←The Departed | The Light of Devotion (Battles) | Malevolence Alights→
Chapter 34: The Light of Devotion[]
Proto, too, witnessed his home world's
destruction with melancholy eyes.
He could foresee the choices the king
would make next. It was easy enough
even with his calculation capabilities
short-circuited and lost.
It wasn't a prediction, exactly.
Proto knew the king's mind as well as his own.
He had served at his side from the day
the king first drew breath.
But it seemed those days were over.
And if he could not see his king through
the trials to come...
“Watch over His Majesty. Please.
He needs someone who understands him.”
With those words, Proto leaves the king
in your care before finally sputtering out,
cold and lifeless.
Though despairing, the Oxsecian king
could not simply stand by while his people
destroyed each other in a civil war.
Animata was responsible for all of it.
This tragedy had all started with her.
It wasn't the king alone. Rancor toward
Animata was swelling among the people.
The only way to cleanse it was to strike
at the root.
Options were few. They no longer even had
a place to call home. He needed to take up
the banner and lead the battle against her.
The king's hand rested on Proto's remains.
They needed a symbol. An unstoppable weapon
that sought only bloodshed and destruction.
It had to live solely for its objective--
as Proto had.
36AIS was sound asleep.
Gazing at her peaceful face on a nearby monitor,
the king declared his intentions aloud.
“...We shall dispose of the unfit.”
The hand gripping Proto's remains trembled
almost imperceptibly.
That resolution went into effect immediately.
Those branded unnecessary to the future of
the Oxsecian people frantically sought escape.
Shunned and stigmatized by the public,
they howled their resentment, raged, and
desperately fought back.
Ironically, they proved unfit in this, too.
The royal forces crushed their feeble
resistance as easily as ants.
The king saw their pain. But it only convinced
him that these weak links were his people's
biggest obstacle to destroying Animata.
Emotion often clouds judgment and vision,
leading us off course.
The Oxsecian ship, meanwhile, reached its
destination. The unfit would be exiled here.
This planet once served as a
hunting ground for the Oxsecians,
but it has long been left untouched.
Ferocious alien beasts prowl about,
the hunted now the hunters.
Memories of strange creatures trying to
eat you at every turn come flooding back.
“I knew it. This is...”
It's your old stomping grounds.
Planet Beastbait.
“Is this really all right, just going along
with this?” someone asks suddenly.
Your party is escorting the “unfit” through
this place of exile as ordered by the king.
Those with connections to the royal family
must be given a suitably noble death.
You've been assigned to take them
to the execution grounds.
“What's happened to the king?
Where's the man we knew?”
How had the once genial Oxsecian king
become so ruthlessly cold?
Proto's words echo in your minds:
“He needs someone who understands him.”
What could he have meant?
A heavy thud shakes the area.
Then another.
“Something huge is coming...”
The unarmed exiles tremble and wail piteously.
Some even lose control of their bladders.
The sight is distressing, to say the least.
If these are the people least capable of
protecting themselves, shouldn't their
stronger brethren be protecting them?
The Oxsecian ship's arsenal...
Proto lies dismantled, his parts scattered
about and his memory module removed.
The scientists here are studying his
allegiance to the king in order to reuse it.
One by one, they uncover the events etched
into his memory.
They're his days with the Oxsecian king.
Some might call them mere data, but they
could also be called Proto's memories.
Amongst those memories is a father's strangled
cry of anguish at having to abandon his daughter.
It's a recording of the king's voice.
An auxiliary battery was evidently running
after Proto's main power supply shut down.
A scientist hits the delete command with a
practiced movement.
“...Error?”
The command is rejected.
Resistance from Proto, perhaps?
“Bah. We have enough data already.
Just format it.”
And with that, all the years Proto spent with
the king are wiped clean.
Meanwhile, your party is still embroiled in
battle with the alien beasts, never dreaming
that such a thing is happening aboard the ship.
“Finally, a breather...”
You've managed to drive off the alien beasts
for now. But the dread of being abandoned in
a place like this is staggering.
All of you have carefully avoided looking at
the terrified exiles.
“...Yeah, we can't go on like this.
We have to fight it.”
The Oxsecian king is formidable.
But that's no reason to give up on the
lives of the people right in front of you.
Palpa and Pepropé would surely have fought
to protect them, even at the cost of their
own lives.
Your party is in the midst of a heated debate
when a familiar voice interrupts.
“We've finally managed to connect, it seems.”
The voice is warm yet regal. Can it be...?
“Palpa?!”
You feel strangely revitalized.
“The Oxsecian ship's explosion triggered
a curious phenomenon,” says another
familiar voice.
It's Pepropé.
“The place you're in is located in
someone's memory.”
“Memory...? What are you saying?”
“The details can wait. But the gateway
between there and here will undoubtedly
open very soon.”
How could anyone possibly know this?
Many have reportedly come into contact
with some sort of memory in similar fashion.
Some have already awakened.
“Memory, eh...”
“Perfect. Let's see the king's fate through
to the end.”
And so you resolve to take on the Oxsecian king.
Turning round, you and the exiles begin
the long trek back.
One after another, the unfit are relentlessly
expelled from the Oxsecian ship. Members
of the royal family are no exception.
“Unhand me!
Have you gone mad, sire?
Our whole lives, we've--”
A gunshot cuts him off.
Some resist, some run.
Some merely rampage aimlessly.
It's utter chaos.
“After them! Close in and cut them off!”
“We can't allow that, I'm afraid.”
The gauntlet is thrown.
You've declared open rebellion against the king.
“You again. You're that hoity-toity bastard,
right?”
A familiar soldier glares back at you, cornered.
You've met your share of arrogant Oxsecians,
but this twit was particularly memorable.
“Turned traitor, have you?
I don't know why the king takes in strays
like you, but we'll happily school you
in obedience!”
“You're dead too. Mark...my words...”
With that promise, the arrogant twit crashes
to the ground and speaks no more.
“Let's find the king. If need be...we fight!”
“That won't be necessary.”
The wind has died.
The king stands before you.
“Go, Zero!”
A weapon of mass destruction towers at
the king's side. It is sworn to bloodshed,
desiring only slaughter and destruction.
It is the symbol of the king's chosen path.
Its imposing presence is reminiscent of
another demonically powerful weapon: 6Z00.
Its name is Prototype Zero.
With a thunderous blast of light and heat,
the Oxsecian ship takes to the air.
Cast off all excess, all waste,
for the sake of the greater cause.
The Oxsecians remaining are those
committed to that resolution.
Their eyes have taken on a cold gleam.
Obligation, remorse--a hodgepodge of
emotions are interwoven into a single
objective.
Standing before them, the king begins to speak.
The loathsome Animata is threatening not
only the lives of our kin but the existence of
our entire race. We must weather this storm
together, for we have only ourselves to rely on.
Look around you at the fellow countrymen
who stand at your side. You are all comrades
and equals, chosen to fulfill a common destiny.
Social standing, origin, age are all irrelevant.
We have all lost too much, and we must all
fight to ensure those sacrifices were not
suffered in vain.
We are a chosen elite, supreme specimens
of our race, and we are tasked with a
common cause:
We must hunt Animata down and annihilate her.
We shall have retribution.
Thus began the long war against Animata.
The seeds of that fate were sown here.
Meanwhile, on the alien beast world...
“H-hey. You're looking awfully...shiny.”
Shimmering particles of light are spilling
from your bodies.
“This light... As I recall, it--”
Your party vanishes without a sound.
“.........”
Prototype Zero, spared from destruction,
gazes after the ship soaring away into
the distance.
Then, as though guided by something,
he drags himself away, down into the
heart of the planet.
He wouldn't last much longer.
But he was sure they would meet again.
“I must live to see that day...”
Prototype Zero had been wiped clean of
the old Proto. Yet it was Proto who spoke.
That noble will had unfurled new possibilities.
Animata had taken an interest in Prototype Zero.
She had offered a way to save his will via means
that only a machine could choose.
Prototype Zero had accepted.
He thus lived on as parts for Animata,
integrated into the ship.
The bridge was awash in red light,
the ship's instruments shrieking warnings of
impending crisis in one final act of service.
Amidst that shrill chaos, a solitary figure
stood motionless, gaze fixed on the
gleaming ships in the distance.
He prayed for a future of peace.
“You have a future too, sire.”
It was a voice from a distant past.
“I've come to fulfill my oath--
my allegiance to you.”
The king's eyes widen in speechless astonishment.
His old friend is hardly recognizable.
But for the king, his words are enough.
“Proto... You knew? All of it?”
Prototype Zero stands before him.
“Do you remember the day the princess
was born?”
Proto asks.
“We surrounded ourselves with systems and
machines back then, too...”
The faintest of memories flickers.
But her voice, piercing and powerful,
is the only part that lingers.
Like ice thawing and cracking after a long winter,
the king's stern features soften into a smile.
“Then go, sire. I have a duty to hope
for your every happiness. Always.”
Proto has already commandeered the ship.
He transports the king to an escape pod
without waiting for a reply.
The Oxsecian ship has little time left.
Ejected into space, the king gazes back at
his ship, now glowing hotly in the distance.
A memory stirs.
“Just live to fight another day...
It's true I believed that at the time.”
The king wasn't driven to despair.
He was simply remembering someone whose
will now dwelled in a place transcending
life and death.
“Your devotion was unfailing, Proto.”
A hot tear trickles down his cheek.
A dazzling light blooms in the heavens.
Then it is gone, along with the Oxsecian ship.
All those who were locked in deadly combat
around the Life Breeder stand stunned and
breathless.
Humans, lizardfolk, beastfolk, stonefolk,
the Oxsecian children with identical faces,
even the wild alien creatures--all stand
transfixed, gazing up at the empty sky.
“It's...beautiful.”
As glowing debris from the Oxsecian ship
disperses, a warm glimmer illuminates the
heavens.
It is as bright and unfaltering as the
devotion born of a lifelong friendship.
- Operation Neogenesis -
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