Reincarnation Across the Ages

Chapter 7

The Age of the Losers, Part 1

Confronting the one bothering her squad, Proxie opposes the laughter around her like a beacon, drawing all the attention away from the surroundings.

Drinks no longer reach their consumers' mouths but are dumped on the establishment's tables. Even the music doesn't reach the customers' ears, being interrupted along with the red light show. After hours of idle chatter, the party comes to an end.

"As despicable as ever, Proxie. The evening was great before you arrived. Some things never change," Falco can't contain his indignation.

"Don't worry, I'm on my way out. You can carry on celebrating with what's left of your face."

"You're the same person you were five years ago, just someone who talks too much. You don't manage to take advantage of the opportunities you've been given. Ultimately, the result is always the same: you return without any relics."

Proxie's suit reinforces every word said by the unreasonable fellow. Her outfit stands out among the other Sculptors, like a uniform that can never be taken off—a suit molded for a single body pattern, forcing any individual to adapt to its length. 

Materials resistant to the most lethal fire cling to the physique of the girl wearing them, marked by a predominantly black coloration, except for the greyish abdominal region and red shoulder pads. The equipment wraps tightly around the young woman's body, with no intention of releasing her from its wear. A letter can be clearly seen on her back, the consonant of the greatest repudiation among the Sculptors.

"Leader of an F-rank squadron. I don't suppose you've told the boy everything. Are you afraid of being alone again?" Falco reveals an omitted piece of information.

In contrast to the girl's silent reaction, Roccan makes assumptions, "huh? So the android girl has a different title?"

"It's not a title; it's a rank. In that respect, she's in the worst possible position."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. It's definitely a mistake!"

"Apparently, someone's been hiding quite a lot... How convenient."

Restless, Proxie turns her back on the invasive man. Her metal leg creaks as she heads for the exit of the establishment, alerting the others to her departure.

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye? A few minutes ago, you were defending your squadron with tooth and nail. What happened to your rebellion?" Falco insists on the provocation.

"Creating a squad is a duty that will honor my father's name. As for my name, feel free to insult it; none of that matters."

"But it should."

Proxie leaves the bar, walking away full of dissatisfaction. Not knowing what to do, Roccan follows the angry young woman. Not paying attention to anyone around him, the boy is approached by a waiter but ends up ignoring him involuntarily.

"Hey, kid! You forgot to pay for your food!"

"I got it. I'll cover his expenses," Jiro replies.

"R-right. Sorry about the mistake."

"Did the girl also consume something?"

"No, she just needs to pay for our service."

"No problem, you can add this amount to my expenses."

Opposing the severe man's sympathy gestures, Falco makes one last comment to the pair as they leave the bar.

"Remember to give the boy a uniform. The lowest ranking of the squads can't change their attire. They must forever be remembered as the scum of the resistance."

Red lights are turned on again, restoring cheer to a room where the business had been interrupted. The music revives the lightness of a conversation between friends. At the same time, alcoholic drinks are served so that everyone can forget what happened. In the end, it's just another night at the Sculptors' base.

Away from the hustle and bustle, Proxie and Roccan chat outside the establishment. With no other people around, they can finally talk with the privacy they need. 

Having most of the light inside the buildings, the cave is noticeably darker than the metropolises on the surface. The few light bulbs on the ceiling are like a protest against the excessive brightness of the cities above.

At a glance, the base seems to prioritize a good night's sleep, with its dark and silent streets. However, the true nature of this region is to be found inside each establishment, like turtles inside their shells.

Alone, the small squad enjoys the tranquillity of the area. The pair faces each other and prepares to vent all the questions accumulated since their last meeting. Unaccustomed to thinking, Roccan gesticulates the first questions that come into his mouth.

"How did you get here?"

"I should be the one asking you that!"

"Your ship was blown up!"

"And I have watched you die, twice! That's much more shocking!"

The boy's memories directed his thoughts towards some infallible reasoning.

"Ah, I remembered something. You can fly; that must be how you got back."

"I use a glider! Your logic is stupid!"

"So... it was the robot on your leg. It must have some secret trick."

"It's a prosthesis! That's just to keep me on my feet."

With a sudden pause in the dialog, no other sounds can be heard in the surroundings. The stillness calms the spirits of the newly formed team. Proxie takes a deep breath, using all the patience she has left to talk about her whereabouts.

"When my ship was broken in half, the Remnants left, and I was left adrift in space. Thanks to my suit, I managed to survive for a while, but I soon lost consciousness."

"Did you... die?"

"Of course not! I don't have your powers! As it happens, I was rescued by a reliable companion, perhaps the only one..."

"You were lucky."

"That's undeniable. Even so, Tyler hasn't been seen since that incident. We lost a valuable hostage... my greatest achievement since becoming a Sculptor."

"Could that SCONES bastard still be alive?"

"That information is beyond us. Besides, I also lost his relic. The explosion was too intense."

"No relic. No ship. No hostage. This tragedy was my fault. If I had thought before I acted, we—"

"My ship is being rebuilt. We've managed to bring back most of its parts. Maintenance is taking place near our hospital. At least it wasn't a complete defeat."

"Were you rescued by some kind of deity?"

"Jiro isn't that powerful. He just knows exactly what he's doing. If you want to learn more about the resistance, he's the guy to go to."

"Jiro? I think I've heard that name before."

"Is he the one who saved you? That explains a lot."

"I think so. But how is that possible? Did he save both of us at the same time?"

"That idiot... I told him to stop using the relic."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it now."

After getting her mind right, Proxie turns her back on Roccan. One last question still nagged at the back of her mind. Unable to face her companion, she asks a crucial question while the boy can see the letter "F" emblazoned on the back of the black suit.

"Hey, kid. What are you going to do now?"

"Huh? How could I know something like that? You're the squad leader."

"What Falco said in the bar wasn't a lie. I've never brought a relic to this base. I've never done anything significant for the resistance."

"What are you talking about? We still have another relic left, don't we? We stole one from that weird exhibition."

"You did. All our victories were thanks to your powers."

"That's not true. You..."

"You have no idea what to say, do you? After all, we barely know each other."

"Android girl, wait—"

Roccan's body collapses to the ground from sheer fatigue. His eyes shut instantly, unable to remain conscious.

"Hey, kid! Are you all right?"

Proxie turns to help the boy, rushing to hold him down. Despite her quick reaction, she's too late and can't stop her companion from falling asleep.

With arms along his body and heavy eyelids, the image resembles that of a corpse. The young woman checks the heartbeat of the fallen body, obtaining a result beyond her expectations. The heart doesn't seem to have given in to fatigue.

A thick voice cuts the silence of dusk.

"Death is the avoided outcome. But it's not as if he never went into combat. The physical and mental wear and tear remain in his body, even if the lethal wounds have been healed," Jiro clarifies the situation.

"Did you get tired of drinking?"

"I wasn't at the bar."

"Ah, so you're the real one."

"Is this the boy you've been talking about the whole trip?"

"Help me carry him. He shouldn't have much time left."

"The Death Relic user, huh? This world always finds a way to surprise me."

The darkness provides an enviable rest. 

The boy's stay in a comfortable room slowly treats the strain on his muscles. A serum restores the energy sapped after arduous battles, rehydrating once-depleted veins.

As usual, Roccan wakes up in unfamiliar surroundings, but this time, the context for such a moment seems different. A hospital room is using everything at its disposal to prevent the power of the boy's relic from having to be activated again.

I died, he wrongly concludes.

Even with the wrong statement, any answer sounds irrelevant since the recovering body's only option is to remain lying down. 

Accepting the only form of entertainment available, observing the room's interior becomes a compulsory task. The place is like any other hospital room the patient has ever experienced, even though its structure is refined to a certain degree. 

Impenetrable soundproofing intercepts even the slightest noise from outside, while first-world heaters meticulously regulate the temperature. Motion sensors also adjust the room's lighting automatically to achieve a comforting look.

In contrast to the room's aesthetic values, the medical technology is nothing new for Roccan, who has had the same treatment in other hospital units. The beauty of the environment is like a cloak to hide an offer of lesser value.

This place is boring, the young man realizes all he needs to know.

Bored eyes focus on the empty ceiling. The white color — which makes up the room — carries a monotony devoid of interest as if each wall were a lifeless desert.

I could be looking for relics. It's not time to sleep, a decision is finally made.

The patient frees himself from the IV and sets off on an adventure through the hospital corridors. Leaving his quarters, two paths lead to different destinations but with a common purpose: both lead to unknown directions.

With his back to the second option, the young man takes the first route that appears before him. The possibility of a choice hadn't even crossed his mind as his footsteps continued into the hospital.

I think I'm really dead. Humankind couldn't have built such a dull place, he wonders.

No other humans are to be seen in the vicinity, constituting an empty and lifeless establishment constantly in operation. Amidst the unfinished white walls, a half-open door is spotted at the end of the corridor.

The boy's mind wanders closer to the truth: are they the gates of heaven? 

Contrary to his expectations, the passage seems to close automatically; it is an autonomous system. Pink particles accompany Roccan's rapid movement. He uses his portals to pass through the door before it closes, guaranteeing his entry into a special room.

Out-of-the-ordinary machinery is used to reach the pinnacle of medical technology, surrounding a single patient with the most effective technology. The operating room was occupied by a patient lying on a bed three times his size.

The machines work independently, using all their resources to keep the patient breathing, forming a distressing image for the newly arrived boy. The man undergoing surgery is being intubated by dozens of meticulous devices, which penetrate his body in the most diverse ways. With a completely deformed face and limbs that are gradually being replaced by metal parts, someone's body is fighting incessantly to stay alive, alongside the miraculous technology.

My goodness, is it possible for someone like that to stay alive? Roccan can't organize his thoughts.

The patient's eyes can no longer function, but his ears can sense the arrival of a second human. With his mouth completely blocked, a system attached to his neural network does its best to give him a chance to communicate. 

"Proxie...? Is that... you...?" A computer translates the disabled man's thoughts, exposing the words that permeate his mind so that they reach the listener. 

"Ah! You speak!" Roccan is surprised by an unexpected reaction.

"Aren't... you... Proxie...?"

"That's a familiar name. You're talking about the android girl, aren't you?"

"Who... are... you...? Do you know... Proxie...?

"Oh, don't worry about her. We're all fine. We had an accident a little while ago but are back brand new."

"An... accident...?"

"That's right, but nothing too serious. We're ready for anything, hehe."

The patient's heartbeat fluctuates dramatically, causing the system to emit a deafening alarm. The man faces a critical situation.

"Hey, hey! Is everything all right?"

The machinery does not respond, leaving the young man apprehensive. The automatic door opens, allowing a group of nurses to enter. 

Hurried footsteps come to the patient's rescue, among which the sound of metal stands out noticeably.

Proxie enters the special room, desperate.

"Dad! What's happened?"

Faced with an unusual presence, she asks Roccan, "What are you doing here?"

"He's your father?"