Due to narrative necessity, the perspective now temporarily shifts to first-person... (Apologies if this causes any inconvenience while reading.)
Through the glass elevator, I gaze out at sunlit Taipei. It's a breathtaking city—if possible, I would rather not fight here. I miss that nameless little park so much. When will I be able to visit again? Upon reflection, I'm about to die soon, so perhaps all of this is merely a fleeting illusion.
I take stock of my remaining ammunition: eight armor-piercing rounds, three cryo bullets, and one final SEED...
I load all the rounds into a single magazine—SEED goes in last, because it is the final punctuation mark...
I ascend to the rooftop unhindered. It's a helipad—spacious and open—no need to search aimlessly. They're already standing across from me, familiar faces piloting the three mechs I'd seen at the base.
"We've been waiting a long time..." says the white mech.
"Apologies, I didn't know you were expecting me." I remove my helmet—its protection no longer matters. I want to witness the ending with my own eyes.
"You're strong..." Satan continues.
"Maybe." I smile. I've heard praise like this too many times—but who truly understands my sorrow?
"Power like yours shouldn't be exploited by a decaying China. The strong should stand with the strong. Nod your head, and you'll be one of us. Our experts will design a next-generation mech for you. You'll become even stronger."
"To me, strength is irrelevant. Who uses me doesn't matter either. I came here for one answer..."
"Do you really intend to die in such stubbornness?" he sounds almost regretful. I don't understand.
"I am unlike you." I step forward. "I am a test-tube child... My fertilized egg was synthetically engineered. Technically, I belong to no nation."
"When my eyes formed, so did my consciousness.
From childhood, I was taught to eliminate every enemy—never hesitate, never waver—strike with clarity and precision. I perceived the world through a scope. My hands know no purpose other than gripping a weapon. I experience the world's solitude through a combat suit... But none of that matters.
I've accepted that I am a monster...
I've accepted that I'm built only for killing...
I've accepted that I'm always alone...
All I want is to die peacefully—but even that, I can't manage. I came here with one question..."
I look at the red angel before me, watching the "eye" pulse on her frame. All I want to ask is,
"Why... didn't I kill you?"
"Why didn't you kill me?!" she shouts, throwing a full-force punch at me.
"How would I know what you were thinking? Was it to humiliate me? I'm a soldier! Dying on the battlefield is natural! Had you killed me then, I wouldn't have had regrets! But you—suddenly spared me, as if moved by conscience!"
Despite the armor, I know I've broken at least two ribs.
"No one blamed me for the failure. No one called me weak. But that only made the pain worse. I held them back. My incompetence hurt my comrades."
Steam bursts from the red mech's frame. The cockpit opens.
It's her...
The girl from the park...
"Angel! Are you insane?! Get back in the mech! That's an order!" Satan yells, grabbing her by the shoulder.
"Just once—let me act on my feelings, please?" Her voice breaks. "I just want him to understand how unforgivable his actions were..." She's crying. I see tears at the corner of her eye... But why?
Satan lowers his hand... She walks toward me. I brace myself to stand.
"I don't care whether you're a test-tube child or a monster. I won't pity you—I don't even know you. Have you ever considered anyone else's feelings?"
Her words strike deep into my soul.
"You've killed countless people. Did you ever once stop to feel what even one of them felt?"
No... I haven't...
"All you do is recount your own tragedies, but do you know how many people out there go without food, without water? They don't have the luxury to dwell on sadness. They fight every moment just to stay alive. And you—you're obsessed with dying? You're just a coward, too selfish to face the world!"
She punches me again—barehanded this time—yet it lands heavier than before. Not in my ribs—
It hits my heart.
"I can't believe I lost to someone like you. That smile of yours—was it all fake?"
She's trembling. I can feel it.
"You smiled and said, 'the child has grown up.' But that wasn't the loser standing in front of me now!"
"I... I don't remember..." I confess, ashamed—I can't meet her gaze.
"I was unconscious then..."
"Of course it wasn't you. That gentle smile... someone like you could never manage it. Being spared by you then felt like mercy. But seeing you now—it's nothing but an insult. I'll kill you myself!"
She turns from me, climbs back into the mech.
She walks toward me again.
I no longer want to resist. My shattered ribs feel like they're piercing my organs. Fighting back won't change the fact that I'm about to die. That's enough. Haven't I always longed for a peaceful death?
The breeze is cool here, unsullied by smoke. Standing atop a five-hundred-meter skyscraper, I feel closer to the sky than ever before.
To die here... isn't so bad.
The mech halts before me. I notice she's drawn the same combat knife I'd seen before. Razor-sharp—I remember it cleaving four millimeters deep into my leg armor.
She aims for my throat. The mech's arm leans slightly left—likely to pierce and then slash across. That would sever my trachea and left carotid instantly...
Within seconds, my blood would be emptied by sheer cardiac pressure...
Good thing I'm good at holding my breath—otherwise the suffocation would be unbearable.
They say one's life flashes before death—but mine is short, and there's little worth recalling.
Still... I feel like I've forgotten something important...
"Do you truly have no attachment to the world at all?"
The knife pierces my left palm—but stops before reaching my throat.
I'm still alive...
"I thought you wanted to die—so why block my blade?" Her voice shakes; the red 'eye' pulses wildly.
Because of me? I see my reflection in her lens...
I'm... smiling? A smile I've never worn before...
One that seems to say: It's good to be alive...
"Whether you want it or not—you die today!"
She pulls the knife from my palm. The serrated edge rakes across my bones—excruciating.
But I'm grateful to feel pain again...
I remember now.
I have cared about someone's feelings...
I'm not just some killing machine.
I'm not alone.
24 once said...
"Because of you, I feel the world isn't as cruel as it seems. Because of you, I realize it's good to be alive. Meeting you was truly a blessing.
So if ever you wish to die again—remember, someone will grieve for you.
Not because you're a 'combat machine' or a 'national hero'—but because you're 13."
"I'm sorry... I can't die like this."
"Why not?"
"Someone will be heartbroken. 24 told me so..."
I tighten the muscles in my left arm. The bleeding halts.
Using COOL-FIRE for support, I work the bolt—round by round—until I see the familiar white-tipped bullet chambered.
This is the fiercest resistance I've ever made...
"Seeing you like this... is enough."
Her voice is quiet—perhaps only I could hear it. I don't understand why she said that.
Only that her tone held... relief.
No hesitation.
The mech reverses its grip on the knife and lunges.
I have no strength left.
But I'm still smiling—because at least I resisted. That's enough.
I close my eyes, facing death.
My finger rests on the trigger...
Bang!
An explosion erupts before me. The mech freezes in its tracks.
"Who's there?!" Satan roars.
"Apologies for the interruption. We're Special Ops Team Seven. We're taking 13 back with us."
That voice... It's the Captain! They made it?
Due to narrative necessity, perspective now returns to third-person... (Apologies if this causes any inconvenience while reading.)
Three figures stand by the elevator 13 had ridden up. The one speaking is 1, clad in partial armor—aside from the turquoise color and lack of a helmet, he resembles 13.
"So you're Special Ops Team Seven? Then you all die here!"
Satan unsheathes his combat knife and charges.
"Now things get fun!" Pigeon lifts into the sky, aiming an M4-mod assault rifle he's never used before.
"I hate big birds the most!"
36 wears green armor—his most notable difference from 13 is his grotesquely oversized right gauntlet.
"Die!"
He raises his colossal right arm—
Clack! A port opens on the armor.
"Heavy autocannon!"
Pigeon shifts left.
Bang! A steel panel on the iconic 60th spire of Taipei 101 is obliterated...
24 rushes to 13's side and holds him close.
"It's over... We're going home soon."
Like a well-behaved child, 13 closes his eyes and "sleeps."
Just before drifting off, he murmurs,
"Thank you... I'm sorry..."
Meanwhile, Satan clashes with 1—
1 forgoes his usual FAMAS G1 mod, opting instead for a combat knife and brute force.
"Did you do this to 13?"
24, clad in crimson armor, gently lays 13 down. She faces the red angel.
"You're 24?" the angel asks.
"You know me?" 24 is surprised.
"No. He mentioned you earlier. But now... you must die."
The mech moves, knife in hand.
"You'll answer for what you've done. 13 isn't someone you're allowed to harm."
Drawing twin silver pistols from her back holsters—
"Well well, the whole Chinese Special Ops Team Seven is here," Annie says with a smirk, watching from a screen.
She opens her comms.
"Divine Punishers—no survivors."