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Author's Note: Happy New Year! Oh, and I'm just using this as a way to ease myself back into the habit of writing. As for the result… well, see for yourself… wait, nevermind. I'll be honest. Apparently, it turns out far worse than I thought it would. Who would've guessed? Oh, and yes. This story is actually inspired by 'A Doll's Inner Demon' by the user 'Modern_Sky'. Great fic, that one. Far, far better than mine. At least, that's what I think. Oh, well~Freedom… it was the one thing he had never dared to entertain. Not after that fateful day. Not after Nyx… no, he knew well enough that to hope for such a gift would be no different than shackling himself to an impossible dream. A notion so distant, that even a whisper of the word would've reminded him of what could never be.Erebus, the manifestation of humanity's darkest desires, and standing between the Fall and that collective yearning was a single bulwark. Him. The Great Seal. One before whom all stand as equals.The choice hadn't been difficult. There had been no trembling, nor was there a moment in which doubt could take root. Everything he had, he had offered without hesitation. His life, his soul, the very essence that made him who he was, all for the promise of a world unbroken, one that might yet dream of a brighter dawn. In the end, it had been nothing more than a simple equation. One life, for a world's worth of lives. The bargain had been unfair. It was cruel. It was grim. Yet… for all that it wrought, it had remained the sole path forward. A decision no less justified. Necessary.When the seal had finally formed, turning him into the gate holding the monster at bay, he had believed himself ready. He had thought he understood the weight of sacrifice, steeled himself to endure for all of eternity… the truth, however, was anything but.In the beginning, there had been the faint comfort of time, a fragile concept that lent structure to his torment. He could feel the oppressive force pressing against him, relentless and seething, a ceaseless tide battering at the unassailable threshold his existence had become. Echoes of distant voices had reached him in those early days, soft and brittle, yet impossibly luminous. His friends… their prayers had been a tether, tenuous threads of hope anchoring him to the life he had left behind. It had been enough to sustain him, those whispers of faith. Enough to endure. Enough for him to survive past the unending isolation… but time… time, as he'd soon come to learn, proved to be an indifferent, and merciless arbiter.Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and these into something far more abstract. Far less… human. The boundaries of his existence dissolved like ink into water, leaving behind a space devoid of markers, devoid of meaning. Sensations he had clung to began to fade. The weight that'd been so insistent dulled to a muted presence, its onslaught no longer a pressure but a memory of a struggle long forgotten. Lifelines dwindled, their resonance dimming like the last flicker of a dying flame. What had once been a chorus of strength broke into fractured syllables. One by one, they slipped away, until eventually, they too started to disappear…… and then, came the silence.It was not peace, for peace implies an end to suffering. It was not pain, for pain presumes the existence of a body to feel it. No… it was an all-encompassing void, a hollow expanse that stretched beyond even the concept of self.He had believed, in his naivety, that he would grow numb to it—that the crushing isolation, the absence of light, sound, and touch, might, in time, erode into a dull, bearable ache… and yet… it never did. Not truly… at least, not in any way that truly mattered. The void had a tendency of creeping into the crevices, prying at the foundation of his being. It clawed at the fragments of who he had been, pulling at his thoughts and memories, its grinding unraveling his very identity. That he managed to keep even the faintest remnants of himself was nothing short of a miracle. Still, he held onto what little he could salvage—the fraying faces of the few individuals he had kept at the forefront of his mind, the warmth of their laughter, the joy of fleeting moments shared on that roof… yet, even those had begun to blur…… is this what it means to protect? To give not only one's life but also one's self? To sacrifice even the memory of those for whom the sacrifice was made?These were questions he'd often pondered, his silent musings lost within the vast expanse of nothingness. Yet, for all that he doubted, a will unbroken he remained… not out of strength, for his will was far from unshaken, but because there was no alternative. To falter, even for an instant, would spell the ruin of all he had sought to preserve. Thus, he remained, steadfast in his duty. A wall against the despair of humanity, even as his own despair threatened to swallow him whole…… until, without prelude or explanation, it ended.No struggle. No warning. No sense of triumph. One moment, he was there, the linchpin upon which all existence turned. The next, he was… here. Alive. Breathing. Free.Freedom. The word itself felt foreign, as though spoken in a tongue he no longer recognized. He had spent what felt like an eternity as something beyond human—a construct of willpower, a vessel of purpose whose existence was forged and sustained solely in order to fulfill its duty. To now stand unburdened, confined by the fragile, fallible bounds of mortality… it felt… unnatural. Wrong. He strained to recall what it meant to be whole, only to find emptiness where purpose once resided. Gone was the oppressive silence; in its place, loomed the realization that he was no longer needed.Could it be a mistake? For him to return to the world of the living… no… had something gone wrong? He had been the Seal—he was the Seal—so how could he be standing here? And why does it feel so hollow?The air was cold against his skin, the first sensation he felt in what might have been centuries. His arms moved of their own accord, flexing slowly as though rediscovering themselves. Seconds turned into minutes as he probed at the limbs, tracing the lines of his palms, the subtle tremors that betrayed the reality of his return. They seemed alien to him, these hands. An extension of something he thought he had long since surrendered. The weight of the Evoker hung at his side, familiar yet distant, as though it too was a relic of another life. He gazed upon the object, half-expecting it to just flicker and fade, as if the life he now held were but a cruel mirage born of a fractured mind… but no… this… this was no dream. The aches in his muscles, the rhythm of his breath, the way his other-selves—even those that didn't belong—knelt in tandem, their postures laden with deference… they all but confirmed the impossible truth. He was here. Somehow, impossibly, he had been set free…… but freedom… freedom was not the relief he had thought it would be.He had thought that the sight of his home, the world for which he had given all, would stir within him a torrent of emotion—joy, relief, or perhaps a sense of quiet satisfaction that his struggle had not been in vain. What greeted him, however, was neither elation nor solace. It was a hollow void, an unrelenting unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. There was something amiss. He felt it keenly in the unnatural stillness of the air, in the silence that echoed louder than any clamor of life ever could.No voices rose in chatter, no machines hummed with purpose. It was almost as if time itself had ceased to flow. What might've once been a bustling avenue lay still as an unmarked grave, and he its sole denizen.His steps were halting at first, legs sluggish from disuse… yet, for reasons he could not articulate, he pressed ever onward, driven by instincts that would not falter. The city before him was old, ancient in the way it seemed frozen in an era long past. Here stood buildings once proud, now reduced to solemn ruins. Their walls were entwined with creeping vines, while trees the size of towers broke through their roofs. Cars, rusted and decayed, sat as hollow shells of their former selves, windows obscured by a patina of grime and growth. It presented unto him a landscape of faded grandeur. Beautiful yet not, a place where nature has reclaimed its dominion unchallenged…… and therein lay the heart of the matter.There were no souls to behold. No footfalls and no creatures stirring in the underbrush. The city was desolate—barren—empty save for the wind that whispered through the streets. It was as though the world had fallen into a slumber, left behind by the hands of a clock that would tick no longer.He need not see the evidence to know the truth. It settled deep within him, a weight as immutable as it was cold. Each breath that he took seemed like a labor against the crushing certainty. The world for which he had perished… the people for whom he had rendered all… they had all vanished…… mankind is no more.Proofreading and Editing by –Disclaimer: Persona 3 belongs to Atlus; Drakengard (Drag-On Dragoon) and Nier series belong to Square Enix.I had once asked him that very same question. Why would he, despite all that he had witnessed, choose to believe in a species so fractured and flawed? It was nothing more than an idle curiosity, you see. He, however, answered thus…"… I don't know… perhaps… perhaps, it is because they are deserving of such efforts… because in the end, no virtue exists in isolation, just as no flaw is without its counterbalance. Courage alone cannot stand without the presence of fear, nor can loyalty endure without the threat of treachery. Yet, regardless of the contradictions they create, every aspect is as important as the next, and that, above all, is what makes them worthy of salvation."—Excerpt from "The Fool: A Memory Re-lived", by Elizabeth, Attendant of The Velvet Room
Glossary:
The Great Seal: A construct unparalleled in its singular purpose. Designed to ward off the inevitable end, it exists in perpetuity, sustained by the life of one who chose sacrifice over self-interest. Yet, its endurance is not without cost. The crown of thorns and its accompanying chains serve as a testament that the price of salvation is often borne by the few, so that the many may endure. (An act of defiance against despair, a final gift from one who gave all to protect the fragile hope of the many. The seal stands silent, a reminder that even in the face of darkness, one soul can hold back even the abyssal tide.)
Erebus: Humanity's despair given form—a vast, seething mass that seeks only one end. Death. Born of the tide of collective misery, it lumbers toward the Great Seal, drawn as iron to a lodestone. Each shudder of its immense frame is proof of the depths upon which a person's anguish can thrive, that as much as we strive for hope, the shadow of despair follows closely behind… ever persistent, ever hungering for release. (It moves with purpose, hulking form driven by the unspoken desire for a release from the burden of existence. A silent scream, an eternal lament—this is the will of a world that yearns for an end.)
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Author's Note: Got to nudge the pieces where I want them to be. And yes, the story takes place prior to canon. Also, I can't seem to justify the bullet and numbering.Her blade sang through the air, its arc cleaving past the remnants of the machines. Broken husks lay scattered along the ground, their eyes now dim and lifeless. Her breath came in ragged gasps, body a ruined silhouette against the deep orange of the fading sun. Another hollow victory, had it not been for the gash running down her flank… not that she had the luxury to care.Weeks spent dodging patrols, scavenging for repairs, and fighting off ambushes, yet still, they just kept coming. How many times had she fought battles like this? Wasn't the area supposed to be free of hostiles? Bad enough that her systems were failing, even the intel she got was proving unreliable.Her hand trembled as it gripped the battered hilt of her weapon, a blade now chipped and smeared with grime. Blood and muck dripped from the tips of her fingers, the liquid staining the concrete in glorious red. Orbs of blue flickered, watching as the last of her foes stumbled. A humanoid model. Goliath Biped. Its torso groaned under the weight of its frame, dragging with its failing grip a shattered arm. She gazed at the construct through listless eyes, strands of white matted against her face. A swing was followed by a lurch, the attack avoided with a pivot and a jump."KilL, kiLl, KilL…""… persistent little bastard," she muttered, voice hoarse and low. A slight adjustment allowed her to shift her balance, crouching low as heels dug into the pavement. "You'd think they would know better by now."
*Boom*
The ground cracked. Sparks flew as silver edge scraped against a joint, exposed cables snapping in a burst of light. Turning sharply to the side, she slid past its broken arm, blade biting deep into the reinforced plate. It folded as easily as an axe would a brittle wood. Heat burst, the crackle of circuits frying as the machine faltered. A drag upward tore the chassis in two, while the following twist freed the construct of its head.
*Thunk*
A metallic clang rang the moment it landed on the asphalt, the dull scrape it made as it traversed the ground the only sound in the desolate field. With a final hiss of steam, the machine's body collapsed, its limbs giving one last twitch before going still.The wind swept through the wreckage, catching the tattered remains of her cloak and the loose strands of her hair. Seconds ticked as she slowly gathered her bearings, the ruins eerily quiet, its silence broken only by the faint hum of her internal systems struggling to stabilize. For a moment, she stood frozen in place, her chest rising and falling, fingers twitching around the hilt of her weapon. It felt heavier than it should've been. She glanced at the blade and saw within its surface her very own reflection. Tired, cracked, filled with imperfections that refused to heal. A shadow of what she once was. Her lips curled into a humorless smirk, as bitter as the ash-laden air brushing past her face."… a weapon as broken as its wielder…" She let the blade go without ceremony. It fell from her hand, a small cloud of dust rising as it clattered against the ground. "… how ironic."She didn't spare it another glance. It was done. A worn-out blade was as good as a dead weight in her condition. True, the thing may have served her well in the past, but now? It was just a piece of junk. No better than the scrap metal she had so often scavenged, as far as she's concerned."Pointless…" Her voice was a rasp. Like a dying ember crackling its last. Shoulders slumping, she tilted her head back and glared at the sun. '… in the end, nothing ever changes. Fight, survive, repeat. A loop no different than a machine's logic'Her gaze then shifted to the scattered remains of the constructs she had just dismantled, eyes zeroing in on a single shape amidst the carnage. Lying amongst the shrapnel and severed limbs was a weapon. A spear, sleek and crude in its design, with a dark shaft and a jagged, almost viciously sharpened head. Yet, for all its crude elegance, it remained clutched in the mangled limb of one of the new models she'd destroyed. Her hand twitches involuntarily, sensors going from the haft and to its user.Bastard had been the only one capable of giving her a real fight. Even without optics, the spindly ass had moved like nothing she had seen. Erratic, almost feral, yet precise in its attack. Its presence alone had turned the rest of her foes into something more. Faster, stronger, better. Almost intelligent too, if their maneuvers were any indication. Had it not been for that lucky opening, she would've been the one lying in pieces. Then again, with the machine in a state of constant evolution, she supposed such things were no longer a surprise.Survival demands that they adapt. And if she wanted to continue to live past her 'expiration date', then she'd have to do the same… not that things have ever been that easy.Crouching low, she reached for the object and began to pull. The construct's fingers cracked and broke as she wrenched it loose, the weapon surprisingly light in her grasp. Testing the weight with a few experimental swings, she adjusted her grip, its balance almost unnervingly perfect."Guess it'll do." Jagged tip glinted as she twirled the polearm, sparks catching the edges of her vision as she tested its reach with a sharp thrust to the air. "At least it'll perform better than all those stupid pipes."Now, if only she could get back without encountering any more of those stupid machines…He couldn't say how long he had walked. An hour? Five? Perhaps far longer still… in the end, the measure mattered little. What he did know, however, was that it was almost dark by the time he found himself at the base of the towering structure… or had it always been dark?Skeletal frames stretched to the heavens, a monument of human ambition now left to rust in solitude. Beams, wrought and warped, rose in jagged symmetry, splintering against the vast emptiness of the night like ribs of a long-dead giant. Wind sang through its hollow core, a low, mournful dirge that carried with it the echoes of a world long gone.He halted in his steps, neck craned as his gaze followed the building's ascent. The high-rise lay incomplete, its upper reaches exposed to the elements. Scaffolds dangled precariously on the sides, while traces of old banners, frayed and colorless, fluttered weakly in the breeze. It was a relic, a fragment of history frozen in rust. Yet, for all its neglect, it doesn't change the fact that it had borne witness to an era's dreams. Defiant. Proud. Unbroken."… senseless." The sigh that spilled from his lips was faint. Bitter and hollow.His fingers brushed against the cold surface of a column, the texture coarse beneath his touch. Somewhere deep within, a part of him questioned why he had come. Was it a yearning for the clarity only the height might offer? A need to see the world for what it had become—to confirm that which he had already known but refused to accept? If so, then why? There was no redemption to be found. He knew what he had seen did not lie… or did it? Truly, the answers eluded him, for what reason could there be for his survival in a world without life? Was it to rebuild? An invitation to achieve some hidden purpose he had yet to fulfill? To begin with, even if he were to uncover the reason, what truth could possibly ease the weight of his failure? No… truth alone cannot absolve. It simply doesn't work that way…… perhaps it didn't matter. Perhaps the action itself was the answer—the only answer he could cling to. The questions, the doubts, the gnawing uncertainty; they were simply the echoes of a mind unmoored, flailing for a purpose in a world that no longer required it. To ascend was to deny stagnation. To move was to live. He could only hope that, when the moment came, his strength would not fail him so…Six pairs… a simple trip back, and she just had to come across six pairs of the new models…A gust of wind blew through the forest, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the faint scent of the earth. Her skin prickled as the chill slipped past the tears in her cloak. The adrenaline from the skirmish had begun to fade, leaving in its wake the dull ache of her injuries. She pressed a hand against the gash on her flank, fingers coming away slick with blood. The pain was persistent. Sharp, yet manageable. Messy too, but years of combat had taught her worse. Still, every step that she took sent a jolt through her body, a reminder of just how close she'd come to losing the fight.The ruins she left behind were slowly swallowed by the encroaching trees. Orbs of blue glowed faintly in the dim light, their cold intensity contrasting with the surrounding warmth as she pushed through the undergrowth.Somewhere beyond the southern edge lay her temporary base. A hollowed-out space beneath the exposed root of a massive tree, more of a haphazard shelter than an actual home. Reinforced with metal sheets and old tarps, it had barely survived the last storm. Certainly not much, what with the lack of real protection and the ever-present threat of discovery. The floor was uneven, and the heat was non-existent, but it was enough to keep her alive and hidden.Leaning on the spear like a crutch, she sucked in a mouthful of air. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant chirping of birds. It was a deceptive kind of peace, one that could easily lull someone into a false sense of security. She knew better. It may have taken her months to understand, but she had learned the hard way that even the calmest of places could turn deadly in an instant… not that she needed the reminder. For all its flaws and risks, she knew this stretch of land well enough, its paths etched into her memory through countless days of wandering the woods. Had it not been for the injuries slowing her down, she would've made it back in minutes instead of hours.Ducking under a low-hanging branch, she let out a hiss as her side brushed against a jagged rock, steps crunching against the twigs beneath her heels. The dense canopy cast long, fractured shadows across her path, the broken light filtering through like cracks in a once-whole world. Still, she trudged on. She had to. The hideout was close. Just a little bit more, and it would finally be within reach…… of course, just as a flame burns the brightest before it fades, so too did her body begin to betray her resolve.By the time she went past the outskirts, the pain had grown into a constant, agonizing throb, her gait uneven as she staggered the last few steps. Bloody hell. Whoever decided to forgo the function to deactivate their pain receptors is an idiot. She dropped to one knee, grabbing onto a trunk for support. For a moment, she simply stayed, vision flickering as it tried to recalibrate. Shit. All those damages must've been worse than she had thought. The emergency patch she'd applied earlier had allowed some of the coolant to remain, keeping her body functional just long enough. Not anymore…"… damn it." She muttered under her breath, wincing as she stumbled over an exposed root. Her fingers dug into the bark, and the world tilted. 'Not now… not now of all times…'Will alone refused to let her collapse, but she found herself relying on the spear more than she cared to admit. It galled at her, that her victory came at such a cost. She hated feeling weak, hated the vulnerability that came with it. It reminded her too much of what she had lost. Still, no amount of stubbornness could change the fact that her body was failing her in ways she couldn't ignore.Her hand hovered over her side, hesitation clear as her systems flagged warning after warning. The wound was deep, synthetic skin peeled to reveal a mess of exposed wiring and shattered metal. A quick observation told her what she already knew. Overheating, judging by the traces of smoke… that, and damage to her actuators. Was that the reason behind the partial shutdown? She needed to stop the bleeding, at least. Needed to stabilize herself before she could even think about her next move. The only problem was that her supplies were limited, and every repair she made was resources she wouldn't have later.Rather foolish of her to hole up so far away from the Resistance Camp, now that she thought about it…With a frustrated sigh, she dragged herself over to a fallen log. Her HUD flickered in and out, diagnostic alerts overlapping until they blurred into a chaotic mess she didn't bother to sort. She didn't need a full scan to confirm it. Her left arm was sluggish, unresponsive in a way that felt almost alien. A quick flex of her fingers yielded only stiffness, servos grinding against each other with a faint, metallic whine.'Fuck… of all the things that could go wrong, and it just has to be those parts.'Reaching into a small bag of scavenged supplies, she then pulled out a bundle of salvaged materials. Frayed wiring, a soldering tool with a nearly dead cell, a handful of patches, and a small vial of coolant, all barely usable. Not nearly enough. She tore off what was left of the fabric covering her side, exposing the mess of sparking circuits and mangled plating underneath. It wasn't pretty. Actuators were warped and fused in places where the heat of battle had melted them. She frowned, tilting her head back against the bark. Beyond repair. She'd seen enough damage in her time to know when something was a lost cause. Doesn't mean she could afford to lose an arm. Not now. Not ever. It wasn't just the functionality. It was survival.Her jaw tightened as she worked, attaching wires and using the soldering tool to bind them to what little remained of her internal systems. Sparks flew, the faint smell of burning metal filling the air as she fused the connections. The patches came second to last. Thin layers of nanomaterial that adhered to her body, forming a seal over the wound. What few precious drops left in the vial went straight into the regulator embedded in her chest. She gritted her teeth as the liquid surged, spreading just enough to stop the worst from happening.It was a crude fix, really. Temporary at best. Curly wisps began to subside while her HUD pinged, diagnostic flashing across her vision in stark white text."Yeah, no shit." She muttered, tossing the empty vial aside. It clinked against a stone and rolled down into the underbrush. Her left hand twitched faintly, servos grinding once more before finally going still. Barely enough to hold a weapon, much less fight effectively, but it was better than nothing. Still… that was one arm. One goddamn arm. "Heh… just when you thought things couldn't get any worse. At least it still works."Craning her neck back, she let herself collapse against the bark for a moment, eyes fluttering shut. Seconds turned into minutes, the hum of her internal clock ticking in the back of her mind. One hour thirty-four minutes and fifty-one point two seconds. Has it truly been that long? A sigh was followed by a shake of her head. No time to waste… she pushed herself upright, her weight shifting to a crouch. Her HUD flickered once more, warning her of the strain on her remaining systems. She ignored the pop-up just as she always did. Instead, she reached for the spear, digits grazing along the ground before they proceeded to curl around the shaft. And that's exactly when she realized. Multiple pairs of indentations trailing into the bush.Her gaze sharpened, tracing the groove etched into the dirt. It wasn't natural. The lines were too clean, the contours too deliberate. Tracks. She ran her fingers across the disturbed soil, her brow furrowing in thought. They were faint, almost erased, but still visible enough to tell her what she needed to know. Fresh. No more than four hours old. Maybe less. But the real anomaly was the shape. These were not the heavy prints of a Goliath, nor were they the erratic scurrying of the smaller types.Was it the Resistance, then? Unlikely. The area had always been a no-man's land, too dangerous for even the most desperate. Besides, even those old coots wouldn't risk their forces for a place with little to no strategical value.Her lips twisted into a grimace. It wasn't just the tracks themselves. It was the spacing. The way the weight shifted. The precision. Machines do not move like this. Even those new models of theirs have a certain tell to them. No, these were something else. The drag in the earth, the matching, yet staggered pattern ; they all spoke of a practice similar to her own…'… again?'Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind came to a conclusion. YoRHa. An 'E' squad, from the looks of it. Three, maybe four units tops. Cold, efficient, and always so damned 'righteous'. They always were. And here she was, a broken android with a stolen spear, hunted by the very same people she would have once called her allies. Honestly, she was well past the point of being sick. All those years of running, of fighting and taking revenge on the machines, and still they wouldn't stop coming… well… if they wanted her gone so badly, then they'd have to do far better than this. Come what may, she would fight to the last.Who knows? Maybe she'll get lucky and find one of them crippled or something. Pretty sure there are a few of those new models left lurking around. Besides, she does have a need for a new arm… it is only fair that she takes from them what they'd taken from her.Proofreading and Editing by QAI521Disclaimer: Persona 3 belongs to Atlus; Drakengard (Drag-On Dragoon) and Nier series belong to Square Enix.
Field Observation Report #MA71665
Report Type: U.A.E. DocumentationSubject Codename: Anomaly 21Place of Origin: Temporal Branch 1-7-7-XCompiled By: Recorder Unit 16A
Report Summary:
The subject, henceforth designated as 'Anomaly 21', exhibits characteristics inconsistent with all previously cataloged entities across observed temporal branches. Despite extensive monitoring of this universe and adjacent timelines, no historical data or precedent regarding the subject's current state has been recorded. This individual appears to exist as an anomaly, a variable unaccounted for in all prior observations.Anomaly 21's arrival coincides with localized spikes in temporal instability, suggesting potential interference with or deviation from the established causal nexus. Preliminary analysis indicates that the subject's essence carries remnants of metaphysical constructs, specifically those associated with 'sealing phenomena' and 'collective unconscious manifestations'—concepts that exist outside of the standard framework. These traits imply a connection to an external metaphysical system that had once been recorded as '███ ██ █████'.
Notable Attributes:
Subject retains a distinct temporal resonance, suggesting partial detachment from linear causality.
Presence signifies the first occurrence of human emergence post-extinction event (███████ ██ ███████ ███████).
Unknown potential for interaction with Machine Network systems or androids is flagged as a critical variable.
Hypothesis:
Anomaly 21's unique properties position him as a potential focal point for timeline divergence. Such phenomena are unprecedented and raise concerns regarding the integrity of the established timeline. Further observation is required to determine whether the subject's presence is a deliberate intervention or a natural aberration within the universal framework.
Risk Assessment:
The presence of Anomaly 21 introduces substantial risks to universal stability, including the potential for:
Timeline Disruption: High probability of large scale divergence. Subject's continued existence could permanently alter critical events across temporal branches.
Metaphysical Contamination: Interaction with external metaphysical systems—unprecedented within this framework—could destabilize established casual nexuses.
Unstable Resonance Effects: Anomaly 21's partial detachment from linear causality may result in the unpredictable propagation of temporal distortions.
Conclusion:
The subject may represent an entity of high significance, warranting continuous observation. Probability of large-scale timeline alteration exceeds 73.8%. Immediate escalation to higher-order observation protocols is recommended.
Glossary:
The Resistance: An android militia born of necessity, fighting against the invasion of the machine lifeforms. Lacking the technology of its more advanced sister organization, they rely on scavenged equipment and sheer determination to survive. (A remnant of a civilization long since lost. Clinging to the hope of salvation, they are the flickers of a flame that refuses to be extinguished. Their rusted weapons and steady hands echo a defiance unrivaled. A dirge for the dying in a war without end.)
YoRHa: An elite military force created to combat the invading enemies. Operating from their orbital headquarter, their nature is that of cold perfection, black-clad forms embodying humanity's lost glory. (Command speaks with authority, and the Council proclaims with certainty. The Bunker watches over the world like a silent overseer, its warriors descending to the earth as angels of war. Yet, even angels can fall, and their creators remain ever silent… what would happen then, when the Heaven is empty and the lies laid bare? A machine built to destroy, just as expendable as the enemies they fight.)