[Year 1083]
Clubbing… Clubbing… Clubbing…
The sound of applause echoed through the grand hall.
It was the founding day of a new technological organization—Rhine Lab.
At the center of it all stood three figures:
Kristen Wright.
Saria.
And a man with red eyes and white hair—
Though unlike the others, he remained hidden behind the stage curtains, unseen by the crowd.
On stage, Kristen and Saria accepted congratulations from officials, investors, and scholars alike. Smiles were exchanged. Hands were shaken. Promises of progress filled the air.
Rhine Lab was being hailed as the future.
A place where science would break its limits.
Where innovation would reshape the world.
Backstage, however—
The white-haired man watched in silence.
A faint smile rested on his lips as he looked at his two friends receiving applause beneath the lights.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he turned—
And walked away.
Deep within the facility, far from the celebration, he entered a sealed private lab.
The lights flickered on.
Inside—
An armless Wendigo sat among scattered tools, wires, and half-finished machinery.
He looked up.
[Gears]: Hey… Protector.
[Protector]: Hello, Gears.
A brief pause as Protector glanced at the empty space where his arms should have been.
[Protector]: So… are you finally going to fix my arms?
Gears scratched the back of his head, looking around the unfinished lab.
[Gears]: Well… that's going to be difficult.
A small, awkward laugh.
[Gears]: The lab is still new. Even with both of us pushing for it, we barely have more than a dozen investors.
He gestured vaguely at the room.
[Gears]: I spent everything I had just to build this place… and this workshop.
Protector tilted his head slightly.
His voice remained calm—but there was a faint edge beneath it.
A pause.
[Protector]: What happened to the man who reactivated an abandoned mobile city in Ursus…
A step closer.
[Protector]: Using nothing but a box of duct tape, some elbow grease—
A faint, dry tone.
[Protector]: And a concerning amount of blood.
Gears winced slightly.
Protector continued.
[Protector]: The same man—if I recall correctly—
A small pause.
[Protector]: Let a certain vampire use that city to ram through border defenses and escape the country?
Silence.
Gears coughed.
[Gears]: …We don't talk about that part.
A brief pause.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
[Gears]: Also, I was that vampire.
Another pause.
[Gears]: And she was my clone. You remember—we looked the same.
Protector stared at him.
Unimpressed.
[Protector]: How does a pale-faced man look the same as a beautiful blonde woman?
Gears opened his mouth—
Then closed it.
A short silence passed before his expression dimmed slightly.
[Gears]: Besides… things were different back then.
His voice grew quieter.
[Gears]: You still had your arms.
A pause.
[Gears]: The Captain was alive.
Another.
[Gears]: The others, too.
The room felt heavier.
[Gears]: We barely made it out.
He exhaled slowly.
[Gears]: Do you remember that squad of elite Emperor's Blades?
A beat.
[Gears]: Out of a hundred Oathkeepers…
His gaze dropped.
Gears]: Only ten survived.
Silence settled in the lab.
Gears looked away, his voice dropping.
[Gears]: …Will… sorry for reopening old wounds.
A pause.
[Gears]: I'll do everything I can with what I have here.
He glanced at Protector's ruined body, expression tightening.
[Gears]: But don't get your hopes up.
Another pause.
[Gears]: It took me six months to fix that city… and I had to rearrange my own bones more times than I can count.
A faint, humorless exhale.
[Gears]: Looking at you…
He hesitated.
[Gears]: I might need more than a year to even begin fixing this.
The words lingered in the air—
Heavy.
Honest.
Unavoidable.
[One year later]
Dear Diary,
Today I learned that over ninety percent of the lab dislikes me.
Apparently, being a vampire is… not a popular trait.
That would explain the constant complaints.
And why is my department still empty?
No assistants. No volunteers. Not even curious interns.
Just me.
Still… there is progress.
The first generation of bionic organs has finally stabilized. A small batch was completed and sold. Not enough to create real demand—but enough to prove the concept works.
Barely.
With the recent budget cuts, and no one willing to work under me, expanding production will be… difficult.
Unlikely, even.
My research into advanced bionics—full replacements, integrated systems—is also stalled.
I need a neurologist.
Without one, I'm just guessing how much the brain can endure before everything collapses.
A pause.
The pen hovered over the page.
Maybe I'm already past that point.
A voice cut through the silence.
[Protector]: Can you stop writing that?
Gears didn't look up.
[Protector]: No good man keeps a diary.
A faint scratch of pen against paper.
[Gears]: Can we… not talk about this right now?
Protector stood nearby, flexing the crude mechanical claws that had replaced his arms. The metal clicked softly with each movement—functional, but far from perfect.
A quiet pause settled between them.
He looked around the empty lab.
Cold. Silent. Half-finished.
[Protector]: It's just—
A breath.
[Protector]: It's been lonely.
His gaze drifted toward the far end of the room, where several identical figures moved in perfect synchronization.
Clones.
Working.
Always working.
Never speaking.
Never stopping.
[Protector]: It's just you, me… and them.
Gears finally stopped writing.
Slowly, he closed the diary.
[Gears]: You think I don't feel it?
He leaned back slightly, rubbing his eyes.
[Gears]: These clones… they're linked to me.
A pause.
[Gears]: Every movement. Every thought. Every mistake.
His fingers tightened slightly.
[Gears]: My body doesn't get tired anymore.
A hollow laugh.
[Gears]: But my mind?
A beat.
[Gears]: It's… fraying.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Real.
Protector didn't respond immediately.
He simply stood there, the faint mechanical clicks of his claws the only sound in the room.
Then—
[Protector]: …You'll fix it.
Gears let out a quiet breath.
Not hopeful.
Not convinced.
Just… tired.
[Gears]: I have to.
Another pause.
[Gears]: There's no one else who can…
His voice lowered.
[Gears]: Sorry, Protector. Looks like it'll take more time to fix you.
A faint breath.
[Gears]: But I promise… I'll do it.
A beat.
[Gears]: Or die trying.
The lab fell silent again.
The clones kept working.
Unthinking.
Unstoppable.
[Two Years Later]
Dear Diary,
I am angry.
No—
I am enraged.
How dare she?
How dare she vote to shut down my department?
My work.
My research.
My life.
A sharp line scratched across the page.
The Captain was right.
An Oathkeeper… and a native…
Can never be friends.
The pen pressed harder.
Ink bled into the paper.
[Gears]: Why… now?
A broken laugh slipped out.
[Gears]: Why now, when I was this close…
Behind him, metal shifted.
[Protector]: What happened?
Gears didn't turn.
Didn't need to.
[Gears]: You remember what I told you?
A pause.
[Gears]: About funding… about selling my shares to keep this place alive?
His fingers tightened around the diary.
[Gears]: I thought I was saving Rhine Lab.
A bitter exhale.
[Gears]: Turns out…
He finally turned.
His expression wasn't just angry.
It was betrayed.
[Gears]: I was handing it over.
A step forward.
[Gears]: Kristen bought them.
A pause.
[Gears]: And now—
His voice dropped.
Flat.
Cold.
[Gears]: She has the authority to remove me.
Silence.
[Gears]: From the lab I built…
Another step.
[Gears]: With her.
A breath.
[Gears]: And Saria.
The room felt smaller.
He laughed again.
Quieter this time.
More hollow.
[Gears]: Isn't that funny?
The clones continued working behind him.
Perfect.
Unbothered.
Unaware.
[Gears]: Years of work…
A pause.
[Gears]: Gone with a vote.
Protector didn't speak immediately.
The faint sound of his mechanical claws echoed once against the floor.
Then—
[Protector]: What will you do?
Gears looked down at his hands.
Then at the lab.
Then at the clones.
His clones.
His work.
His mind… spread across them.
A long silence.
Then—
[Gears]: I don't know.
A beat.
His grip tightened.
[Gears]: But I'm not stopping.
His eyes hardened.
Not hopeful.
Not desperate.
Just… decided.
[Gears]: They can take the lab.
A pause.
[Gears]: They can take the funding.
Another.
[Gears]: But they don't get to decide when I'm done, Protector… get ready. It's showtime.
[Report: Gears died two days later when escaping, and Protector escaped to Kazimierz to fix his new arms and armor with a friend]
[Chapter end]