Chapter 8.
In the small trembling hand of Lili, the grenade went off like a miniature sun.
Bay 63 convulsed in a storm of fire, steel, and pressure. The air itself was crushed flat, sound shattered into a single deafening roar. For one instant, everything was light and thunder.
At the epicenter, Lili felt nothing. Her body never even had the chance.
Her tiny hand disintegrated first, the grenade fusing with flesh as it burst. Her mask exploded into fragments, her delicate face torn apart in a flash of heat and steel. Her chest imploded, ribs turned into shrapnel, lungs and heart atomized into red mist. Her cloak, her boots, even the beans and strawberries tucked carefully into her pockets — vaporized, scattered into fire and ash.
There was no body left. Lili was erased — reduced to dust and memory.
The infected nearest her suffered the same fate. Dozens of Sad People were shredded, laughter cut short mid-note. Their wide grins seemed frozen in the splintered fragments of their faces as they were torn into mist and limbs.
The hulking giant that had leaned down to touch her was annihilated outright. The blast caught it full in the helm, splitting its head like a rotten melon. Its swollen tongue and insectoid eyes vanished in fire, its entire upper half erased in a spray of molten pus and armor shards.
Further back, others staggered. Sad People were ripped in half, tumbling across the floor in spasms of mad hilarity even as they died. One of the Rotlords reeled, its plague-plate cracked, ichor weeping in black rivulets from ruptured seams. But most endured. Their twisted frames absorbed the blast, and when the echoes faded, they straightened. And laughed.
A chorus rose in Bay 63 — mad, broken, jubilant. They laughed over the ruin, a thousand grinning mouths exalting in carnage.
And from the heart of that ruin, something small rose.
It was not of blood, not ash, not even bone. It was a pure sphere of white light.
It drifted upward from the smoke where Lili had been. No larger than a child's heart, but bright, pure, pulsing softly as though alive. Each shimmer was a heartbeat. Each flicker a breath.
But the infected did not see it. They could not. The ball of light existed beyond their realm, outside the sight of flesh. Their mad victory-cries rolled on, blind to the miracle that floated silently past them.
For this was not flesh. This was essence. Lili's soul — her Core of Light, the very fabric of her being, her second heart she had always carried within her body — revealed at last.
It glimmered once, then began to move. Slowly at first, as though caught in an invisible current, it drifted toward a narrow gap in the vast hangar doors. Something unseen pulled at it, drawing it outward into the storm.
Behind, Bay 63 echoed with laughter — the Giants, the Sad People, their voices shrill with madness as they howled over broken corpses and smoldering ruin.
But the white light floated on.
Silent, unseen, and untouchable.
She was leaving the world of flesh behind and heading towards a new beginning. But Lili herself held no control or consciousness, she was merely for now just a passenger being pulled into the unknown.
And as for Lili's conscious self, the world within the Core of Light was a quiet place. The explosion had not ended her, but instead cast her into a dreamlike state, a place of soft rest before reaching her new destination.
And within this dream she sat on a smooth rock, shaped as though it had always been made for her. Its surface was warm beneath her, and it jutted gently out of the glassy water of a perfect lake. Her bare legs dangled in the shallows, little ripples curling around her feet.
The air was gentle, cool and fragrant with pine. Trees rose tall along the shore, squirrels darting between the branches. Birds wheeled lazily overhead. The sun poured soft gold through an endless blue sky. For a moment she thought: this must be life again. This must be real.
Her little hands folded in her lap, and she smiled faintly at the cool water licking her toes. But as her gaze swept the lake's stillness, her smile faded.
She quickly realised that this place was no paradise, for she was alone.
There was no Heavy to carry her on his broad shoulders, grumbling but smiling all the same.
No Corporal to explain the magical world of electricity and wires, showing her how light flowed like water through hidden veins in the walls.
No Medic kneeling beside her garden, poking curiously at her flowers and fussing over her powers as if she were some miracle.
No Karst boasting about his tricks, no Juno or Fenn teasing her, or showing her how to stand tall and strike properly like a fighter.
Not even the Sergeant was there — stern, steady, his gravelly voice speaking of gods and holy books, telling her that her light was a gift of life, like the sun shining above her now, the old miracle-worker men once called divine.
And her parents… her parents weren't here either.
Not sitting together on a park bench, smiling and laughing, watching her with soft eyes that never let her feel unsafe. She remembered how their happiness had been her happiness — how just seeing them together had filled her with warmth. She even missed the playgrounds, though she had always been shy and awkward, teased by the bigger children for the way she spoke or how she often lingered by herself looking at flowers and even the little squiggly worms. She didn't care about the teasing then, not really — she still wanted to be near them, to see their faces, to hear the sound of other children playing. Now she wished more than anything that she could have saved them too.
She missed her flowers. The little white blossoms she had planted in the metro. The garden she had coaxed from cold dirt and gravel, her apple trees just beginning to take shape under the glow of her lightstones. She had left them all behind, just like she had left everyone else.
And most of all, she missed them — the seven soldiers who had become her family. She could still see their faces if she tried: Rask's booming grin, Venn's sharp eyes, Orrin's calm patience, Karst's sly smirk, Juno's scarred jaw, Fenn's quiet kindness, and Halvern's hard but steady gaze. Each of them had taught her something, more than just words on a page. They had taught her to fight, to endure, to build, to hope. She had loved them all for it.
But now they were gone, all of them, and for whatever reason she was here alone while they weren't.
She stared out over the water, her little hands curling against her knees. The lake was beautiful, the air gentle, the animals lively — yet none of them looked at her, none came near. The squirrels kept to their branches, the birds to the sky, the fish circling her toes without care.
Did they not want to be her friends either? Was she destined to sit here alone, forever alone?
Her chest ached, guilt twisting deep inside her. With all her powers, with all her light, she had failed to save them. She had failed to save anyone, not even a single plant.
And that thought tore at her little heart more than anything else.
Her chest tightened. Memory returned like a stab: the fire, the screaming, and the Sergeant's last words rasped into her ear as his blood soaked her cloak. "Watch me. Do as I do." Then the flash — red mist, smoke, tomato juice? She could not remember. It was all foggy now.
Her hands curled into fists against her knees. She whispered the words again to herself, hoping they might bring him back. Was he proud of her? Had she been brave? She wasn't sure. She only remembered the grenade, the blinding light — and then this place.
Then suddenly a rustle broke the silence.
She turned, her breath catching.
At the forest's edge stood the Sergeant.
Not whole, not clean — but broken and bloody. His flak armor was shattered, his helmet split, his mask hanging in shards. His frame was staggering, his gauntlet limp at his side. His visor cracked down the middle, behind it nothing but shadow.
"Sarge?" she cried, scrambling to stand, but her legs refused her. The rock pinned her down, her body stuck fast. Panic welled in her throat. "I can't move! Wait for me, please! You don't have to bleed anymore — I can heal you, I promise I can!"
But he said nothing.
He leaned against a tree in silence, then — slowly, heavily — turned away. Step by step, he limped into the forest, vanishing among the branches.
"No! Wait for me!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Don't go! I can fix you, I won't let you disappear! Not again!"
She strained with all her strength, tugging, trying to leap free — but the rock held her fast. She was trapped, condemned to sit forever at the beautiful lakeside, alone.
Fish brushed against her feet, tickling her toes. She squealed, giggling helplessly, even as tears blurred her vision. "Stop it! This isn't funny!"
Her throat burned. She wanted to cry. But instead, she clenched her tiny fists and screamed at the sky:
"No! This isn't right! I have to save him! I have to do something!"
The Sergeant's voice echoed in her mind — not just his, but all of theirs. Promises, boasts, careless laughter in the dark.
She remembered the way the men had once kept discipline: quiet, sharp, always speaking in clipped orders. But years in the metro had worn them down. Food had grown dull. Days had blurred. Hope had thinned. And slowly, in the cracks, they had begun to show their real selves.
They had thought she wasn't listening. They thought she was asleep, curled in her cloak, or busy fussing with her garden of peas and strawberries. But she always listened. She had good ears. And she had learned to sit very still, humming softly to her plants so the men would keep talking, thinking her mind elsewhere.
She remembered Rask's booming laugh, the Heavy bragging that when he got off this Emperor-forsaken rock he would buy an entire tavern and drink it dry. Juno had teased him that no tavern roof was tall enough for his thick skull, and Fenn had muttered that he'd prefer a farm, quiet and green, where no one would ever raise their voice again. Karst, ever mocking, had snorted that he'd take a brothel over a farm any day, and had gone into lurid detail about buxom women with "backsides like pillows" until Fenn turned pink beneath his mask and begged him to shut up. Venn didn't speak much, always locked in his room thinking about his family back home, kind of like Orin kept busy studying her plants compositions and unnatural growth patterns.
And the Sergeant — Halvern — had let them talk, though sometimes even he had joined in. She remembered him saying, low and gruff, that one day he would have his own planet or even a whole solar system. A whole world stamped with his name. Not just a farm, not just a tavern — an entire world. He said he would have palaces with marble floors, a harem of women with big breasts and small faces — that detail had made the men laugh until their shoulders shook — and a crown of gold on his head. He would be a planetary king, and no one would ever give him orders again, and apparently he would somehow get it all thanks to her.
It was strange to Lili. She didn't understand most of it. But she remembered clearly the one part he had spoken to her directly. The only promise that had been hers alone.
When she had once confronted him about this all, he had said that if she was a good girl she could have whatever she wanted. So she had wished for a garden of her own that she wanted to share with him. A true garden under the sun. Strawberries by a lake, apple trees to give shade from the sun, green fields, a place where she could plant as many flowers as she wished, and never again fear someone stepping on them.
He had promised her all that, if only she just made him a king. And once when she had been feeling really bold, she had then asked him if ever she could sleep in the same bed with him again so she didn't feel so lonely. To that he had smiled and said that it would only be possible if she were to become his queen once he was a king, and to this she had agreed and a promise had been made. She didn't understand why her words back then had made him so shocked and caused him to promise not to tell the others, but she liked that, the two of them with their very own secret.
She seized on that now like a lifeline.
"I'll help him see it become a reality!" she shouted into the empty dream. "Even if I don't understand, even if it's… buxom women and money and things I don't get — I'll still make it real for him! I'll make him proud! I'll make him happy again!"
Her little light flared, trembling with defiance.
She turned on the animals of the dream — the squirrels, the birds, the fish at her feet. "You're not real mister squirrel, or mister bird or misses bird, and not even you, you swarm of nibbling fishes!" she cried, pointing her finger at them like an accusing teacher. "None of you are real, and I'm not being mean but just stating fact's ok, so don't be sad!" She turned her hand upward, shouting at the sky, at the trees, even at herself. "This isn't real! It's fake! Fake!"
The lake quivered, then cracked apart like glass struck by a hammer. Trees withered into smoke. The sun guttered and died. The dream-world fell away piece by piece, until only her tiny Core remained — a white light burning stubbornly against the void.
She opened her astral eyes — and saw.
She was no longer flesh, only a floating ball of light somehow, drifting out of Bay 63.
Behind her, Bay 63 was smoldered, filled with corpses and fire. Her body — what was left of it — lay scattered with the Sergeant's, both gone forever, but that didn't matter to her now. More importantly she quickly sensed something: his soul was no longer there, just like with the other's. He had already risen, which was what most likely the others had done as well.
She felt him, faint but clear — a dim gray ember floating above somewhere, drawn higher, pulled into the stars.
Her little light pulsed once, resolute. She didn't know where the other's were as she couldn't sense them at all, were exactly was Rask, had they already went on way ahead without waiting for her or Sarge? Well it didn't matter for now, she would think of all that later.
Without further hesitation, she followed the Sargent's trail that she could sense.
She soared through the fractured hangar doors and into the storm.
The world outside stretched dead and cold, snow falling endlessly as lightning tore across the black clouds and around the spaceport the flying demons were still circling. The city below lay buried in ash and ruin. But none of it mattered anymore.
She didn't need a ship to fly now. She was a ball of light, she was free and she would save the Sergeant.
She would save him and everyone else if she could, and she would see her parents again one day.
With all her will, she turned upward, rising into the storm and as she rose into the clouds, her little Core of Light flickered like a firefly in a storm. Snow swirled unseen around her, winds clawed at the heavens, lightning split the sky in blinding forks.
Then as she entered the clouds her core suddenly trembled and there was a pull. Something far to her side within the clouds was summoning her with irresistible force, trying to draw her to it, faster and faster.
But she resisted and stayed on course. Then as if in response, lightning suddenly cracked sharply to her side, clouds parted slightly and for the briefest of moments she glimpsed him clearly—a perfect being wrapped in a brilliant light, divine in form, his noble features ageless, obscured partially by shimmering golden-white armor and an aura of pure, celestial light. Great wings spread from his back, each feather blazing with luminous fire. His face was noble, half-hidden in the glow, but his eyes—deep, icy-blue—pierced through the storm with intensity and terrible urgency.
And as she passed the figure and soared higher, she heard it within herself.
"Wait my child!"
The voice did not come from his mouth. It resonated inside her, a thunder that filled her Core. It was both command and plea, as if it had authority over all creation.
But Lili did not stop. She surged higher, wings of will alone pushing her through the clouds.
And then suddenly pain struck—a sting of warning. She darted aside just as a searing bolt of golden lightning tore past, so close it nearly burned through her light. She gasped silently and fled upward.
And finally she broke through the storm, rising above the stormy clouds. For the first time, she saw the heavens as they truly were: the endless black, infinite and star-strewn, close enough to swallow her whole. Terror seized her, but she did not falter.
The voice thundered again, softer now, tinged with sorrow, like her father's voice when he had taught her lessons she never understood.
"Stay still, my child. Your destiny is not with him. Return, and I can yet gift you strength that will help you guide your people, bring them into the light. It is what you were born for."
Lili's light trembled, but her resolve did not.
No. I can't, and I don't want to.
"I-I'm sorry, mister… but I have to save the Sergeant! He's precious to me—like Mama was! And friends stick together, right?"
Then came another flash too fast for her to see, but it missed. And this time she saw him within it—not steady and serene, but wild, uncontrolled. He was the lightning itself, moving too fast for even his perfect form to control. His blazing hand had slashed through the void, trying to seize her, but he failed.
She darted beyond him, away from the planet, into the vast black sea of space.
And there—she felt it.
A faint ember ahead, fragile and gray. The Sergeant. His soul drifted silently, rising like a dying coal toward the stars.
Her little Core flared. She surged forward, faster than thought, swifter than starlight.
But danger rippled through her being.
She veered sharply, just in time. And once again a golden bolt lanced past, so close it seared her light to the core. The angel almost caught her this time, but not quite and she wouldn't let him.
"Stop this!" His voice cracked with sorrow, reverberating across the void. "Billions of lives depend on you! Do not waste the gift you carry on one mortal soul. Your destiny is greater than his!"
But Lili's light flared defiantly.
"I don't care!" she cried, pouring all her will into the words. "I can't leave him! He's right here—I won't abandon him now!"
And there in the distance she saw him, the Sargent's gray soul was floating slowly further into the stars and away from the planet. Speeding up she reached him at last—the drifting ember of gray. For a moment she didn't know what to do, but by sheer force of her will, trembling tendrils of light came out from her like hands of light, and so she wrapped him, held him, pulled him close. And then she began pouring her warmth into him, her own light began to dim slightly but she didn't care, she was healing him, cradling him, pouring herself out into the fading spark that was her precious Sargent.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the gray began to brighten.
"Don't worry, Sergeant," she whispered in thought, tender and determined. "I'm not letting you go."
Her light was wrapping more and more around him.
The Sergeant's gray ember pulsed weakly, dull as ash, but under her touch it began to change. Her tendrils of white light coiled gently around his fading core, pouring into him, brightening him. He's core was not pure — not pure at all — but slowly shifting. The ember bled into pale white, rough and dim, like one of her stones from the garden.
A tether formed between them.
She felt it — a string, delicate yet unbreakable, pulling at her heart. His soul stirred faintly, a groan in the dark. Consciousness flickered within him. He was not awake, not yet — but he was there. Connected.
Her little light quivered with joy.
I knew it. I knew I could save you.
But then — danger.
A prickling ran through her essence. She turned, and froze.
Far far in the distance, next to the blazing sun, a figure loomed — vast, radiant, wings spread across the heavens. The angel. He had overshot her so far that he had nearly dashed himself against the burning star. Now, with the precision of a comet, he turned and came.
Golden lightning split the void. He moved with such speed that even his perfect form could not contain itself — a blur of wings, a flash of flame. In an instant he was upon her.
This time his hand did not miss.
Light engulfed her. She screamed without sound as enormous armoured fingers closed around her. Compared to him she was nothing — a spark in a god's fist, held like a child's toy. From her tendrils dangled the Sergeant's soul, limp and gray-white, tethered still.
The angel's voice thundered inside her, stern now, like a father who had lost patience.
"Enough, child."
He wrenched her upward. The tether strained, and with a flick of his vast hand he tore her free, separating her from the Sergeant. His gray light drifted away, just beyond her reach, helpless in the void.
"No!" she cried, stretching out her tiny tendrils desperately. "Give him back! Please!"
But the being's gaze was cold and infinite.
"You are foolish, little one. You chase what is dust, when I would give you eternity. This is not for you to choose — it is your destiny. You will accept it, whether you will it or not."
The words rolled like scripture, lofty and vague, yet commanding.
"Time is short. I shall grant you power — a fragment of what you must become. With it you shall save many. You shall stand in the breach and hold back the forces of darkness. Achios shall not fall, Mikri Poli shall not fall. You shall turn pestilence aside and prepare the way. The End War will come, and you will lead your people into its light. This is the will of Heaven."
Golden fire seared through her Core. She gasped — but it was faint, almost nothing. She hardly felt it.
Her little light trembled, reaching still for the Sergeant. "I don't care! I don't want power! I just want him!"
The angel's eyes darkened, sorrow and anger entwined. His wings spread wide across the stars.
"Then so be it. My time wanes. I have given what I may. Remember, child: lead your people. Fulfill destiny."
He pulled back, vast as the heavens, his grip tightening on her light. She was engulfed in gold, a spark within a sun, his arm drawing back like a titan preparing to hurl a spear.
And then —
It happened.
The Sergeant's soul stirred. His dim light shuddered, pulsed, then split. From it lashed tendrils — clumsy, raw, but real. They whipped outward, latching onto hers by instinct. Gray-white wrapped around pure white. Hand to hand. Soul to soul.
Then before Lili could rejoice the throw came.
Golden light hurled them both across the void. Lili and the Sergeant, bound together, spun hand in hand as spheres of light. Not toward Achios — but past it as the Sargent's being had sent them off course.
Instantly the angel froze.
"What—? Impossible! That such an impure, common thing—"
But the words cut short. His radiance faltered. He had burned too much of himself in the chase. His form wavered, cracking like glass.
"Fools!" he thundered, his final cry. "Your both fools!"
And then he vanished, fading into nothingness, retreating back into his own plane of existence.
And for Lili and the Sargent, the world blurred beneath them.
Time cracked.
The void shuddered around them as the universe itself began to run backward.
For an instant, Lili saw the Sad People's fleets reappear, sliding into existence as if dragged by invisible strings. The great green plague-ships wheeled back toward Achios, their sickly tendrils retreating into themselves, laughter unwinding into silence. In the blur, she glimpsed the Imperial defense fleet and its space station reforming, guns blazing once more, orbital platforms blinking back into place like candles relit.
Then the battle itself collapsed inward. Ships un-exploded, wrecks stitched themselves whole, and then vanished as though they had never been touched. The enemy armada folded into the stars, gone.
At the same time below, the planet healed in reverse.
The cloud of pestilence that had smothered the skies sucked itself away like smoke into a jar. Nuclear fire imploded, burning cities knitting themselves together again, shattered towers rising proudly, rubble returning to glass and steel. Ash turned to rain. Snow melted to rivers. Fields spread green across the land, forests bursting back to life as if the years of ruin had never been.
By the time they spun past, Achios was whole again — a jewel of blue and emerald glimmering in the sunlight, perfect and proud.
But they were no longer bound to it.
The two souls — one white, one dim-gray tethered to her — spun hand in hand through the void. Faster. Faster still.
And behind them, unseen by Lili's small eyes, the rewind of time did not halt, the moment of invasion went past its mark. Time stuttered, and overshot.
The proud cities dissolved into wilderness. Farmlands sank back into untamed forest. The great spaceports, domes, and shining capital of Achios Prime melted into blank earth. The fleets, the stations, even the first colony ship that had landed on the planet long ago and been left there as a memorial, now it also left and vent away.
The planet rolled backward through centuries in seconds.
And as they were flung further into the abyss of space-time, Achios was left behind as it once had been, long before humanity had ever come.
A wild world of endless green. A jungle planet, raw and primal, untouched by war or civilization.
But Lili did not see it. Her little light was fixed ahead, clinging to the Sergeant's soul with all her strength. To her, the fleet's vanishing and the world's brief flash of emerald were only passing glimpses in the blur of her desperate flight.
Together they tumbled — hand in hand — through the dark, spinning through space, spinning through time. Stars wheeled around them like sparks from a forge, flaring and fading as they tore past. Whole constellations bent into ribbons, galaxies blurred into streaks, ages folded into seconds.
Lili's little Core flickered with both joy and dizziness.
She had done it. She had saved the Sergeant. No mean angel could take him from her now.
For a moment she thought about saying something rude about that big glowing man who had tried to pull them apart, but the words stuck. She had never really managed to say mean things about anyone before. Not even about the Sad People — and they were clearly bad. Her light trembled with the thought, but all that came was a soft, guilty whisper: He was still mean, though.
The spin carried them faster. Faster still. She felt the Sergeant's soul limp in her hold, his light faint but tethered strong.
"Sarge?" she called, her thoughts spilling into the void. "Wake up! You don't have to be sleepy now, we're flying together!"
No answer came. Only a dull pulse, weak and gray.
So she did the only thing she knew. She kept healing him. Her white glow poured into him, cradling him, dimming herself to keep him alight. Each time his ember quivered, her little Core pulsed with hope and the Sargent's ball of light became more bright like her.
And then suddenly, the spinning slowed.
At first it was only a blur, stars wheeling around her like sparks from a forge, whole ages flashing by too quickly to grasp. But now, the whirl eased, the dizziness lessened, and the blur became shapes.
Lili blinked her astral eyes wide.
Ahead of her, hanging in the black, was a pale round ball. Gray and pocked with scars, shining faintly like a lantern left in the dark. She gasped softly.
It looks like… cheese.
The thought slipped through her mind before she could stop it. Round, pale, full of little craters like holes. Not a good cheese, like the soft yellow she had once tasted in the little restaurant with her parents, but a gray one. A sad cheese ball, drifting alone.
Her little light pulsed, half in awe, half in amusement. Maybe I could nibble it… but no, that would be mean, especially if I don't ask permission first.
Then as they flew past it, her gaze went beyond it and her heart leapt.
A world filled her sight. Vast, blue and green, swirled with white. It glowed brighter than anything she had ever seen, as if the whole planet were alive. Seas glittered, forests sprawled, clouds curled across its skin like soft blankets.
Lili's little Core flared with joy.
It's so clean! No stations, no wrecks, no green clouds… just pretty water and land. Oh! Maybe here… maybe here I can have my garden again!
Her mind spun with images — strawberries growing under a bright sky, apple trees heavy with fruit, white flowers swaying in warm wind. And by the edge of a lake, clear and blue, she saw herself planting rows of beans and peas, smiling. The Sergeant would stand there too, proud of her.
And then her innocent thoughts wandered further, as they always did.
Maybe the Sergeant could finally have his harem here too. All those women he wanted with big breasts and butts and funny little faces… She giggled to herself, spinning faster in the void. He could be their king! King Sarge, ruler of a whole planet!
Her little mind scrambled to find a name worthy of him. Planet Halvernia… or maybe Hal-bum… or even Butt-faceia? She laughed again, light flickering in happy pulses. No, no, he wouldn't like that. But it would be very funny.
Below, the green jewel swelled larger as they descended.
She saw its lands more clearly now. A great continent spread beneath her, rivers flashing like silver veins, mountains cutting sharp white lines across its back. She could see patches of deep forest, glittering lakes like drops of glass, and wide plains browned by the sun. Smoke rose faintly here and there, but not from factories or fleets — just thin columns from tiny towns, hidden among the hills.
Her little Core leaned forward, eager, childish curiosity spilling out.
If we go north, there are so many lakes! We could swim forever and build a hundred strawberry gardens there…
She spun helplessly, tilting sideways. Her gaze caught the dry lands to the south.
But those sandy parts… deserts? Maybe? I could see what they're about. I've never been in one. I wonder if strawberries can grow in sand… maybe if I water them enough?
She pulsed with excitement at the thought — but the tether pulled her onward. She could not steer, could not choose. She was only a passenger, caught in the great fall.
Hand in hand with the dim light of the Sergeant, she tumbled toward the land below. And as they fell through the veil of clouds they drifted, even slower now as feathers, their light sinking toward the earth below.
And there, waiting, lay hills, forests, and a town whose smoke rose faint against the bright day sky.
Lili's wide eyes blinked at the sight beneath her. A whole town sat along the bend of a broad river, its stone houses clustered tightly together, roofs tiled red and brown, smoke curling from chimneys. Narrow cobblestone streets wound like crooked veins between the buildings. It looked beautiful, but so strange to her, so primitive.
There were no flashing bright lights. No towers of steel and glass. No humming trams or flying ships. Just plain stone and wood, like a little play village crudely built by children.
Her Core flickered uneasily. Do people actually live here, really?
Then movement caught her eye.
On the southern fields, men were pulling back from the grassy hills and field's and moving into the streets of the town. They wore dark blue coats and pale trousers, their heads topped with funny helmets crowned by iron spikes that gleamed in the sun. Some carried long, clumsy-looking guns that didn't glow with charge packs or look all that cool in her eyes, but they at least had bayonets. Others rushed carts into place, piling barrels and furniture into walls across the narrow streets. What seemed like families dressed in all sorts of crude attires ran with them, women pulling children by the hand, crossing the stone bridges that spanned the river into the northern part of the town.
But not everyone fled. Some men slammed shutters closed and crouched at windows with rifles ready. Others simply stayed put in their houses, too stubborn—or too foolish—to move at all.
Lili tilted in confusion. Spiky helmet men…? Why are they building walls out of carts and chairs? Why don't they have proper barricades or building materials and tool's?
Then her Core pulsed again, and she looked to the far horizon.
Over the grassy hills came another army.
She gasped. They were so many. Thousands and thousands marching in perfect lines, the sun flashing on bayonets as they advanced. Their coats were dark blue too, but their trousers were bright red—so bright it hurt her eyes. The "red-pants army," that was what she decided to call them instantly.
The ground shook faintly under their boots. Horses dragged enormous cannons, their wheels rattling on dirt roads. Brass buttons gleamed, drums beat, flags snapped in the summer air. Compared to the weary spiky-helmets, these men seemed endless, flowing over the hills like a tide of blue and red.
Lili pressed herself tighter against the tether of the Sergeant's soul, her little light trembling. So many… are they chasing those other's? Hmm, maybe the red pants are bullying those other people, and scaring them off from their side of the river?
Then she noticed him.
Atop a horse, riding proud before what seemed like really small cannons, was a boy. No, not a man, but a boy not so much older than herself—his dark hair neatly combed, his uniform immaculate, his shoulders held arrogantly high. His face was handsome, almost pretty, and Lili's Core quivered strangely. For a fleeting, innocent moment, she thought him cute.
She watched as he dismounted with a practiced grace, strode to one of the great cannons, and with a flourish of his hand, seized the cord.
The gun roared.
Smoke billowed, the iron ball shrieked across the air—
And smashed uselessly into a cobblestone street, cracking stone but harming nothing.
Lili blinked. That's it? It doesn't even glow or go puff. Not even a little.
But to her shock, the red-pants army erupted in cheers. Hats waved, flags flourished, and the boy stood tall, smiling as if he had just conquered a planet.
Lili tilted her little light in bewilderment. That was… stupid. Why are they so happy? It didn't even hit anything!
Yet the cheers rolled on. And with them, the battle began. From above, the sight to Lili seemed almost like a game.
The red-pants army marched steadily from the fields into the town, their flags snapping, their boots thundering on cobblestones. They did not creep or hide like soldiers in the stories Lili knew. They simply advanced in long, perfect lines, their bright uniforms gleaming in the sun as if to say look at us!
Across the bridges, the spiky-helmet men scrambled. They pulled back fully into the northern half of the town, carts and barrels piled into walls behind the bridges. Rifles poked from windows, helmets glittered as they crouched low. The bridges themselves now looked like great stone throats, waiting to swallow the red-pants men if they dared to cross.
Lili felt puzzled by this. Are they just trying to scare each other? Maybe it's a parade? Like marching bands in silly costumes?
The air shivered with sound.
"En avant! Vive l'Empereur!"
The cry rolled like thunder across the fields. Thousands of voices, thousands of boots.
The red-pants army surged into the town. Lili blinked down at them as she drifted slowly through the sky with the Sergeant's pale ember in tow. At first, she thought it was some kind of parade. Rows and rows of men in bright blue coats and scarlet trousers marched shoulder-to-shoulder, their rifles glinting in the summer sun. Brass buttons shone, leather straps creaked, and their tall red hats bobbed in perfect rhythm. They looked almost silly, like toy soldiers dressed for a festival.
Cobblestones clattered under their boots as they marched straight into the town streets. Columns split neatly toward the three stone bridges that crossed the river. The water below sparkled, calm and uncaring. On the far bank, behind makeshift walls of barrels and wagons, stood the spiky-helmet men — smaller in number, but much better protected behind their barricades.
The red-pants army halted at the bridges. Officers in gold braid paced before them, swords raised, waiting. Nobody fired for the first few moments. The men just stood there in perfect lines while the spiky-helmet men across the river aimed their rifles straight at them.
Lili tilted her head in confusion.
Was this a game? Were they truly just trying to scare each other?
Then, with a barked command, the spiky helmets fired.
The sound cracked like endless thunder, rattling the air. White smoke belched from hundreds of rifles, drifting in choking clouds across the river.
And men began to fall.
Scarlet trousers buckled, blue coats crumpled. Some tumbled backward into their own ranks, some pitched forward onto the cobbles, blood splattering in thick dark streaks. A few fell from the bridges altogether, arms flailing as they splashed into the river below. The water swallowed them, spreading ripples tinted red.
Yet still the red-pants men did not break formation. Officers shouted, waving their swords, and the survivors gritted their teeth and calmly stepped over the fallen to close the gaps. Lili was in total disbelief.
"They're dying for real…" she whispered, horrified. "They're not pretending at all."
Another volley cracked from the far bank. More men fell, their cries sharp and ragged, echoing under the stone arches. Blood spread quickly across the bridges, turning the stones slick and black. Bodies piled in heaps — but still the soldiers stood, muskets on shoulders, waiting.
Then at last once the old officer of the middlemost bridge fell choking on his own blood as it sprayed from his neck, and another took his place did the order come. The red-pants raised their rifles, aimed as one, and fired in reply. The recoil staggered them, smoke pouring in blinding sheets. The air filled with smoke. Screams rose from the beetle-men's side now, their barricades spattered with blood. But even as some fell, others loaded and fired again with machine-like calm.
It went back and forth, volley after volley, each side standing in open lines as though cover and survival meant nothing.
Lili didn't understand any of it. To her it all seemed so unreal, so mad. Humans killing humans, now that wasn't right at all, right?
And then the cannons roared from the Red pants side, all of them falling horribly short.
From the southern ridge, the great guns boomed, their iron throats belching smoke and fire. Metallic balls shrieked through the air, smashing down into the town.
But not into the enemy.
Into their own.
A shot landed in the southern quarter, blowing through a line of houses. Stone and timber burst into the streets, crushing one unlucky man beneath rubble. A second shot fell short, plowing into a column still marching, tearing bodies into pieces, spraying blood across beautiful blue flags. Flames leapt up from shattered rooftops, smoke curling thick into the summer sky.
Panic rippled through the red-pants ranks. Men broke, running for cover, stumbling over corpses, some even throwing down rifles in their flight. Officers screamed, brandishing sabers, trying to reform them — but the smoke, the fire, the blood was too much. Disorder spread like fire in dry grass.
Across the river, the spiky-helmets roared with laughter and jeers. From behind their barricades they cheered, waving rifles and helmets at the sight of their enemies burning themselves alive.
But to Lili, the entire event was madness.
Although before Lili could dwell further on the madness of humans killing humans, she and the Sergeant's tethered lights drifted lower, shimmering like falling stars.
They touched down near the northern riverbank, just beyond the smoke and volleys, their luminous forms hovering only a few meters above the wet grass. Their glow pulsed once, then began to weave flesh out of nothing.
From Lili's core, radiant threads unwound, knitting themselves into a framework of heart and bone. Veins sprouted like roots, wrapping muscle and sinew across white ribs. Skin stretched pale and smooth over the form. Platinum hair spilled down her back in gleaming strands, lashes fluttered into being, and her deep-blue eyes opened as lungs gasped their first breath of clean, untainted air.
Her body finished quickly, whole again. The glow faded, and gravity claimed her. She tumbled, naked, to the grass.
Cold earth pressed against her skin, small stones poking painfully into her backside. "Ow! …Owwww!" she squeaked, rubbing herself with a little pout. Then she blinked, chest rising, breath catching in awe.
"It hurts… it really hurts. I'm alive!"
She laughed — bright, innocent, bubbling up from the heart of a child who had been dead only moments before. She tilted her head back, spreading her arms, letting the sun warm her skin. The wind tousled her hair. The smell of grass, sharp and green, filled her lungs. After years of darkness and ash, it was overwhelming.
No Sad People, no songs. Just air. Just life.
Then her eyes widened.
The Sergeant's light still hovered before her, weaving. She expected his familiar form — scarred jaw, wiry muscle, heavy frame, the beard she used to tug at playfully. Instead… something else emerged.
At first, she thought her vision was tricking her. The frame was too small. The jawline softened. The shoulders narrowed. Muscle shaped lean and wiry, not broad. Platinum hair poured down like her own. Lashes lengthened. Lips plumped. The glow coalesced into a delicate face with deep-blue eyes — the same eyes as hers.
Lili's Core fluttered. She stared, stunned, as the Sergeant's body finished forming. Pale skin sealed over budding curves, chest flat but with the faintest promise of girlhood. Hips slim, limbs toned but slight, just like hers. Even the little marks of youth, the faint lines of growing muscle from years of training, appeared the same.
Then the glow collapsed, and the Sergeant's new body fell.
"W-wait!" Lili squeaked, darting forward. She caught her — barely. The weight was shockingly light, not the heavy bulk of the man she had known, but soft, warm, and fragile. Even so, the force sent Lili tumbling backward into the grass, the new Sergeant sprawled across her lap.
For a moment she couldn't breathe. She was staring into her own face.
Her own small frame, pale and delicate. Her own hair, platinum and wild. Her own deep-blue eyes, shut in unconsciousness.
The Sergeant was a girl.
And not just any girl.
She was her.
Every detail the same — the petite build, the faint hint of curves from early blooming, the wiry muscle hidden under soft skin. The Sergeant's rebirth had not restored the man she had clung to. It had created her twin.
Lili sat there in shock, her arms trembling around the mirrored figure resting against her.
He's me… she's me… the Sergeant is me.
Her little Core pulsed once, unsteady, as the sounds of musket fire cracked in the distance and cannon smoke drifted across the river.
For a moment there was only warmth — sunlight on their bare skin, the rustle of grass, the sound of the river behind them.
Then the Sergeant stirred.
He groaned softly and blinked, squinting against the sun's brilliance. Years had passed since he had felt its touch, and its light stabbed his eyes like knives. A hand rose instinctively to shield his face.
But the hand was wrong.
Small. Slender. Pale.
He blinked again, forcing his vision to clear. And then he saw her.
Lili — leaning over him, her blue eyes wide, her platinum hair shining like spun gold in the light. Her face was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. For one heartbeat, he thought she had grown older — taller, fuller — but no. It wasn't her who had changed.
It was him.
Something twisted in his chest. His hand flew down to his torso. The chest beneath his palm was flat, soft, fragile. Panic surged, his hand dropped lower — and he froze.
Gone.
The thing that had been his pride, his manhood, the weapon he had used to please women and father children — gone. He sat bolt upright with a strangled cry, eyes wide in horror.
"No… no no no no—!" His voice rang out sharp and high, not the gravelly tone he had always known, but bright, girlish, angelic.
He clutched himself again, trembling fingers searching desperately. Nothing. Only smooth skin, soft curves.
"My pride!" he gasped. "It's gone! What did you do to me?!"
Lili blinked, startled by his tone but smiling brightly, happy he was alive at all. She clasped her little hands together.
"I saved you, Sarge!" she chirped. "I was a good girl like you said! I blew myself up and found your soul, and I caught you before the mean angel man could! He tried to stop me, but I was too fast, and you helped too — you grabbed my light-hands at just the right time! So now we're both here together!"
The Sergeant stared, his lips parting, but no sound came out. Only the rush of blood in his ears, the hammer of his heart.
His mouth opened again, ready to curse her — but his voice, high and delicate, made him choke.
"What… did… you do to me?" he whispered again, but it came out as a child's plea.
Lili's smile only widened. She sat straighter, proud of herself, her blue eyes sparkling. "I made you better! Look, I gave you a piece of me so you wouldn't be lonely anymore. You have a Core now too! Like mine!"
Her small hand pressed to his chest. He stiffened — but then he felt it.
A pulse.
Warmth, faint but real, just beneath his heart. A light not his own, resonating with hers.
His eyes widened. For a moment, the horror slipped. "I… have a Core?"
"Yes!" Lili nodded eagerly. "See? Two heartbeats — yours and mine. We're connected now, forever. Like sisters! Like… twins!"
The Sergeant's breath caught. The despair that had clouded his mind flickered and cracked, replaced by something else — wonder.
He lifted trembling hands and stared as faint motes of white light danced across his fingertips. He could feel it. A power thrumming in his chest. A piece of her, inside him.
A laugh bubbled out of him — strange and girlish, but real, breaking past the shock. He pressed his forehead against hers suddenly, clutching her shoulders. "Emperor's throne… I can feel it. I can feel it, girl!"
And then he hugged her.
Together they toppled backward into the grass, two identical little bodies wrapped in one another's arms. Naked, fragile, but radiant with joy.
Lili laughed with him, her bell-like voice bright against the backdrop of distant cannon fire and the roar of battle in the town beyond.
For one fleeting moment, they forgot the war. They forgot the ruin. They forgot everything.
Two twins — one born, one remade — lay together in the sunlight, hearts and Cores beating in unison.