The massive figure and the strange journey with the human had already been underway for at least three hours.
Moore, who had been disarmed, was tall for a human, but the difference in physique compared to the taciturn figure walking beside him was evident.
With a thick, bulging chest and a set of well-defined eight-pack abs exposed on his upper body, he could feel a piercing cold pain running through his entire body along with the cold wind, although it was not unbearable.
However, the lips supporting the lit cigarette were turning blue, a sign that his body temperature was dropping.
As he smoked the cigarette down to the very end, he took a deep drag and exhaled a large puff of purple smoke before tossing the butt onto the snow.
When he tried to take out the next cigarette from his soft pack, he shook it, only to find it empty.
He clicked his tongue, crushed the empty pack, and threw it onto the snow before looking up at the strange figure walking beside him.
"Hey, Chattering Ba*tard, cigarette."
In a manner that seemed almost commanding, Moore asked for another cigarette.
Talkative stopped in his tracks, swung the backpack hanging from his shoulder, and hurled it toward Moore. Catching it, Moore opened the backpack and began rummaging through its contents.
[Again... I've told you MANY times...]
"I'm not an old man. I remember once you tell me."
Inside the backpack were unused ammunition and grenades rendered useless after losing his assault rifle, as well as a handgun that Talkative had taken from him. There had been a warning not to touch any of these items.
Moore thought that he should just toss them away, but ultimately, Talkative's indifference likely stemmed from arrogance, as these weapons were of no use to Moore.
In any case, disposing of combat rations and cartons of cigarettes would be a big help for him. This way, he could survive.
[I don't understand. It's rather foolish to ingest substances that worsen your condition.]
"Yeah, I suppose you wouldn't understand. That's what being human is."
He seemed to know that the substances in cigarettes had a negative impact on humans. Moore sneered at the oddly human-like words of Talkative, who spoke like a non-smoker, and jammed one of the two soft packs he had taken into his pants pocket.
He cut open the seal, lightly tapped the flat top with his fingertip to make a few cigarettes pop out, and pulled one out.
As he put it between his lips, he felt the sensation of his dry lips cracking, but Moore didn't mind. He ignited the oil lighter.
"...I'm bored. Hey, Talkative. I have a question, so answer."
[You're quite noisy, human. I'v e grown tired of your incessant chatter. Do you want to be a subject for testing my 'anatomic' knowledge]
"Huh? Anatomical knowledge? Well, give it a try then. I'll see just how much basic knowledge you have. Shall we start with muscles? Or bones?"
Threats had no effect whatsoever. , Talkative who had never encountered such an opponent, let out a resigned but exaggerated sigh. Despite claiming to dislike humans, his actions were surprisingly human-like.
[I'll allow your question. Go ahead.]
"Oh, so you're willing to indulge my favorite pastime. I was bored, you see. then I won't hold back... Oh, and you can answer while we walk."
Once again, Moore threw the closed backpack haphazardly and picked up a cigarette, exhaling purple smoke as he continued walking.
It had hoped that giving him cigarettes might reduce his talking, but it turned out to be a miscalculation.
"----Asking about hobbies doesn't make us friends, so I'll keep it straightforward."
[Ask before my mood changes.]
It wasn't clear who was the "talkative" one in this conversation. Talkative, who sighed in a very human-like manner while hooking his backpack to his tail, urged Moore to continue.
"─The research facility you guys occupied or seized... I don't know what you're calling it, but did you falsify the data? Setting traps and lying in wait... implies that you had anticipated our actions."
[Yeah, you guessed right. It was easier and more straightforward than I thought.]
"I see. I'm also surprised at how 'easily' you're talking."
They exchanged these matter-of-fact and somewhat sarcastic remarks before falling into a brief silence.
Eventually, Moore's cigarette, held in his mouth, burned down to the tip just before reaching the filter. Instead of discarding it before exhaling the last drag, he flicked it with his fingertips onto the snowy ground, using it as a spark for a new cigarette.
"Next question. Well, more of a confirmation, really. Are you in cahoots with Ark?"
Anderson had mentioned it, and there were suspicions of Taciturn and someone inside Ark colluding.
The identity of the person enabling the implantation of infiltration codes into the minds of Nikke and the others sent to the surface remained unknown.
While Moore asked, thinking there was no way he would get a straightforward answer...
[Yes.]
He received a straightforward acknowledgment, and this time, he was the one taken aback. He had expected a bit more of a pretense before admitting it, but it seemed like that miscalculation was for the best.
"Hmm? So there is a mole after all... Someone with significant standing and authority within Ark, capable of using concealed communication lines, manipulating and controlling the security barriers..."
He considered Anderson—though the possibility was low. While managing concealed communication lines and security barriers might be possible, he was fundamentally a soldier through and through. He was dedicated to reclaiming the surface. He wouldn't stoop to sabotage missions.
Ingrid, Mustang, and Syuen, the CEOs of respective companies - this also eliminates the possibility of them being the mole. While all three could potentially embed infiltration codes into the Nikkes manufactured by their own companies, any issues that arise on the surface would be reported, leading to operational improvements and reevaluations of manufacturing methods, which would ultimately harm their companies.
So, the affluent class, the deputy commanders other than Anderson, or high-ranking officials of the central government - there was limited evidence to judge. However, these individuals were primarily focused on maintaining their current positions and wealth, with little motivation to take unnecessary risks. Those holding the position of deputy commander in the military might be less clear, but their objectives would likely differ from Anderson and the mission to reclaim the surface would be their priority.
"...Hmm... Perhaps it's time to change the vector of my thinking."
Moore had been operating under the assumption of acting with malice, namely Ark, and the premise that they threatened the survival and extension of humanity. However, at this point, Moore changed his line of thought.
Namely, he shifted his thinking to consider internal communication from a rational judgment that aimed at the continuation of Ark, eliminating emotions.
Then, a matching presence appeared in his mind, and he paused at that moment to contemplate.
"No, it can't be... But..."
[Is the questioning over? Then walk faster.]
"Shut up, you talkative bastard. If you don't want those jagged teeth of yours to be shattered, you better keep quiet."
Moore silenced the growling bass-like noise that was almost unbearable coming from the next to him and continued to rub his unshaven chin with one hand while holding the cigarette in his mouth.
Ah, this couldn't be...
The more he thought about it, the more it aligned. It seemed he was the one in question.
If that were the case, it was all a farce. A prearranged outcome. You could even call it rigged.
"Hah... Haha... Hahahaha!!!"
Had he finally gone mad from the cold? Moore suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter echoing loudly, and his cigarette, half-smoked and neglected, fell into the snow as he continued to laugh.
[What's so funny?]
"Haha... No, I haven't laughed like this in a while. Thanks for answering my questions. I'll verify the answers myself eventually. And I apologize in advance. It seems I won't be able to continue with you to our destination."
[What...!?]
BANG!!
A momentary silence fell between Moore and Talkative, but that silence was abruptly shattered by a flash of light that pierced the abdomen of the Rapture.
Together with the acrid stench of burning flesh, a massive hole was pierced through Talkative, who fell backward. It seemed that even the base of his reptilian-like tail had been scorched by the flash, and it fell near Moore along with the backpack that had been hanging from the tip of his tail. Moore quickly grabbed it and distanced himself from Talkative.
"...Nice to see you again, talkative one."
[Pilgrimmmmmm!!!]
Talkative, roaring as it rapidly repaired the gunshot wound in its abdomen, was hit by another flash, the second shot, but its narrowly dodged it, leaping backward.
"Are you okay?"
Suddenly, a figure had appeared by Moore's side - a Nikke clad in a white cloak or poncho, carrying a considerable amount of weaponry on both sides of his smaller body compared to Moore.
"Yeah... I'm somehow still alive. First, thanks... Ugh!!"
Moore opened his backpack and took out a handgun and a grenade. He was about to pull the slide of the .45 caliber handgun with his teeth when a searing headache hit him as soon as he looked up at Nikke.
"Are you injured somewhere?"
"No... it's nothing."
-----Does my voice sounds like older?
As that thought crossed the corner of his mind, another wave of headache rushed over him. Frowning, shaking his head left and right multiple times, Moore stood up and pointed the handgun at Talkative.
"That won't work on him. Use this."
What was he planning with a toy gun like that? Nikke, with silvery white hair that seemed like white snow and an impressive assault rifle he carried, tossed a bulky-looking assault rifle to him.
"I've seen it before, but you can use it,right?"
"It's quite an old gun, isn't it?"
Moore muttered as he lightly inspected the assault rifle he received with his left hand. Some parts appeared to have been refurbished by Nikke due to wear and tear, but the overall appearance was undoubtedly an assault rifle manufactured during the first incursion by Rapture, as seen in the firearm catalogs and magazines.
"It's well-maintained, so there shouldn't be any issues firing it. Just don't waste shots."
After holstering the handgun with the safety on, Moore received an extra magazine from Nikke, which he put in his pocket.
Indeed, it was an old rifle, but it felt more familiar in his hand than he had anticipated. With practiced ease, he pulled back the charging handle slightly to chamber the first round from the magazine and aimed the rifle at Talkative.
"...It's a bit late, but... what should I call you? I know your name from the information, but..."
"Snow White is fine. It's a bit late, but do you need... help?"
"Yeah, I'd appreciate your ;help'."
"Good. I'll help you... Even though we've just met, for some reason, it feels nostalgic."
While holding the long, white sniper rifle, Nikke—Snow White—whispered softly. The loading for the shot was complete, and it was time to resume the battle.
[These loathsome pilgrims... you relics of the past...!!!]
"Be gone, heretics. The surface won't be handed over to the likes of you."
In preparation for the full-fledged battle, a black protector on Snow White's forehead covered her face.
While keeping the gun aimed, Moore extended the stock of the assault rifle, adjusting it to the right position. There were no sights, but well, they could manage somehow.
As if coordinated, the breathing of the two, one with black hair and the other with silver-white hair, overlapped.
" "---Encounter." "
The declaration of the start of combat resounded across the snowy plains as if it were a chant.
----
Author Notes: So, Snow White makes her debut. She's cute. I really want to run my fingers through her hair (lol).
...Regarding the mole... I've progressed this far in the main game, and there's someone who comes to mind... I can't believe I might be right...
The massive figure and the strange journey with the human had already been underway for at least three hours.
Moore, who had been disarmed, was tall for a human, but the difference in physique compared to the taciturn figure walking beside him was evident.
With a thick, bulging chest and a set of well-defined eight-pack abs exposed on his upper body, he could feel a piercing cold pain running through his entire body along with the cold wind, although it was not unbearable.
However, the lips supporting the lit cigarette were turning blue, a sign that his body temperature was dropping.
As he smoked the cigarette down to the very end, he took a deep drag and exhaled a large puff of purple smoke before tossing the butt onto the snow.
When he tried to take out the next cigarette from his soft pack, he shook it, only to find it empty.
He clicked his tongue, crushed the empty pack, and threw it onto the snow before looking up at the strange figure walking beside him.
"Hey, Chattering Ba*tard, cigarette."
In a manner that seemed almost commanding, Moore asked for another cigarette.
Talkative stopped in his tracks, swung the backpack hanging from his shoulder, and hurled it toward Moore. Catching it, Moore opened the backpack and began rummaging through its contents.
[Again... I've told you MANY times...]
"I'm not an old man. I remember once you tell me."
Inside the backpack were unused ammunition and grenades rendered useless after losing his assault rifle, as well as a handgun that Talkative had taken from him. There had been a warning not to touch any of these items.
Moore thought that he should just toss them away, but ultimately, Talkative's indifference likely stemmed from arrogance, as these weapons were of no use to Moore.
In any case, disposing of combat rations and cartons of cigarettes would be a big help for him. This way, he could survive.
[I don't understand. It's rather foolish to ingest substances that worsen your condition.]
"Yeah, I suppose you wouldn't understand. That's what being human is."
He seemed to know that the substances in cigarettes had a negative impact on humans. Moore sneered at the oddly human-like words of Talkative, who spoke like a non-smoker, and jammed one of the two soft packs he had taken into his pants pocket.
He cut open the seal, lightly tapped the flat top with his fingertip to make a few cigarettes pop out, and pulled one out.
As he put it between his lips, he felt the sensation of his dry lips cracking, but Moore didn't mind. He ignited the oil lighter.
"...I'm bored. Hey, Talkative. I have a question, so answer."
[You're quite noisy, human. I'v e grown tired of your incessant chatter. Do you want to be a subject for testing my 'anatomic' knowledge]
"Huh? Anatomical knowledge? Well, give it a try then. I'll see just how much basic knowledge you have. Shall we start with muscles? Or bones?"
Threats had no effect whatsoever. , Talkative who had never encountered such an opponent, let out a resigned but exaggerated sigh. Despite claiming to dislike humans, his actions were surprisingly human-like.
[I'll allow your question. Go ahead.]
"Oh, so you're willing to indulge my favorite pastime. I was bored, you see. then I won't hold back... Oh, and you can answer while we walk."
Once again, Moore threw the closed backpack haphazardly and picked up a cigarette, exhaling purple smoke as he continued walking.
It had hoped that giving him cigarettes might reduce his talking, but it turned out to be a miscalculation.
"----Asking about hobbies doesn't make us friends, so I'll keep it straightforward."
[Ask before my mood changes.]
It wasn't clear who was the "talkative" one in this conversation. Talkative, who sighed in a very human-like manner while hooking his backpack to his tail, urged Moore to continue.
"─The research facility you guys occupied or seized... I don't know what you're calling it, but did you falsify the data? Setting traps and lying in wait... implies that you had anticipated our actions."
[Yeah, you guessed right. It was easier and more straightforward than I thought.]
"I see. I'm also surprised at how 'easily' you're talking."
They exchanged these matter-of-fact and somewhat sarcastic remarks before falling into a brief silence.
Eventually, Moore's cigarette, held in his mouth, burned down to the tip just before reaching the filter. Instead of discarding it before exhaling the last drag, he flicked it with his fingertips onto the snowy ground, using it as a spark for a new cigarette.
"Next question. Well, more of a confirmation, really. Are you in cahoots with Ark?"
Anderson had mentioned it, and there were suspicions of Taciturn and someone inside Ark colluding.
The identity of the person enabling the implantation of infiltration codes into the minds of Nikke and the others sent to the surface remained unknown.
While Moore asked, thinking there was no way he would get a straightforward answer...
[Yes.]
He received a straightforward acknowledgment, and this time, he was the one taken aback. He had expected a bit more of a pretense before admitting it, but it seemed like that miscalculation was for the best.
"Hmm? So there is a mole after all... Someone with significant standing and authority within Ark, capable of using concealed communication lines, manipulating and controlling the security barriers..."
He considered Anderson—though the possibility was low. While managing concealed communication lines and security barriers might be possible, he was fundamentally a soldier through and through. He was dedicated to reclaiming the surface. He wouldn't stoop to sabotage missions.
Ingrid, Mustang, and Syuen, the CEOs of respective companies - this also eliminates the possibility of them being the mole. While all three could potentially embed infiltration codes into the Nikkes manufactured by their own companies, any issues that arise on the surface would be reported, leading to operational improvements and reevaluations of manufacturing methods, which would ultimately harm their companies.
So, the affluent class, the deputy commanders other than Anderson, or high-ranking officials of the central government - there was limited evidence to judge. However, these individuals were primarily focused on maintaining their current positions and wealth, with little motivation to take unnecessary risks. Those holding the position of deputy commander in the military might be less clear, but their objectives would likely differ from Anderson and the mission to reclaim the surface would be their priority.
"...Hmm... Perhaps it's time to change the vector of my thinking."
Moore had been operating under the assumption of acting with malice, namely Ark, and the premise that they threatened the survival and extension of humanity. However, at this point, Moore changed his line of thought.
Namely, he shifted his thinking to consider internal communication from a rational judgment that aimed at the continuation of Ark, eliminating emotions.
Then, a matching presence appeared in his mind, and he paused at that moment to contemplate.
"No, it can't be... But..."
[Is the questioning over? Then walk faster.]
"Shut up, you talkative bastard. If you don't want those jagged teeth of yours to be shattered, you better keep quiet."
Moore silenced the growling bass-like noise that was almost unbearable coming from the next to him and continued to rub his unshaven chin with one hand while holding the cigarette in his mouth.
Ah, this couldn't be...
The more he thought about it, the more it aligned. It seemed he was the one in question.
If that were the case, it was all a farce. A prearranged outcome. You could even call it rigged.
"Hah... Haha... Hahahaha!!!"
Had he finally gone mad from the cold? Moore suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter echoing loudly, and his cigarette, half-smoked and neglected, fell into the snow as he continued to laugh.
[What's so funny?]
"Haha... No, I haven't laughed like this in a while. Thanks for answering my questions. I'll verify the answers myself eventually. And I apologize in advance. It seems I won't be able to continue with you to our destination."
[What...!?]
BANG!!
A momentary silence fell between Moore and Talkative, but that silence was abruptly shattered by a flash of light that pierced the abdomen of the Rapture.
Together with the acrid stench of burning flesh, a massive hole was pierced through Talkative, who fell backward. It seemed that even the base of his reptilian-like tail had been scorched by the flash, and it fell near Moore along with the backpack that had been hanging from the tip of his tail. Moore quickly grabbed it and distanced himself from Talkative.
"...Nice to see you again, talkative one."
[Pilgrimmmmmm!!!]
Talkative, roaring as it rapidly repaired the gunshot wound in its abdomen, was hit by another flash, the second shot, but its narrowly dodged it, leaping backward.
"Are you okay?"
Suddenly, a figure had appeared by Moore's side - a Nikke clad in a white cloak or poncho, carrying a considerable amount of weaponry on both sides of his smaller body compared to Moore.
"Yeah... I'm somehow still alive. First, thanks... Ugh!!"
Moore opened his backpack and took out a handgun and a grenade. He was about to pull the slide of the .45 caliber handgun with his teeth when a searing headache hit him as soon as he looked up at Nikke.
"Are you injured somewhere?"
"No... it's nothing."
-----Does my voice sounds like older?
As that thought crossed the corner of his mind, another wave of headache rushed over him. Frowning, shaking his head left and right multiple times, Moore stood up and pointed the handgun at Talkative.
"That won't work on him. Use this."
What was he planning with a toy gun like that? Nikke, with silvery white hair that seemed like white snow and an impressive assault rifle he carried, tossed a bulky-looking assault rifle to him.
"I've seen it before, but you can use it,right?"
"It's quite an old gun, isn't it?"
Moore muttered as he lightly inspected the assault rifle he received with his left hand. Some parts appeared to have been refurbished by Nikke due to wear and tear, but the overall appearance was undoubtedly an assault rifle manufactured during the first incursion by Rapture, as seen in the firearm catalogs and magazines.
"It's well-maintained, so there shouldn't be any issues firing it. Just don't waste shots."
After holstering the handgun with the safety on, Moore received an extra magazine from Nikke, which he put in his pocket.
Indeed, it was an old rifle, but it felt more familiar in his hand than he had anticipated. With practiced ease, he pulled back the charging handle slightly to chamber the first round from the magazine and aimed the rifle at Talkative.
"...It's a bit late, but... what should I call you? I know your name from the information, but..."
"Snow White is fine. It's a bit late, but do you need... help?"
"Yeah, I'd appreciate your ;help'."
"Good. I'll help you... Even though we've just met, for some reason, it feels nostalgic."
While holding the long, white sniper rifle, Nikke—Snow White—whispered softly. The loading for the shot was complete, and it was time to resume the battle.
[These loathsome pilgrims... you relics of the past...!!!]
"Be gone, heretics. The surface won't be handed over to the likes of you."
In preparation for the full-fledged battle, a black protector on Snow White's forehead covered her face.
While keeping the gun aimed, Moore extended the stock of the assault rifle, adjusting it to the right position. There were no sights, but well, they could manage somehow.
As if coordinated, the breathing of the two, one with black hair and the other with silver-white hair, overlapped.
" "---Encounter." "
The declaration of the start of combat resounded across the snowy plains as if it were a chant.
----
Author Notes: So, Snow White makes her debut. She's cute. I really want to run my fingers through her hair (lol).
...Regarding the mole... I've progressed this far in the main game, and there's someone who comes to mind... I can't believe I might be right...
