"It's a bit of a shame, but you really are still alive."
Lycaon went on peeling the apple, calmly recounting everything that had happened after Hugo fell unconscious.
"Our people tracked the marks you left along the way and found you. By the time we reached you, you were already gravely wounded—you very nearly died."
His abdomen had been run through, two bullets had struck his chest, and while plummeting through the air he'd scraped against a wall and snapped his leg. Honestly, if the rescue had come a minute or two later, Lycaon might already be laying white flowers at Hugo's grave.
"Then we gave you a special serum that Miss Twiggy developed. It has a few side effects, but it was effective enough—it kept you clinging to life."
"Side effects?"
"Just some negligible Ether Corruption, nothing to speak of. For the next few days, remember not to take off that bracelet."
Bracelet? Only now did Hugo notice the black bracelet around his wrist.
"That's to suppress the Ether Corruption inside your body. Stay under observation for a few more days and you should be able to leave the hospital."
Lycaon at last finished the task in his hands—a perfectly peeled apple now rested in his palm.
Hugo instinctively reached out to take the fruit, only to watch Lycaon pop it straight into his own mouth.
"…Never mind. So while I was out, how did things go on the Ravenlock end?"
"As for that, it's a rather long story…"
And so Lycaon began to recount everything, starting from the moment they had found Geno...
The Ravenlock factory.
Lycaon was locked in a stalemate against a Geno who had lost all reason.
Though he had no rationality left, and though Geno's physical condition had inexplicably declined,
that monstrous regenerative power unique to the Ethereal was not diminished in the slightest.
No matter what kind of damage Lycaon inflicted, Geno would recover within a mere few seconds.
As the fight dragged on, Geno's state showed no change at all, yet Lycaon's injuries gradually mounted.
"Mmgh! This can't go on."
After clashing with Geno once more, Lycaon panted heavily.
His stamina was nearly spent, but for Geno this was only just the beginning.
"Lycaon, why don't we pull back for now? We can figure out how to deal with Geno later!" Eous, standing nearby, could no longer bear to watch; continuing the fight would yield no result.
Gulping down mouthfuls of air, Lycaon felt a rush of coppery sweetness surging up his throat.
He'd assumed he could take Geno down through his own strength—had he overestimated himself after all?
What Lycaon, deliberating whether to heed the Proxy's advice and withdraw, did not know was that at this very moment, inside Geno's head, a perfect opportunity was about to be created for him.
The Mind Space.
The conversation between Geno and the Filth was still going on.
"What do you mean, there's no need anymore?"
The Filth, who had originally been lying on the ground, was now standing right in front of Geno.
Faced with Geno's question, the Filth—lazy and unwilling to answer—nevertheless considered that things would drag on endlessly like this, and so it began to explain.
"At first, when the Progenitor sent me into your body, I was nothing but pure energy. It was only after absorbing part of your memories and Ether energy that I gradually developed my own consciousness within you."
The Filth paused, because it had just realized this account made it sound as though it were something the other had created—and based on what it knew of Geno, the next words out of his mouth would be…
"So that means I'm basically your father, huh?"
"This is exactly why I didn't want to say it. Yes, I was indeed born from you, but I will never acknowledge a guy like you as my father. No—that's not the point! Let me finish! Stop interrupting!"
Even though it had anticipated this, actually hearing the words made the Filth flare up all the same.
And at that, Geno obediently shut his mouth, still making a zipping-the-lips gesture beside it.
Then, in the course of their conversation, the events following the Filth's birth were gradually laid bare.
After being born with its own consciousness, the Filth had at first been somewhat lost. Apart from Geno's memories, it was like a pure blank sheet of paper, knowing nothing of this world.
Yet its origin, in the end, traced back to the Progenitor.
After a brief stillness, the Progenitor's will descended once again.
'My child, bring this body to me!'
'Go now, my child, and fulfill your mission!'
'Bring him to me!' 'Bring him to me!!'
The Progenitor's voice echoed ceaselessly inside the Filth, and gradually this newly born life had its autonomy utterly washed away, becoming the Progenitor's puppet.
Thereafter it enshrined the Progenitor's every word as doctrine, tirelessly whispering temptations in Geno's ear and attempting to seize control of this body.
Although its power could only be unleashed within a Hollow, during that period Geno entered Hollows very frequently, allowing it to keep flaunting its presence unceasingly.
But all of this came to a halt with that unexpected visitor.
An avatar of the Night Demon flowed into Geno's body, suppressing the Filth and leaving behind a power to bind it.
After that, Geno's ears grew a good deal quieter, but the Filth was left miserable—the Progenitor's power kept urging it onward to keep acting.
Yet under the suppression of the Night Demon's power, it had no ability to resist, and could only silently endure the Progenitor's 'teachings.' Had nothing gone amiss, those days might well have gone on for who knew how long.
But just a few days ago, the battle within the Crete Hollow drove Geno to pour out the Night Demon's power to the last drop. And just as the Filth felt it had another chance, it discovered that Geno had recklessly, as though he cared nothing for his own life, burned through every last bit of his Ether energy.
At a loss for what to do, the Filth, under the Progenitor's will, offered up its own power to heal Geno's wounds.
Yet this power was the very foundation of the Filth's existence, and the Progenitor cared nothing at all for its life or death—only for being able to save Geno.
It couldn't understand, couldn't understand at all. Wasn't it a creation of the Progenitor? Didn't the Progenitor still want it to bring Geno to him? Why—why sacrifice it!?
The power that healed Geno came from the Filth, yet the Filth itself had no right to control it. It could only let the Progenitor seize its power and its life to nourish this fellow it regarded as its enemy. Just as it was on the verge of vanishing, the Progenitor's actions finally ceased—because Geno's wounds had already healed, and the power that remained was just barely enough to sustain the Filth's existence, though far weaker than before.
'Bring him to me!'
The Progenitor's voice still reverberated in its ears, but the Filth, having just brushed past death, was far more clear-headed now.
It had come to a realization: it no longer wanted to be the Progenitor's puppet, no longer wanted to be a pawn in his scheme to obtain Geno.
It—the Filth—was lying flat and giving up.
____
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