Today, for the first time in a while, I run into Ms. 2B and Mr. 9S. I want to call out to them, but they are in battle, so I stop myself.
There are a few small types, and two four-legged types. There are a lot of enemies, but the two of them are fighting without a problem. If I helped I would probably be deadweight. That’s how magnificently they are fighting.
I leave that area and cross the bridge. I want to see the lunar tear one last time.
A flower that’s said to grant you any wish. Would it grant me mine?
To be honest, that myth sounds a bit suspicious. Because the original Emil grew as many lunar tears as he could, but he couldn’t cure his little sister’s disease.
And as I expected, that other person, who received the hair ornament made of lunar tears, her wish was—no, that’s just what I, or the person I used to be, thought.
There was no way my wish was going to be granted. I knew that. On the other hand, I didn’t expect anything. I knew it wasn’t going to work, but I wanted to make a wish too.
“Emil!”
Ms. 2B calls to me, and I turn around. Apparently the two of them had finished off the horde of enemies. There isn’t even a single scratch on either of them.
“You’ve gotten strong.”
I have no intention of boasting that it was because of my weapons. Even without my weapons, these two would still be strong.
“You don’t need my help anymore, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
I’m glad I’ve run into them here. This way I can properly say my goodbyes.
“All the best.”
I quickly leave the area. I need to hurry. I need to stop them before it’s too late.
My responsibility in that battle was support from the rear. I carried supplies and replenished the Emils that were fighting on the front lines. I was running back and forth the whole time.
My body was this size so I would be able to nimbly run across the battlefield, and I had this form because I specialized in transporting supplies.
We were assigned sizes and bodies based on our responsibilities. The Emils on the front lines had high attack power, while the Emils that held up the solid defense were equipped with hard exoskeletons.
The original Emil apparently believed that diversity was the key to beat an enemy that fought with numbers. Just like how humans diversified their lifestyles and cultures to survive for so long.
Every day, I ran alone. From the Flooded City to that beach, day after day, I carried supplies. I brought recovery materials for my injured friends, and replenishment materials for my friends that used up all their magic.
They became less and less talkative as the days passed. We had always encouraged each other and fought together. But I noticed that conversation had started to disappear right around the time our numbers decreased drastically.
At the same time, my memories started to fade. Apparently exchanging old parts for new parts diluted memories. Which meant the fewer parts of original Emil I had, the fewer memories of the past I had.
I didn’t have a hard exoskeleton like the attack-specialized Emils. I was pretty small and light. If an enemy missile landed near me, the shock wave was enough to send me flying. Since I was always running around the battlefield delivering supplies, I was always covered in scratches. And as a result, I had to exchange parts every day, and every time my memories of the original faded bit by bit.
But there was a silver lining. His memories had restricted me in a way. Those memories were of the original Emil, and not my own. Even if I had them, they were fake.
One by one, as the memories faded, somewhere in my mind I felt relief. Eventually I learned how to contain my emotions. I ran from my memories of struggle and sadness.
At that point all our defenses had crumbled. No matter how often we cloned ourselves, the number of enemies increased at a faster rate. The aliens mass-produced Machines, and bolstered their forces. Just like us, they were made to be adapt to any situation.
But the aliens didn’t end up victorious. Tons of androids came down to Earth and took the edge in the battle against the aliens. Of course it wasn’t easy. They seemed to have struggled as well …
Once my friends and I were scattered, we lost the majority of the original Emil’s memories. We lived in the City Ruins, running shops for the androids. It was strange—our bodies still remembered that we had to deliver goods.
I would probably still be running around the City Ruins, unaware of who I am, if I hadn’t met Ms. 2B and Mr. 9S, who helped me get my memories back … without realizing that my old friends were in danger.
I’ve been hearing their cries for help for a while now, but I had no idea what they meant. All I knew is that I heard strange noises in the desert, and that I was scared of them.
I need to go quickly. To where everyone is.
I use the teleportation magic that I remembered recently. The cluster of collapsing buildings disappear, and I am suddenly in the desert. And looking up I can see giant spheres in the air. They are attack-specialized Emils.
It brings back memories of days when I used to deliver them supplies. Everyone was so nice. They were always worn-out, but still had the patience to give me words of gratitude like “Thank you” and “Good work.”
We all fought together during desperate times. The Emils on the battlefield really cared for each other. They were like family. I was a teeny bit envious of that. Supporting models like me, who worked from behind the front lines, rarely saw each other, and usually operated alone.