Chapter 8 – Those Who Speak Even in Silence
Echoes don't just destroy. Sometimes… they rebuild civilizations. But first— you must walk through fire.
The Heart of VANT – "Silencio Core" VANT isolated the central tower affected by the AURELIA effect. A new protocol was activated: SILENCIO MODE – an absolute silence zone where all sound frequencies were suppressed.
Mizue and Itsuki were left inside—alone. Makoto worked outside the system, trying to reestablish connection. Makoto on radio: "I can't hear you. But I have your pulse. Follow each other's heartbeats. They'll lead you out." Mizue closed her eyes. For the first time, silence didn't frighten her. She turned inward— and in her mind, her father's melody echoed. For the first time, she gave voice to a presence within her using nothing but vibration. She felt the resonance points on the wall with her fingertips— and pressed down.
Itsuki: "I can't hear you... but I can feel you. Communication doesn't always need words, right?" Mizue blinked gently. From the wall, she pulled out a micro-circuit. The code of silence had been broken.
Council Chamber The State hadn't fallen— but it trembled. A new plan was initiated: "Project SIRENA." "If they use sound— then we'll suppress the echo," declared the General. "A memory chip will be implanted in every citizen. Emotion = instability. Instability = danger." A scientist stood up, eyes full of concern. "But this… this will erase people's inner voices. This will be a massacre of silence." "Either we speak— or chaos does," the General replied. "Make your choice."
In the dark, Mizue discovered a new melody. It created resonance— not just destroying, but seeping into the soul. It awakened buried emotions. And she did it inside the SILENCIO zone. A female technician working by the wall suddenly froze. Tears welled up in her eyes. She placed her hands over her ears. "This song… my mother used to sing this. But… how? It was forbidden." Mizue paused. A soft whisper:
"I can carry the song your mother left behind." This power— was not just for war. It was meant to heal, to connect, to remember.
Itsuki connected to the new security core. But this time, the system attacked using his memories. Lines of code morphed into faces. His family's. "They died because of you..." "Your sister waits… but you hid behind code." Itsuki closed his eyes. On the virtual floor, he drew a new symbol with his hands: "SILENT JUSTICE." It became his shield. And then— it shattered. He didn't run. He gave the system something it didn't expect: Emotion. Love.
The system didn't crash. But for the first time… it hesitated. It began to question itself. Makoto waited outside. Mizue and Itsuki walked silently out of the tower. But behind them, someone followed. The technician woman from earlier. "Don't leave me alone," she said. "There's a voice inside me now. I don't want to be silent anymore." Mizue turned back. She reached out. Held her hand. Night fell. But the city did not sleep. Siren wails. Alerts. Announcements. Yet from one window— a melody slipped out into the dark. In another home, someone stopped crying. A child smiled. And elsewhere, a man quietly stood up. Because... Echoes... cannot be silenced.
The sky was soaked in a mist-fed silence. The ANGEL unit had taken down the old Transmission Tower beyond the ruins of the capital— a fatal blow to the State's web of communication. But victory came at a cost. Mizue's eyes still glowed a weary orange, but her body trembled, exhaustion spilling out of every breath. Her voice, once her greatest weapon, now burned her from within. Each cry shattered enemies— but tore at her vocal cords like shards of glass. Itsuki was on his knees, drawing a massive protection glyph into the cracked earth with the last of his energy. His breath was ragged. The dense blue current in his veins spilled into his eyes, crystallizing the stones around him. Makoto stood at the edge of the barrier, the very front line. Electric sparks flared from the tips of his golden hair. His gaze burned—not with hatred, but fierce determination. The more strategies he devised, the more power he unleashed. But each thought brought him closer to a mental collapse. Yet the darkness was no longer just the State. In the last shards of intercepted signals, they found traces of something else— A non-system entity: NOVA. Not quite human. Not quite machine. Coded consciousnesses implanted into abandoned child minds. They believed the new world order could only be built through absolute silence. That's why Mizue's songs were agony to them. Because melody was the voice of free will.
Mizue stood atop the shattered amphitheater, eyes narrowed, hand resting over her chest. Waves of frequency rippled from her, rising into the air like silent prayers made of sound. From the shadows, the NOVA units emerged— gray, cracked masks lit with the mechanical red glow of artificial pupils. Itsuki pressed his left hand against the ground. The earth heeded his call, rippling upward to form a wavering defense barrier. Makoto, at the center of the warfront, seemed to project his thoughts into holograms. From his eyes, enemy movements slowed to a crawl— their weak points shimmering like cracks in glass. But victory never came easily. Mizue's voice faltered, her melody stuttering into silence. Itsuki's crystal barriers began to shatter, blue shards dissolving into dust. Makoto's strategy fractured— his memory blurred, as if the battle itself was erasing him.
Just then— a sound echoed in Mizue's ears. A tune long forgotten. A lullaby her father used to hum when the world was still whole. "This power isn't just for battle..." "It's meant for something more—" "For salvation." As their strength crumbled, a figure appeared in the distance. Clad in a flowing white-violet cloak, a faded ANGEL insignia etched into the hood that shadowed their face. They did not raise a weapon. They spoke—only a whisper. Yet their voice cut deeper than any blade:
"You are not just warriors..." "You still don't know the true melody."