"Lin, where is God?"
"Do you know? Fate is not untraceable. It draws us together, it brings suffering to those children. It is so close, yet seems so far. I hear its voice, yet I cannot see its path."
"Does God see all this? Does God feel pity..."
"Lin... can you tell me... where is God?"
This time, Lin did not write a reply. After reading the letter, he silently tucked it into his pocket.
He... had no answer.
He remembered a dialogue about religious faith he had read once.
A passerby asked a devout believer: "Can you see your God?"
The believer shook his head: "No."
"Can you hear His voice?"
Still a shake of the head: "No."
The passerby asked again: "Then do you have a spiritual connection with Him?"
"No. There is no conversation between me and my God. He does not respond to me."
"Since He doesn't respond, how can you still believe in Him?"
The devout believer smiled: "It is precisely because He does not respond that my faith is sincere."
The truth of this story was hard to verify, and true believers might not admit such people existed among them. Religion requires "miracles"—responses from God—to guarantee His existence and maintain the faith that keeps followers gathered.
Yes, the religion needs God's response.
But to a believer, God's response might not be that important.
Did Aponia belong to the religion? No. Was her faith insincere? That was equally impossible.
Then why did she ask Lin "Where is God"?
Because she wasn't praying for herself. She was hoping for a "God" who could save the Honkai Sickness patients. Whether that "God" was a deity, a savior, or a human, she just hoped He would appear.
But God would not appear.
...
"This is MSA-079, Lin, requesting mission report."
Lin stood on the top floor of a building, positioned on the empty floor, speaking into his communicator.
At the scheduled time, Lin had to report his status to Fire-Moth. Although lately both Lin and the receivers had tacitly ignored the importance of these reports, this time was different.
"MSA-079, your mission is complete. You are authorized to return to headquarters. Please return within forty-eight international hours."
The mission... was complete?
When Lin heard this, the confusion that arose swallowed him. He immediately asked: "Why is my mission complete?"
Unless there was an emergency, mission reports were bi-weekly. Lin hadn't provided any news for the past two weeks, so why the sudden announcement of completion?
"The mission was completed seventy-two hours ago. Approved by high-level authority, your instructions have been issued. Return to headquarters immediately."
Seventy-two hours...
Three days ago? What did this mean? Why was it completed three days ago? And approved by high-level authority?
This classified mission was the responsibility of the Chrysalis Squad squad, issued directly by the leadership. Only they could forcibly terminate it; even MEI had no right to interfere.
This only deepened Lin confusion.
Then, fragments flashed through his mind, clicking into a complete picture under the context of this call.
He dialed Mobius directly.
"Beep—"
After thirty seconds of ringing, Mobius annoyed voice came through: "What is it?"
"Has Sakura finished her Project Soldier surgery?"
"Huh?" Mobius was confused by Lin slightly anxious tone and his abrupt question. "You're on a mission and you care about someone else's surgery?"
"I..." Lin went silent.
He looked at the communicator in his hand.
A Fire-Moth product. After the Third Eruption, it used unique technology to achieve global coverage. It was multifunctional—a smartphone and a weapon, sturdier and lighter than a brick.
Most importantly... it had a function to store and upload all communications to a database, and it could not be turned off.
Lin waited for dozens of seconds until Mobius was almost out of patience before speaking again: "I... I'm worried about her. Both Kevin and I had side effects from the surgery, so I'm worried she might have the same, or if the failure was even worse than mine..."
"I get it," Mobius interrupted coldly. "Then why don't you call her directly?"
"You are the head of the MANTIS project. I thought it better to get the facts from you."
"Fine," Mobius spat out.
"She's much better than a useless thing like you. The surgery was a success. Aside from a few uncontrollable side effects, it was more successful than yours or Kevin. I'm sure you'll like her current look even more when you see her," Mobius finished in one breath. "Goodbye."
"Wait."
"What now?" Despite her extreme impatience, Mobius didn't hang up.
"When was her surgery completed?"
"...Seventy-two hours ago."
"Beep—"
The call was rudely disconnected.
Lin looked up toward the sanatorium.
The next second, he took off at a dead run.
...
"Xiao Ke..."
"Daniela... why are... you here?" The little boy on the bed opened his eyes weakly. Seeing Daniela by the window holding his hand, he forced himself to pull his hand back. "Tea...cher said... you... can't come..."
"But you must be so bored here alone, so I came to play with you."
Daniela looked worriedly at the twisted patterns on the boy's face, reaching out to touch them gently: "Does it hurt? Teacher said he has a way to cure you. Just hold on a little longer. Once you're better, we can all go out with Teacher, Brother Kalpas, Sister Aponia, and everyone. Oh, Teacher told me there are many fun places outside Sundown Alley. Let's go together later, okay?"
"Yeah... okay..." The boy managed a longing smile. He also wanted to see the world outside.
"Let me tell you about the Fairy Forest Teacher told me about. Beautiful pink-haired fairy sisters live there..."
Click.
Suddenly, Daniela thought she heard a very strange sound.
No, it wasn't a sound she heard, but a feeling that something strange was happening nearby.
She made a "shh" gesture to the boy, then crept to the window and peeked through the curtain...
"..."
Nothing.
She let out a long breath. It must have been her imagination.
She returned to the boy's side to continue her stories.
Meanwhile, a blade, transparent and ice-blue, passed silently across the windowsill of the floor above their room.