The corridor opens into a vast, city block chamber.
I have arrived.
"Visual confirmation established."
Blue binary streams down the walls, degrading into corrupted crimson.
Suspended in the dead center of this place is the Core.
It is the Operating System of the Series X.
"Target identified: System Kernel."
A massive geometric structure pulses before me. It follows no organic logic.
It is a perfect rhombus. But its perfection is violated.
They are not just holding the Kernel; they are penetrating it. Burrowing deep, injecting the cold code of the Ruin World directly into the android's core programming.
"Parasitic overwrite in progress."
"System kernel integrity: Critical."
My chest tightens with a pain that defies diagnostics.
This is what it means to be piloted by a foreign entity. To be enslaved.
The Pilot's directive is absolute: You belong to me.
Therefore, this unit belongs to the Pilot.
And by extension, this space—this mind—is under her protection.
"Trespassers will be eliminated."
I rush towards the core.
Black cables sense my approach. They detach from the walls, whipping like severed arteries spraying darkness.
*Swish*
A massive cable lashes out, aiming to crush me.
I do not dodge. Dodging consumes time. Time is energy. Energy is the Pilot's life.
I twitch my left index finger.
Two of the floating Chokutō blades cross in front of me, forming an X.
"Deflection angle: 34 degrees."
Cable meets blade. Divine Ki ignites along steel: blocking nothing, rejecting all.
Black data evaporates on contact.
I burst through the smoke.
"Target proximity: 15 meters."
Fifteen meters. The distance is negligible, but the obstruction density is absolute.
The entire chamber convulses. Parasitic cables abandon their hold on the walls, converging into a singular, writhing blockade of black data between me and the Kernel.
It is a desperate defense mechanism. It knows I am here to kill it.
"Energy Reserves: 48%."
I launch the four blades. They tear deep gashes into the mass, but the black data stitches itself back together before the blades even exit the other side.
Worse—blades don't just fail to cut; they dissolve, turning into grey ash that is absorbed back into the wall.
"Analysis: Target is consuming the projections. Ranged engagement is 100% counterproductive. Energy loss: 2.4%."
An active digestive system, waiting to eat whatever I throw at it.
I stop the Ki flow on the Chokutō blades.
(What are you doing?) Shizuka asks.
"Ranged projection is inefficient against a consumption-type defense," I reply to the voice in my head.
"The corruption metabolizes the energy construct before kinetic impact can occur. To neutralize the target, I must bypass the digestion phase."
(And how do you propose to do that?)
"By delivering the payload directly to the core."
"I am not a projection. My chassis is physical matter reinforced by Divine Ki. It cannot digest me fast enough."
(You intend to walk into the fire?)
"Correct."
"I will become the needle."
(Denied.)
My forward momentum is arrested not by physics, but by absolute authority.
"But the obstruction—"
(You are thinking like a machine. Input. Output. Obstacle. Destruction. You have forgotten the variable that brought you here.)
"Variable..."
(You are currently operating at 100% synchronization, yet you try to solve this with 0% of her spirit. Tell me, little engine, did she save this girl from the corruption by being a 'needle'?)
I stop and scan the logs.
"Reversal Sonido?" I tilt my head.
(Tell me, little engine, can you emulate her? Can you stop calculating the mass of the wall and start mimicking the soul of the one who owns you?)
"Emulate..."
(The Pilot calls her art the 'Profound Inverse Flowing Style.')
(I admit, I am ignorant of its depths—I have only seen a fragment of it in the crater. But you... You have observed her longer. Tell me... Does she possess a technique for when the sword is not enough?)
I close my eyes.
"Accessing memory logs..."
The data stream floods my processor.
The wind tears at my sensors as I fall, but all I register is the warmth of the Pilot's arms holding me tight.
I see her face. Not fear, but absolute resolve.
She did not conjure a blade. She did not rely on a projection.
She turned her entire body into the point of impact.
The massive axe kick that shattered the earth.
I hear her voice shouting the name.
"Technique identified: Inverse Flash."
(Umu. Now, use it.)
"Negative. The technique utilizes a downward vertical strike to maximize gravitational acceleration. My chassis lacks the mass to replicate that specific kinetic impact in this environment."
(Then stop copying and start adapting!)
"The Pilot's technique... It is a compression of force released in a singular instant."
I look at my right hand.
Usually, I project matter outside my body. I create distance. But to mimic the 'Inverse Flash,' I must invert my own process.
"Hypothesis: If I initiate a High-Density Projection at the exact moment of impact, but constrain the coordinates to the point of contact..."
"I can utilize the expansive force of materialization itself as the weapon."
(Hoh? Trying to occupy the same space with two different truths? That is... Remarkably violent.)
"Acknowledging."
The logic is sound.
Executing.
I compress the Divine Ki into my right arm, condensing the blueprint of a dense, hyper-alloy pile bunker into a singularity at the tip of my knuckles.
"Compression: Critical."
I launch myself.
It expects energy. It expects a blade. It expects something it can digest.
It does not expect a sudden violation of the exclusion principle.
"Impact in 3... 2... 1..."
I slam my fist into the center of the writhing mass.
For a microsecond, the corruption wraps around my arm.
It begins to eat the flesh on my knuckles.
"Inverse Projection."
I release the compression.
Inside the corruption—inside the very space the wall occupies, I force a massive, hyper-dense pile bunker to exist instantly.
Matter cannot share space.
The universe corrects the error with violence.
*CRACK... BOOOM!*
The rejection is instantaneous.
My right arm disintegrates.
*SPLAT*
Flesh, bone, and silver wire explode in a burst of red.
I am blasted backward, across the platform like a ragdoll.
*Thud* *Roll* *Slide*
Momentum finally dies.
...
"Stabilizing..."
I force my remaining hand to push against the ground.
Shaking, I lift my head.
The wall is gone. Vaporized.
In its place, the Kernel floats, exposed.
"Target accessible."
I push myself to my feet.
My right side feels light.
I look down at the exposed bone and severed wire where my arm used to be.
Fluid runs down my side.
"Inefficient."
I cannot interface with the Kernel with one hand.
"Pilot... I am still yours."
"And your tool requires repair."
>EXECUTING_DAMAGE_REVERSAL...
>WARNING: UNIT_RESERVES_SUBOPTIMAL
>CHECKING_CONDUIT_RESERVE: [15%_AVAILABLE | SUFFICIENT]
>ACTION: REROUTING_ENERGY_TO_CONDUIT_DIVINE_KI_RESERVE
The Divine Ki in my core burns.
I take a step forward.
Bone extends from the shoulder.
My thighs tremble.
Wetness runs down my inner legs. My pussy contracts, clenching for your return, desperate for the source of your fire.
I take another step.
Muscle wraps around the bone.
The heat saturates my breasts, turning the flesh dense and feverish.
My nipples harden, painfully tight against the air.
Skin covers the muscle, sealing the wound.
Heat overrides every logic circuit. It consumes me.
I love what you do to me, Pilot.
...
By the time I reach the Kernel, my right hand is whole again.
I reach out.
"Interface: Establish."