Pei Ran walked on for a while, stepping out of Inaya's line of sight before finding an empty seat.
The carriage had been flooded earlier—seat covers were still soaked. She pulled one off and tossed it aside before sitting down. She took off the metal sphere and placed it on the tray table in front of her.
"Did your core processor get wet?" she asked W.
Moments ago, the carriage had turned into a massive fountain, water spraying everywhere. Even though the sphere had been wrapped inside her coat, there was no guarantee it had stayed dry.
But they'd been running nonstop the whole night—there had been no time to check on him.
W replied gently, "You should get some rest first. It's not urgent."
"It is to me," Pei Ran said. "I'm worried you'll short-circuit."
She pried open his outer shell and peered inside. As she suspected, there were visible droplets of water in some places.
"I'm running diagnostics now," W said. "Some components seem affected. Could you help me dry them?"
His folding arms were still functional, but he couldn't reach everything himself—he needed her help.
Pei Ran pulled out some tissues from her backpack and carefully began wiping the interior of the metal shell.
After a moment, W spoke again. "Pei Ran, I think one of my components is malfunctioning. Could you press down hard on the small dark-orange cylinder?"
That mysterious memory unit again—always his top priority.
Without showing much expression, Pei Ran pressed it with her finger.
"Is it broken?" she asked.
"Doesn't seem so," W replied. "I can still access it, but the connection keeps cutting in and out. Probably a problem with the interface. Could you take it out and wipe it down?"
She removed the small cylinder, wiped both ends of the connector clean, then reinserted it. "Any better?"
"Actually... it seems worse. I can't access it at all now."
W paused, then said, "Based on the symptoms, it's likely still just an interface issue. Never mind—it's fine as is. Could you also help me wipe off the core processor?"
Even the core ranked behind that memory module.
Pei Ran carefully dried the glowing blue core.
"We should probably wrap you in a plastic bag next time," she mused. "Then you won't have to worry about water damage."
She imagined how he'd look covered in a plastic bag—probably quite cute.
W seemed to picture it too and didn't sound thrilled. "No need. We're heading northwest into the Rift Zone—there'll be hardly any water left. Moisture won't be a concern anymore."
He added, "At the current train speed, if all goes well, we'll arrive at Night Sea Line 7's final stop by 8 a.m. tomorrow."
The last stop on the Night Sea Line was Yelcha City.
"This afternoon, a retreating unit passed through Yelcha from the south. They reported the city still intact—no fires."
He continued, "Yelcha is about 20 kilometers from the southern entrance of Blackwell. The entire route is rugged rift terrain—no vehicle access. We'll have to go on foot. Blackwell will dispatch a small armed team to meet us at the northern outskirts station."
Blackwell sending an escort—now that was a relief.
Something suddenly occurred to Pei Ran.
"That image we sent from the dam—the one with the embedded text—do you think it put Blackwell at risk?"
Some all-seeing force might've noticed that a message containing readable text had gone through... and nothing exploded.
"No," W said calmly. "That message wasn't sent from Blackwell."
"Blackwell's production lines have been repurposed to build simple devices. Starting this evening, we've been placing them outside the shielding layer to experiment with different types of signals—to monitor whether the Silent Protocol is still stable. For example, what signals might now trigger an explosion? Are previously safe behaviors still safe? I used one of those devices to send the message to Yulianka. It won't compromise Blackwell."
It sounded like things were starting to fall into place.
Even though the sphere was physically here, W had complete oversight of everything happening in Blackwell—and full control of its infrastructure.
Pei Ran thought quietly: Sphere, you're far more than just a sphere.
Just as Haipo had said: this spherical patrol drone was only a tool, controlled remotely by the real Agent W. The fact that it insisted on traveling to Blackwell, and that Blackwell was even sending a team to pick it up... Pei Ran figured it must all be about that tiny memory module.
She glanced at the dark-orange cylinder again.
Then she continued working, wiping down every component inside the sphere before sealing the metal casing back up.
Once she was done, Pei Ran set the sphere aside and laid her head down on the tray table, closing her eyes.
She wasn't sleeping. She was observing the green lights inside her body.
There were four now—the writing one (Light One), the drawing one (Light Two), Yulianka's green light (Light Three), and the new cluster from the Tangu Dam. A full house, like they were holding a conference.
Light One had eaten the dam-fused green light earlier, like a snack. It still wasn't full—she could feel it circling that large dam cluster, eyeing it hungrily.
Only her constant restraint had kept it from attacking.
But evolving Light One—to write better and create JTN35—was the top priority. So she loosened the restriction.
Light One pounced instantly, tearing into the dam cluster like cotton candy. It absorbed it in a few bites, then glowed brighter.
Light Two watched with envy but didn't dare move—Pei Ran still held it in check. Yulianka's green light was just like its previous owner—curled in the corner, unmoving.
Pei Ran was beginning to detect a pattern.
Order-type green lights easily consumed fusion-type ones—but didn't seem able to devour other Order-lights as easily. There must be more conditions involved, or maybe they just weren't strong enough yet.
After its midnight snack, Light One hadn't even gone to sleep when Pei Ran summoned it with a thought.
It finally appeared in her mind's visual space.
Pei Ran wrote the letter "J". Then "T".
The light jumped cheerfully to the next spot.
It wrote: N.
Then trembled faintly, as if still eager.
She summoned it again, and it leapt forward once more.
She had it write: 3.
Then it went still, waiting calmly, as if expecting her to draw a period.
It had made huge progress tonight—two more characters than before.
They were so close. Just one more letter, and they could finish writing the name of the drug—JTN35.
With four characters now available, perhaps they could attempt a phrase like "anti-rejection drug." The stronger the light became, the more detailed the medication packaging it could produce.
Pei Ran hesitated.
But they were still on the way to Blackwell—anything could happen. Better not waste this chance. She should save it for when a life truly needed saving.
She erased the characters, let Light One rest, and finally allowed herself to sleep.
Northwest, Blackwell Base
64 hours into the Silence
Marshal Veina entered the command center with a deep frown and hurried steps, not even having finished buttoning her coat.
She'd barely gotten any sleep before Agent W called her back in.
Not just her—the entire interim strategic committee had been summoned.
On the large central holoscreen was a vast construction site—an enormous pit housed a spire-like launch device, with black materials and half-built defensive structures surrounding it. The shielding dome was still incomplete.
This was Phase Two of the shielding infrastructure—currently under urgent construction.
The feed came from a surveillance drone perched high up, giving a full view from above.
W zoomed in quickly.
Corpses came into view. The workers constructing the site—every one of them shot in the head, like they'd been sniped.
CEO Bathaway stumbled in half-awake, saw the screen, and blurted, "Phase Two was attacked?"
No one bothered replying.
Marshal Veina had already heard the report from W en route. "Agent W, show me the battlefield."
The feed lifted, expanding the field of vision.
Beyond the half-finished defenses, the automated weapon systems were fully active—a ring of gunfire flashing nonstop in the night.
And beyond that—an unimaginable horde was surging forward like a tide.
Everyone fell silent.
W zoomed in on one of the attackers—closer and closer, down to the fine detail.
It looked vaguely humanoid—head, torso, limbs—but everything was interwoven with mangled metal and cables.
Clearly a fusion—one in a state of madness.
Lt. General Song Wan stared. "That thing—is it a fusion of a human and a Type-13 Striker combat robot?"
W's voice answered: "Correct. North of Blackwell, near Araku City, there's a massive federal weapons plant. They produced and stored large numbers of Type-13 Striker full-autonomous combat robots. It's possible they fused with the local population. The numbers are staggering."
Type-13s were the Federation's most advanced combat robots—top-tier.
They first saw action wiping out rebels in the Mancha Mountains—demonstrating terrifying power.
Agile, deadly, absolutely obedient, and fearless, they were designed to replace humans as the backbone of the army.
Someone asked, "Aren't we still under the Silent Protocol? Shouldn't any text-bearing component have burned out?"
"They did," W replied. "But if you look closely, some parts of them are charred—but fusing with humans in madness... seems to have bypassed the failures."
They should have been dead. But they still moved.
Song Wan frowned. "Why would they actively attack the Phase Two shield?"
W answered, "Judging by behavior—they've switched to full 'Erase Mode.'"
Everyone in the command center understood what that meant.
In Erase Mode, combat AIs destroyed everything—buildings, lifeforms, infrastructure. No survivors. Total annihilation.
Veina squinted. "Is the assault coordinated?"
There were flanking units, cover fire, synchronized tactics. It wasn't just chaos.
"Yes," W replied. "They're likely being directed by a 'Thinker' mobile operations AI."
Thinkers were battlefield brains—used in tandem with Type-13s to analyze tactical conditions and issue commands.
"There was at least one Thinker unit at the weapons plant. It may have fused too."
A horde of fused Type-13s under Thinker command—organized, relentless, and lethal.
This was going to be a serious problem.
Marshal Veina immediately asked, "The Thinkers need to send signals to command the Juggernaut-13 units, right?"
W replied, "Just like in real warfare—they're using encrypted military signals. So far, they're unaffected by the Silence. The Thinkers have automatically assessed the situation and upgraded their encryption protocols. Right now, it's still uncrackable—but I'm working on it."
Lieutenant General Dersa interjected, "Then what if we find a way to jam the signal—"
"I thought of that the moment the attack began," W cut him off. "But Hekei's current equipment is extremely limited. We're not capable of jamming the Thinkers' transmissions at this time."
Veina asked, "Can we locate the Thinkers?"
If they could identify and destroy the mobile command centers operated by the Thinkers, the Juggernaut-13s would be forced to operate independently—vastly weakening their offensive capabilities.
W responded, "We still don't know how many Thinkers are controlling the units. I've dispatched every drone that can still fly under Silent Mode, directing them to bypass the sea of amalgamates and scout the rear for any sign of the Thinkers' locations."
The Thinkers were mobile and could hide—cunning and evasive like sly battlefield commanders. Under the current circumstances, those capabilities were infuriating.
W continued, "Marshal Veina, the launch devices for the Phase-Two shield project are extremely valuable. If they're destroyed, Hekei no longer has the capacity to manufacture replacements. If we rely solely on automated fortifications, we won't be able to hold out much longer against their assault."
Veina nodded. "Let's see if a concentrated artillery barrage can take them out."
That might have worked if they were facing human troops. But this was a tidal wave of intelligent, heavily armored Juggernaut-13s—and worse, grotesque amalgamates. Artillery alone probably wouldn't be enough.
Someone voiced the obvious concern, "We may not have the military strength to face them head-on."
The Federation had enjoyed decades of peace. The number of active-duty soldiers had been cut again and again. The military increasingly relied on automated weapons and AI-powered units. Human soldiers had gradually shifted from combat roles to operating and maintaining these systems.
Unfortunately, those were the very weapons most vulnerable to the Silence.
Many automated systems became completely unusable—either due to their visual display interfaces or the markings and text inside their components. The moment they left the shielding zone, they either exploded or combusted.
Over the past two days, Hekei had been racing to retrofit them, but the number completed was still small.
There was likely still a stockpile of old-style weapons and ammunition that human soldiers could use. Whether that would be enough remained uncertain.
Marshal Veina was growing increasingly frustrated.
Before long, alarms began blaring throughout the midnight base, followed by W's composed, emotionless voice:
[Emergency assembly. All military units, proceed immediately to designated emergency rally points and await further instructions.]
Sipu Plains.
Aboard Nightsea-7.
Pei Ran was dreaming when a sharp clanging of metal against metal jolted her awake.
She sat up with a start.
W's voice sounded next to her ear. "It's fine. We've arrived at Zalan City. Two passengers are getting off here."
Until now, Nightsea-7 had passed every station without stopping, rushing through one after another. This was the first time the train had slowed down—after leaving the last small town near the coast, it gradually decelerated and pulled into the station.
Outside the window, it was still dark. Zalan's skyscrapers loomed, all pitch-black, not a single light shining.
The city had already burned. Whatever could catch fire had done so long ago. Only a few windows still released thin trails of smoke.
At least the buildings were still standing, solid and unmoving—and most importantly, they weren't writhing.
Nightsea-7 rolled into the platform and came to a complete stop.
Pei Ran looked out the window and saw a couple disembark from the adjacent car, lugging large bags.
To get off here, instead of heading to a shelter, meant Zalan must hold someone they couldn't bear to leave behind. Someone they had to find.
A parent, perhaps. Or a child.
No one else got off. The rest of the passengers sat in silence, watching as the couple walked away.
The train's lights cast long shadows behind them as they exited the station.
Just as they were about to turn a corner and disappear from view, something enormous and grotesque burst out from beyond the exit.
It didn't resemble any known creature—more like a massive wave, roiling and surging down the street. Under the lights, it was dark red, sticky, pulsing with a glistening sheen. In an instant, it engulfed the couple who had just stepped outside.
Inaya and the others in the front cars must have seen it too, because Nightsea-7 surged into motion almost immediately, accelerating with all its might.
The train shot out of Zalan like a fleeing arrow, leaving the doomed city far behind.
Only thirty-seven passengers remained onboard.
Pei Ran lowered her head back onto the small table.
With amalgamates lurking everywhere, the shelters were their only hope.
She drifted into sleep again, her mind foggy with exhaustion. When she awoke, daylight was pouring in through the windows.
The metallic sphere sat quietly beside her. When it noticed her move, it spoke at once.
"You're awake? Nothing happened in the second half of the night, so I didn't wake you."
Pei Ran glanced at her wristband—already past 7 a.m.
Surprisingly, the night had passed without incident.
W continued, "Pei Ran, I have one piece of good news—and one bad."
Pei Ran muttered, "Start with the bad. I need something to shake off the grogginess."
W replied, "The bad news is that last night, the Phase-Two shield installation in northern Hekei came under attack. The amalgamates are a fusion of humans and combat robots—extremely difficult to deal with. Hekei had to throw everything they had just to repel a few waves. The losses were severe, and the battle is still ongoing."
Hekei was overwhelmed, barely managing to hold the line.
Pei Ran asked calmly, "So no one's coming to pick us up anymore?"
W answered, "A small team was dispatched—they'd already left. But about half an hour ago, all contact with them was lost."
Something must have gone wrong on the road.
"Then we'll go ourselves," Pei Ran said. "But if amalgamates are attacking Hekei, is it still safe around there?"
"They hit the northern region. The southern route, through Yelcha, is still safe for now. We'll stick to the original plan—get off at Yelcha and enter through Hekei's southern gate."
"Alright," Pei Ran agreed, then asked, "What's the good news?"
W replied, "The good news is that Hekei's Emergency Council was originally planning to hold a formal session this morning to finalize the screening criteria for the first wave of civilian admissions. But because of the overnight attack, the meeting has been delayed."
Pei Ran raised an eyebrow. "That's your good news?"
W explained, "It's delayed, not canceled. Given the current emergency, the review process will actually be simplified. The Council now plans to hold a short ad-hoc session this afternoon to finalize the criteria quickly. Once that's done, they'll be able to start admitting civilians immediately."
In other words, by this afternoon, Hekei would become accessible.
That was good news.