They intend to kill me…
A strange voice—metallic, mechanical—echoed through the narrow alley as if it were seeping from the walls of the darkness itself:
"Fire command… target confirmed… Victim 307…"
A chill ran down Victor's spine. What was this feeling? As if his body knew before his mind did. As if an ancient instinct, long buried, had suddenly awakened.
"It's coming from the right…"
A shot. The sharp crack of air splitting apart.
Victor dodged it on reflex, as though his body moved before his mind granted permission. He ducked, took two strides, then threw himself behind a rusted dumpster reeking of rot. His heart pounded violently, yet he noticed something strange: the three Observers were advancing toward him slowly, sweeping the alley with their weapons, but they weren't truly tracking him. Their eyes passed over him as if he were a ghost—as if the broken device on the ground had rendered him invisible to them, or at least untraceable by their systems.
Step… another step…
One of them drew near, pistol raised, movements precise and rhythmic like a machine.
"There he is…"
In an instant, Victor lunged at him like a wounded beast. He seized his neck, slammed him to the ground, and began striking him with savage force, again and again. But the blows did nothing. The body beneath his fists neither groaned nor bled nor felt pain. It was merely a hardened shell. The other two locked onto him immediately, weapons aimed.
"My God… is this where I die?"
Two shots rang out in perfect unison, sharp and tearing through the silence.
The Observers collapsed without a sound, as though invisible strings had suddenly been severed.
"What was that? Who shot them?"
A human voice—real, warm, furious—came from the rooftop above:
"Get away from him! He's still alive… move!"
The man descended swiftly down a battered fire escape. Mid-to-late twenties, short black hair, sharp eyes, a leather coat torn at the sleeves. He approached the first fallen Observer and ripped the device coiled around his neck in one quick motion. The body's pulse ceased instantly, as though the device had been sustaining an artificial life.
He turned to Victor, wiping blood from his hands.
"Doesn't that thing around your neck hurt?"
"Somewhat… the pain vanished after you removed it," Victor replied, breathless. "Who are you? Why did you save me?"
"Easy. Too many questions." The man gave a weary smile. "Consider me someone like you… My name is Louis. One of the Ashval warriors. We'd better head back to our headquarters before more of them arrive."
"Louis… Ashval… headquarters… Sorry, I know nothing about any of that. And I've no reason to trust you and go along. I'll take these bodies, if you don't mind. Maybe I'll find something useful."
"Suit yourself. You can examine them later. I'm Ashval too, and to prove it—" Louis stopped abruptly. "One of Ashval's laws forbids removing the mask of an Unsyced… What? What are you doing?!"
At that very moment, Victor pulled off the mask covering his face—a thin metallic mask he had been wearing without fully realizing it.
Louis froze, eyes widening.
"What is this… don't tell me it's—"
"It's ordinary," Victor said calmly.
"What do you mean, ordinary?"
"It's like me… human. No device. No wires. Nothing controlling me."
"I truly don't understand… either you or the truth about the Unsyced."
"So that's what you call them? The Unsyced?"
"Where are you from? How do you not know?"
"Where am I from? I… don't know."
"Wait—don't tell me…" Louis stepped closer. "Tell me… what's your name?"
"My name… I don't remember it. More precisely—I don't know it at all."
"You don't know your name? That… that genuinely shocks me." Louis exhaled. "Come with me. I might be able to help."
"How could you possibly help me?"
"I'll help you recover your memory… or at least part of it."
"Just like that?"
"It won't be easy convincing my father. But we'll try."
"Fine… Is he in this city?"
"Yes. Very close. He's waiting in the car by the gate."
They walked together for long minutes through darkened streets, Louis's questions falling like rain: Where did you come from? Have you seen the Unsyced before? Do you remember anything about the government? Victor answered with silence or a shrug. At last they spotted an old car parked beneath a dim streetlamp.
Louis ran toward it, shouting:
"Father! Father! I'm back!"
A tall man stood beside the car, gray-haired, stern-faced yet carrying a paternal gaze. Louis leapt to embrace him—but the father sidestepped and drove a strong fist into his son's stomach.
"Where have you been, you ungrateful brat? We've been waiting for ages!"
"Ah—how could we come to Norvana and you not let me wander a bit?"
"We're wanted. This is no time to wander."
Louis straightened painfully, then gestured to Victor.
"Look what I brought."
"Who is this?"
"He's… honestly, I don't know."
"How do you not know?"
Louis whispered in his father's ear:
"He says he remembers nothing."
The father approached Victor and inclined his head in formal courtesy.
"My name is Hamilton. A pleasure. And yours?"
"I don't know my name."
"My son told me as much."
"It feels harsh to say I have no name. But it seems I don't just forget it… I don't remember anything at all."
"Very well… We may be able to help you. But I do not yet trust you completely. We'll overlook that for now—you appear unarmed and not an immediate threat. Come. Get in."
"What? You believed me?" Louis asked, astonished.
"I believed you, my son… but I won't trust him fully until he enters the first capsule. There, we'll know if we find what we're looking for."
"Really? Just like that?"
"Forgive me, but I understand nothing," Victor said. "I understand your language, but some words are unfamiliar."
Hamilton snapped,
"Get in the car and stop chattering! Damn this generation!"
"A… alright." Victor hesitated, then slid into the back seat.
The car sped through the empty streets. Louis continued his questions:
"How old are you? Where were you? Do you have a family? Victor? Victor?"
Then he asked something that made Victor freeze.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
Louis raised one finger.
"Wait… what do you mean?"
"What? Is my question stupid?"
"You raised one finger… that means the number one."
"Fine… how accurate is that information?"
"One hundred percent."
"One hundred… and what is a hundred?"
Hamilton cut in.
"It seems you truly have lost your memory… and don't recall where you were before meeting Louis."
"I told you—I don't remember."
"You're stubborn. You must cooperate. You have no choice."
"Memory… The last thing I recall is running from masked people."
"And before that?"
"I was… I… aaah… gh—"
Static invaded his head. A sharp pain, as though something were tearing his mind apart from within. He screamed. Louis tried to calm him—but Victor lost consciousness completely.
The car stopped.
"He fainted. What do we do?" Louis asked.
"We have no choice. Ashval is close. We'll take him to the doctor there."
"I'm certain Master Ilio will find a solution."
Ashval.
In a dark underground chamber, dozens of armed figures stood in perfect formation. A man stood upon a raised platform, his voice powerful, filling the space:
"Original inhabitants of Earth… do not surrender to a virtual construct that steals our lives. We have reclaimed Ashval. Only four cities remain before we reclaim our lives as true human beings. Yes—four. A great number. But nothing is impossible for free humans. People of flesh and blood… raise your voices! Declare war upon the corrupt government!"
"Understood!"
"Long live humanity!"
"Long live humanity!"
"Long live humanity!"
To be continued…