piercing, monotonous shriek of the alarm sliced through the frigid silence of Cryogenic Sector 7G. Alchio drifted in and out of the dark waters of consciousness, slumped against the point where the metal wall met the floor. Ren, after a fleeting glance at his fallen comrade, focused his entire being on the new threat that dominated the chamber: the Guardian.
This was no lumbering machine like the last. Its form was humanoid, slender, its armor forged from a glossy black metal that seemed to absorb the light like liquid shadow. Where a face should have been, a single, malevolent red optical sensor pulsed. What made Ren's blood run cold, however, was the oppressive Ether aura emanating from the Guardian—an aura that felt less like a machine's energy signature and more like the fury of a trapped soul.
"ALCHIO!" Ren shouted, but received no response. He was alone.
Without a shred of hesitation, Ren launched his attack. This would not be a battle of attrition; it would be a dance of speed and intellect. As the Guardian lunged, its plasma cutters—replacements for the former robot's massive drills—whirring to life, Ren had already become a blur. He slid across the metallic floor, passing under the initial strike, and brought his dark blade around in a precise arc aimed at the Guardian's leg joint. A metallic clang rang out, but the sword only managed to leave a superficial scratch. The Guardian was far more agile than its predecessor.
"Its armor is pure Energite," Ren thought. "Conventional steel won't penetrate it. I have no choice but to use it…"
In an instant, a purplish aura enveloped Ren's sword. The black blade shimmered and expanded, transforming into a massive, two-handed greatsword, its edges crackling with a plasma aura that made it look infinitely sharper.
The battle raged on. Ren moved like a ghost, using every corner of the chamber to constantly reposition himself, evading the Guardian's powerful, albeit slightly clumsy, assaults. Yet, the Guardian was equipped with the combat data of a former Guardian. It was analyzing Ren's movements, its counters becoming more accurate with each passing moment. Seizing a momentary opening, the Guardian swung its plasma cutter in a wide arc. Ren ducked at the last possible second, but the wave of energy generated by the swing sent his greatsword flying from his grasp. Disarmed, Ren was sent hurtling into a pile of metal debris by the Guardian's subsequent kick.
The Guardian advanced slowly, methodically, on the trapped Ren. The plasma cutter on its arm began to hum with ominous energy as it charged for the final blow.
***
Darkness.
Alchio was far from the pain and the cold, adrift in the depths of his own mind. He was in the sun-drenched gardens of the Zex Empire. His mother, Queen Elara, sat beside him on a marble bench, her smile gentle.
"Your father and your brothers, they see your ice as a weakness, don't they, Alchio?" she said, her voice a silken whisper as she stroked his hair. "They worship the destructive power of fire. But they are mistaken. Your ice is a shield. It is protection. But what you hide within that shield is the greatest power the Zex lineage has forgotten."
She placed her warm palm over Alchio's chest. With that touch, he felt something dormant stir within him. "Here, there is a light. A pure light that your father's ambition could never extinguish. Do not forget, my son, that even the hardest ice becomes the sharpest blade when it reflects the light within. That is the Rune you were born with. That is your true inheritance."
***
He opened his eyes slowly. His mother's words echoed in his mind. The usual panic and mirth were gone from his eyes. In their place was only a cold, sharp, and furious resolve. Just as the Guardian was about to execute Ren, Alchio's voice cut through the chamber. It was not his usual playful tone. This voice was cold, mocking, and dangerous.
"Ah… so that's how it is…"
The Guardian paused, turning its sensor toward the sound. Alchio was slowly getting to his feet. He didn't even bother to brush the dust from his clothes. A look of severe, sardonic focus was etched on his face.
"Looks like playtime is over. Wouldn't you agree, you pile of junk?"
From beneath the wreckage, Ren looked at Alchio in astonishment. This was not the Alchio he knew. The air around Alchio grew visibly colder, a thin layer of frost spreading across the floor. Simultaneously, a faint, azure light began to emanate from the center of his chest, pulsing beneath his clothes. It was his Ether aura.
"Before you touch my friend, you and I have a little score to settle," Alchio said, cracking his knuckles. He relaxed his shoulders, his entire posture shifting; he no longer stood like a prince, but like a street fighter, poised to strike at any moment. "I hear you used to be a Guardian. So let's put it this way:" As he clenched his fists, the ground around him was suddenly coated in a sheet of ice. "The bell has rung, class is in session. Now, get in line for your beating."
The Guardian, perceiving this new threat, turned its full attention to Alchio. This gave Ren just enough time to extricate himself from the debris. But as he did, Alchio seemed to teleport, appearing in an instant with his face mere millimeters from the Guardian's sensor. He then vanished, ricocheting around the chamber like a bullet, a blur of motion.
The Guardian, seemingly enraged, let out a series of discordant screeches, trying to track Alchio's position, but he was moving too fast for its sensors to lock on.
"Come on, are your sensors really that slow? My grandmother knits faster than you move!" he shouted, sliding under a plasma cutter strike.
But this was more than just a diversion. As Ren watched, he realized with dawning admiration what Alchio was doing. As he danced around the chamber, Alchio was secretly transforming the environment into his own personal deathtrap. He was imperceptibly coating the joints of weak pipes and support beams on the ceiling with thin layers of ice, making them brittle and reflective. He was laying down nearly invisible sheets of low-friction ice in the Guardian's path. Some of the cryogenic pods were being subtly tilted, propped up with ice to be ready to topple and reflect something. He was turning the entire chamber into a colossal, lethal contraption.
The Guardian finally cornered Alchio in a corner of the room. It struck, and the blow sent Alchio flying several meters, though he managed to land on his feet. The Guardian began to charge its systems, preparing for what looked like a final, devastating lunge. Alchio smirked.
"You really think you're smart, don't you… But you've already fallen right into my trap, you automaton."
The Guardian looked down in shock. Its legs were already being encased in ice, as if it were sinking into a frozen swamp. The more it struggled, the faster the ice spread. At that moment, a beam of light from the massive, glowing crystals on the cavern ceiling pierced through a high window. It struck the ice-coated surfaces Alchio had prepared, reflecting from one to the next until a single, brilliant spotlight illuminated the trapped Guardian.
A blinding, pure light then erupted from Alchio's body, originating from the Rune on his chest. It was like an instantaneous solar flare. The Guardian's red optical sensor fizzled and sparked, emitting a violent burst of static as it was temporarily blinded.
In that one second of blindness, Alchio's plan came to fruition. He stomped his foot on the ground, sending out a shockwave. The wave triggered all the ice traps he had set. The ice-coated beams on the ceiling cracked and gave way, raining tons of metal debris down on the Guardian. Sliding on the frictionless ice, the Guardian lost its balance and crashed into the precariously tilted cryogenic pods. The pods toppled like dominoes, burying the Guardian completely under the wreckage. Alchio, with nimble reflexes, easily evaded the falling debris and stood atop the massive pile.
The Guardian began to stir, attempting to rise from beneath the rubble, appearing right under Alchio's feet as it tried violently to free itself. Alchio made his final move. He pointed a hand at the beam of light from the ceiling.
"Do you know what light is, Ren?" Ren was still staring at Alchio, thoroughly impressed. Alchio stood up straighter, gesturing to the ceiling. His mother's words echoed in his mind: "Even the hardest ice becomes the sharpest blade when it reflects the light within."
"It is hope, a future, and enlightenment. But it is also," he snapped his fingers, "A WEAPON!"
As if obeying his command, the beam of light intensified, coalescing into a massive plasma beam. The chamber was so bright that Ren was temporarily blinded. This laser, reflecting off the ice above and around the chamber, focused into a single point. It pierced through the wreckage, through the Guardian's thick armor, and melted its energy core from the inside. A massive explosion followed. After a moment of silence, a muffled boom came from within the pile of debris, and the Guardian's red eye went dark forever.
As Ren's vision began to return, he looked worried. He got to his feet and ran toward the massive wreckage. "Alchio! Are you alright?!"
As the dust and smoke began to clear, Ren, though he didn't show it, felt a wave of relief. He sat on the ground and looked up. Alchio was standing atop the pile of molten metal and debris, panting. The blue Ether pulsating around his body slowly faded. His cold, gangster-like demeanor vanished, replaced by exhaustion. He looked down at Ren, who was sitting on the floor below. He offered a tired, goofy grin.
"You okay, shadow-boy?"
***
The camera cuts back to Maeon's screen in the Archive. It shows an unconscious Alchio, and Ren standing guard over him in front of the Guardian's wreckage. Maeon leans forward in his throne.
"Interesting," he murmurs to himself. "Ice, and a sliver of light… An unexpected combination."
At that moment, large, red letters flash across the screen: "GUARDIAN UNIT SIGNAL LOST."
The look of intellectual curiosity on Maeon's face evaporates, replaced first by shock, and then by pure rage. His metallic fingers grip the arm of his throne so tightly that the metal groans. He turns his gaze upon Berwick and Hyogaki, who are still unaware of what has transpired.
"So… my mice have teeth," he hisses.
Hyogaki, sensing the sudden shift in Maeon's demeanor, takes a step back. "What is it? Did something happen to our friends? Tell us!"
"Your friends," Maeon says, his voice now dangerously calm, like the silence before a storm, "have just destroyed one of my most precious assets, an archive of years of data. They have disturbed the balance. And I… do not forgive those who disturb the balance."
Maeon presses a button on the arm of his throne. The security drones surrounding Berwick and Hyogaki immediately light up with a sinister, humming glow as their plasma weapons lock onto them. The time for waiting is over.
"Maeon, stop!" Hyogaki yells, his mind racing to calculate the odds. "This must be a misunderstanding! They were only defending themselves!"
"Defense?" Maeon lets out a contemptuous laugh. "The very existence of chaos agents like you is a disease to this sanctuary. And diseases… must be culled."
The drones take a step forward, ready to attack. The battle is now inevitable.
"I suppose," Berwick said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm, "that we're done reasoning."
Hyogaki looked at Berwick, desperate. "Berwick, wait! I have a plan…"
But Berwick wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the metallic death squad before them. It felt as if time itself had slowed down. The only sound in the room was the rising whine of the charging plasma weapons.
"I'm sorry, Hyogaki, but it looks like we don't have a choice but to fight. Look around you."
Hyogaki surveyed their situation. He had a plan, but Berwick was right. At this point, any peaceful attempt would be their end. He gritted his teeth, moved behind Berwick, and assumed a combat stance.
The only sound in the room was the rising whine of the charging plasma weapons. Berwick's hand slowly went to the hilt of the sword on his back.
"Well then…" he whispered. "Let's dance."
The metallic whisper of the blade leaving its scabbard seemed to silence all other sound in the chamber. Berwick slowly drew "Verdant Dawn." The moment the sword was fully revealed, something incredible happened.
A shimmering, green curtain of energy, like an aurora borealis, began to emanate from the emerald-green surface of the blade. This was no simple Ether aura; it was alive, it was breathing. Within this green aura, countless symbols, resembling ancient runes yet glittering like constellations, danced and swirled. As these miniature galaxies orbited the blade, the very air in the chamber began to vibrate with this ancient power.
The security drones faltered for a moment. Their red optical sensors fizzled, trying to analyze this sudden, unidentifiable energy surge. Some of them even began to short-circuit. Maeon leaned forward from his throne, his cybernetic eyes wide with shock and disbelief. For the first time, an emotion other than rage appeared on his face: greed, and astonishment.
"This power…" he whispered. "Universe Material… But this purity… It's impossible…"
Berwick now held the fully illuminated sword before him. There was not a trace of fear on his face. He looked at his blade; it was as if it were communicating with him telepathically, eager and excited for the coming battle. Berwick's face held only the absolute calm found in the eye of a storm. This was not a surrender. It was a declaration of war.
The battle for Aethelburg had begun.