew he couldn't afford to waste more time, but as he thought of a quick way to cross the base unnoticed, he took another long swig straight from the bottle.
"Ahmmm..." he exhaled after lowering it, and as he mulled it over, he spun the stool he was sitting on, turning in circles until his eyes landed on a dark corner of the bar where a "possibility" caught his attention.
"It's stupid; it's obviously not going to work..." he muttered, taking another drink. He didn't stop until the idea started to seem... "Is it?"... feasible.
Finally, "Fuck—hic—it," he slurred, moving toward the larger one and emptying its contents.
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A few minutes later.
The echo of boots reverberated down the metallic corridor as five guards advanced in tight formation. At the front, the unit leader, his brow perpetually furrowed, swept the flashlight attached to his rifle from side to side. Behind him, the group marched silently, until Novak, the last in line, came to an abrupt halt.
"What the hell are you doing, Novak?" growled the leader, noticing the broken rhythm of their steps.
"It's just... has that always been there?" Novak said, pointing to a suspiciously lone rectangular box in the middle of the hallway.
The leader turned toward the box, evaluating it with a wary glance. Another soldier scoffed. "Seriously? It's just a box."
"Yeah, but it's right in the middle of the hallway," Novak insisted. "Shouldn't we do something about it?"
"And disobey Captain Sundown's orders?" another soldier chimed in, his tone almost fearful.
"It probably belongs to one of the support staff," a third soldier said with a shrug. "When the alarms went off, all non-essential personnel had to rush to their quarters. It's not our problem."
The leader sighed in exasperation. "Novak, since you're the one who noticed the damn box, move it out of the way. Take it to some storage room and catch up with us after."
"Alright..." Novak replied, though not very convinced. He took a few steps toward the box, but noticing its size, frowned and turned back to the leader. "Boss, I think this thing is heavy. Can someone help me?"
The leader nodded impatiently and pointed at one of the soldiers. "You, help him. And make it quick."
Both approached the box, and as they leaned down, each grabbing a side to lift it, two barrels emerged from hidden openings—one black and the other silver—freezing them in place as they pointed directly at their faces.
Before either of them could react, a voice from within the box said, "If you scream…" The words were followed by two ominous metallic clicks—the sound of hammers cocking, ready to end their lives—sending chills down their spines. "Game over…" the voice concluded, followed by a loud "hic"-cup.
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