The silence following Zero's question wasn't a void; it held a history I wasn't part of. Ha-jin held his gaze, but the rigidity of his shoulders revealed an unusual tension. The residual amber light of the room, now empty of guards, carved out Zero's marble-like features and cast a shadow of doubt over my companion.
"I planned on telling her at some point," Ha-jin finally replied. His voice lost its usual tactical confidence, dropping to a near-inaudible tone.
"There is no reason to hide," Zero countered with cutting coldness. "In this environment, real-world titles are the only variables with any value. Your anonymity is a luxury you can't afford if you intend to lead from the rear."
Confusion burned in my throat. I stepped between the duel of stares that reduced me to a mere spectator.
"Tell me what, 'partner'?" I interjected, my eyes fixed on Ha-jin. "What does he mean by you hiding?"
Ha-jin opened his mouth, but his words died before they could be spoken. The hum of the generators shifted in frequency; an acoustic signal marked the end of the main energy cycle. The command room lights dimmed to a crimson emergency glow. Night fell over Zone 4, and with it, the mandatory truce of physical exhaustion.
"It's late," Zero declared. He adjusted his glasses one last time before turning his back on us. "Training begins first thing tomorrow, with or without your confessions. Don't waste your sleep cycle."
He left without waiting for an answer, leaving us in a stifling gloom. Ha-jin gave me a fleeting look—an indecipherable mix of apology and reservation—before retreating to his sector. I was left alone in the hallway, the echo of Zero's question hammering at my temples.
I entered my room with the rigidity of an automaton. The weight of the day collapsed onto my shoulders: the carnage of the Shadow Error, the alchemist's weeping. I stripped off the uniform with clumsy fingers and sank into the sheets of the spartan bed.
Darkness brought no peace. Insecurity seeped through the cracks of my will; I felt like a misplaced piece on a board whose rules I barely understood. If Ha-jin was an enigma and Zero was the axis of the world, what place did I hold? An expendable asset with a chrome sword?
My body imposed its own logic. Extreme exhaustion snuffed out the fear and overcame my resistance. My thoughts fragmented into cyan flashes and obsidian hooks until the void pulled me under.
The scent of coffee and the touch of cotton were my first thoughts upon waking. For a second, the warmth of my real home enveloped me. It was a mirage.
When I opened my eyes, the illusion disintegrated. The concrete ceiling and the hum of the generators brought me back to Aetheria. I wasn't at home. I was in a barracks, trapped in a simulation where sleep was the only free refuge.
I sat up with a heavy sigh. In this world, introspection was a dangerous luxury; I wondered how long my sanity would hold before Aetheria's hyperrealism broke me completely.
Zero summoned us to the hangar at sunrise. Ha-jin was already waiting there, his rifle leaning against a supply crate. The tension between us was almost physical—a wall of silence following last night's revelation. He avoided my gaze, concentrating on cleaning his weapon; I kept a cautious distance, still hurt by the veil of secrets surrounding him.
Zero appeared, impeccable under the harsh morning light. Without any informal greetings, his authority acted like a gravitational force that compelled us to focus our attention.
"I've analyzed your status profiles," he began with absolute confidence. "You'll notice that you didn't level up after eliminating the infected worm in the hollow."
I exchanged a glance with Ha-jin. It was true: my experience bar had barely budged despite the magnitude of the battle.
"Aetheria presents a critical inconsistency," Zero continued, projecting a tactical chart onto his visor. "The code doesn't correctly interpret the elimination of infected targets. Sometimes it grants substantial bonuses; other times, it simply ignores the event. It's a random glitch in rewards that we cannot afford."
He adjusted his glasses and stood before us, casting an imposing shadow.
"To face the Shadow Error, the method must be systematic. You will level up with healthy and infected worms alike. We won't discriminate between targets based on biological status; every kill will be a calculated step toward strengthening your stats."
Zero's coldness was absolute. He treated the slaughter as mere data collection—an unsettling but flawless logic. Despite my distrust of such pragmatism, I felt a surge of inner excitement. I was under the command of a legend: the strategist who had dominated the gaming world before reality was submerged in this nightmare.
"Get ready," Zero declared. "The hunt begins in ten minutes. I'm not looking for heroes; I'm looking for efficiency. If the system doesn't grant levels by merit, we will take them through sheer volume of kills."
Ha-jin nodded with somber seriousness and loaded his rifle with a sharp motion. I gripped my sword under the weight of uncertainty. The alliance held, but the rift between us—under Zero's watch—threatened to devour us before the first worm even fell in the sand.
The tactical transport roared over the dunes; a monotonous sound that accentuated the environmental heaviness. In the rear cabin, the space became stifling. Ha-jin kept his eyes fixed on his Apex rifle. I was the one who broke the truce.
"I'm not looking for your life story, Ha-jin-kun," I began in a low voice, barely audible over the engine. "But last night, Zero was clear: you're hiding your identity. In a place where death is the only end, an ally's secrets are invisible traps. I deserve to know who I'm fighting with."
He didn't look up. His jaw tensed, and his fingers tightened around the weapon's trigger guard before he released a sigh of annoyance.
"I don't owe you any explanations," he declared with a coldness that sought to cut the conversation short. "We are brothers-in-arms, Takamori-san. That means covering each other's backs, not exchanging personal diaries. My performance in the field is the only variable that should matter to you."
I gave him a frigid stare. I tucked a blonde strand behind my ear with deliberate slowness and crossed my legs; my posture remained impeccable despite the vehicle's jolting.
"You're right, you don't owe me anything," I replied with pragmatic elegance. "But don't mistake my demand for transparency for trivial curiosity. In this simulation, a secret is a blind spot, and blind spots will kill us both. If you choose to be an enigma, make sure it's not the one that buries us. I'm not looking for your trust; I'm looking for our survival. Your arrogance is a logistical risk I won't take."
Silence reigned once more, this time with a hint of forced respect. Ha-jin-kun didn't respond; I focused my attention on the desert opening up behind the reinforced glass.
The transport came to a stop before towering dunes. The radar indicated constant biological activity. Zero leaped onto the sand first. His presence radiated an authority that eclipsed our immediate dispute. He adjusted his tactical glasses and pointed toward the horizon, where the sand rippled erratically.
"Identify targets," Zero ordered over the comms. "Don't look for glory; look for levels. Attack systematically. Ichika, close combat. Ha-jin, suppression from the ridge. Begin the hunt."
I unsheathed my Resonant Blade in one fluid motion. The rage at Ha-jin's attitude flowed into my arms, mutating into a lethal focus. The system flickered before my eyes as threats emerged from the sand.