N Corp. E.G.O Contempt, Awe: Ryōshū's Story

Simulation #66 Complete. All participating subjects, please stand by.

Puff...

The child draws a swift trace with her keen sword, flings the blood splatter from its blade, and pulls out a cigarette in a single, connecting motion that was just as honed and polished.

Before her eyes lies a hill of torn flesh, an amalgamation of things once separate that has become completely unrecognizable as a whole.

The gruesome sight is enough to make those with weak stomachs gag, but it does not seem to bother the child one bit.

A bit hackneyed, isn't it. The way it's stacked.

... Perhaps she is critiquing it.

Hmmh. What a grisly vision this is.

Footsteps approach from behind her.

What? Are you here for the T.S?

If, by T.S, you are referring to 'Training Simulation', then yes - I have indeed received an order. Yet, I must ask...

If the task is complete, why linger instead of activating the cleaning machine?

Need to let it rest and enjoy the luxury of taking in the results after the work is done.

Though, I guess one could argue that the process of creation isn't done until the machine has scrubbed it clean.

Harangue I will not on your perspective on art, yet I would prefer if you did not force viewership upon the unwilling.

Hmph.

The child... instead of dropping the cigarette and snuffing it out, she sizzled its tip on the red button on a wall, pushing it inward.

Then, a large machine that resembled a vacuum came down and siphoned up the haphazardly stacked hill of flesh.

I had high hopes you'd be someone who's artistically inclined when I saw you put lead behind the backs of your comrades, but... you've been S.A.D.

... Side effects of E.G.O Gear Corrosion, nothing more.

The child shook her head with a disappointed sigh, but the other child only gave an unfazed response as he put down the old firearm that hung from his shoulder. Clearly, this wasn't the first time an interaction of this nature had occurred.

The pair had been in more than a dozen battles together ever since they joined N Corp., but their relationship was mostly one-sided and aloof.

The only times when they'd ever exchange words with one another was when the sword-carrying child would chat up the other.

Don't let it eat you up and spoil the fun. I'd like to taste it for as long as I can, heh.

... Of course, it hardly seems that she's chatting him up as a friendly gesture.

The minced flesh tells a tale of an experiment beginning to take shape.

Ahh, that. The director's... flour dough experiment.

An experiment on Identities... to force upon the subjected person their counterpart from a different, parallel world.

Person? Hah, so those things were once human?

They must be.

The director would rather see me excluded from the experiment exploring the field of my own expertise... Learning is prohibited from me, even if I were to seek it. Of course, such things have long fallen out of my interest.

Whatever it ends up becoming... I hope they won't proudly present some unimaginative metamorphosis as their idea of a final product.

I'd like to see them try and make things like rats and mutts, non-human subjects, wear them. Yes, that'd make for a passable sight.

Hm... indeed, if Identities could be projected upon organisms with a high population and very little individual value... they could be utilized as weapons. Perhaps that is the director's vision.

…….

So much for your "I.D.C" attitude. Your mind's racing.

... A drivel, no more.

Were military enhancement the purpose of this endeavor, would not one find the use of mass-produced N Corp. armors and augmentations... or prosthetics significantly more practical?

Do you really think the director would employ imitative machine bodies like those? Just look at the kind of people we are assisting in battle.

... I suppose they were quite happily hammering nails into all those who wore prosthetics. With greater intensity as of late...

Of course, the only reason I'm still here is that I can't get enough of carving beauty out of the vulgar, this awesome weapon and garb as my vestments.

I would've sliced this contemptuous building in half and left long ago had they tried to indoctrinate me into those clichéd fanatics' uninspired massacres.

... An overbearing color has seeped into your verbiage.

Nonsense. I was always like this.

Hm. Remain wary of Corrosion, still.

Says you.

A sharp alarm cuts through their dry exchange.

Commencing Training Simulation #67. Subjects of this training are Ryōshū, Yi Sang. This training will test the simultaneous participation of...

... The coinciding of our attendance is thus explained.

Time to get moving. Walk & cut.

After the brief announcement, several lumps of flesh thudded to the ground from all directions.

In some ways, they resembled unfinished, wet clay... and in others, melted half-puddles of humans. They quickly began to pursue the two children the moment their flesh hit the training room floor.

They are results of utter, utter brutality... it wouldn't do any good to look too closely at them.

Remain wary of my... Corrosion. Nngh.

As you are my only ally in this chamber, it may be but an inevitable eventuality that my bullets shall fire at you.

Hah, you'd dare?

The child leaped between each blast of gunfire, between shambling mounds of flesh as her golden sword sliced through them one by one.

Then... you're welcome to try. Pierce me if you can.

Ngh... I... I gave you fair warning of the... Corrosion.

I am unrivaled, unparalleled; every gaze that falls upon me trembles with awe.

Should you pierce me anyway... that would also constitute a certain aesthetic.

…!

The firearm-wielding child suddenly whips around and fires.

The bullet flies true, aiming straight at the golden-garbed child's back.

... Huh.

But it fails to punch through.

This is...?

The bullet was deflected by a translucent sphere that surrounded the sword-wielding child.

A defensive field of sorts... little did I know that this E.G.O gear carried such functions.

No idea. Never seen it before.

... This may explain why we were to train together.

Knowing that this function exists is enough. Boring.

Shoot me again. I'm going to deflect your bullet right into that shithead over there.

The director must be once again deploying new technology to these gear... or, perhaps this is simply the consequence of our increased synchronization with them.

... He's lost himself in his own world again. Hah.

But she cared very little for such things. She continued to flurry and cut through the particularly aggressive flesh mounds, as the other child had put his gun down in favor of daydreaming.

Maybe this wasn't the first time something like this has happened. Or, maybe she was simply glad to cut more; the child's sword did not come to a stop, and she did not complain.

The director's thoughts are difficult to parse... hm. Do you recall our visit to a village they called Calw?

... Oh, the computer-obsessed little shit?

Sitting in her room in front of a computer for days on end... until the director showed her something to spark that fervor, I believe.

Indeed. She behaved as one Corroded, despite not having been assigned an E.G.O gear at all.

If this be not the consequences of Corrosion, then...

... we would do well to be cautious. It is entirely possible that the director harbors a certain ulterior motive as we are cultivated like livestock.

Hah!

The child cuts down another massive lump of flesh, the size of three people put together, and scoffs.

Hmph, and I'll welcome the attempt.

Then, she continued...

It better be one creative betrayal. I deserve something more...

... than a tired, clichéd backstabbing. Should I not be presented with one such demonstration, the director'll have to pay for such pathetic lack of originality.

... her eyes glistening with both excitement and contempt.