Zzzzt—!
A sharp burst of electricity rang out, the current striking Soldier 11 almost the instant the sound hit her ears. It was so fast, she had no time to react—let alone dodge.
In the blink of an eye, the electric surge spread through her entire body. Arcs of lightning danced visibly across her frame.
This was far beyond a simple tingling sensation.
A violent jolt flooded Soldier 11's senses. Zane hadn't bothered to restrain his power—he meant to take her out of the fight entirely.
Her eyes rolled back. Even with her exceptional physical prowess, she couldn't withstand such an unrelenting attack. Her body went limp and collapsed to the ground.
Yet even unconscious, trembling on the floor, Soldier 11 still instinctively clutched her longsword, refusing to let go.
But she could no longer move.
Zane silently withdrew his hand and glanced at her.
Judging from the white mouse's reaction, the attack had real bite. If he'd concentrated the same electric power with the intent to kill, it might have pierced right through the core of that Cretan Hollow's Ethereal.
A direct hit to the "core" would likely be fatal.
With Soldier 11 down, the battlefield finally quieted. Only the blaring alarms remained, echoing in the air—no other combatants in sight.
"A defense base this big, and they only sent a dozen squads after me? Not even a single mech? That's… odd."
Scanning the area and seeing no more enemies incoming, Zane lost interest and turned his gaze back to Soldier 11. He walked slowly toward her.
"You were right."
"If you can't do something, don't force it."
"Throwing yourself into danger like that is just foolish."
He paused and sighed.
"You and the base's defense forces should be thankful it was me you ran into. If it had been someone else…"
He reached out and removed her goggles, chuckling.
"Since you've lost, taking a little souvenir doesn't seem unfair, does it?"
As he examined the orange goggles in his hand, an idea formed. If he took a trophy from every defeated opponent, maybe he could open a little exhibition someday.
Not a bad thought.
Looking down at Soldier 11's face now that her goggles were off, Zane nodded with mock seriousness.
Glasses really did hide looks.
At least in her case, that was true.
Just as he was about to leave, a flicker of light at the back of the goggles caught his eye.
A transmitter?
So… everything he said might've been overheard?
Ether surged in his hand, and he effortlessly destroyed the device. If he hadn't decided on a whim to take a souvenir—and if these goggles weren't the only thing she had worth taking—he wouldn't have noticed the transmitter at all.
Thinking back, without that device, the timing of the bullets and Soldier 11's attack wouldn't have synced so well either.
Glancing toward the direction Dennies had tossed them from, Zane turned and left.
Whatever. If they heard it, they heard it.
It was just the two of them then. Even if it was recorded, there was no proof to act on.
Still, it could be a nuisance.
Next time, he'd be more careful.
...
On the high ground, Trigger frowned as she removed the earpiece. It still buzzed with static and harsh electric noise.
Recording? No chance.
It was a private comms device shared between her and Soldier 11—no recording function.
Even if it had one, she wouldn't have used it.
But Zane's words still echoed in her mind. Judging from his voice, he was male. And it sounded like this wasn't his first time meeting Soldier 11—maybe they even knew each other?
She'd definitely need to talk to Soldier 11 about it.
Wait—Soldier 11!
Realizing what that could mean, Trigger immediately left her perch. If the enemy had talked about "spoils," then 11 must be in a bad way!
She didn't know what that monster meant by "spoils"...
And through her scope, Soldier 11 hadn't moved at all.
Like she was already...
A wave of anxiety surged in her chest. Trigger rushed toward the battlefield where 11 had faced off against Zane.
...
Time passed quickly.
By the time Zane, now back in human form, had put distance between himself and the defense base, dawn was breaking.
In the hazy morning mist, a sliver of white appeared on the horizon.
The first light of the hopeful sun began to rise.
Zane walked through the streets. The Mars District hadn't had many proper streetlights to begin with, so the area had been hard to make out in the dark.
Now, under daylight, he could finally see it more clearly.
Raising his gaze, he spotted a tall tower standing faintly in the fog.
It piqued his curiosity. The tower was on his way anyway—might as well check it out.
By early morning, people had started filling the streets. Most hurried to work, while some children in tattered clothes followed behind adults.
Zane quietly took it all in. What he saw, heard, thought, and felt gradually gave him a clearer understanding of the Mars District.
Soon, he arrived at the base of the tower.
The ancient tower stood like a monument left behind by giants of a past era, exuding a weathered, solemn air.
But by actual age, it had only been built during the early New Eridu frontier days—so it wasn't truly that old.
At least, not ancient.
As he stepped inside, a small gray shadow darted across the floor—a mouse.
The stone walls were lined with the marks of time.
Climbing the creaky wooden stairs, Zane ascended steadily.
On the second floor, the cramped space was thick with dust and cobwebs. A worn-out doll lay abandoned in the corner, probably left behind by some child.
Unrecognizable graffiti covered parts of the wall, faded too much to decipher.
He continued climbing.
Eventually, he reached the top of the tower.
It was high enough to offer a broad view—though the fog limited visibility, he could still make out the smoke billowing from the distant Ether factory.
At the top sat a broken, oversized clock.
Zane reached out and gently touched it, fingers pausing over the rough surface. He remembered reading about this—an old comms device once used by the defense forces.
Whatever enemy had made them resort to such primitive means of communication remained a mystery.
No records of it existed.
His gaze dropped to the stone floor beneath his feet—tightly fitted bricks. The tower's construction was solid. The wooden stairs below seemed to have been added by locals later.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a single stalk of weed, yellowing but still upright, growing from a crack in the stone.
Simple, but strangely stirring.
He raised an eyebrow, a phrase surfacing in his mind.
Life will find a way.
Zane looked up at the fog-shrouded Mars District.
Would this place... be the same?
Like that weed?