The night in the Barren Lands was nothing like the perpetually rainy, sooty darkness of Nova-Veridia. Here, the sky wasn't veiled by the city's smoke; instead, due to the "Static" seeping in from where the atmosphere thinned, the stars flickered like pixel errors, sometimes shifting position and leaving phosphorescent trails behind them. The air had turned into a dry, knife-like cold, enough to make one instantly forget the day's scorching heat.
Kaelen Vance knelt by the makeshift campfire in the middle of the desert, tinkering with a repair kit in his hand that resembled a soldering iron. Opposite him, Jester lay semi-conscious, his back against a sand dune.
The clown's condition was not a pretty sight. His permanent mask of sadness was stained with sand and dried grey fluids. But the real problem was his left leg. That elegant metal prosthetic Nena had made had sustained serious damage during the overload at the Aion Facility. Blue sparks shot out from the metal plates, and the smell of burnt wires mingled with the clean desert air.
"Don't move," Kaelen growled, as he manipulated a circuit in the prosthetic's kneecap with the tool in his hand.
Jester opened his eyes. His usual cheerful hazel glint was dim, replaced by a weary grey. Still, his lips curved into that familiar, irritating grin.
"Be gentle, Detective," he said in a raspy voice. "That leg was under warranty. If you say 'user error,' I'll sue you."
Kaelen didn't answer. He simply clenched his teeth and reconnected a severed hydraulic hose. He forced himself to keep his hands from trembling. A few hours ago, Jester had torn the fabric of reality and pulled them out of that hell. The price for this was biological collapse. The mercury-like fluid seeping from the corner of Jester's mouth indicated his body was struggling to repair itself.
When he finished, Kaelen leaned back with a heavy sigh and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his trench coat pocket. He lit the last one, blowing the smoke towards the stars.
"Why?" Kaelen asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Jester tilted his head slightly. His ruffled collar rippled gently in the wind. "Why what?"
"The Architect," Kaelen said, fixing his gaze on the dancing flames of the fire. "He offered you everything. A flawless world. No pain, no loss. Your mother would have returned. Why did you refuse?"
Jester pulled his good leg towards him and wrapped his arms around his knees. He fixed his gaze on the corrupted, flickering stars in the sky. He remained silent for a while, as if searching for the answer to the question in that pixelated void.
"Have you ever finished a game with cheat codes, Detective?" he asked in a soft voice. "Invincibility mode, unlimited ammo... It's fun at first. You feel like a god. But ten minutes later..." He shrugged. "You get bored. Because if there's no risk, victory has no taste."
He picked up a handful of sand, letting it sift through his fingers.
"Perfection is static, Kaelen. It's dull. Unchanging. I am an 'Error'. A Glitch. And we errors..." His eyes glowed with a momentary purple luminescence. "...love surprises the system doesn't expect. If the world were perfect, no one would laugh at my jokes. Because laughter is a reaction to the unexpected."
Kaelen took a deep drag from his cigarette. He knew this answer was only the surface of Jester's complex mind, but he didn't press further.
Just then, the sound of the wind ceased.
Kaelen's "Detective's Intuition" (Tactical Mind) sent that familiar warning, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Even the crackling of the fire seemed muffled, as if someone had turned down the volume on a television. It was an unnatural, artificial silence.
Kaelen threw his cigarette into the sand and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. His hand went to "The Judge," holstered at his waist.
"We have company," he whispered.
Jester had felt it too. Despite his weary body, he lurched to his feet like a puppet. His pupils focused, the grin on his face freezing.
Beyond the campfire, a silhouette detached itself from the darkness.
The approaching figure walked like a human, but its steps left no tracks in the sand. It wore armor reminiscent of feudal Japan's samurai, yet crafted from matte black, composite material. Pale red neon lights seeped from the armor's joints, glowing like menacing eyes in the dark. On its head was a smooth, black helmet that completely obscured its face.
At its waist hung a long sword, sheathed.
"The Consortium," Jester said, his voice turning serious. "They work fast."
The approaching figure stopped just outside the circle illuminated by the fire. It said nothing. It simply moved its hand, slowly and with ceremonial weight, to the hilt of its sword. This gesture was less a threat and more an announcement of an inevitable truth.
This was "Ronin." According to legends, the ultimate hunter, stripped of emotion, used by the Consortium to hunt down failed assassins.
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He drew "The Judge" and pulled the trigger.
*BANG!*
The desert's silence was shattered by the roar of the .45 caliber gun. The armor-piercing round, exceeding the speed of sound, flew towards Ronin's chest.
But the bullet did not reach its target.
Ronin's hand blurred. When the sound of metal striking metal was heard, the bullet, split in two mid-air, fell onto the sand. The sword, which had only emerged an inch from its sheath, was already back in place.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Shit."
Ronin bent its knees slightly, adopting an attack stance. No muffled, digital sound came from beneath its helmet; only the high-frequency hum of its sword as it left its sheath was heard. The sword seemed to be made not of steel, but of pure, vibrating plasma energy. The laser katana left a blood-red trail in the night's darkness.
"Get back, Detective!" Jester shouted.
The clown lunged forward, past Kaelen. His body flickered, skipping frames like a corrupted video cassette, as he threw himself at Ronin. Jester's plan was simple: to use his Glitch ability to pass through the sword and touch the armor's circuits, exploding it from within.
But Ronin was no ordinary soldier.
The moment Jester phased and became intangible, Ronin changed the angle of its sword. The energy frequency emitted by the sword matched Jester's "Error" wavelength.
Ronin struck Jester's phantom form.
Jester was thrown through the air by the blow to his chest. His Glitch form destabilized, and he crashed to the ground, solidifying back into flesh and bone. Pain seared through his entire nervous system. This sword didn't just cut flesh; it cut Jester's very code of existence.
Seeing his friend fall, Kaelen fired again. One, two, three shots.
Ronin spun its sword with superhuman speed. The bullets scattered like exploding fireworks in the air. And then, Ronin moved. Before Kaelen could even comprehend what was happening, the black-armored hunter swept past him like a gust of wind.
Kaelen was sent flying backward by a hard kick to the chest, tumbling into the ashes of the campfire. His breath was knocked out of him; he heard the crunch of his ribs.
Ronin stood over Jester, who lay on the ground. It pressed the tip of its red-glowing katana against Jester's throat. The heat radiating from the sword made the white paint on Jester's neck blister.
Jester smiled with bloody lips. "Your graphics... aren't bad," he gasped. "But your script is weak."
Ronin did not deliver the killing blow. Without moving the sword an inch, it spoke in its soulless, synthetic voice. The voice was crackly, as if coming from a broken radio.
"Death would be a mercy for you, Anomaly."
Ronin placed its free hand on Jester's forehead. A shockwave emanating from its palm instantly shut down Jester's consciousness. The clown collapsed like a puppet.
Ronin turned its head and looked at Kaelen, who was trying to get up.
"The Architect wants you alive," Ronin said, its voice mingling with the desert wind. "You will return to Nova-Veridia. There..."
It sheathed its sword. A mechanical locking sound was heard.
"...The Great Reset will begin."
Kaelen tried to raise "The Judge," but Ronin was already beside him. An armored hand descended on the back of Kaelen's neck.
The world went dark. Only static noise remained.