Chapter Text
This story takes place in a world where Isolde did not make an irreversible mistake, did not succumb to triumph, and chose a different path of vengeance for her comrades.
A world where Magus still obtained a new body, Orphie became more independent, and OBOL continues to fight against the Hollows as part of the New Eridu Defense Force.
The cold air of the military base was filled with the silence of the night in New Eridu, but you had no time for sleep today. The barracks felt unbearably stuffy, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out by some enormous imaginary vacuum. Rising from the bunk, you noticed that the other soldiers were sleeping peacefully, breathing evenly. In the week that you had been serving in the New Eridu Defense Forces, this had already become something familiar.
Under the cover of night’s shadow, you slipped out like a thief, stepping quietly through the corridors of the empty barracks to get outside and breathe in the cool air. This week had been extremely difficult - an unexpected expansion of the hollows had led to a huge number of wounded, and they kept arriving at the hospital where you worked as a simple paramedic, drafted straight from university. A year of service promised paid education and a prestigious job afterward, so it was worth it. As you walked, thoughts drifted through the mind. In essence, it was all like a summer camp - just with more responsibilities, and more serious people. The same morning drills, scheduled breakfasts and lunches, work, and free time.
As soon as you stepped outside, a figure immediately caught the eye - a woman sitting alone on a bench, quietly smoking. Cigarette smoke drifted slowly upward, shimmering silver in the moonlight. In the glow of the night, she looked like a princess straight out of the bedtime stories told to children. Moving a little closer, you noticed two red ponytails flowing down her shoulders to her shoulder blades; a mechanical tail threaded through the gap between the seat and the backrest of the bench; a small black beret tilted slightly to the side; and horns reflecting the moon’s pale shine.
You immediately recognized her.
Captain Magus - the woman feared by everyone on this base. A foul temper, cynicism, and cold-bloodedness - these were the three pillars upon which the imposing structure known as Magus stood.
You had heard many stories about her, and all of them painted her in a bad light. You had personally treated the bruises of soldiers who trained with her. Whatever she was like, it could not be denied - she was an effective captain. She had been assigned to this base after receiving her new body. For ten or eleven years, she had existed as the tail of her clone, Orphie, whom she considered either a younger sister or a daughter. But now she was her own person.
Suddenly, a voice pulled you from your thoughts. Dry, quiet, tired - but still confident.
“Keep staring like that and you’ll drill a hole in me. Why aren’t you asleep, soldier?”
You hesitated, unsure how to answer.
“Relax. Don’t make a scene. Come here.” Her voice remained even.
You obeyed, approaching slowly and carefully. When you reached the bench, you caught the tired gaze of green eyes with red pupils, watching you from beneath half-lowered eyelids. She blinked slowly and returned her gaze to the moon in the clear sky of New Eridu.
“I’ll ask again, soldier. Why aren’t you asleep at this hour?” The question hung in the air like a balloon over a needle.
“I can’t fall asleep. It’s too stuffy in the barracks, so I came out for some fresh air,” You answered honestly.
Magus merely scoffed. With a movement honed to perfection, she stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it into the trash. Without waiting a minute, she took out another and lit it. The silence stretched, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
“I can tell you’re wondering why I’m not sleeping. I’ll answer right away. I don’t sleep well,” Magus said without looking at you, taking a drag.
“Don’t you smoke too much, Captain?” You asked quietly.
“Too much? Are you a medic or something? Why do you care about my health?”
“Well… yeah. I’m a medic in the infirmary. Just arrived recently.”
“That explains why I don’t recognize your face. I don’t smoke for no reason - but I won’t go into it.” She took another drag and flicked away the ash. “Just know that I need to. And sit down already - you’re getting on my nerves.”
She nodded toward a spot on the bench, and you obediently sat down at a respectful distance, careful not to intrude on the captain’s personal space. The smell of cheap tobacco saturated the air. you recognized these cigarettes - they were the most common on the base, often included in rations and used as a kind of local currency, especially among non-smokers. Even you occasionally received them as tips. Wealthier soldiers, those who got packages from home, could afford better, premium cigarettes. You had accumulated a few packs of those in your locker at the infirmary.
The cold moon drifted slowly across the starry sky and clouds. Around Magus lingered a quiet aura of strength and calm. Her gray military uniform was buttoned up tight, neatly pressed, and spotless. Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watching her - after all, the rumors about her were many and varied. One story came to mind about how she had taken down several hulking men from a neighboring base during a competition. Another about how she had dislocated a guy’s arm during close-combat training.
And yet now, in the silver light of the crescent moon, she looked human - almost feminine, despite her tired appearance and the scars peeking out from under her collar and sleeves. She held the burning cigarette between her index and middle fingers, gently swaying it in rhythm with her thoughts.
“Private Y/N, don’t you have anything better to do than stare at me?” Her voice was calm; she didn’t even look at you. “Heard the story about how I gouged out a sergeant’s eyes with a spoon for giving me a crooked look?”
You froze, unsure what unsettled you more - that she knew your name, or that she might have done something like that. Cold sweat formed on your temples.
“I’m kidding,” Magus said softly, a faint smirk appearing on her face. “Still, you’ve heard things about me, haven’t you?”
“Well, you are a hero of New Eridu, after all! You…”
“Enough.” She cut you off sharply. “I’m sick to death of hearing that. Hero this, hero that. If you don’t want to be carried off the training ground on a stretcher tomorrow, I suggest you stop calling me that. I’m just a soldier who failed to save a lot of good men. Now, Private Y/N, go to sleep.” Magus glanced at the simple electronic watch on her left wrist. “Reveille is in five hours. That’s an order.”
You stood, saluted, and headed back toward the barracks at a quick pace - when suddenly you heard her voice behind you:
“Private, fix your name tag. It’s crooked.”
Placing your hand on your chest, you realized the small tag on your uniform was indeed slightly tilted. Tonight, had been strange. If you told anyone about it, they’d never believe you - they’d say your knee should’ve been broken for breaking regulations. But that hadn’t happened.
Back in the barracks, settling onto your bunk, breathing suddenly felt easier, as if a weight had lifted from your chest. But now Magus lingered in your thoughts - a woman who hated herself and poured that hatred onto others.
Maybe she wasn’t the monster people made her out to be after all.
With that thought, you fell into the abyss of sleep.