The sound of Seraniti's boots reverberated through the air, each step landing sharply on the pavement. The rhythm echoed in her ears, steady and loud: One. Two. One. Two. Each beat on the concrete felt like a pulse in her chest, her heart thumping in sync with her stride. She ran with purpose, her eyes flicking periodically to the news feed and the map overlay on her optic. Red zones dotted the city, shifting like living organisms in response to the ongoing chaos.
Just because you're alone doesn't mean you have to be reckless, she thought. This isn't the Victorian Era. The words were bitter but practical—she'd learned long ago in a world where the smallest mistake could get you killed.
Her gaze flickered briefly toward a familiar name in her contacts, but she didn't call. Why isn't that lazy maid knight of mine here? she mused grimly. The answer was as predictable as it was infuriating: Zora was most likely sprawled out somewhere, sound asleep with her sword by her side.
Zora Presvedčenie. Her name alone felt like a contradiction to the reputation of the maid knights. These knights were the epitome of perfection,whose selection process remained shrouded in mystery. They were disciplined, loyal, and capable of wielding incredible power. But, as Seraniti knew all too well, every maid knight came with a quirk—some flaw or idiosyncrasy that set them apart, for better or worse.
And Seraniti? She'd been stuck with hers.
"ZORA!" she thought with a groan, her lips twisting into a grimace as she picked up her pace. "Both lazy and a glutton! The world really has it out for me, huh?"
Despite her irritation, Seraniti's steps slowed slightly as a faint smile tugged at her lips. As much as she hated to admit it, having Zora around had made her life just a little better—though she'd take that confession to the grave before ever voicing it aloud.
Zora Presvedčenie was a Feline, one year older than Seraniti, with a mischievous streak that bordered on perversion. Her fluffy gray ears twitched when she was amused, and her soft tail flicked lazily whenever she was particularly pleased with herself—which, unfortunately, was often. Unlike her fellow maid knights, Zora refused to wear the traditional uniform, opting instead for "comfy" clothes that set her apart and made her something of an embarrassment among her peers. But Zora didn't care. She thrived on doing things her way, much to Seraniti's dismay.
Just as Seraniti was settling into her steady rhythm again, she heard a chime- an incoming call. She didn't need to check the name. The smug tone of the caller gave her away immediately.
"Mashaa! Where are you? I cooked an hour ago, and it's gone cold!"
The voice belonged to none other than Zora herself. Her image appeared in Seraniti's field of vision—a young woman with gray hair, hazel eyes, and an innocent smile that didn't match her often shameless behavior. Her ever-present cat ears twitched slightly, and her tail swayed lazily behind her as she leaned forward, clad in her usual casual clothes.
Seraniti rolled her eyes. "Well, my dear gluttonous maid," she replied dryly, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "if you haven't noticed already, I'm currently in the middle of tracking the visitor. So why don't you make yourself useful for once?"
Zora's innocent smile widened mischievously, the kind that made Seraniti's temple throb. Before she could say more, Zora disconnected the call with a casual wave, leaving Seraniti glaring at the empty air.
A soft ping followed moments later as a new map overlay appeared in her vision. A location had been circled, complete with a chibi version of Zora grinning smugly next to it. Seraniti groaned audibly. "Of course. Never ceases to amaze me."
Her eyes scanned the map: an abandoned storage facility surrounded by infected residents. She clicked her tongue in frustration. Great. Just my luck. Still, she moved forward, her pace steady despite the growing tension in her chest.
Not like they'd try to kill me, anyway, she thought grimly. I'm infected too.
As Seraniti approached the gates of the facility after what felt like an eternity, well the gates to the port. Svalinn floated effortlessly before her. The cartridge system hovered like an extension of her own body, every movement smooth and deliberate. With her right hand, she reached for the operator handle, while her left gripped the Redundancy Battery Rod near the top of the device. She pulled the rod downward toward herself with a measured yank before releasing it upward. It hissed softly as it disengaged, rising autonomously into position as though guided, alongside another that mirrored its movements.
From the opening left behind, a dense, viscous liquid began to rise, defying
Parts floated slightly away from the frame during the assembly, each segment distinct yet harmonious with the whole ranging from wiring to the barrel and more. Some components were opaque and textured, while others were translucent or matte, their surfaces gleaming with modern craftsmanship. The handles of both cannons shifted color as they formed, transitioning from a pale whitish-grey to a shade strikingly similar to Seraniti's own hands. The most eye-catching feature, however, was the "attachment" near the muzzle—a Treated Gold construct that spun constantly, suspended in the air, unconnected to the rest of the cannon yet perfectly integrated into its function and because it looked cool. But that's something else Seraniti will take to her grave.
The entire process was completed in less than five seconds. The two cannons locked into their mounts with a low, resonant hum, the surrounding air faintly vibrating with latent energy. As the final components clicked into place, the collapse fluid, now depleted of its
This was the power of
Seraniti's gaze flicked over the assembled cannons, her expression unreadable as her fingers brushed lightly over one of the handles. She checked every component instinctively, her mind automatically assessing the status of the weapon she knew so intimately. Every piece was in its place, from the spinning golden attachment to the translucent casing of the subsidiary cannon. She gave a small, satisfied nod, the low chime of Svalinn's activation blending seamlessly with the distant sounds of the facility.
"Still flawless as ever," she murmured to herself, letting her hand linger on the handle for just a moment longer. With a final glance, she straightened and hid a few meters from the gate behind some materials stacked high.
Seraniti shook her head, crouching low as she peeked over the jagged cover shielding her. Five guards and two K9s stood at the checkpoint. Three were positioned on the right, two on the left, and the K9s, with their dog-like heads and unnerving stillness, patrolled a few meters apart. Their movements were mechanical, their IDOL bodies precise and efficient—a grim reminder of what they were and how they had come to be.
She could level them all in an instant if she wanted to. With 02's power, the checkpoint would be reduced to rubble in seconds, but the aftermath wasn't worth it. The quiet of 26:30 amplified every noise; a loud explosion would ricochet through the district, drawing more eyes and ears than she could afford. Subtlety wasn't her specialty, but causing a scene here would only make things harder.
Seraniti raised her hand slightly, a faint flick of her fingers commanding 02 to adjust its angle. The cannon moved silently, the apparatus on its frame spinning faster as a faint hum built within. She moved her left hand in a measured arc, activating the Linear sequence stored within her MICA. The soft chime of activation hummed through her mind, but there was no outward sign, no gesture to betray her action. Her hearing sharpened, extending into the distance as the voices of the guards crackled through the static of cheap radios.
"…They're saying there's some VIP on the run," one of the guards grumbled, his tone laced with irritation. "What the hell does that even mean?"
"Dunno," another replied with a snort. "All I know is we're getting paid to sit here and stop anyone from getting in or out. I don't care what 'visitor' means. Boss said to guard this place, so we guard it."
A small smile tugged at Seraniti's lips as she pieced it together. Section 35, she thought. They're keeping him holed up there.
She adjusted her stance, her eyes narrowing as she shifted 02 into firing position. The apparatus on the cannon spun faster now, faint arcs of electricity dancing along its surface. With a small, deliberate gesture, she aimed for the center of the checkpoint.
A sharp discharge echoed as 02 unleashed its
Seraniti smirked, raising a hand to guide 03 into position for follow-up fire. The smaller cannon floated obediently at her side, its sleek frame glowing faintly in the aftermath of 02's strike. She didn't need more destruction, but it was always better to stay prepared. The pathway ahead was open now, and the remaining guards were either incapacitated or too disoriented to regroup.
"Too easy," she muttered, stepping forward while 02 reloaded and 01 went in front of her as she grabbed its operator handle. Her steps were quiet as she ran out from her cover before heading towards a guard on his knees and head before kicking him on the head for good measure and taking his ID.