Danan surrendered to the elevator’s inertia, opening his eyes as a short electronic chime sounded. Beyond the silently sliding doors stretched a river of men and women, hands clasped behind their heads, lying face-down in a line, punctuated by corpses with bullet holes in their skulls. The thick stench of blood wrinkled Danan’s brow. Carrying Eve on his back, he darted from the elevator, avoiding prying eyes.

  A security soldier fired, killing a woman. Another shot pierced the brow of a man trying to flee, leaving the body unceremoniously shoved aside. The river of corpses grew, blood pooling into small lakes—not quite a mountain of bodies or a river of blood, but close enough.

  Danan snapped the neck of a Crucible of Carnal Desire member, dragging the corpse into a passageway and stripping its gear. A rusted assault rifle, a drug-tainted gas mask, and narcotics from a pouch… Laying them on the floor, Danan clicked his tongue, detaching the cartridges from the mask’s sides and twisting off the drug-soaked filter.

  If he could steal the enemy’s gear and disguise himself to escape, so much the better. But even if he escaped alone, he couldn’t abandon Eve. The exit was blocked by five security soldiers in mid-level city gear, rifles in hand. The grand hall was watched by eight Crucible members. He was confident he could fight and kill them all to survive. But—

  “…”

  Glancing at Eve, breathing heavily and sweating profusely on his back, Danan shook his head and shrugged. He was at his limit too. Even a brief nap couldn’t erase his fatigue. The physical toll from fighting the Cleaner and the mental strain of killing his old friend Seira weighed on him, his heart shackled by chains. Cut off from retreat, wracked by the pain of loss and a gnawing mental hunger, Danan wanted to scream, to destroy everything until he felt free.

  Stomach acid churned, burning his esophagus. Saliva filled his mouth, nausea relentless. His head throbbed, hunger and thirst undeniable. Clinging to his fraying sanity, Danan activated his mechanical arm’s comms, muttering, “Lils… find another exit, a sewer linked to Hydro de Benzene.”

  “What’s the situation?” Lils asked.

  “Five security soldiers at the exit, a dozen in the hall, eight Crucible members watching…”

  “Hold on.”

  The sound of keystrokes echoed through the comms. Leaning against the passage wall, Danan closed his eyes, wiping sweat from his brow.

  He’d cared about someone’s death only once—finding the old man who raised him dead, fueling his youthful vengeance. Strangers’ deaths meant nothing. But reuniting with Seira, the girl from his past, and killing her to fulfill her wish left Danan burning with agitation.

  There had to have been a better way… No, erasing her stored memories was the only way to save her.

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  If he’d paid attention to her sooner, listened to her words, he could’ve prevented the worst… No, what could he have done back then? A man consumed by his own survival had no room to care for others.

  The past couldn’t be changed. Regretting events was pointless. Reflecting on mistakes didn’t guarantee avoiding them again. He couldn’t revive the lives he’d taken, and he’d keep killing to survive. To avoid death… he’d keep killing.

  “…”

  A Crucible member’s corpse lay before him, killed for his survival without hesitation—neck snapped, gear stripped. Killing a stranger didn’t wound his heart; he accepted it as natural, untroubled. But the guilt from killing Seira crept like a shadow, whispering in his ear.

  Why… did you kill her? Were the tears you shed then a lie? You’ll keep losing, living a hollow life, taking and trampling lives. Are you really alive?

  “Shut up…” Danan muttered, clutching his forehead with his mechanical hand.

  “…If I don’t kill, if I don’t kill to live, I’ll be killed.”

  Shaking off the nonexistent girl’s shadow, he gritted his teeth.

  Kill to avoid being killed, kill to live. In the undercity, where lawlessness and chaos reigned, where the rule of the strong devouring the weak prevailed, death was commonplace. Kindness or softness was fatal. Holding a gun since childhood, his right arm crushed mercilessly, Danan understood this painfully.

  He wanted to live. He wished desperately to survive. An incomprehensible impulse drove him to seek the feeling of being alive, his survival instinct deeming others’ lives worthless, sowing death. In the undercity, Danan’s actions weren’t wrong—they could even be seen as just.

  “Danan,” Lils’ voice broke through.

  “…”

  “Save the brooding for later. Right now, you need to escape… right?”

  “…”

  Nodding to Lils’ voice, Danan stood, carrying Eve, gripping the assault rifle’s handle despite his unsteady stance.

  Facing the Crucible and security soldiers put him at a disadvantage. He needed a way to turn the tide, a means to survive this worst-case scenario. Hesitating, Danan peeked from the passage, scanning the area, and spotted a young man in a white double-breasted suit.

  “…That guy’s still alive?” Danan muttered.

  The young man, Gloria, strode confidently under the security soldiers’ protection, unfazed by the row of corpses. He took an HHPC from Dick, standing beyond a pool of blood.

  Use him or not? The answer was clear. Swallowing hard, Danan raised his rifle, aiming at Gloria as he shouted, “Danan! You’re alive!”

  “…Gloria,” Danan replied.

  Gloria held Heres and Hakara in his coat-clad arms, along with an old paperback passed from Dick. Unbothered by the rifle aimed at him, Gloria wove through the soldiers, patted Danan’s shoulder, and hugged him tightly.

  “I’m so glad… truly glad you’re alive. You look exhausted… Did you settle things with the Cleaner?”

  “…No, not yet.”

  “I see… Oh, I took care of your belongings, don’t worry. About what’s next—”

  “…”

  “Danan?”

  “You… still see me as—”

  A friend? Pulling away from Gloria’s strong embrace, Danan lowered his eyes, pointing the rifle at him.

  “You and I… in Hydro de Benzene, it’s just a relationship of mutual benefit. I need to escape the pleasure district safely, you need to finish your errands… You’re the one who called it a friendship. No matter how much you call me a friend… I can’t call a good guy like you a friend.”

  The moment he saw Gloria, Danan planned to use him as a shield to escape both forces. Aiming the rifle was a step toward restraining him as a hostage.

  “Even so… I’ll call you my friend,” Gloria said.

  “Why!?” Danan shouted.

  “Is it wrong to call you my friend, Danan?”

  Gloria’s sincere words left Danan breathless, staring into his golden eyes.

  “Danan, maybe you should learn to like yourself a little more. All I see… is you crying, killing yourself.”

  Gloria gripped Danan’s mechanical arm.