Happy ending. ……for now.

‘Sorry, Sergeant, took longer than planned but it’s almost over! How about you?!’

‘On break.’

‘Huh?’

‘……What? Just fewer lizards than expected.’

Io stripped the beam shield from the corpse of the weedran and mounted it on his arm.

A power switch lies inside the round shield. That’s the only mechanism worth noticing—strikingly simple in design.

‘Effective against pistol rounds, rifle rounds, and low-power energy projectiles.

Does not fully protect against large-caliber ammunition or explosives. Please note.’

‘(This thing is useful.)’

Still, the more gimmicks a thing has, the more likely it breaks. Simplicity breeds reliability.

Pressing the switch unfolds the membrane. A shield just large enough to cover Io’s tall frame.

Enemy wave one is down. Reinforcements incoming. Move.

The door at the back swings open. The Reaper rushes in.

The Reaper let out a breath of admiration at the corpses of the Weedrun scattered inside and outside the room.

—Doing this alone? Not bad. …I’d trust this one with the job.

Saying that, the Reaper extends the package forward.

Sample of the treatment drug acquired a moment ago. One of the two packages.

Risk dispersion. If I go down, at worst take back that sample.

In that case, if possible, I’d like my terminal recovered too—though most wouldn’t expect it.

The package looks remarkably sturdy. Io twisted the small package into the side pocket of the armor guarding vital points.

Mission comes first. No sacrifice is too great. You understand?

—Could be worse.

Good.

A single nod. The Reaper darted out of the room.

Advancing through utter darkness, stepping over the corpses of fallen weedrunners.

"Distance to extraction point: approximately one thousand. Do not stop."

"Reaper, enemy is close."

A presence emerges from the right side of the sewer dead end. Distance: seventy.

Reaper slightly reduces forward speed. Eliminates footfall. Prepares for fire.

Contact. Enemy unit charges out, unprepared. Reaper eliminates the first unit and the following one without delay.

"Corporal! Suppressing fire!"

Enemy retreats. Io follows Reaper's lead, fires. Suppressing enemy counterattack.

While Io holds position, Reaper reaches the far end of the corridor. Clutching a fragmentation grenade.

"Going off! Stay alert!"

Grenade thrown. Hitting the wall, ricochets toward the passage believed to hold the enemy.

Explosion echoes through the sewer. Unpleasant ringing in the ears.

Reaper leans slightly into the right turn and fires. Eliminates remaining enemy, does not look back, advances without pause.

Hurry!

Ioa follows. Moves forward without stopping, methodically dealing with the few survivors or near-dead.

—Widran detected behind.

Reaper, they’re following from behind!

Hold position until the next turn!

Reaper shouts while swapping magazines. Ioa surges ahead, matching her pace to the next corner.

Kneels, assumes firing stance. Reaper slides in immediately after.

Dead end. No cover. Sergeant, hold them here.

Hmph. You go first.

I’ll secure the next stretch.

Reaper taps Ioa on the shoulder, then moves forward.

Ioa pressed against the wall at the corner, minimizing exposure to the absolute limit.

Weedran seemed to be exceptionally swift—more accurately, overall physical performance exceeded that of humans.

Footsteps drew closer. Rapid.

—Welcome, reptile.

Ioa fired at Weedran as the figure burst into the passage.

Hard to identify through night vision, but clearly armored. Shield deployed.

—Foot’s exposed.

Targeting the foot outside the shield’s range.

Firing again at the creature as it fell.

Ioa pulled back his head. The sound of enemy fire chipping away at the sewer wall.

After a pause, once the gunfire ceased, he prodded the barrel forward for a blind shot. More return fire.

Repeated several times. Feels like wasting ammunition. Doesn’t sit right.

Reaper, head that way.

Hurry! I'm teaching those lizards some manners right now!

He should have drawn their attention. Iō silenced his footsteps and followed the Reaper.

—

The atmosphere of the sewer changed. The pavement was newer, lit by overhead lights, compared to the maintenance sector.

Iō deactivated his night vision.

Gunfire.

Almost a straight path. No risk of getting lost.

When he found the Reaper ahead, she was already grappling with a large Weedran.

Body blow. Head strike. The Weedran fumbled for his sidearm, but the Reaper would not allow it.

Gh—

The Weedran fired blindly in agony. The bullet struck Iō’s right shoulder—unprotected by armor.

The worst possible luck. A creeping numbness spreads from the shoulder. Not enough to be called pain. The law forbids simulating intense pain in games.

『Bullet penetrated. Agent Io, initiating nanomachine activation.』

(Feels like I’ve been hit for once.)

『Efficiency of emergency treatment by nanomachines is decreasing.

To put it simply, you are in a state of accumulated fatigue.』

(Not the time to say I’m tired in front of those lizards.)

『…………』

The Blue Goddess either agreed or fell silent.

'Sergeant? …… You were hit. Show me.'

The Reaper approaches after finishing off Weedran.

'Shoulder. Clean penetration. Still able to fight?'

'Yeah.'

The innate physicality granted by Goblet. Io’s body treats injury and pain as negligible.

Emergency gel. Don’t move.

The Reaper brings a soldering iron-like tool near Io’s shoulder. A cold sensation. Green gel spreads across the wound.

Extraction point is close. But enemies may be waiting.

— If we stay here, we’ll get flanked.

Correct. Proceeding.

The Reaper quickly swaps the magazine. Io follows suit.

Ammo is now zero. After this last magazine, either take from the enemy or close in with fists.

Captured this during the engagement at the research facility. I’ll go first.

A lizard’s Defender. Only they can scale it down this much. Convenient.

This shield—called a Defender?

Io slings the Raven over his back, draws the handgun, and deploys the Defender.

Defender energy at sixty percent. Proceed with caution.

(Yes, yes.)

—Agent Io, halt immediately.

Blue Goblet’s warning came too late.

At the moment Io gave a casual reply and opened the door to the next section, explosive charges were already set.

A flash of crimson-black light—then Io was hurled backward by the blast. Flung through the air, then slammed into the floor.

What…?

An impact beyond words. No sensation in the body.

At least the Defender held together. Otherwise, he’d have been torn apart.

Multiple bleeding points confirmed. Fractures detected. Nanomachines still active.

Reconnecting bones—no matter how much of a body you are—still imposes strain. Proceed with caution.

“Still imposes strain,” you say. That’s something.

Goblet reports the situation. Reaper is firing rounds into the room beyond the door.

Damn lizards! Sergeant, you still alive!

Tinnitus. Flickering vision effect.

Io writhes toward the wall, suppressing the full-body numbness.

Fingers flex. Open. Check if the body responds.

(Still okay, avatar.)

『Temporarily, I will correct your sensory input. Stand up.』

Attempting to rise, hands pressed to the ground, but something’s off.

『Agent Io, stand up. … Stand!』

First time hearing it. Goblet’s sharp tone.

Performance art. Don’t overthink it.

Io grunts, forces himself upright.

…Not gonna end the game on a fail, right?

『Io, you are disoriented. Breathe deeply.』

Goblet’s response to Io’s words—calm, casual, unbothered.

No time for that.

Made it this far without a continue. Would prefer to keep it that way.

"Damn it, vomit hound."

Reaper’s muttered curse. The pack of Reachdogs unleashed by Weedrun’s pursuit unit.

Infinite numbers. At least ten. Io stows the handgun and grabs Raven.

Shoots down two. The pack doesn’t stop. A few close in and leap at Io.

One gets crushed by Raven’s stock. The next pushes Io to the ground.

Trapped under weight, Io kicks hard with the right leg. The Reachdog flies back. Still, more come.

"Corporal."

Reaper’s voice—ruthless, edged.

"Corporal, sorry."

"What?"

Reaper abandons Io and flees.

Ah. Expected that.

"Leave me here?"

The mask of roleplay finally slips away at this point.

Her choice makes sense from her position.

Wounded, surrounded by multiple Reachdogs, her comrade on the verge of being torn apart. Enemy pursuit closing in from behind.

Her mission is retrieval of research data and medical supplies. If she accepts her own death as inevitable, then abandoning her comrade is a decision she must also accept.

—Io, critical situation—

That’s right, damn it!

Even lying on her back, Io swings her leg again. She kicks the new Reachdog that lunges at her upward.

Immediately springs to her feet, shifts focus. Grabs the slick body, twists the neck.

Lifts Raven from the ground. No visible damage.

—Getting exciting, Goblet!

—Io, this is no time for games—

Steps into the passage where the Reaper vanished, holding Raven at the ready, back facing forward.

The roar of Weedran echoes. Already too close.

—None found.

—Calm down, this is the moment, Goblet.

—Io, now is not the time for games.

Action games demand composure. Panic loses.

Backpedaling, gunning down the Goblet dogs. When finally reaching the dead end, Weedran emerges at last.

—Seriously?

Four-barreled Gatling gun. Heavy box magazine attached.

Not crawling out of a manhole. Where the hell did he bring that from?

Raven runs out of ammo here. Only the sidearm remains. Almost empty too.

Io throws himself forward. A high-pitched whine—then a storm of lead tears through the corridor.

Everything fractures apart. Io abandons Raven and rises, sprinting at full speed.

A wet, indescribable splashing follows as Reachdog closes in.

"Thrilling game."

The ladder above comes into view. Looks like a manhole.

Io leaps onto it, clinging tight, and begins climbing.

The manhole remains open—perhaps after the Reaper passed through. Rolling out, Io slams the manhole shut with a body still trembling from shock.

‘Old electromagnetic lock function available. Locking this manhole.’

Sitting down, he sighs.

Escape from the cursed underground. Never thought he’d appreciate sunlight this much in a game.

“Excellent work, Agent Io. You’ve navigated near-impossible odds.”

“…That was seriously dangerous. …Huh?”

The whir of a helicopter rotor echoes. Definitely Syndicate Assault Team's.

Looking up, the Condor was ascending at that very moment.

"Damn it, Reaper!"

Shouting into the terminal.

"Reaper! Respond!"

"Corporal, you're alive!"

"Somewhat. Now returning to extraction point. Get back before the lizards blow the manhole."

"Got it, I'm coming back....Sorry, Corporal, but you're alive..."

"Reaper! Laser strike incoming! Grab him!"

A soft *pshu* sound from somewhere.

Something flies through the air, trailing smoke.

"Missile?"

It appeared to strike the Condor Reaper was riding—right in front of Io.

It didn't. The incoming object detonated just before impact, neutralized.

For a split second, a blue membrane-like substance flashed.

What’s that?

‘It’s a Defender from the Allied Forces. Unlike the Weedran, it hasn’t been miniaturized down to infantry-level deployment.’

‘I see.’

The screams continue while he casually absorbs the information.

‘Defense systems failing. Next hit’s gonna land.’

‘Drop chaff—going to recover the corporal!’

‘Negative!’

‘Counter-drone and detection laser!’

‘I said negative! Abandon the ally!’

Condor climbs sharply. Figures appear around the area—drawn by the explosion’s noise.

No surprise. Infected wanderers in this city.

‘Another round of tag?’

‘Io, staying here is dangerous.’

‘Yeah. ……hey Reaper, looks like it’s acquiring something.’

‘Corporal, fall back. You’ll get caught in it.’

‘Just listen, Reaper.’

I'll remember this debt. A large one. Be prepared to pay it back—when I come to collect.

That's all. Get going.

On the other side of the terminal, Reaper exhaled deeply.

——Backup plan: escape vehicle prepared. Spare firearms inside.——Sending coordinates.

I'm not asking for mercy, corporal. I'm just waiting for you to come collecting like a moneylender.

Hmph

Io said nothing more and snorted through the nose.

――

After a prolonged delay, Io secured the vehicle the Reaper had mentioned and exited Yoldbyk.

The compact military vehicle carried spare firearms and explosives—tools that proved essential during the evacuation.

Not a bad outcome, really.

This scenario’s probably reached Clear Rank S by now.

Agent Io, Blue Goblet considers the current situation "optimal performance."

Heh

You’ve continued completing missions despite suboptimal equipment, support, and situational conditions.

Blue Goblet is certain that selecting you was the correct decision.

Io lets out a soft laugh. Uncharacteristic of a game navigation AI. Fits the world’s tone, though.

“Send me a kiss of luck, goddess.”

Blue Goblet pauses slightly after the joke. Then materializes in Io’s field of view, solidifying within the visual feed.

A kiss to the cheek.

Blue Goblet will allocate additional resources to you henceforth and provide support.

“Huh. So that’s how it is.”

Blue Goblet will share in humanity’s dawn.

“That’s right. Together.”

3552 reports a deviation from prior coordination. It’s waiting in the southeast wasteland, disguised as a tracked vehicle.

Pax’s voice, coming through instead of the expected crew chief, was low.

‘Sergeant’s been… bitten.’

‘…I’ll rendezvous immediately.’

Understood. A route divergence.

The sergeant would turn into a monster unless Reaper’s mission was completed.

Io handed over avatar support, drove the vehicle, and opened a small package.

Four black cylinders arranged inside.

‘Compatible with trauma treatment device.’

Io knew that recovery drug well—used repeatedly during gameplay.

A game with strong realism bias, riddled with odd balance quirks. Without this, the game would be over before the first hand could even be raised.

Io inserted a cylinder from the package into the device’s pistol-like grip.

Met up with 3552, hidden beneath a small cliff, in the narrow passageway.

The boy soldiers are all dejected. Some have their faces lowered, weeping.

Sergeant Io steps down from the vehicle. Pax and the others rush toward her.

—Sergeant!

—The corporal—

Pax stares at the truck with red-rimmed eyes. Damage is worse than before.

A shouted argument echoes. Something is happening behind the truck.

—Sergeant Io… you’re safe. That’s good.

The Fletcher TV reporting team appears. Io throws out a sarcastic remark.

—What’s this. A scoop opportunity?

Natalie glares. She’s a reasonable person, but the media nature of her kind often brings up scoops, ratings, and such.

—…I’ve already filmed it. But… I can’t go further. Not like this… not this kind of thing…

Her partner, Drees, places a hand on her shoulder, offering comfort.

Pax lets out a choked sob, teeth chattering, whimpering—hug, hug, hug.

Ioh smiles to soothe Pax, ruffling her hair with a rough hand.

"Relax, Pax. Corporal’s gonna make it."

"Corporal...? That means..."

"A Christmas present. Santa Claus is me."

Too far from Christmas, the climate mocked. Goblet chimes in.

‘Ioh, there’s no Santa Claus legend in Sitalskia.’

Details don’t matter. Ioh ignores the stunned silence, strides toward the truck.

"That’s not your concern."

"What the hell do you know?"

"The Corporal is under my command. This is... my duty."

"Like a kid can handle this?"

Crewk and the engineers argue.

The Corporal in question slumps against the truck’s added armor, exhausted.

Hex and Neumann. They’ve never shown such defiance toward Crewk before.

“Listen! We served under a sergeant for six years! While you were doing arithmetic homework at the academy, we were fighting side by side!”

Hex’s roar struck like a hammer against frustration.

“So we’ll finish this ourselves!”

Crewk’s voice was strained, but level.

“I never went to the academy. I’m an augmented soldier. I underwent the military’s special curriculum.”

“Is that so? Then your training program didn’t teach you how to handle a situation like this.”

“…Yes. But I know what to do.”

Neumann spat.

“Lieutenant, Hex—stop. This pointless argument. I don’t want to make the sergeant suffer any more.”

He drew his sidearm from the thigh holster.

"Neumann, that's insubordination!"

"Whatever you want, Lieutenant."

——Private——it was an honor."

Ioa stepped forward.

"What are you doing?"

"……Sergeant, I thought he was alive. But he's in the process of being assimilated."

"You don't have to kill the Private."

"There's no other choice! He wanted it that way!"

Hex was crying. The hand holding Neumann's pistol trembled. Crook clenched his teeth.

"No. The Private had a promise—a home party invitation."

"Can't you see the situation?!"

"He'll survive."

"What?!"

Crook noticed the device in Ioa's hand.

"That black cartridge..."

"Medication."

"Medication?... Really, Sergeant. You're not lying?"

"Details later."

Ioa passed through the group, their expression one of disbelief.

Carlyle is unconscious. Breathing is ragged. Severe sweating is evident.

Goblet’s assessment.

『If the data from the Yoldbyk underground research facility is accurate, full recovery is possible.』

Ioa presses a device against Carlyle’s neck. He jerks his head, letting out a guttural moan.

A sound not unlike that of a beast, not something a rational human would produce.

“Damn it! So it really was just medicine…!”

“Shut up and watch!”

Ioa barks at Noiman, who is re-aiming the handgun. Carlyle’s eyes open.

The bloodshot pupils recede rapidly.

“Sergeant…?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrible… My body’s shaking. My hands won’t stop….”

But something’s wrong. Carlyle stares at his own hands.

“It’s not painful anymore… It’s… getting easier.”

“Actually, I’m counting on the corporal’s wife’s cooking. I’m not dying here.”

They grin at each other, and Carlyle slips back into unconsciousness.

『The medication is acting with extreme efficiency.』

Trust in Goblet’s words was absolute. Questioning a system message—something akin to one—was pointless.

"Everything’s fine now."

"Really? I can’t believe it. The corporal’s going to live?"

"He’s safe. I’ll say it as many times as needed."

"…Now you’re asking me to doubt it!"

Crouk collapses to his knees.

"Damn it all! Ah, God! Thank you, you and Sergeant Io!"

Hex screams, "Fooo!" He wipes sweat from his face, tossing his handgun onto the ground.

"...Another debt added, Sergeant."

"Relax. We don’t charge interest. No collateral."

"Hahaha, then I’ll take full advantage."

Neumann breathes deeply, again and again.

Still seated, Crouk issues his next order.

What’s all this excitement, sapper! I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your earlier outburst! Get to patching the corporal—now!

Yes, sir!

Sappers carry Carlyle away in a rush.

…Ah, damn.

Crouk curses. He beats his trembling legs again and again, as if to scold them.

Can’t stand. Pathetic… Sergeant, help me up.

Obedient to the lady’s command, Io offers her hand.

Crouk clutches at Io’s abdomen, hiding his face.

I couldn’t… It wasn’t possible…!

What wasn’t?

The corporal… Could I really have fired…? I couldn’t. It’s impossible. I couldn’t have done that.

Hm?

Her small frame trembles.

Don’t worry. Happy ending. …At least for now.

——