Глава 13

When I was still in the L.G.D., I used to spend my afternoons going around the city.

I knew very well my duty, what I was expected to fight against.

We wielded law and order as our weapons to curb chaos, resolve disputes, fight crime, and right wrongs.

Back then, I thought people were just so... easily corruptible.

All of us are born pure and without flaw, but evil creeps in with age, like how mold corrodes every branch and leaf on a plant.

I used to think this land could be rid of evil, if we were strong enough, selfless enough.

I held that belief, until I became Infected, until I went to Lungmen's slums.

And I realized that 'justice' is even weaker than men are.

When mutated plants grow from dirty soil, are the flowers in the greenhouse qualified to critique their twisted forms? Do they have the authority to cut off their branches?

There is no way we can talk about the same kind of justice until we share the same soil.

Hurry, get everyone out of the building and as far away as possible!

My stuff's still inside! It's all my family has!

What stuff?

Pillows... and a mattress! The last of the belongings I took from my home!

Are you mad?! Follow me to the back where it's safe!

You haven't gotten Infected yet, right? Better count yourself lucky for that!

The crowd's so chaotic, there's so many people running out from there we don't know who's Infected and who isn't, and there might even be some wanted fugitives among them. We don't know where they even came from.

And this fire... we're not far from the battlefield. Who knows what kind of attention we'll attract.

We could leave right now! We're not responsible for this fire!

Nine! Make your decision!

People are screaming, crying, falling into the mud, and crawling back up to their feet.

The fire burns a rosy red behind them.

It... It was an Infected who started the fire! Some infected exploded, so that distillery—

What's that got to do with us?!

Wasn't it you lot who brought that Sarkaz here?

Not us!

It's all because of you Infected! We could have hidden here for so much longer if it weren't for you!

What the bloody hell did you just say?

Did you already forget who took you all in?!

You dare strike me?!

You—

Enough!

Incessant bickering.

Endless verbal abuse.

If you don't want to move, I can send you back into the fire.

R-Reunion... you and Mays are the same gang!

If it weren't for the infected... if it weren't for you Infected...

And what if we <i>weren't</i> Infected?

Open your eyes. We're not the ones who caused you to lose everything you owned and made you huddle together in an abandoned distillery with nothing but the clothes on your back.

We're no different, except for the stones in our bodies.

We had everything taken from us by this disease, but you? You haven't experienced how hard it gets, and yet here you are in the same wretched plight as us.

Hmph.

What—What'd you know?!

Ever had a finger chewed off by a machine on the assembly line? Been thrown out of a factory? Had your house burned down by some lord?!

You yell about the injustices you suffer, but you're not the only ones who live unfair lives!

The viscount who burned down my home? Everyone says his son actually has Oripathy, but so what? A bigwig like him can just send his son to a fancy hospital in Columbia!

But us? Me? He burned down my house with my two children inside it, just because I couldn't pay my taxes, just because I talked back to him!

And no one dares to care, because he's high and mighty while I'm disabled and poor!

You're not the only ones enslaved by your fates, so why does it seem like you're the only ones who can actually stand up to those bullies so brazenly, and even kill them?!

'Why?' Because we don't want to remain enslaved in those chains.

No one ever said you couldn't fight against it.

I...... I—

There's... no way I could do that, I don't have your Originium Arts.

Don't make excuses for yourself. It's not like every Infected comes with powerful Arts.

Nine, we're already grouping up, are we evacuating?

Tell Red to bring a few of his men to monitor our surroundings. The battlefronts near us are currently at a deadlock, so the warring parties might be unable to spare any manpower to inspect a distant fire.

Percival, help me calm down the people who just escaped, and get their names as you examine and provide medical treatment. We'll stay here for one more day at most, to be safe.

I got it!

I'll help. I'm familiar with burns and respiratory blockage.

Oh, we haven't been able to contact Guard yet either!

We're not sure if he made it out!

Don't worry, I'll find him.

We both made it out of Chernobog after all.

Nine, the concentration of Originium dust particles—

I was already rushing towards the burning distillery.

I've entered a scene like this before, back in Lungmen. Multiple times.

As an L.G.D. officer, and as a slum resident.

Fire means loss, and also destruction.

I always see tears falling upon charred remains.

Sometimes they're from Infected, and other times they're regular citizens.

And at moments like these, rumors will spread through the spectating crowd.

The casualties were a few Infected. Or perhaps they were regular citizens. Maybe it was an Infected exacting revenge on his neighbors who had harassed him, or maybe his uninfected neighbors were fed up with all the sick people hiding just next door.

But no one has ever questioned why fires uptown are always extinguished as soon as possible.

While the big blazes that destroy several buildings and cause an unclear number of casualties always happen in the slums.

I burst through the distillery's doors, and I witness a portion of the building fiercely collapsing not far from the exit.

A single hand extends from the metal and debris.

Holding onto Guard's recorder.

'Or... are the people we unite with, the people we want to fight alongside—'

'Only the Infected?'

'Only... them?'

'We Infected are just the culmination of all the decay there is... we gather as one because of our shared experience.'

'But what unites us... is not just disease.'

'Let's say we meet a... noble, abusing his power to exploit the people. How would we treat him?'

'If he was actually... an Infected?'

'We can't use our infection as... our sole criterion and slogan.'

'Our companions must share the same belief... we will not only retaliate against the humiliation we've suffered, but also liberate the same people who have caused us pain.'

'We're not the only ones enslaved across the lands... so we should stand with them, together.'

'We need to get them... to stand with us.'

'We... can't just fight against disease.'

'What should we actually be fighting against?'

'What are we building here?'

'I——'

*rustle*

'Many years ago, when I had just become an Infected, I really... loved drinking. Back then, Ace warned me that if I carried on with that... hobby of mine, I'd die with my drink someday.'

'...Haha.'

'And here I am... in a distillery.'

Nine, you've replayed it so many times now.

I know.

Talulah. I've been wondering... if we really did manage to build a city for the Infected, what would it look like?

Are you sure it wouldn't be... a hospice at its core?