vrcanaries Chapter 287 287: The Night Watchmen
Chapter 287 287: The Night Watchmen
The night wind drifted through the vacant streets.
A few discarded flyers tumbled across the asphalt before snagging at the base of
a utility pole. Streetlamps cast lonely, amber pools of light upon the road,
stretching in a rhythmic line toward the edge of the vision.
Sora walked with her hands shoved into the pockets of her Academy jacket, her
pace steady as her boots clicked against the paving stones. Bochi was perched
atop her head, resembling a translucent blue jelly-hat. Two tiny tentacles
gripped her hair, anchoring the slime's weight. Its black-bean eyes swiveled in
every direction, absorbing the quiet world with intense novelty.
The shops lining the thoroughfare were sealed behind heavy iron shutters.
Spray-painted graffiti covered the metal, layered over the ragged remains of
posters and old adhesive marks. In the distance, a few windows emitted a faint
glow, but they were reinforced and light-tight—no life visible within.
"Does your species avoid the outside world during the night cycles?" Bochi
asked, its voice a tiny vibration atop Sora's skull.
"Mmh," Sora hummed in affirmation. "It is a tactical requirement. The Anomalies
on the street are lower-tier than those in the Instances, but against a mundane
human, they are still lethal."
"People return to their sectors before sunset, seal the entrances, and await the
dawn."
Bochi tugged on her hair. "Then why have you manifested here?"
"Because you are present," Sora replied, her tone turning uncharacteristically
light. "And having just extracted from an Instance, my internal systems are
redlining. I cannot tolerate being confined to a small room right now."
"You do not possess the variable of fear?"
"I do." Sora's voice flattened. "But fear is a useless parameter. If the summons
comes, a locked door won't stop the transit. It is better to walk and witness
the night than to sit in a box and tremble."
Bochi didn't press the point. A tentacle patted the top of her head in what Sora
interpreted as a gesture of consolation.
A low-frequency hum drifted from above. A small drone swept across the sky, the
red and green lights on its chassis flickering rhythmically against the stars.
Bochi mistook the machine for a rare alchemical artifact, its body vibrating
with excitement.
"Observe! A glowing, airborne treasure! What rank is that item?!"
Feeling the slime preparing to launch itself toward the drone, Sora reached up
and pinned it to her head. "It's a drone. Federal equipment. It monitors the
streets and broadcasts an alert to the local authorities if an anomaly is
detected."
"Oh." Bochi's excitement evaporated instantly. "A common surveillance tool. I
projected it was a High-Tier relic."
"So... how did this 'Infestation' of yours manifest? What was the origin point
of the pests?"
"Unknown," Sora said, her lips pursing in thought. "The archives state it began
roughly sixty years ago. One cycle, every phone on the planet received a
singular notification: [THE ANOMALY GAME COMMENCES.]"
"From that moment, every human who reaches their eighteenth year is forcibly
drawn into an Instance. Those who survive multiple cycles experience a
biological evolution—they gain the strength to resist the Anomalies. They are
designated as Night Watchmen."
"Those who fail the game... stay failed."
"A secondary byproduct is the manifest of 'Street Anomalies.' When a monster is
liquidated by its own kind or a player within an Instance, a residual fragment
of its form sometimes manifests in the Real World and reanimates. They lose the
protection of the Instance Rules, rendering them significantly weaker, but they
can still process a mundane human with ease."
Bochi listened intently, its tentacles twitching. "And your Night Watchmen? Can
they not liquidate the infestation?"
"They can," Sora said flatly. "Against standard-tier pests, a Watchman squad is
effective. The bottleneck is personnel. The global total of active Watchmen is
barely in the tens of thousands, and that number is in a state of constant
decay. Meanwhile, the manifest-rate of the Anomalies increases daily."
Sora's voice dropped an octave. "The Federation encourages high-density
reproduction to increase the pool of potential Watchmen. But... most of the 'New
Recruits' never return from their first summons."
Bochi went silent. It felt a strange, cold logic in this world. The humans here
live in a state of terminal attrition.
In the Evernight Empire, there were threats beyond the borders, but the
Sovereign was a wall. The Seven Generals were absolute. The legions were
invincible. A citizen could contribute their value and live in peace, assured
that no pest would touch them. But here? These humans spent every cycle on the
event horizon of death.
"Your Federation... the administrators... they have formulated no
counter-strategy?"
"They have attempted it," Sora said, a bitter edge touching her voice. "But the
logic of the Game is absolute. No one has successfully resisted a transit.
Selected units vanish regardless of their location or shielding. Scientists have
spent fifty years analyzing the energy signatures, but they haven't even
identified the source code, let alone a bypass."
"So, the populace has entered a state of 'Resigned Acceptance.' We exist one
cycle at a time. We seek joy where it can be found before the extraction hits."
Sora pointed ahead to a sector where the lighting was significantly denser.
"Behold: The Commercial District. It remains 'loud' during the night cycles."
Bochi looked. In the distance, neon signs cut through the dark, their colors
vivid and jarring against the grey city.
"Let's investigate," Sora said. "Perhaps a dessert shop remains operational."
Bochi tugged on her hair again, frantic. "Expedition! Objective: The Dessert
Sector!"
Sora winced as several strands of hair were sacrificed. "Bochi, ease the
pressure. I don't have many follicles to spare."
"Oh. I shall alter the anchor point."
Bochi's tentacles elongated, wrapping around her ears.
"...Go back to the hair."
They entered the Commercial District. The atmosphere was a total shift from the
dead streets behind them. While most shops were shuttered, a few convenience
stores, bars, and night-stalls remained lit. Small groups of people lingered on
the sidewalks.
Most were young. Their faces were a mosaic of exhaustion and a specific,
glassy-eyed numbness. Some clutched bottles, drinking with a desperate rhythm.
Others leaned against walls, the glowing tips of their cigarettes the only light
in their personal shadows. A few sat on steps, staring into their phone screens,
the artificial light rendering their faces into pale, empty masks.
"These units... have they just concluded their shifts?"
"Mmh," Sora nodded. "We no longer subscribe to monthly wages. All labor is
settled daily. When people receive coin, they expend it immediately on
sustenance or entertainment. Because no one knows if their 'Tomorrow' has been
deleted by the Game. If you're extracted tonight and you still have silver in
your pocket, it's a wasted variable."
Bochi found the logic difficult to process. "The human existence in this
coordinate is... peculiar."
"Not peculiar," Sora whispered. "Just desperate. When death is a constant
probability, 'Future' and 'Ideals' become statistical noise. You only care about
making 'Now' tolerable."
Bochi didn't seem interested in the sociology of despair, interrupting her to
return to the mission parameters. "Are we certain the 'Cake-Sector' is
operational at this hour?"
"I... project a high probability?" Sora's confidence wavered. "Standard shops
close at 22:00. It is currently past 21:00. We must accelerate our gait."
Bochi bounced twice on her head. "Speed! My Od requires glucose! Cheesecake!
Strawberry Mochi! Cream Puffs! I demand them all!"
☆☆☆
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