Transcript 1: The Unscathed

“Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”

-Romans 12:19

…

Miscreants…

To abandon the goal right in front of us.

In a mere sight of our hurdle.

The blemish soon showed its claws.

The fear that gnawing creature imposed.

With each mark of death, it scattered upon the field.

Why was it that it was I who was persecuted?

Shouldn’t it be the beast?

Ah, I get it now.

I've been fooled.

There wasn't any ‘hunt’ to be made.

We were the ones ‘hunted’ along the way.

Those snickering cowards who hide their skin upon their blasphemy.

They took everything away from me, leaving me to die.

Could it be?

Can I finally savour the afterlife for myself?

How nauseating.

I refuse.

I refuse.

I refuse.

My body that no longer quivers,

My eyes that ran out of sight,

My hands that no longer ache,

Come and befall yourself upon me.

As I was reminded of that day when anger swallowed my light.

It finally dawned upon me.

‘So, what are you waiting for?’

‘The time to take what was yours.’

‘This time, don't sway, okay?’

Despite the whispers of a fiend.

I began embracing it.

After all,

‘Your vengeance is yours, and only yours.’

My path of revenge shall leave none awake.

…

Deep beneath the confines of an underground facility lie dozens of rooms built to serve a company.

Complex security measures were inserted in each of its corridors as if what is stored inside is something that must be kept from the outside.

Through each section, there exist several cells dedicated to the company's sector.

Each bears their classifications, and the rooms were all kept under high security at all times.

Managed by a few or more personnel, it is always remembered that their duty must be kept as a priority overall.

Failure to keep their duty in line results in termination or eviction from the company itself.

What is being kept in the rooms is prohibited information for anyone to access without proper clearance, as declared by the company.

But there is one thing that should be kept in mind.

‘Never think of anything or anyone inside those cells as an ‘Individual’.’

And for this instance, one of the entities residing in the chambers was…

—Fwoosh

[Opening: Door segment SU-06-10-02]

[Risk level: TETH]

[Classification: Potential Sinner/Distortion]

[Managerial Guideline: Talk only when necessary and avoid mentioning anything related to ‘■■■■ ■■■’ Company, a former affiliated company of the Old G corporation.]

As the doors within a lock-tight room began to open, the nasal odour of the inside infiltrated the outside.

“... what a foul-scented smell. I don't remember Hohenheim stating there would be a horrid stench here.”

Outside the gates, a woman wearing a dark green jacket with golden trim entered the door.

She ushered forward as she kept her nose shut despite smoking from a long churchwarden pipe.

As the stench of smoke and filth wafted through the air, two individuals soon followed the woman's footsteps.

“I don't know if introductions are necessary… but the name is Moses. Limbus company department D On-site Reasoning Team Leader. The people beside me are my few associates who would be assisting with the checkup… of a potential prisoner—No, a sinner.”

—Creak!

The sound of the floor being opened apart resounded.

“...? If you're here to gain something from me, I'm sorry to tell you, this washed-up fool has nothing to give to you.”

A voice muttering beneath the shadow corners of the cell soon envelopes the room.

Turning on the light, one of Moses’s associates walked forward while maintaining their vigilance towards the figure in the shadow.

As the voice's silhouette slowly unveiled by the light of the room.

The sharp muddy eyes glimmered in the dark, those eyes whose melancholy and sorrow were overwritten by a tint of unrelenting hatred, soon appeared with blood festering beneath their hands.

The figure was a man in his mid-to-late middle age whose body was already festering at the edge of life.

The bruises and physical affliction his body was experiencing were nothing more than a result of his own doing.

Despite this, he still confronted the woman, who calls herself Moses.

“...What do you want?”

Muttering in a low voice, the man displayed a sharp glare towards her.

“Talk more discreetly and make your voice audible. There is no one else in this room besides the four of us. Besides, you might get what you want if you follow the procedure. So decide wisely.”

“...”

With a glint in his eyes, Moses noted the dark flames rising within the man's iris.

She was familiar with that feeling.

The turbulent emotions manifest and are eagerly awaiting the firm belief to break down.

One of the characteristics of a ‘distortion’.

Distortions.

A byproduct of a phenomenon, “The white nights and dark days.”

They are monstrous, powerful entities that surge within an individual tainted by overwhelming emotions that lead them to a path of becoming a threat to anyone in the vicinity, including themselves.

Failure to restrict these entities can cause some devastating results within their respective area of occurrence.

Notably, their presence was once somewhat lukewarm within the city, but some became aware of their existence recently.

Especially, the incidents including "The Pianist” and “The Crying Children” which held a large scale of casualties not limited to an area but the entirety of a district itself.

Moses was formerly known to study these strange phenomena—until she was recruited into this company.

Pulling a list of documents, Moses began to unravel some information regarding the man.

“Hoof—... So your name is Glass. A Grade 3 fixer, but deeper digging into your background suggests… that you were a former syndicate member under the guidance of a man named Lafitte.”

“...Oh? My past was supposed to be hidden in obscurity. The fact you were able to uncover a gist of it means your company is backed by some impressive individuals… what a mess.”

Fixers,

A common job in the city that functions similarly to a freelance mercenary. They range from various levels, starting from grade 9 and ending at grade 1.

Though they are one of the most prominent jobs. It doesn't mean they are secure, nor is it a graceful path to take.

Nonetheless, it was still better than becoming a syndicate member hunted down by fixer associations…

Exhaling puffs of smoke, Moses discreetly took a peek at the other details as her brows soon furrowed.

“There has been some articulation on your document, but stated here that you earned some achievements behind your back. Considering the fact that you were able to venture to the outskirts twice and return without any repercussions except for your crew's termination during your second adventure. I must say, you might be blessed by luck itself—Hoof.”

“...I don’t think I can appreciate you devaluing my former crew. Although there was a rowdy bunch of selfish, nasty old folks, there are some young ones whom I’ve grown to acknowledge as well.”

“Acknowledging young ones? For a former syndicate member, I never would have thought you could be someone who could value another’s life. However, I suppose some individuals have varying thoughts. Let’s just say I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“...Doesn't the ‘Middle’ and most of the syndicate value one another or something? Despite what you look like, you speak quite a lot. I thought you’d be a pessimistic, analytical bastard like that glasses man outside this containment.”

“Hohenheim? Don’t compare me to him, I’m more direct with my procedures and… let’s get back to what we are here for, should we?”

Moses noticed the slight shift in the conversation, causing her to get back to the main topic as she flipped the documents once more.

“You were found near the outskirts of the northern part of the city, within one of the ruined buildings of a former nest. The LCA department took you in but failed to realize your ferocity, causing a total of 4 casualties during extraction… Impressive, those within that specific department specialize in restraining entities and groups of interests, but to fend off and slaughter some of them? At this rate, your threat level must be that of an urban nightmare.”

Inside the city, there are certain classifications reinstated to each part of the districts according to the looming threat of organizations or individuals that may induce harm to its overall function.

These classifications are offered by the Hana Association, the first association governed by top-class fixers.

The threat levels are sanctioned not purely based on their risk level but also on the degree of their notoriety, as well as the danger imposed in taking the contract.

But the moment you are put on the list, the turmoil in one's life exponentially gets tougher.

“I can't let unknown beings take me somewhere forcefully. Besides, if you were in my situation, wouldn't you also do the same?”

The man utters provocatively.

“Well, it's not my business. But I could agree with that.”

Moses pulls out a pen from her pocket as she proceeds to check something within the documents she is carrying.

“Okay, Glass. Before we officially start this check-up. Is there anything you would like to ask or request?”

“...A check-up? For whom?”

“You.”

“To check on this haggard-looking guy? Checking me up could only mean one thing. Either you are here to dispose of me or use me. To which I wouldn't agree in either way.”

“...”

A slight pause escaped from the lips of Moses.

Although this was a mandatory check-up assigned to her by the higher-ups of the company.

She doesn't know the purpose; however, she does have an inkling of what this test was for.

“This check-up might be due to—”

—Bzzt —Bzzt

[Mic test. Mic test.]

Before Moses could say a single word.

A loud interference came from a speaker inside the room.

The voice was weary and haggard as if a heavy loom of tiredness was tied inside their throat.

[Ms. Moses, I do appreciate the need for elaboration. But unfortunately, you are prohibited from uttering more than what you are designated to.]

“...Hoof—There you have it. Pardon me for doing this, but as you can see, I, too, am in the same situation as you. We can do this in two ways. Either you answer my questions, or we can force it out.”

As Moses spoke, the two individuals behind her stared at Glass with an intent he knew very well.

Having nothing but scraps and a ruined body, Glass simply ignored the striking gaze.

“...”

For a brief moment, silence enshrouded the room.

No one on either side chose to speak, letting the wind be the only presence in the room.

Noticing the man’s intent slowly dwindling, Moses briefly initiated the conversation again.

“I’ll be frank with you, the company wishes to hear your story, to be more precise, it might be the origin of your ‘sins’.”

[Hmm… On-Site Team Reasoning Leader, this is not within your—]

“Ignore that guy. For now, I get the hatred you bear to others, as well as the one you hurl against yourself. However, take this chance as an opportunity.”

Cutting off the voice from the intercom, Moses moved forward with her associates standing near the door.

“The company wishes to ascertain your value and prove if you are worthy to resonate with the ‘Golden Bough’ and if your existence is something they could acknowledge. Perhaps if you cooperate well, any wish you may want to resolve can be solved through them.”

‘Wish.’

Hearing that particular word struck beneath the broken man's core.

The very thing people always seek is a ‘wish’, especially when it's guaranteed.

Most would have probably given in to that captivating word.

However, Glass only grew skeptical.

“...And if my ‘wish’ was to retrieve something personal? Do you think you guys have the technology or singularity to possess such a thing? If my wish were to hunt a high-ranking citizen from District 20? Do you also possess the authority to do so?

All of these companies make promises, but most of the time, they do not even keep most of them. They sway your minds, make you work for them bare bones, and dispose of you once you are no longer of use.

Did you think you could trick a fool who has been swindled by them several times?”

Glass withdrew his gaze to Moses; the sheer hollowness inside him seeping through the air was something he had long accepted.

“Eurgh… Ms. Moses, it seems the LCE Department might be coming in. Are you sure this… would not take that long!?”

A soft voice muttered beside Moses; it was one of the individuals accompanying her.

A tall woman with long blonde hair, red eyes, and a coat with all sorts of accessories.

If there was something to keep in mind, she was definitely a person not to shrug off.

She whispered and glanced at Moses with a hesitant reaction.

Nervousness struck the tall woman; nonetheless, she took something from her bag and anticipated a fight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll settle this my way rather than what Hohenheim and the company had written. If I had followed their script, this procedure could undeniably lead to failure.”

Calmly navigating her way, Moses arrived in front of Glass.

His demeanour of being a ferocious person soon dissipated as Moses took a closer look.

What she saw was not the threatening man the papers warrant him to be, but a man exhausted from living.

“I can’t promise that we can take back your possessions. But, killing a person? That could be arranged, no matter what prestige they might have.”

—Grip!

“...!?”

To her surprise, the man's eyes were filled with vitality as he slowly clenched the ground.

Glass's eyes sparkled in hate as if a ray of hope was found beneath the smouldering inferno of his gaze.

“...Arranged, you say? If you're right, I’ll undeniably follow through with this entire ordeal of yours.”

—Crack!

Glass stood up from his position.

Adjusting his arms and joints, the crackle of his bones echoed around the cell.

“But, the moment I found your words to be those of a false prophet—I swear that I'll cast my barrel upon you and this organization.”

His blood-drenched clothes soon oscillated as if the blood stains held a life of their own.

His eyes, which once looked above Moses, now stared downwards.

Despite the provocation, Moses didn’t waver; instead, she puffed as she usually did.

“So, care I listen to the riddles of your past?”

“Do as you wish.”