Fighting for someone else is inefficient. Even if you fight for another, there’s no gain for yourself. If you die, it’s all for nothing, and regret is certain. Danan could see himself sinking into remorse, wishing he’d ignored the cries for help and let them die. Yet… why was he gripping a weapon, throwing himself into a meaningless fight? Why did he respond to the girl’s plea, diving into a battle with no clear victory? He didn’t understand…

  Damocles’s triumphant sneer was loathsome. His silent affirmation that this was how it should be was infuriating. The fully mechanical being, wielding a vicious blade, seeking to bend wills with overwhelming force, was a vile embodiment of martial ugliness. Believing solitude makes one strong, Damocles demanded everyone be a loner. He and Danan were oil and water, boiling and freezing—never mixing, clashing because their meeting would transform them into something else.

  Dodging Damocles’s electromagnetic claw by a hair’s breadth, Danan swung Helles’s blade, clutching the girl and moving like a tiger-wolf to gain distance. Damocles’s mechanical eyes twitched, his auxiliary brain processing a torrent of data no human could endure, instantly calculating optimal combat moves.

  “Danan—” the girl began.

  “Shut up for a bit, or you’ll bite your tongue,” Danan snapped.

  Fighting Damocles here was a losing game—not due to terrain, firepower, or weapons, but because of the girl in his arms.

  Alone, he wouldn’t have this burden. He could scatter flesh and blood, steal Damocles’s notebook, and burn it. But the mechanical giant had already targeted the girl, intent on fighting Danan to the death. Even if he fled, Damocles would pursue relentlessly, his madness baring blood-soaked fangs until one of them stopped breathing.

  “Danaaan,” Damocles taunted.

  “…”

  “Finished your prayers? Ready for battle? Set to kill me? Don’t worry… I’m—”

  Already prepared!! Thrusters deployed from Damocles’s leg armor, launching him at high speed. In a blink, ten electromagnetic claws slashed at Danan, slicing his cheek. Clutching the girl, he fired his magnum repeatedly.

  Useless. The bullets, deflected by the electromagnetic barrier, shattered into dust, scattering like ash.

  Coating his skin with bio-fused metal, Danan parried the vicious blade, muffling the girl’s screams as he pulled an EMP grenade from his belt, yanking the pin with the detonator. The LCD panel’s gauge ticked down.

  EMP… Scatter chaff, and his Lumina would paralyze, his mechanical arm would shut down. But Danan, mostly human, could operate in intense electromagnetic waves, while Damocles, over ninety percent machine, would stall. Even accounting for a reboot, it’d buy precious seconds.

  “Not a chance, Danan!!” Damocles roared.

  Four turrets unfolded from his armor, precisely shooting the EMP grenade, rendering it dud. Vibrant flashes of live rounds and lasers scorched Danan’s coat, leaving bullet marks.

  “Danaaan… what’s wrong? You’re better than this! Push me harder!! If you’re Danan, if you claim that name, protect that kid and kill me!! Sharpen your killing intent, drown in hatred’s torrent, let rage’s inferno blaze!! Come on… outdated cowboy!!”

  “…I’m—”

  A foul stench rose from his charred wounds. Blood gushed from gouged flesh, the iron tang stinging his nose.

  An outdated cowboy… He could never be that. Lacking the noble will to fight for others or the strength to save lives, he was an empty husk.

  He couldn’t become like Damocles, worshipping power, finding beauty in solitude. Nor like Aeshema, chasing desires, sowing despair and madness. What was he? Maybe, as Damocles said, a machine with a leaden heart. He had no evidence to refute it… nothing in his hands.

  “…” A faint tremor reached his arm. “…” A choking cough struck his eardrums. “…” The girl’s pain-twisted face filled his vision.

  “…!”

  Blood streamed from her cheek. No matter how he wiped, it flowed endlessly, signaling an irreparable wound. Blood dripped from her small, bony hand covering her mouth. Only then did Danan realize she was gravely injured.

  A metal shard pierced her side, her skin seared by the electromagnetic claw’s heat. The ferocious clash between Danan and Damocles was a demonic dance, easily tearing her soft flesh. Fighting for his own survival, heedless of others’ wounds, Danan’s battle had unconsciously marked the girl who cried for help with stray blows.

  She’d die without immediate aid. Judging by blood loss, wound severity, and her apparent age, she had five minutes. Without a back-alley doctor, she was done. Goosebumps rose with surging panic, nausea overwhelming him. “Nephthys,” he muttered, summoning the combat-support AI.

  ‘What is it, Danan?’

  “…”

  ‘Anything I can assist with?’

  “…Eve’s status.”

  ‘Administrator Eve is currently asleep. Shall I contact her?’

  “Do it. Connect to Lils.”

  ‘Understood.’

  Laying the girl on the ground, Danan deployed his ultrasonic blade, gripping Helles in his left hand.

  “Finally ready to kill me for real, Danan?” Damocles sneered.

  “…”

  “Say something, damn it!! Danan!!”

  Facing the steel giant head-on was impossible. Dodging high-density barrages and close-combat weapons, breaching his electromagnetic barrier was futile. Even with Lumina’s repairs, lingering meant the girl’s life draining away, her blood a ticking clock.

  Spitting blood, he swung Helles. Parrying bullets with his steel skin, Danan desperately clung to the speeding Damocles, roaring with furious passion while questioning himself. Why fight this hard, broken and battered, for one girl? Why battle for a weakling he should abandon, trample, exploit?

  Because she resembled his past self? Overlapped with a boy exposed to blood and abuse, crushed by violence, was he fighting like the old man? Clinging to a faint hope, seeking fragile light, taming the raging beast within? No, he couldn’t harbor such complex thoughts. Resigning admiration, scorning ideals, he couldn’t become like him. He knew that best. So why—?

  Flashes and steel’s hum, gunfire’s echo, roars’ thunder. Energy converged in Damocles’s shoulder-mounted laser cannons. Slicing a power pipe with Helles, Danan’s vision drowned in white aurora, his bio-fused metal engulfed in searing heat.

  “Over already, Danan? Use it—the power you used before… your trump card to avert ruin! Show it to me! Kill me, Danan!!”

  “…”

  Looking down at the charred Danan, Damocles stomped him, aiming a turret at the girl.

  “Do it… or I’ll kill the kid you swore to protect, Danaaan.”

  “…!!”

  Danan’s pitch-black eyes reignited with fighting spirit, met by Damocles’s warped grin of glee and anticipation.

  Faintly… in her blurring vision, the girl saw two steel figures sparking.

  “…”

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  The blood’s stench filled her mouth, slick blood touched her fingers, dried blood clung to her skin. Breathing shallowly, leaning against a tombstone, she shivered, chilled by fading pain.

  “…”

  What do people recall before death? Life with the old man? Alleyway suffering? Imagined families? Blood dripping from her mouth, she tilted her body, smiling faintly.

  Nothing. No memories to recall, nothing to reflect on. No joy in living, any fleeting happiness crushed by the strong. Wishing countless times to die, lacking the courage, she squandered a prolonged life.

  If being killed freed her from this pain, ended the inescapable torment, she’d close her eyes and find peace. Praying to be destroyed so thoroughly no trace remained, she thought death was better than enduring the undercity’s hell, exploited by the strong.

  “…”

  Seeing Danan fight with all his might, scattering blood in defiance, she glimpsed a crystalline flame.

  Why fight for someone like me?

  We’re strangers, so why protect me?

  In this city, protecting others earns no thanks. Everyone lives for themselves, seeing others as stepping stones. Why… why doesn’t Danan abandon me?

  His ultrasonic blade parried Damocles’s electromagnetic claw, Helles’s blade slicing through the barrier. Purple lightning sparked, melting plastic foliage.

  Flame… the crimson flicker felt so warm. Sparks touched her cheek, rousing pain.

  “…” She was still alive. “…” Not dead. “…” Pain persisted, life tormented by despair. But… she lived. Feeling pain, thinking, proved her existence.

  Reaching out, she crawled desperately. Ignoring blood pouring from her side, she moved to avoid hindering Danan. If she vanished, he could fight freely. To let him focus, to kill Damocles, she had to act for someone else. Being only protected, merely saved, was something even a beast could do.

  “Are you okay?” a soft voice asked.

  Panting, her peeling nails touched soft white skin.

  “Wait… It’s okay, I can treat you. Do you want to live or die? Choose.”

  “…Want,” she whispered.

  “Speak clearly.”

  “I… want to live.”

  “Good. Bear the pain. It’s a minor wound; I’ll fix it. Rough, though.”

  “Wh—?”

  Silver wings dug into her wound, deploying precision medical tools. Screaming at the excruciating pain, she saw a silver-haired girl—Eve—through tear-blurred eyes.

  “Don’t move. It’ll mess me up,” Eve said.

  “…!!”

  “Still…”

  Danan, fighting for someone else? Suturing torn vessels, removing the shard, Eve injected synthetic blood, lifting the girl’s frail body, her silver wings flapping.

  “You… are?” the girl mumbled.

  “Not ‘you,’ nothing so unique. Eve—that’s my name. Yours?”

  “…”

  “Fine. I’ll protect you.”

  “…Why?”

  “You’re weaker, smaller than me.”

  “…Danan too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why… why do you both protect me? In the undercity… it’s meaningless.”

  “I already told you my reason, didn’t I?”

  “…”

  “Because you’re weaker, smaller, and reached out to live. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  With clear, unwavering resolve, Eve’s prismatic eyes gleamed, launching a silver wing at Danan, piercing his back. Enduring Damocles’s onslaught, Danan noticed Eve, muttering, “Code Onimus, release,” donning crimson armor.

  “Danan…” the girl said.

  “What?”

  “Can he… beat Damocles?”

  “Who knows? Probably not.”

  “…”

  “As long as he’s lost, unable to understand his heart, he can’t beat someone with resolve. Don’t you think?”

  “But—!”

  A roar echoed, Danan’s mechanical arm forming a massive blaster. Firing searing beams, Helles emitting light waves, he clashed with the cyborg.

  A slaughter of titans embodying ruin and destruction. No room for the weak, the girl, nauseated by the torrent of killing intent, clutched Eve’s arm, sticky saliva dripping through her fingers.

  “Let’s go,” Eve said.

  “Where?”

  “Danan’s place.”

  “…”

  “Staying here just gets in the way. Alone, I could back him up, but with you, he’ll die. Even with Lumina… a dead heart means nothing. Anything to say?”

  “…Nothing.”

  “Don’t say ‘nothing.’”

  Eve’s sharp words made the girl’s heart race, sweat beading on her forehead.

  “Living passively is easy, but regretting your choices is on you. What do you want? What’s your heart screaming? What… do your hands want to hold?”

  “I…”

  Her hands held nothing. Bony palms, stained with soot and blood.

  No strength, no freedom, no pride—never had them. In a world of taking and being taken, she learned resignation, surviving by stepping on others.

  But… clenching her fists, she stared at Danan’s death struggle. “Eve, can you fight? With Danan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then… forget me, fight with him. Please, Eve.”

  “What’ll you do?”

  “I’ll do what I can. Survive somehow. So help Danan… like he helped me, lend him your strength!”

  Smiling with satisfaction, Eve deftly maneuvered four silver wings, landing on the ground, prismatic eyes gleaming.

  “Don’t worry.”

  “…”

  “Danan won’t abandon you, the one he chose to protect. It’ll be over soon.”

  “Why—?”

  A beastly roar echoed, the blaster’s beam incinerating Damocles’s notebook. The girl flinched, seeing Damocles’s severed right arm and Danan, visor half-shattered, standing battered.

  After a moment’s silence, Danan collapsed face-down, Code Onimus forcibly disengaged, unconscious. Damocles glanced at his fallen arm, then at Eve.

  “You Danan’s mate, girl?” he growled, looming over them.

  Gushing reddish-black synthetic blood from his severed mechanical arm, sparks flying, Damocles stood before Eve, baring five electromagnetic claws with a warped grin.

  “E-Eve,” the girl stammered.

  Her pale face, clinging to Eve, twisted in terror, tears in her eyes, teeth chattering, hands trembling. Naturally—she wasn’t strong enough to stay sane before Damocles, the embodiment of death and violence.

  She didn’t know what to do. She wanted Eve to flee, to save Danan lying prone. But the choice was Eve’s, not hers. Waving a silver wing, sparking purple lightning, Eve adjusted the girl in her arms. “Not killing Danan, cyborg?” she taunted.

  “You’d let him die?” the girl gasped.

  “Quiet for a bit,” Eve snapped.

  “But—!!”

  “I’m talking to this machine. So, what? Want to kill Danan? Now’s your chance. Got time to bother with me, cyborg?”

  Silencing the girl, Eve glared at Damocles’s mechanical eyes, glancing at Danan.

  Shallow breaths—he was alive. Code Onimus’s exhaustion or backfire’s aftereffects… His body wasn’t combat-ready. Torn muscles, boiling blood—Lumina or not, recovery would take hours.

  Buy time or fight Damocles? Her decision took less than a second. She couldn’t fight while protecting Danan and the girl. One would die—obvious, inescapable.

  “Kill Danan or fight me, Damocles. Do what you want.”

  “Girl,” Damocles growled, his armor shimmering with heat, rage in his mechanical eyes.

  “He’s Danan—a vengeance-driven lunatic who must kill lunatics! Killing him now, powerless, is meaningless!! The meaning lies in a real fight, one of us dying, scattering life!! A girl like you has no say!!”

  “Oh? You called me his mate. Shouldn’t you listen to me?”

  “Shut up, girl.”

  Like lava cooling, Damocles’s nuclear-hot rage solidified. Picking up his severed arm, he turned from Eve.

  “Running?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Without your goal?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “What’s different, Damocles?”

  Grabbing Danan’s head, tossing it at Eve, Damocles picked up his scorched notebook.

  “No meaning, so no need. My bond with Danan’s burned out for now. I’ll rebuild its value, its meaning, or my true desire won’t be fulfilled. Girl, your name?”

  “Eve.”

  “Eve, Eve, Eve… Got it. My auxiliary brain’s memorized your name, your sins, your form. The Dead Parade won’t let you go… Eve.”

  “…”

  Clanging steel, Damocles walked from the graveyard. “God created the world in seven days, crafting Adam and Eve,” he said, spreading his left arm, laughing. “The tree of life and evil stands in the promised land. From world to crown, nothingness becomes infinity, infinite light flowing. If God carved original sin into humans, demanding atonement, it’s through suffering. Eve, why ask why I don’t kill Danan? It’s the duality of Sephirot and Qliphoth.”

  Speaking like a mad priest, Damocles framed himself as a martyr embodying evil, bearing original sin.

  “Evil destroys good, good eradicates evil. Cling to good and evil, or seek atonement for original sin in others—I allow it. But it’s all personal sentiment. Good and evil cancel out, original sin’s purified, an eternal cycle of crime and punishment… Humans must be strong for themselves, deeming others unnecessary. Believing in solitude, valuing the self, protects individuality and ego.”

  Thus, he saw meaning in Danan, valuing him to kill him. As long as Danan lived, Damocles would worship solitude, embracing his original sin without purifying it, loving it like a child, a shared soul.

  Eve wasn’t moved by his philosophy. His words, riddled with contradictions, were a broken ontology. Misinterpreting “I think, therefore I am” for convenience, his logic bordered on lunacy.

  Yet… she couldn’t deny feeling a divinity in Damocles, fully mechanical. A martyr of solitude, blending all injustices, shattering and reconstructing them. Damocles was violence’s charisma, a crowned dictator cloaked in divine madness.

  She mustn’t acknowledge him—his words, from a human who shed flesh for mechanical power, were nonsense.

  She mustn’t empathize—his hand held only a thirst for power, his solitary creed mere ravings.

  But… part of her heart understood, making it impossible to fully dismiss him as mad.

  “What do you want, Damocles?” Eve asked.

  “You know it’s meaningless to ask, Eve.”

  “Maybe. No matter how pretty your words, they’re just for you. No one outside your group buys your solitary creed.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Because it’s solitude. No more reason, no less rationale. Those under solitude’s banner prioritize self, deeming themselves supreme. Those who belittle themselves are useless, those who see themselves as worthless should die, those who feel meaningless must be obliterated. It’s not the weak to be driven out—it’s those who cling to others, borrowing strength like foxes using a tiger’s might. Right, Eve?”

  With that, Damocles ignited his back thrusters, leaving the graveyard, slaughtering an alley drug dealer, staining his armor crimson with splattered flesh. Fueled by death screams, cutting down desire-driven humans, he was a personal tank.

  “…”

  “Eve…?” the girl whispered.

  “…It’s nothing. Let’s take Danan back.”

  “Okay…”

  Holding the girl, wrapping Danan in silver wings, Eve kicked off, soaring into the sky. Cutting through warm, fetid air, she pierced the steel-plated heavens.

  She knew hypotheticals were pointless. Whose hand to hold, whose to push away, was her choice. But if she’d met Damocles first, not Danan, would she have taken his hand? No… she knew such thoughts were meaningless.

  “You…” Eve said.

  “Huh?”

  “If Damocles offered his hand, would you take it?”

  “…Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “I’d be dead before I could think.”

  “Danan?”

  “Danan… he saved me. So…”

  “…”

  “He said even the weak must choose. So I… I think I took Danan’s hand, asked for help.”

  “I see.”

  “What about you, Eve?”

  “Hm?”

  “What’s Danan to you?”

  “I’m…”

  Whose Hand to Hold

  A partner? Or… The rest of her words, drowned by the wind’s howl, melted into the air, never reaching the girl’s ears.

  ‘What is it, Danan?’

  ‘Anything I can assist with?’

  ‘Administrator Eve is currently asleep. Shall I contact her?’

  ‘Understood.’

  him. He knew that best. So why—?