012!

In the master suite of the villa, the environment had been meticulously planned. Every piece of furniture was positioned with millimetric precision so as not to obstruct the panoramic view that revealed itself through the wide balcony.

A gentle breeze wafted through the translucent curtains, carrying with it the fresh scent of the ocean.

On the bed, a child with a thin appearance lay, their body seeming like a fragile frame for the life that resided there.

Their skin, nearly clinging to protruding bones, revealed the gravity of their malnutrition. Each bony prominence seemed like a testament to the hardships they had faced. Their eyes, with silver irises contrasting with the black of their slit pupils, displayed a dull and opaque gaze.

Their lips, dry and tinged with a pale purple hue, suggested a lack of self-care. Even in their repose, there was an aura of tension around them, as if the room itself was aware of the turmoil that plagued its occupant.

It was then that the first rays of morning sun infiltrated through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a golden trail on the floor. Those beams of light seemed to gently caress the young one in their bed, as if nature itself extended an invitation to wake. And, after an indeterminate period, they finally closed their eyelids.

Still immersed in the fog of their thoughts, their memories began to slowly piece together.

The explosion.

The devastating force that emanated from the Black Boxes, shaking everything around them. The feeling of being between life and death. And then, awakening. Their body was at the epicenter of that explosion that resulted in the destruction of the Engels, the colossal machines that had been the focus.

As their memories merged with the current reality, they realized that something had changed. Their fingers touched their own body, exploring the nuances of a transformation that had occurred while they were unconscious.

Every movement, every sensation, carried a new complexity that escaped immediate understanding. It was as if they had been reshaped by the reaction that had consumed them.

It was in this moment of contemplation that the door to the room opened gently, revealing a familiar figure.

Commander White, her blonde hair seemed to shimmer like a crown of light.

Her steps were gentle, but each one carried the weight of a leadership that allowed no weakness. She approached the edge of the bed, her green eyes fixed on the now-awakened youth.

The Commander's voice broke the silence, flowing like a serene river. "Don't overexert yourself. You've been unconscious for a considerable period."

Her words were spoken with a mixture of genuine concern and authority.

The room seemed to absorb every sound, creating an intimate atmosphere that enveloped the two of them.

Ophiuchus nodded slightly, their expression reflecting a blend of surprise and questioning. Their vocal cords, momentarily neglected, finally made a hoarse whisper. "How long... has it been?"

The Commander's eyes remained fixed on them, revealing a mix of restrained emotions. "Approximately a decade," she replied, her voice carrying the gravity of lost time.

They absorbed the information as if trying to fit the pieces of a complex puzzle together.

A decade.

Ten years in a world that continued to turn while they were in a state of torpor. It was hard to comprehend, and even harder to accept. Their gaze shifted, losing itself in the view from the balcony that stretched beyond the window.

"We've lost so much, so much time," they murmured, more to themselves than to the Commander. Each word carried the weight of a lament that extended beyond the lost days.

Former Commander White spoke, her words echoing in the room with a mixture of serenity and urgency.

The events that followed the devastation were meticulously outlined, with Ophiuchus' movements carefully traced across the globe. They had been a point of interest, an enigma that intrigued and worried both the Council of Humanity and the Machine Network.

As White presented the details, Ophiuchus absorbed every word attentively.

White revealed that the Council of Humanity had managed to calculate and predict some of their movements, an intricate dance of strategy and counter-strategy. However, a small advantage remained in their favor: uncertainty about what they had developed in the territory they now occupied.

Their thoughts echoed, guided by the weight of White's words, as they reflected on each step, each decision that had led them to this critical point. Ophiuchus realized that every move, every choice they had made, had shaped the chessboard of a battle that continued to unfold.

It was then that the truth penetrated their mind like a ray of light in the midst of shadows.

The PODs, the support units of YoRHa, had recognized Ophiuchus' organic nature. A discovery that triggered an inevitable chain of events. YoRHa had started searching for Ophiuchus and, consequently, discovered the existence of the island where they now resided.

The existence of this city, so precious and vulnerable, had elicited a strong reaction from White. Her eyes narrowed, her fists clenched in anger, and the decision to descend to the surface was like a defiant cry to her programming.

However, this action did not go unnoticed by the Council and the Machine Network, who retaliated fiercely, inflicting painful losses on the military unit led by White.

The knowledge that the PODs were transmitting data about their location to the Council of Humanity was a moment of revelation that triggered immediate action. White acted with ruthless speed, ordering the disconnection of YoRHa from the server and alerting the members who followed her about the betrayal of the assistants (PODs) and revealing the truth about the situation.

With the help of her unit, White employed all available resources to reach the island. Ophiuchus sighed, their gaze fixed on the horizon, as they assimilated the account of how the island could become a battlefield.

The nature of war, relentless and voracious, echoed in their memories and made them understand the implications of lost time.

Rising with determination, Ophiuchus fought against their own weakness.

White was there to offer support, her eyes reflecting silent understanding and unwavering belief. Together, they headed to the balcony, where the city revealed itself in all its renewal.

The landscape was alive, the activities in the commercial district were tangible proof of the resilient spirit of its inhabitants. Individuals wearing black clothing moved among the residents, a sight that captured their attention.

Ophiuchus, with a sense of lost time and a desire to reclaim it, turned to White.

"Summon your company, Commander White. We need to expedite the upgrade. Every minute now is precious."

White may not have fully understood the implications of the "upgrade," but she was willing to follow Ophiuchus' orders. She descended to the city, summoning Devola and Popola and gathering the best soldiers for the next phase.

...

Ophiuchus directed their gaze to the base that remained unchanged on the shores of the beach.

They entered the interior of the Cradle, where the capsules were arranged in formation. Their distorted reflection on the polished surfaces of the capsules showed a thin and malnourished image. Skin clinging to bones, a silent testimony to the challenges their body had faced. Their now violet irises gleamed, while their slit pupils emanated a translucent and bright aura. Their dry, purple-tinged lips were traces of enduring suffering.

Their white tails danced with the movement of their body, and as they turned, their attention was captured by the row of empty capsules.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind them, but Ophiuchus remained undisturbed. Their mission was clear and urgent. "Devola, Popola," they called out with a firm voice, "could you notify them? We'll have to work against the clock."

Devola and Popola exchanged a brief glance, silent understanding passing between them. Wearing white lab coats that contrasted with their hair color, they began to operate the capsules.

However, it was White who intrigued them.

She approached one of the capsules, and Ophiuchus turned to her, explaining the deep connection between the Black Boxes and the soul: "The Black Box in their bodies did much more than just store data. It shaped a soul. What I'm doing is developing a body based on the developed soul."

White's eyes were fixed on the capsule in front of her, understanding and admiration mingling in her gaze. "I recognize these data; they belong to the first generation of YoRHa. They had been destroyed on a mission."

Ophiuchus shook their head in denial. "The Machine Network didn't destroy them, only disabled them. They served as the basis for the development of a project. Now that their purpose is fulfilled, they were no longer of use."

White clenched her fists, an expression of determination and resentment. Ophiuchus's eyes roamed over each capsule, witnessing Devola and Popola's meticulous care.

Turning to White once more, Ophiuchus questioned with intense seriousness, "Now that you know what I'm doing, will you still follow my orders?"

The turmoil within White's inner self raged.

She was about to place her hand over her chest in a sign of commitment, but something made her hesitate. She knelt before Ophiuchus, bowing her head in a gesture of deep reverence. "We were born and molded with a clear purpose, to serve humanity and end the conflict that afflicts our planet."

Every word that escaped her lips was laden with the weight of a history that stretched for millennia. "My loyalty will be to you and the mission we share," she stated with resolute determination.

Ophiuchus extended their hand with a slow and deliberate motion, placing it on White's shoulder. Their gazes met, exchanging a silent promise that transcended words. "Then, from this moment on, you are my commander, my ally in the quest to end the machines' dominion and overthrow the self-proclaimed Council of Humanity."

Ophiuchus passed by her, their gaze fixed on the YoRHa military unit lined up on the cargo platform. An aura of determination enveloped the scene, an uncertain future stretching before them.

With the dark and imposing backdrop, White raised her head, and her voice resonated with renewed confidence. "I swear, as a knight to my commander, that I will lead this mission to the end. I will fight by your side to bring a new dawn to humanity and free our world from the influence of the machines."

As her words spread through the air, they found a deep echo among the YoRHa members lining up on the platform.

A reverent silence settled in, broken only by the whisper of the wind. Then, like a unison response to a long-awaited call, the soldiers of YoRHa erupted in jubilation.

Eyes sparkled with a mix of shock and wonder. They stood before a human being, something they had never seen or witnessed before. White's presence, a living representative of humanity they had sworn to protect, ignited their hearts with a new determination.

Murmurs of astonishment and emotion filled the air, an improvised symphony of voices expressing admiration and respect.