"──Human. You go to the right."
"──Understood. I'm the decoy, huh."
Snow White is Nikke. Nikke, who has been fighting on the surface since the first invasion by the Rapture, which led to today—a Pilgrim.
She has already experienced several shifts in thought process, and almost none to no memories remain. During the first invasion, she was chosen from among the fleeing humans as the suitable one and, as a result, became Nikke herself, fighting alongside her comrades as a bulwark against the extinction of humanity, but even those memories are hazy.
Yet, despite all that, she watches a young man, dressed like a volunteer for suicide, running with a assault rifle thrown over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye.
The reason for her existence as Nikke is the extinction of the Rapture and, consequently, the return of the surface to humanity. It should include protecting humanity, but Snow White counted the young man she had just met as a combatant.
It was an unconscious decision, something she felt she had to do, but she couldn't explain why she had reached such a thought at this point.
Nevertheless—
"──It feels strangely nostalgic..."
The young man runs to the right, firing at the Talkative. She indulges in a moment of nostalgia as she hears the gunfire.
Snow White herself can't quite grasp the meaning of the words that escaped her mouth when she said, "Nostalgic."
However, within the knowledge she has reconstructed from the stories she heard from her former comrades, she feels the phantom presence of them.
"──Seventh Dwarf, ready."
She aims the long, white sniper rifle that doesn't match her stature and takes her shot.
Whether the young man understands her intent or not, he concentrates on firing at the talkative one's legs to reduce its mobility.
[You Old Relic...! What a petty trick...!!]
(Tl notes: This guy has guts, saying a woman being OLD.)
"How does it feel to be a subject of anatomy!?"
Shooting bullets through the tendons necessary for walking—those thin legs were already disproportionate to its body. Any injury would disrupt its posture, compounded by its own weight.
Of course, repairs would be carried out immediately.
But—
"──Pierce through."
For her, a few seconds were more than enough.
BANG!
In quick succession, several shots penetrated its torso, and the repair function couldn't keep up. The part that hit its spinal cord was damaged, and it lost the ability to move, becoming the target of Snow White and her attacks.
Amidst the flying flesh and the dark catalyst fluid that ominously stained the white snow, the grotesque monster turned its face towards the approaching figure.
[──...s-spare...!]
"Human, step aside. I have something to say to that thing."
"Unfortunately, I also have something to say to this talkative chicken-legged basta*d. How about settling this peacefully with a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who goes first?"
Snow White, with narrowed golden eyes, looks up at the young man. She wants to call him a fool, but when he extends his hand first, she reluctantly puts out her own hand.
Shaking their clenched fists up and down, they eventually each present their hands without delay.
"...You go first."
The young man, Moore, steps back, and Snow White steps forward.
"...I finally caught you. I have so many questions for you."
[──Help... me...!]
The creature, trembling in front of her, gazes up at Snow White's flowing silver hair.
"...Begging for your life. Pitiful creature of the abyss. For what reason were you born into this world, to cry so sadly?"
She hums like she's singing, a requiem for a creature that's about to die.
But still---- something is off.
Moore, who was standing behind, placed his finger on the trigger of the assault rifle he had just borrowed and aimed the barrel at the Talkative.
[──Help... me... please!]
"...Disgusting."
[──Queen...!]
Snow White responded immediately to the words spoken by the Talkative One.
As she leaped backward, a rift tore through the dim sky.
Illuminated by the chaotic colors of light pouring through the crack, a huge shadow, black and ominous, resembling a Rapture, descended.
To Moore's eyes, it appeared as if it belonged to a robot from some science fiction content, but it was more than just its appearance—it was its presence, perhaps.
A malevolent intent toward humanity, as if distilled from negative emotions. Moore instinctively aimed the rifle at Talkative as the figure with the robotic appearance, resembling a Rapture, descended.
A door near the head of the robot-like Rapture suddenly opened, and a figure floated down from it.
The figure that landed on the snow quietly was unmistakably female in form. Probably Nikke—however, she was quite different from the Nikkes' Moore was familiar with. She was probably piloting the Rapture and controlling it, with something resembling the external skeleton on his right leg.
With the black contraption adorning her shoulders, legs, and arms, and her eyes concealed by a protector, Nike approached the Talkative, her grayish long hair flowing.
"──Talkative, you poor thing... Don't worry. I'll help you."
The voice that sounded with calmness struck Moore's ears. His index finger, resting on the trigger, twitched in response.
....The voice seemed familiar.
No, it couldn't be. She is definitely not...
Moore cast aside the fleeting thought and once again placed his index finger on the trigger, pointing it at the unidentified Nikke.
"Are you the ones who hurt my comrades?"
He aimed at the protector that would conceal the forehead of the unidentified Nikke. The voice emanating from the well-shaped lips on her face didn't seem familiar, but rather similar—not quite the same.
"Heretic."
"Heretic...? Your acquaintance?"
"Direct subordinate of the Queen... Heretic... one who betrayed humanity and chose the Rapture... former Nikke!!"
As Snow White questioned her, she responded with a voice filled with resentment.
It seemed her voice had reached her, and the Nikke in front of her shook her head with a sigh.
"...You have too many names for me. Can't you just call me 'Modernia'?"
Indeed, it seemed their voices were similar. But the name was not the one Moore knew. With relief, he applied pressure to the trigger beneath his index finger. At his side, Snow White also aimed her long sniper rifle at the unidentified Nikke—Modania.
"Today must be my lucky day. I'm one step closer to the Queen again!"
"Considering the Talkative's condition... I would prefer you to die here though..."
While both of them aimed their guns at the targets—Snow White also began to aim other arms she carried at them—Modernia, undaunted, turned her gaze to the side. Repair was out of time, and the Talkative was dripping dark bodily fluids onto the snow.
"...For the sake of my precious comrades, I'll withdraw this time. I'll remember your faces, though."
Being remembered by a beautiful woman would be an honor under normal circumstances, but Moore would usually respond with sarcasm in this situation. He had no choice but to keep aiming the gun while keeping his lips firmly sealed.
"Do you think you can escape?!"
"You're not dealing with me right now."
With polite words, Modania looked up at the sky with a crack running through it. Then, a group of Raptures of the Lord class emerged from the rift and stood in front of them.
"Everyone, please. Now, Talkative, can you move?"
"Step aside first!"
As the red single eye lit up in unison, Snow White recognized it as a response and urged Moore to move back, initiating the battle once again. When she pulled the trigger of her sniper rifle, a flash ran through the air.
Following her lead, Moore grabbed the backpack he had left behind and began to run. After retreating, he stopped and turned around. He aimed his assault rifle at the group of Raptures that Snow White was attacking with various weapons. After quickly changing the empty magazine, he signaled her to retreat as well.
While receiving cover fire, Snow White began to withdraw. In the meantime, Modernia hopped onto a huge robot—or perhaps a craft—and accompanied the fleeing Talkative, disappearing into the distance.
"Damn it! Did we let them get away?!"
Snow White, who had moved to Moore's side while clicking her tongue, looked up at the departing figure but quickly aimed her gun at the Raptures.
First, they needed to eliminate the threatening enemies.
-----
Eventually, all the enemy machines fell to the ground, emitting black smoke, and stopped moving. Snow White sprinted towards them.
"Alright... the traces are still here."
"Footprints of the Talkative?"
"Yeah... ----Why are you still here? You should leave."
"Even if you tell me to leave..."
Snow White discovered the footprints and was about to pursue them, but when she recognized Moore's presence, she narrowed her golden eyes and spoke as if to glare at him. Moore also wished he could do just that.
However, in this frigid land with nothing but themselves, being left behind in a world teeming with Raptures, even he wasn't confident he could survive for more than half a day. In fact, being able to survive for half a day might be considered remarkable.
"Right now, your condition cannot be considered as combatant anymore. Go back quickly."
"I wasn't useful? At least as a decoy. I can provide support, if nothing else."
Shrugging his shoulders, Moore handed the borrowed assault rifle to her. If you really want me to leave, then take it and go. That was the attitude he conveyed.
Although his appearance infuriated her, a certain premonition, almost a conviction, crossed her mind. If she were to take her eyes off this man and move forward, he would probably die surprisingly easily.
Perhaps because of this, Snow White let out an annoyed sigh.
"I'll set the pace! Just follow me!"
"Understood. I'll make sure not to fall behind."
While pushing the offered assault rifle away, she also threw him another spare magazine. She aimed it at his face as if to express her frustration, but he effortlessly caught it.
Moore began to put on the warm combat jacket that had finally dried out this morning from his backpack. He looked somewhat human again after several hours.
Eventually, Moore followed Snow White as she started running after the footprints, albeit at a slower pace.
Unlike themselves(Nikke), who were different, no matter how well Moore could handle weapons for Nikke, he was just a human after all. He would soon run out of stamina and give up following her—she thought that as she continued to run.
Even though she continued to run at a pace that was fast for him, she didn't pay any attention to the man following her—yet, he was still keeping up.
Perhaps due to the exhaustion of his strength, he exhaled white breath frequently. Carrying the heavy backpack he had just taken back from the Talkative , and holding Snow White's assault rifle, he continued to chase after her under those conditions.
Should she be amazed, or should she be exasperated? Snow White herself was at a loss for how to react.
Simultaneously, what was troubling her was the increasingly fierce blizzard. At this rate, the footprints would be buried in the snow, making tracking difficult.
Moore, who had been lagging behind by dozens of meters while panting heavily, finally caught up to her.
"---Are you tired?"
"...No, I'm fine. Keep the same pace and i'll follow.After all, I'm the one choosing to come along."
He was clearly exhausted. He had already been without any upper-body clothing since she saw him being taken away by the Talkative.
Exhaustion from the cold, coupled with the near-sprint speed that was close to an all-out run for a human, had already made him run at least five kilometers.
As Snow White watched the drops of sweat fall from Moore's forehead with her gaze, she noticed something unusual in his left hand.
There were red spots appearing here and there, and the color of his fingertips, in particular, had turned black.
Frostbite—and it indicated that black necrosis due to tissue freezing had begun in his fingertips.
"Damn..."
She clicked her tongue involuntarily. To be this battered and still be stubborn was nothing short of exasperating. She even felt some sympathy for his subordinate Nikkes.
"Let's rest for a bit."
"You don't need to worry."
"No, we're resting. I... ---also need maintenance."
She had to say it like this, or he would never stop.
Although they were supposed to be meeting for the first time, Snow White somehow understood his personality as if she had known him for a long time.
---
Author Text: The commander who first heard Modania's voice said, "No way... the screenwriter... you bastard... Are you seriously calling this a redemption route?! Are you going to tell me to point the gun at her again!?"
"──Human. You go to the right."
"──Understood. I'm the decoy, huh."
Snow White is Nikke. Nikke, who has been fighting on the surface since the first invasion by the Rapture, which led to today—a Pilgrim.
She has already experienced several shifts in thought process, and almost none to no memories remain. During the first invasion, she was chosen from among the fleeing humans as the suitable one and, as a result, became Nikke herself, fighting alongside her comrades as a bulwark against the extinction of humanity, but even those memories are hazy.
Yet, despite all that, she watches a young man, dressed like a volunteer for suicide, running with a assault rifle thrown over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye.
The reason for her existence as Nikke is the extinction of the Rapture and, consequently, the return of the surface to humanity. It should include protecting humanity, but Snow White counted the young man she had just met as a combatant.
It was an unconscious decision, something she felt she had to do, but she couldn't explain why she had reached such a thought at this point.
Nevertheless—
"──It feels strangely nostalgic..."
The young man runs to the right, firing at the Talkative. She indulges in a moment of nostalgia as she hears the gunfire.
Snow White herself can't quite grasp the meaning of the words that escaped her mouth when she said, "Nostalgic."
However, within the knowledge she has reconstructed from the stories she heard from her former comrades, she feels the phantom presence of them.
"──Seventh Dwarf, ready."
She aims the long, white sniper rifle that doesn't match her stature and takes her shot.
Whether the young man understands her intent or not, he concentrates on firing at the talkative one's legs to reduce its mobility.
[You Old Relic...! What a petty trick...!!]
(Tl notes: This guy has guts, saying a woman being OLD.)
"How does it feel to be a subject of anatomy!?"
Shooting bullets through the tendons necessary for walking—those thin legs were already disproportionate to its body. Any injury would disrupt its posture, compounded by its own weight.
Of course, repairs would be carried out immediately.
But—
"──Pierce through."
For her, a few seconds were more than enough.
BANG!
In quick succession, several shots penetrated its torso, and the repair function couldn't keep up. The part that hit its spinal cord was damaged, and it lost the ability to move, becoming the target of Snow White and her attacks.
Amidst the flying flesh and the dark catalyst fluid that ominously stained the white snow, the grotesque monster turned its face towards the approaching figure.
[──...s-spare...!]
"Human, step aside. I have something to say to that thing."
"Unfortunately, I also have something to say to this talkative chicken-legged basta*d. How about settling this peacefully with a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who goes first?"
Snow White, with narrowed golden eyes, looks up at the young man. She wants to call him a fool, but when he extends his hand first, she reluctantly puts out her own hand.
Shaking their clenched fists up and down, they eventually each present their hands without delay.
"...You go first."
The young man, Moore, steps back, and Snow White steps forward.
"...I finally caught you. I have so many questions for you."
[──Help... me...!]
The creature, trembling in front of her, gazes up at Snow White's flowing silver hair.
"...Begging for your life. Pitiful creature of the abyss. For what reason were you born into this world, to cry so sadly?"
She hums like she's singing, a requiem for a creature that's about to die.
But still---- something is off.
Moore, who was standing behind, placed his finger on the trigger of the assault rifle he had just borrowed and aimed the barrel at the Talkative.
[──Help... me... please!]
"...Disgusting."
[──Queen...!]
Snow White responded immediately to the words spoken by the Talkative One.
As she leaped backward, a rift tore through the dim sky.
Illuminated by the chaotic colors of light pouring through the crack, a huge shadow, black and ominous, resembling a Rapture, descended.
To Moore's eyes, it appeared as if it belonged to a robot from some science fiction content, but it was more than just its appearance—it was its presence, perhaps.
A malevolent intent toward humanity, as if distilled from negative emotions. Moore instinctively aimed the rifle at Talkative as the figure with the robotic appearance, resembling a Rapture, descended.
A door near the head of the robot-like Rapture suddenly opened, and a figure floated down from it.
The figure that landed on the snow quietly was unmistakably female in form. Probably Nikke—however, she was quite different from the Nikkes' Moore was familiar with. She was probably piloting the Rapture and controlling it, with something resembling the external skeleton on his right leg.
With the black contraption adorning her shoulders, legs, and arms, and her eyes concealed by a protector, Nike approached the Talkative, her grayish long hair flowing.
"──Talkative, you poor thing... Don't worry. I'll help you."
The voice that sounded with calmness struck Moore's ears. His index finger, resting on the trigger, twitched in response.
....The voice seemed familiar.
No, it couldn't be. She is definitely not...
Moore cast aside the fleeting thought and once again placed his index finger on the trigger, pointing it at the unidentified Nikke.
"Are you the ones who hurt my comrades?"
He aimed at the protector that would conceal the forehead of the unidentified Nikke. The voice emanating from the well-shaped lips on her face didn't seem familiar, but rather similar—not quite the same.
"Heretic."
"Heretic...? Your acquaintance?"
"Direct subordinate of the Queen... Heretic... one who betrayed humanity and chose the Rapture... former Nikke!!"
As Snow White questioned her, she responded with a voice filled with resentment.
It seemed her voice had reached her, and the Nikke in front of her shook her head with a sigh.
"...You have too many names for me. Can't you just call me 'Modernia'?"
Indeed, it seemed their voices were similar. But the name was not the one Moore knew. With relief, he applied pressure to the trigger beneath his index finger. At his side, Snow White also aimed her long sniper rifle at the unidentified Nikke—Modania.
"Today must be my lucky day. I'm one step closer to the Queen again!"
"Considering the Talkative's condition... I would prefer you to die here though..."
While both of them aimed their guns at the targets—Snow White also began to aim other arms she carried at them—Modernia, undaunted, turned her gaze to the side. Repair was out of time, and the Talkative was dripping dark bodily fluids onto the snow.
"...For the sake of my precious comrades, I'll withdraw this time. I'll remember your faces, though."
Being remembered by a beautiful woman would be an honor under normal circumstances, but Moore would usually respond with sarcasm in this situation. He had no choice but to keep aiming the gun while keeping his lips firmly sealed.
"Do you think you can escape?!"
"You're not dealing with me right now."
With polite words, Modania looked up at the sky with a crack running through it. Then, a group of Raptures of the Lord class emerged from the rift and stood in front of them.
"Everyone, please. Now, Talkative, can you move?"
"Step aside first!"
As the red single eye lit up in unison, Snow White recognized it as a response and urged Moore to move back, initiating the battle once again. When she pulled the trigger of her sniper rifle, a flash ran through the air.
Following her lead, Moore grabbed the backpack he had left behind and began to run. After retreating, he stopped and turned around. He aimed his assault rifle at the group of Raptures that Snow White was attacking with various weapons. After quickly changing the empty magazine, he signaled her to retreat as well.
While receiving cover fire, Snow White began to withdraw. In the meantime, Modernia hopped onto a huge robot—or perhaps a craft—and accompanied the fleeing Talkative, disappearing into the distance.
"Damn it! Did we let them get away?!"
Snow White, who had moved to Moore's side while clicking her tongue, looked up at the departing figure but quickly aimed her gun at the Raptures.
First, they needed to eliminate the threatening enemies.
-----
Eventually, all the enemy machines fell to the ground, emitting black smoke, and stopped moving. Snow White sprinted towards them.
"Alright... the traces are still here."
"Footprints of the Talkative?"
"Yeah... ----Why are you still here? You should leave."
"Even if you tell me to leave..."
Snow White discovered the footprints and was about to pursue them, but when she recognized Moore's presence, she narrowed her golden eyes and spoke as if to glare at him. Moore also wished he could do just that.
However, in this frigid land with nothing but themselves, being left behind in a world teeming with Raptures, even he wasn't confident he could survive for more than half a day. In fact, being able to survive for half a day might be considered remarkable.
"Right now, your condition cannot be considered as combatant anymore. Go back quickly."
"I wasn't useful? At least as a decoy. I can provide support, if nothing else."
Shrugging his shoulders, Moore handed the borrowed assault rifle to her. If you really want me to leave, then take it and go. That was the attitude he conveyed.
Although his appearance infuriated her, a certain premonition, almost a conviction, crossed her mind. If she were to take her eyes off this man and move forward, he would probably die surprisingly easily.
Perhaps because of this, Snow White let out an annoyed sigh.
"I'll set the pace! Just follow me!"
"Understood. I'll make sure not to fall behind."
While pushing the offered assault rifle away, she also threw him another spare magazine. She aimed it at his face as if to express her frustration, but he effortlessly caught it.
Moore began to put on the warm combat jacket that had finally dried out this morning from his backpack. He looked somewhat human again after several hours.
Eventually, Moore followed Snow White as she started running after the footprints, albeit at a slower pace.
Unlike themselves(Nikke), who were different, no matter how well Moore could handle weapons for Nikke, he was just a human after all. He would soon run out of stamina and give up following her—she thought that as she continued to run.
Even though she continued to run at a pace that was fast for him, she didn't pay any attention to the man following her—yet, he was still keeping up.
Perhaps due to the exhaustion of his strength, he exhaled white breath frequently. Carrying the heavy backpack he had just taken back from the Talkative , and holding Snow White's assault rifle, he continued to chase after her under those conditions.
Should she be amazed, or should she be exasperated? Snow White herself was at a loss for how to react.
Simultaneously, what was troubling her was the increasingly fierce blizzard. At this rate, the footprints would be buried in the snow, making tracking difficult.
Moore, who had been lagging behind by dozens of meters while panting heavily, finally caught up to her.
"---Are you tired?"
"...No, I'm fine. Keep the same pace and i'll follow.After all, I'm the one choosing to come along."
He was clearly exhausted. He had already been without any upper-body clothing since she saw him being taken away by the Talkative.
Exhaustion from the cold, coupled with the near-sprint speed that was close to an all-out run for a human, had already made him run at least five kilometers.
As Snow White watched the drops of sweat fall from Moore's forehead with her gaze, she noticed something unusual in his left hand.
There were red spots appearing here and there, and the color of his fingertips, in particular, had turned black.
Frostbite—and it indicated that black necrosis due to tissue freezing had begun in his fingertips.
"Damn..."
She clicked her tongue involuntarily. To be this battered and still be stubborn was nothing short of exasperating. She even felt some sympathy for his subordinate Nikkes.
"Let's rest for a bit."
"You don't need to worry."
"No, we're resting. I... ---also need maintenance."
She had to say it like this, or he would never stop.
Although they were supposed to be meeting for the first time, Snow White somehow understood his personality as if she had known him for a long time.
---
Author Text: The commander who first heard Modania's voice said, "No way... the screenwriter... you bastard... Are you seriously calling this a redemption route?! Are you going to tell me to point the gun at her again!?"
