Memories [4]
I woke up to the sun filtering through the trees.
This was... new. Unnatural. I was so used to that sterile white room, this wild freedom felt like a glitch in the system.
I packed up camp while those two still slept. I didn't wait. They'd survive. Probably.
After twenty minutes of running, I reached a cave nestled at the base of a cliff. It was secluded. Ideal. I unpacked and finally took out my pistol.
Sleek. Simple. Barely customized. But it was mine.
From the high vantage point, I focused—and my vision flickered. Just for a second.
Far, far in the distance, I spotted a reindeer. But not just any reindeer. Its antlers shimmered—translucent, like glass catching morning light. It looked like something out of a fairytale.
I switched focus again. A volcano stood proud behind the trees. Inactive. Ancient. Its silhouette loomed like a sleeping god.
Then—there. I saw what I'd been searching for: a water source, surrounded by a troop of beasts.
I made my way over. But halfway there—
WHAM.
I was rammed. Hard. I hit the ground, skidding.
I looked up.
What was that thing?
It looked like a porcupine on steroids—oversized, armored with massive quills, eyes glowing faint red.
It charged again.
I reacted, drawing my sword. Sparks flew as steel met spike. I was pushed back—but steady.
Then I lifted my pistol. Slowly.
The world shifted. Slowed.
Hundreds of calculations filled my vision.
Trajectory. Wind. Enemy movement. Pressure points. Firing vectors.
I saw everything.
I pulled the trigger.
One shot. Two. Five. Ten.
Each bullet precisely placed. Each strike surgical.
The thing collapsed, twitching.
Too easy.
I stood over the corpse. What the hell?
Simulations had been way harder. Had they put me on steroids—or was the real world just... Weaker?
I skinned it fast. Took all the quills. Might come in handy.
Then I continued to the lake. Set up base. Stashed the materials.
Next up—the troop of animals.
I moved carefully, but stopped in my tracks.
There was a group already approaching them. Loud. Careless. Idiots.
The beasts turned, instantly agitated.
These weren't normal creatures. They looked like cursed emus crossed with oversized chickens. Sharp beaks. Sickly feathers. Malice in their eyes.
Predictably, the idiots were chased.
Rule #1 of hunting: Don't. Get. Spotted.
I sighed.
Whatever. They'd make good bait.
I pulled out my sword, raised my pistol.
Bang.
One leg shot.
One got shot in the wing.
One clean headshot.
I dashed in, blade flashing.
Finishimg every wounded target with surgical precision.
By the time the fools turned to look, I was gone—vanishing with a few fresh corpses over my shoulder.
Back at camp—
Guess who I found?
Them.
The two from before. 067 and 080.
And they weren't alone.
A massive, armored variant of the Blade Tusk Boar charged after them. Its tusks glinted like black steel, muscles rippling beneath thick hide.
How the hell did they even provoke that thing?
"059?!" the girl gasped, startled.
I stepped in.
My blade clashed with the tusk. A sharp ring echoed. I skidded back. Boots dragging in the dirt, as the boar came to a halt.
"Stand back," I muttered.
I'd failed to use [Poetic Sword] properly during the brutal simulations. The opponents were just too strong. But now?
Perfect chance. Real conditions. Easier target.
I inhaled.
Stilled my mind.
Then—engaged.
One clean stroke left. Like a calligrapher writing a character.
Another to the right. Shift. Slash downward.
Diagonal arc. Pause. Slash again.
Then a flurry—fast, fluid. Each movement efficient. Beautiful. Precise.
Deep wounds.
The beast staggered, then collapsed.
Still too easy.
Why were the real-world enemies this weak?
I crouched down and began skinning the creature, ignoring the stares behind me.
Meat is very valuable after all.
---
Subject 067's POV:
She'd known something was off about 059 the moment they ran into him by that massive tree.
Even before that—when they'd received weapons—she'd felt it.
Something different hung around him. Like a predator in disguise.
But this… this was beyond what she imagined.
He just took down a C-rank Armored Blade Tusk Boar—solo.
She was top of their sector. But even she couldn't take down a D-rank beast without backup. A C-rank was suicide.
And yet—he didn't even look tired.
There was something wrong with this kid. Something terrifying.
Behind that doll-like face and those emotionless gray eyes…
Was a monster.
She remembered what she saw the night before—when they sat by the fire.
Just for a moment. A glimpse beneath his sleeve.
Scars.
So many, they didn't even look countable anymore.
Something told her that this boy had endured far more than she could imagine.
He wasn't like them.
He was different. Dangerous. Strong.