The chamber beneath Providence's dwelling was silent—not dead, but watchful, as though the walls themselves were waiting for his next thought.
The only sound was the faint hum of machinery, buried deep under marble and steel. The air was cold, sterile, untouched by the world above. A narrow beam of light illuminated Providence as he stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on nothing and everything.
His voice broke the silence like a scalpel cutting flesh.
"Humanity… is weak."
There was no anger in his tone. Only certainty. A belief shaped over decades until it felt like bone.
"The strong rise. The weak cling. And in the end, the world is moved only by those willing to reshape it."
He stepped forward as his boots echoed against the polished floor.
"When I was a child, I believed the world would save us. Food would arrive. Soldiers would restore order. Somebody—anybody—would lift us from the mud."
A soft, humorless chuckle left him.
"But the weak do not earn salvation. They beg for it. And when they receive nothing, they crumble. My parents crumbled."
His expression did not waver as he approached a tall mirror embedded in the far wall. His reflection stared back—pristine white shirt, impeccable posture, a hero carved by legend.
He lifted his shirt.
A scar—long, jagged, vicious—ran across his abdomen.
The legacy of Ultima.
"My predecessor believed in equality," Providence murmured. "He believed all life deserved protection. That the world could be shared."
He let the shirt fall back into place.
"He was wrong."
His eyes hardened, reflecting cold purpose.
"Equality is the comfort of the powerless. The strong must shepherd the weak—not through compassion, but through control."
A hologram flickered to life behind him.
The Adaptive Hero.
Their shifting form stabilized into a humanoid outline—a glitching silhouette incapable of fully resolving. They bowed their head.
"Providence," the hero murmured, voice modulated and hollow. "We have a situation."
Providence didn't turn.
"Speak."
"Your sister. She discovered the old laboratory beneath the Dome. She accessed the securty cameras surveilling the underground."
Providence's reflection stared at itself.
Aoi.
For the first time in ages, his eyes softened.
"…She went down there herself?"
"Yes. She now knows everything."
Providence breathed out slowly, fingers tapping once against the mirror's edge.
He pictured her small hand gripping his shirt in the slums. Her choked laughter when he lifted debris from her path. The way she looked at him when he pledged he'd become someone strong.
Someone who would never let her cry again.
He closed his eyes.
"I did not want this for her."
628 tilted their head.
"Then shall we remove her?"
Providence's eyes opened. They were sharp and merciless.
"No."
There was a long beat of silence.
"She is my sister."
He let the words settle, but their warmth died before they reached the floor.
"…However," he continued, "now that she has seen the truth, she must understand it. She must accept her place in the world I am building."
628 nodded slowly.
"And if she refuses?"
Providence turned to face the Adaptive Hero.
"If she cannot see reason, then…"
He lifted two fingers causing 628 froze.
"…break her mind."
628 bowed their head.
"As you command."
"Use any method your abilities allow," Providence added. "She will stand by my side—one way or another."
He closed his eyes again, as though reciting scripture.
"If she stands with me, she will be safe. If her mind must fracture for that to happen… then so be it. Strength must shape the future. Even if it means shaping her."
628 disappeared and the room fell silent again. Providence stood still for several breaths. No remorse passed over him. No regret. Only the echo of Ultima's voice—whispering like a memory fighting not to fade.
Your way of thinking will unmake this world…One day, someone will stand against you…He will break everything you have built.
Providence exhaled softly, almost amused.
"Let him come."
...
Far beneath Aegis Prime, the air was different—warmer, alive with hushed voices and the soft scrape of metal against stone. The miners were gathered around a central clearing as Asol tightened the straps of his prosthetic arm.
Kurogane stood beside him as her crimson eyes glowed faintly as she pressed her fingertips together. Distortions shimmered at her palms before snapping outward—slicing open space itself. A portal unfolded like a seam ripping in reality, revealing a dark alleyway somewhere in the upper city.
She glanced at Asol.
'The path is open.'
Asol nodded.
"Once we're up there," he murmured, "everything changes."
Kurogane's expression didn't shift, but her voice in his mind softened.
'You are not the only one who wants change.'
Behind them, the old man approached—slow, frail, leaning heavily on his cane. Yet his eyes were sharper than ever.
"Asol Ansaldo," he said, "the surface world dances to Providence's tune. Every movement you make… he will feel it. He will know."
Asol swallowed.
"I know."
"No." The old man shook his head. "You only think you know."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Providence sees the world not as it is, but as he decides it should be. He will predict you. Corner you. Twist the board so every step you take is one he has prepared."
He placed a shaking hand on Asol's forearm.
"But that is why you must not walk blindly. The moment you doubt… you lose."
Asol felt a knot tighten in his chest.
"I won't lose."
"You will," the old man said simply. "But you will rise again. Until your will outweighs his."
Kurogane stepped forward, eyes brightening with a soft spatial hum.
'We should go.'
People gathered in front of them—men and women bruised by labor, children clutching each other, elders bowing their heads. Hope—fragile, trembling—glowed in their eyes.
"Liberator," one whispered.
"Bring us dawn."
"Free us."
Asol swallowed hard as he turned to them.
"Don't call me that. I'm no liberator. I'm just someone who doesn't want to fail. But I promise you all. You will not suffer anymore."
Kurogane sliced the air.
The portal opened fully—wind rushing outward like the city exhaling from the other side. Asol stepped into the light as Kurogane followed. The underground watched them vanish. The Two shadows swallowed by a new future.
The air changed the moment they stepped through the tear.
One instant, they were in the cold, damp underground. Now a wave of warm evening wind brushed over him, carrying scents of street food, perfume, and neon-laced electricity.
Aegis Prime.
They had surfaced. The portal stitched itself closed behind them like a zipper pulled through reality. Kurogane lowered her hand as the distortion folded shut, the shimmering outline vanishing into the air like a mirage swallowed by light. They stood in the shadowed edge of an alleyway behind one of the shopping districts. Above them, banners flapped lazily between buildings. Holographic adverts flickered across skyscrapers. The distant murmur of crowds rolled like gentle thunder.
Kurogane stepped closer to Asol instinctively, eyes narrowing at every sudden sound—every spark of a drone overhead, every passing voice. This world was too bright. Too loud. And she had seen its darkness.
"It's… different from underground," she murmured in his head. Her voice was quieter than usual, like she were afraid the city might listen.
Asol kept his posture relaxed but alert.
"Yeah. It's a lot. Shouldn't you be used to this?"
Her crimson eyes swept the crowd however stopped, experiencing a migraine unnoticed by the boy next to her. A few pedestrians glanced their way—shadows of suspicion (or curiosity) flickering in their eyes at the sight of her tattered, scorched uniform.
Asol exhaled.
"We're going to need you to blend in," he said softly. "That uniform will give us away."
Kurogane looked down at her torn sleeves.
'…It is all I have.'
"Not anymore," he replied. "Stay close."
He finally notices sweat forming down the side of her head and her heavy breathing causing some concern to arise.
"You okay?"
'Im fine. don't worry about me.'
"You sure-"
'I said Im fine.'
Okay... Wierd...
Kurogane stepped beside him without a sound, her crimson eyes scanning everything with an eerie calm. But even she knew her old appearance wouldn't survive long up here. Her torn, soot-stained uniform would raise questions. Attention. And attention got people killed.
Asol guided her to a small outfitters' kiosk tucked between two vending stations. The owner barely looked up. Aegis Prime was filled with civilians too busy with their own anxieties to question others. In other words, he "tactically acquired" her new clothing. Within minutes, Kurogane had changed into a fresh uniform—black sailor top, matching skirt, and a red neckerchief that seemed almost designed to complement her eyes.
When she stepped out, the transformation was startling.
She no longer looked like a child dragged from a nightmare. She looked like a normal student—a quiet, sharp girl on her way home from club activities.
"You… actually look like you belong here now," Asol said, half teasing.
Kurogane tugged lightly at the sleeves, testing the fabric's give.
'It is better than the other one,' her voice brushed through his mind. 'It's less… obvious.'
"You're sure this is the look you want?" he asked. "It draws less suspicion, but… you're older than you look, aren't you?"
She paused.
Her crimson gaze flicked up at him, an unreadable glint passing through them.
'I take this form because it is safer,' she answered quietly. 'If my creators ever sought me again, they would look for a girl my true age… not a child who never grew.'
Asol blinked. "So… how old are you really?"
Kurogane lowered her eyes.
'I escaped the lab when I was seven.'
"As a kid…"
'Seventeen now.'
The number hit him harder than he expected. She had lived ten years in the underground. Ten years without a voice. Ten years hiding in shadows while heroes walked in the sun pretending to protect the world.
"…You've survived a long time," Asol said, tone softening. "No one would blame you if you wanted to run instead of coming with me."
Her expression stiffened. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might glare—but instead, her mental voice arrived steady, clipped, and certain.
'I chose to follow you, Asol.'
"Why?"
Another pause.
'Because you listen.'
He didn't know what to say to that. Kurogane looked away before he could ask more, her gaze returning to the bustling street as crowds moved like rivers between digital billboards and cafe terraces. He then notices the girl trying to mimic a pose she saw passing by a few female students in front of a mirror. He chuckles in his mind.
'What is our next goal?'
Asol's breath then slowed.
For a long moment he said nothing—just watched the flow of people and the false peace hanging over the city like a polished veil. But then after remembering a crucial potential lead, Kazuma's face surfaced in his mind with his flames licking at his arms. He remembered seeing Kazuma's facial expression riddled with hesitation in his eyes when Asol mentioned the underground. A Kazuma who had never once spoken of his past beside the fact that he was the result of a failed experiment. Kazuma the one with two souls.
"I made you a promise," Asol said eventually.
Kurogane turned fully toward him.
"A promise to bring you to your savior."
Her eyes widened—not dramatically, but just enough that the red deepened, sharp as a spark catching flame.
"You said you wanted to thank him," Asol continued. "So that's what we'll do. Before we make our next move… before we take on Providence… we find Kazuma."
Kurogane's fingers curled at her side.
A ripple—small, but unmistakable—passed through the air around her, like the faintest distortion.
'Kazuma…'
She tasted the name in her mind as if testing whether it was real. Then she nodded, a small but decisive motion.
'Very well. Let us find him.'
Asol exhaled. This city would soon become a battlefield. Providence's eyes were everywhere. Heroes patrolled the streets above like gods wearing masks. And down below, the miners were waiting. Watching. Hoping. Asol tightened his grip around the strap of his sheathed prosthetic.
"Kurogane," he said, stepping into the flow of people clogging the street. "Stay close. And no matter what happens…"
He looked back at her, meeting her crimson stare.
"…don't use your abilities unless you have to."
Her brows knitted slightly in irritation, but she nodded again. Together, they stepped into the crowd—two shadows swallowed by the bright world of Aegis Prime, walking toward the boy who unknowingly tied their fates together.