A Pure-White Future

Chapter: Ion

^{By Yajima Sara}

“. . .Thus shall Auldrant be destroyed by the miasma and turned to dust...”

Anise Tatlin was startled by the voice that drifted through the cold, snowy air.
For it was the voice of Ion, the Fon Master of the Order of Lorelei, whom she had sent to death through her own betrayal.
The voice trembled through the air weakly, as if it were about to disappear.

“Ion?!”

But she knew it couldn’t be true. Ion could no longer read the Score.

At the entrance to the Absorption Gate, Asch said to Luke,
"Van is outside! He's watching Mohs make Ion's replica read the Score on the Seventh Fonstone!”

I am the seventh replica.
Ion's words will be recalled through me.
So there really was . . . In addition to myself - the Ion made to replace the Fon Master - and Sync, there was another replica of the original Ion!

Anise slipped past Luke fon Fabre and stretched as tall as she could with her short body.

“This is the end of Auldrant...”

The owner of the voice finally recited the rest of the verse, then fell into the snow. A piece of the seventh fonstone fell from his hand.

I remember that Ion also used up all his power every time he unleashed a Daathic fonic arte – he used to collapse often.

He had been a kind Fon Master, easy to deceive by nature. Anise felt ashamed and annoyed that she had thought of Ion in that way.

Right then, Mohs, the Grand Maestro, whose face was swollen and ugly from the Seventh Fonons he had taken in, sounded enraged.

“Hahahahaha! Don’t tell me... Such lies!”

Anise almost cried out, but Luke was already protecting the replica Ion from the winged Grand Maestro's attack.

What should I do? He's gonna kill him!

However, thanks to Luke’s hyperresonance and the Jewel of Lorelei, Mohs was forced to flee into the sky.

No sooner were they relieved than Lorelei go berserk inside Van Grants.

“Kyaaaa!”

Anise was blown away by the tremendous force, fainting for a moment.
The Ion replica remained where he was. Van and Legretta, who’d flown away with the monsters, and even Sync, who’d been born from the same Score, had shown him no regard.

“We need to go to the Radiation Gate,” Tear Grants spoke.
“But... this boy. He’ll freeze here.”

Anise looked at her friends with reservation.
“Hey...”
Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear turned. “Anise, what's wrong?”

Anise ran up to the replica, seized his hand which shook from the cold and fear, and brought him before her companions. The poor thing hadn’t been given any footwear, and his feet were swollen and red.

“Is it okay if we take this kid to Daath? I don't think he has anywhere else to go.”

The replica shrank back as all eyes turned toward him.

Luke was the first to agree.
“Good idea. Okay, let’s get him to Daath.”
“By the way, what should we call him? ‘Ion’ would be a bit... ” Guy shook his head and shrugged.
“Why don't you name him, Anise? He has grown attached to you, after all.” Tear smiled at her and the replica’s intertwined hands.

Anise glanced at the replica's face, then stared at the snow and thought for a moment.
“I'm going to name him...”

The pure white snow seemed to be a replica of itself, having gained no virtues or sins since its birth.

“...Florian,” Anise said as she looked up.
“It means ‘innocent one’,” Jade Curtiss added.
“Florian. It's a nice name.” Natalia nodded, and the replica smiled at the girl who had given him his name.
“Ani...se.”
“Yes, that’s right. I'm Anise, you're Florian.”
“Anise, Anise, Florian, Anise.” Florian beamed happily as he repeated it over and over.

In the Albiore, Anise wondered whom she should ask to take care of Florian in Daath.

The first faces that came to mind were her parents’, but those two good folks didn't yet know that Ion had been replaced by a replica somewhere along the way. If suddenly faced with Florian, they would be confused.

We're going to fight Van, and may never come back... Who would be comfortable with that?

In the end, they decided to leave the matter to Maestro Tritheim. He would be able to handle it.
Fortunately, when he heard about their situation, he immediately agreed. He said he would let Florian use Ion's room.

“I'll be back.”

As Anise made to leave with Luke and the others, Florian's face showed his dismay.

“Anise won’t stay here?”
“I can’t right now, but I'll be back soon. Wait for me, Florian.”

Their eyes met firmly.

“Ion...”

Why didn't I notice this earlier, Anise thought. Ion's last words came back to her mind.

“You don't have to... watch over me... any more... Anise... Thank you... for everything... My most... cherished...”

The most important Fon Master Guardian, maybe. And...
She didn't realize until he was gone that she also considered Ion irreplaceable. She’d known it was wrong, but she had used him.
Anise waved energetically at Florian to disguise the pain in her chest.

“Anise is gone,” said Florian, shoulders drooping.

Standing in front of the church's entrance, he whispered the name he had just received. He knew what a name was, but he didn't know - couldn't even imagine - what it meant to have one. Until then, no one had needed to call him, and he had merely existed, nothing more.

He stared down at his hand. Anise had held it earlier. He had the feeling that as long as he didn't forget that, this hand would never disappear. He vaguely recalled the way three bodies that looked like him had disappeared on the hot rocks.

They didn't have names. Maybe that was why they disappeared... Through the darkness, a huge fon machine repeatedly emitted light. The faint roar in Van Grants’ ears was probably due to the operation taking longer than planned.

“Take another reading,” he commanded Ahmed.

Hearing the irritation in his voice, Ahmed glanced over at Grand Maestro Mohs. His superior nodded and picked up the measuring device.
Three boys stood in a row on the platform next to the machine. Their bodies lacked even a thread of clothing, white skin exposed. Their slender shoulders, legs, and faces bore absolutely no differences. The first among them was a piece of junk not even worth mentioning. Van and the others disposed of it on the spot.

It was only after the second that they managed to see a replica.

Standing before the boy on the far left, Ahmed first held a measuring device to his vacant eyes to check the stage of the Seventh Fonon chip. He then placed a small piece of fonic circuitry on the boy’s forehead.

“No different than before. This one’s motor skills are too feeble, not to mention his Seventh Fonons.”
“Ugh.” Mohs folded his arms, not even trying to hide his displeasure.
“Does this mean that the original Fon Master Ion is too sickly?”
“No, we can adjust the process a little more. We can increase the steps as much as we need to maintain equilibrium.”

Van reached for the control panel of the fon machine.
Ahmed started to measure the second boy, but the result was the same.

“Ah-” Suddenly, the boy on the far right let out a short cry and fell down.
“Hey. You okay?” Ahmed rushed to pick the boy up, but his empty eyes were unfocused.
“I am okay. I am okay. I am...”
“That's enough.” Mohs stroked his chin assuredly.
“Put the three of them together over there.”
“Yes, Grand Maestro Mohs.”

Immediately, his assistants brought the three replicas to one corner of the room. One of the boys crouched, another collapsed, and the last one stood there blankly.

“Well, I guess it's an improvement if they can speak.” Mohs turned an ironic smile on Van.
“I heard that the replica you made before couldn't even walk. If you can imprint this far, the rest will be easy.”

Van chuckled as he remembered the replica of Luke fon Fabre that he’d left in Choral Castle.

“That was indeed terrible. Even if he didn't have any physical problems, he was like a baby, and he couldn't even chew or defecate, let alone walk.”

He was currently in and out of Duke Fabre's mansion as Luke's sword instructor, but that replica had too many personality problems, he thought.

That's why he has blind faith in me and is easy to handle.

However, this time was a different story. He had to create a complete Fon Master Ion by the time the original passed away as the Score foretold. They would have no idea when he was replaced - in fact, no one would even know he had been replaced; a perfect replica.

Van flipped a switch on the control panel.

“The fifth body is complete,” an assistant said before long.
“Take the readings. I'll continue with the other one.”

At Van's instruction, Ahmed and the others tried to get the new boy to stand on the platform. To their surprise, he bounced up and stood with ease.

“Well, well, well. The Fon Master isn't this agile, however.”
“What are the parameters?” Mohs and Van opened their mouths almost simultaneously.
“As you said, Grand Maestro, its motor skills are very high. But the Seventh Fonons are... the lowest of the five,” Ahmed said.
“What did you say!?”

Mohs was so angry that he hurled the pen on the table beside him onto the floor. The dislodged nib ricocheted, making a small scratch on the fifth boy’s thigh. The blot on his white skin was brightly colored.

“Van, come on--”

This boy was taken to the other three.
With the sixth body, motor skills decreased again.

“We'll try one more for now, and if it doesn't work, we'll try again another day.”

Van decided it on his own and reached for the control panel. The fon machine emitted a low roar. But Mohs was already deep in his chair with his eyes closed. He sat there as if he had no more expectations.

“I'm measuring.” Ahmed used the device wearily.
“How does it look?” Van asked as he approached the seventh body.
“This might be good. Please see for yourself.”

At these words, Mohs gently opened one eye.

“The Seventh Fonon levels are outstanding. Probably as good as the original.”
“However, I'd say this one is quite frail.”

When he saw Ahmed and Van nodding at each other, confirming the replica’s motor skills, Mohs finally stood.

“Ion has always been prone to illness.”

Van looked at the Grand Maestro and said matter-of-factly,
“Then we will use this one. However, as I explained before, we will need to make several adjustments to improve its stability before the original passes away. Please coordinate with the education team.”
“I know what to do. I'll take care of the rest,” Mohs said arrogantly.

He turned to leave the room, looking exhausted.

Ahmed asked in a panic,
“Grand Maestro Mohs. What shall we do with the five bodies over there?”
“Oh? They're badly made. Dispose of them.”
“But...”
“Just dump them in Mt. Zaleho. The problem will take care of itself.”
“Yes, sir.”

Once his boss was out of sight, Ahmed sighed.

“Don't worry about it.” Van smiled slightly.
“Whether you poke it with a blade or starve it to death, a replica will only disappear without a trace when it dies.”
Ahmed shook his head. “I know, but it feels wrong.”
“Well, of course. But you'll get used to it.”

Van approached the five bodies awaiting disposal, gazing at them absent-mindedly.

“How unfortunate. The synchro level was the problem,” he said, putting his finger on one of the bodies’ forehead. The shaking of the handcarts grew loud as the ground under their feet became bare.
The fifth body had been thrown into the first of the several carts that were rumbling along.

“...But you never know what fate has in store for you.”
“Yeah. I guess it's true what they say about heaven and hell.”

A young man's voice. He was the assistant of Ahmed, Mohs's subordinate.

“The seventh one will be the Fon Master of the Order of Lorelei, Ion. The rest of these guys... will die of attrition.”
“Let’s go as far as we can. If they burn in the lava, it'll be over in a second, right?”
“You fool. What if you show such mercy and we get swallowed by the hot lava too?”

The assistants laughed together with muffled voices.

Hot lava, the replica repeated in his head. Even though he was hot enough already, he could feel the air continually getting hotter and hotter.
The cart bounced with a clang. With a clap, the elbow of the boy being dragged along hit an assistant in the face. The man violently swatted it aside.

“Whoa, it moved!”

A voice came down from directly above.
“Of course it moved. It’s still alive.”
“Let's just get rid of it. We're done here, right? Let's go.”

As soon as the handcart came to a stop, a body was lifted up.

“Hey, grab its leg. It’ll be easier if we work together.”
“Roger that.”

The replica curled up at the bottom of the handcart, listening to the men's words with half-lidded eyes. He heard the light noise of something falling.

“You're not very good. You have to throw it farther.”

Laughter erupted from the men.

“Kick its ass!”
“That's fast.”

Soon, someone approached. A hand tucked under his armpit and lifted his body. Another hand grabbed his ankle. When he was exposed to the hot air, he opened his eyes. He smiled at the man's upside-down face. The man rushed to avert his gaze.

“Heave-ho!”

His recoiled body flew through the air.

“If you land too close, you'll get kicked.”

He lurched as far away as he could, landed on the hot ground, and rolled down into the crater. Seeing a large rock, he darted into its shadow. Fortunately, the men seemed to have quickly lost interest in him.
After throwing the naked boys one after another into the volcano, they hastily pulled out of the area as darkness fell. He wondered how long he had been here. He noticed that the darkness was fading.

Hot... Hot, lava...

He couldn't take it anymore as he became aware of the heat burning his skin, and he sat up. He looked around and realized he hadn't fallen very far from where he had been thrown, perhaps because he had huddled against the rock after falling down the slope.

He could see the other boys grouped together at the bottom. None of them had moved. He raised his hands and tried to stomp his feet. The skin was red, but he could move fine.
Just then, he heard footsteps and shrank back. The footsteps were slowly moving back and forth along the path he had taken in the handcart, but suddenly they stopped.

“Are you there?”

It was a deep voice that sounded familiar.

“You're here. All right, come on up here.”

What should I do, he wondered. Wouldn't he get kicked if he went?

“What's wrong? Are you hurt?”

He willed himself to come out from behind the rocks. Two more leaps along the hot slope and he was already on his way up.

“Though I've seen your parameters, that was quite a jump you did back there.”
“...”

The boy wondered what he should call this man.

“Unfortunate.”
“What?”

A quizzical expression appeared on the man's face. Was it not enough?

“How unfortunate... the synchro level was the problem,” the replica repeated.
“Hm, that’s right.”

This time the man laughed.

“You remembered. Is that me? I’m honored, but that's not my name.”
“The synchro level was.”
“I'm Van. Van Grants.”
“Synchro... VAN...”
“That’s right.”

The man who introduced himself as Van squatted down and examined the boy’s left thigh. The wound that the body had received from the tip of the broken pen was still there.

“The burns aren't as bad as I thought. Does it hurt?”
The boy thought for a moment, then said,
“Hurt...”

The redness of his skin was tingling.

“I see. Don't worry, Isotope, I'll have you fixed up in no time.”
“Hurt.”
“No, no, no.”

Van realized the difference between this boy and Luke and became flustered.

“Your name is... ah, that will do. I'll call you Sync.”
“Synchro level.” Yes.

Van nodded to him, indicating the clothes in his hand. “Put this on and come with me. Do you want to go? Or do you want to disappear like those guys over there?”

Sync turned and looked down at the group of boys again.

“I’ll go.”
“That's good. But you’re of no use to me as you are now. You must grow stronger in body and mind.”

Van thought it would be better to get the worst part over with. If possible, he wanted to leave before the sun got too high.
He laid his clothes on the ground and ordered the boy to lie down.

“Don't move, no matter what.”
“Okay.”

Sync rolled onto his back and watched Van's fingertips above his bare chest as he knelt. Van's lips moved in a small motion, muttering words that the boy didn’t understand.

“Agh?!”

A burning pain shot through him, and Van’s fingers moved as if he were drawing something.

“Aaaaaaaah!!”

The burning sensation reached into the boy’s untouched fingertips as well. If he hadn't been told not to move, he would have fled. Sync had no idea what Van was doing, but as the movement of his fingertips became more complex, the pain seemed to spread across his chest and connect as one.

“Ugh... Guh...”

Just as Sync was about to lose his mind, Van finally stopped moving.

“Good. I'd really like to draw a fonic glyph on your back too, but we'll see.”

What exactly is a fonic glyph, and why do I have to feel such pain?

Questions, sorrow, and anger welled up inside Sync in a jumble. But they only swirled around in his chest, and he couldn't say them out loud.

Van picked Sync up and gently dressed him so as to not irritate his skin.

“Look, Sync. Everyone but me thinks you've disappeared in this crater. I'm going to sneak you away with me. If they see your face, you won’t live.”
“Okay.”

Sync nodded, and Van laughed in satisfaction.

“Put this on then,” he said, pulling out a small mask.
“We have all your measurements. It should be a perfect fit.”

When Sync was silent, Van pulled his head back and put on a beautifully decorated mask. It covered the upper half of Sync's face and tapered down to the tip of his nose. Though it exposed only his mouth, it did not block his view.

“It looks good on you.” Van laughed under the morning sun that was coming in.

Sync felt cramped and suffocated. He was very uncomfortable, yet could not complain.

What are these smoldering feelings in my heart? Is it something that I have innately, or is it something that this man, Van, has given to me?

“It's getting light out. Let's hurry up. Come on.”

Van started to walk away, uncaring of how Sync felt. He could feel the ground through his first pair of boots. The pain of his clothes rubbing against his burns and his chest.
The heat of the crater built up inside the mask. The stimulation from the outside world and the surging emotions made Sync dizzy.
He tried to look back at those boys one last time, but eventually decided not to. It was probably more peaceful for them to disappear. Climbing the slope as Van asked must have been a mistake.

As he realized this, new feelings of envy and regret sprang up in his chest. The room was set up deep inside the Daath church. From the outside, one had to break through the multiple layers of records to reach it. Only a limited number of people could enter so there was no danger of pilgrims to Daath wandering in.

“Ion, this is the book that holds the history of the world. It contains the details of how Yulia Jue read the planet's memory as I explained to you the other day.”

Ahmed placed the thick book he had brought from the library on the desk.
“Read through it by tomorrow and memorize as much as you can.”
“Okay.”

The boy in the chair nodded earnestly.

“May I ask you a question? I just learned about the Score. Shouldn't I check the stone on which it is written in order to deepen my knowledge?”
“It is not necessary at this stage. Of course, the original Ion is also aware.”

Ahmed glanced at the clock on the wall and extended his hand to his assistant.

“Comparative data to date," he said.

On the paper he received, the entire education that the replica of the Fon Master would receive was written in a tightly organized manner. It included the geography and history of the planet Auldrant, the doctrines of Yulia Jue, the entire organization of Daath, as well as general knowledge, the practice of Daathic fonic artes, physical training, and all other things necessary for a Fon Master.

I guess things are going well so far.

Every day Ahmed had to report to Mohs what the replica had learned, comparing his progress to the previous day. The same thing had been going on for months now.

Then again, he isn’t very strong. Perhaps we should’ve made another one with more athleticism. I don't know.

But the Fon Master’s passing was imminent. They couldn’t afford to go back to the drawing board now. Since the day they’d decided to use the seventh replica, this boy had already become Fon Master Ion.

“Ion. It seems that the amount of food you are eating is too small. I'm afraid it will affect your health, so please force yourself to eat dinner.”

Ion smiled slightly.
“I don't really want to eat. I don't have much of an appetite.
“Thank you for your concern, Ahmed,” he added. “I understand the matter of the fonstone. I've also been wondering, is it impossible for me to meet with Ion? I think it would be faster if I could speak to him directly.”
“Absolutely not!”

Ahmed couldn’t help but frown.
“No, I'm sorry. You can't. But Ion knows of you, of course, and you will receive your information from him through us.”

“Okay. I understand. I'm sorry I didn't know better.”
“Not at all.”

Ahmed shook his head as if he were out of sorts.

This Fon Master really is calm, isn't he? He is a pacifist and never complains about our cramming education. Not only does he never say a single word in complaint, he’s always smiling. Not that I’m complaining.

He checked the intelligence level in the data table and looked at the replica, who was diligently looking down at his books. After receiving the regular report from Ahmed, Grand Maestro Mohs waited for night to fall and quietly entered the archive room. He sank one of the bookshelves to the floor, opening a hidden passage. After passing through a fonic glyph painted on the floor, a familiar facility appeared.

Although it was a research facility, no research was currently taking place. There was only a modest desk, chairs, and a few amenities for a quick meal, but at the moment it was mainly used for his contemplations. A passage in the back led to an area heated by Mt. Zaleho.

Even if his body is weak, it's better than being empty forever.

Mohs had been thinking about the replica Ion for a while now.

As long as he’s able to perfect his abilities as Fon Master, that's all that matters... In fact, I'm glad he’s not trying to fight me.

The more information they had on the Fon Master, the better they could use him to follow the Score. In addition, when replacing the Fon Master, the Fon Master Guardian would also need to be someone under Mohs’s control.

“Hmm. Then there's the matter of what to do with Arietta.”

Mohs propped his elbows on the fonon-lit desk and pondered this and that.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye. He stiffened and stared into the darkness of the corner of the facility. He heard a sound like something being dragged.

“Who's there?”

Mohs stood up and cautiously approached the direction from which he had heard the sound.

“What?”

This is...!

“This is absurd. How...?”

Fear flashed in Mohs' eyes, but he swiftly spoke up in an intimidating tone.

I thought they said it had been dumped in the crater!

“What are you doing?”
“Ugh...”

The gray lips parted. It was, without a doubt, one of the beings that should have been abandoned in Mt. Zaleho months ago. A failed Ion replica. How had it survived? The replica's entire body was badly soiled, with prominently visible bones. Noticing something in his hand, Mohs peered over.

“Oh!”

He wanted to cover his mouth. The replica was clutching the carcass of a species of mouse that lived near the volcano and occasionally invaded the facility.

There would have been some vegetation if it had strayed from the crater. If there was muddy water, it might have drank it. But I don't think that would have been enough to keep it alive...!

Fortunately, the mouse in his hand was still in perfect shape. At this point, Mohs decided to stop thinking about whether or not the replica had ever eaten a mouse before. The mere thought of tasting a mouse made him sick to his stomach.
Mohs suddenly thought of something and grabbed a loaf of bread from the cupboard. He had brought it in a long time ago and forgotten about it.

“Here, eat. It's better than a mouse.”

He threw over a piece of bread, and the replica gobbled it up.

“Hey, you're gonna choke on that. You don't even know how to eat.”

Scowling, Mohs poured water into a cup and gave it to the boy to drink.

What should we do with this thing? Even if we dump it back into the crater, it's not guaranteed to die...

He thought as he gazed into the same face, albeit dirtied, as the boy's prototype, Ion.

Wait. The new Ion is frail. I could keep him just in case he dies. Even though he won’t be very capable, he looks like the Fon Master. As long as he can survive this kind of urgent situation.

It's just a backup anyway.

Once he had made up his mind, Mohs picked up some rags in the vicinity and gave them to the replica.

“I'll bring you more food. Stay where you are.”
“Okay.”

His hunger satisfied, the boy looked up at Mohs with a relieved expression.

“What happened to the rest of you, by the way? They were all thrown out together, weren't they?”
The boy's lips moved, searching for the words. “Three gone... There were five of us in total, but one of us must have fallen somewhere far.”
“Oh, yeah, that one is gone.”

Mohs kicked the filthy shrew that was lying at his feet.

Hmmm... Van's ineptitude is the reason why he made so many defective products in the first place.
Right, then I'll let him take the blame for Arietta.

Nodding contentedly at the rolling shrew, Mohs returned to the hidden passage. Once he was alone, the replica boy looked around cautiously. He didn't know why he was here.

A delicious-looking mouse had appeared in his hazy, starved vision, so he’d given chase. The path had gradually narrowed, and he’d found himself here. He’d forgotten about it until the man had asked, but after being dropped from the handcart, he and the other three were naked and clumped together.
How had it come to this? How long had they been there, after being examined and discarded?

None of them knew what was going to happen to them. The first change took place after a few cycles of day and night. One boy's body began to disappear. His shoulders flashed slowly, disappearing and reappearing, then disappearing altogether. Soon his whole body was gone.
Then another one disappeared. He and the other boy finally realized that the same thing was going to happen to them.

“...We’re dying.”

They looked deeply into each other's eyes and found each other in the depths.
The heat of the earth seemed to burn their bodies, but they could not sweat. Their tongues were so dry that they could no longer speak. If they’d had memories of living for even a day or two, they would have stood up to escape the situation. But one cannot learn to fear death without an attachment to life.

Eventually, his consciousness faded, and he could only open his eyes intermittently. When he woke up, he found himself surrounded by dusk. In the midst of all this, the other boy's eyes widened and he stared at himself.

“Oh.”

He shouted inaudibly, and the other simply disappeared from sight. The boy's hand also vanished from his grip.

“...He’s gone.”

He slowly raised himself up with the sad, relieved expression that the other had shown him at the end burned into his mind. He looked at his palm, but no trace had been left behind.

“It's empty.”

It was at that moment that he was struck by a mad hunger. He climbed up the slope, failing again and again, and limped towards the cooler side of the ground.

He wandered into a small mountainous area that was connected to the volcano. When he saw that the valley was full of short grasses with white flowers, typical of mountainous areas, he picked them up and silently ate them.
He stuffed himself until he was full, smearing his face with grass juice and orange pollen. The petals tasted bitter, and the hairs on the leaves stung his tongue, but he didn't care. He found some water seeping out of the rock face and sipped it as well. When his stomach was full, he lay down on his back.

For the first time, the boy saw the blue sky and the clear, floating fonstones in the Fonbelt. At some point, he fell asleep, but he didn't dream. When he awoke, he was already hungry.

He felt unstable and uneasy when his body was not filled with food. The boy was about to reach out for the grass flowers again when a small brown animal made a faint sound and ran past him.

“Wait!”

The boy's appetite was whetted and he pounced with surprising agility. In his hand, he felt a warmth that was different from grass. Thus, with his right hand, in which he had lost the other boy, he grabbed the first of the life-giving mice. A rumble of thunder echoed through the forest. The Thunder Blade ripped through the raw wood, creating a shallow depression. Van easily dodged the huge sword created by the third fonon.

“Too slow! Again! One more time! Again!” he scolded Sync.

The sparse forest on the outskirts of Daath was their training ground.

“Kh...!” Sync bit his lip and began chanting again.

“You've greatly improved, and the power of your Reaper’s Toll has increased,” Van called out to Sync, who was breathing hard against his shoulder.
“What's the matter? Aren't you happy?”

Sync looked up at Van through his mask and said curtly, “I don’t see how I could be.”
“Is that so? You can hone your skills as much as you like. I would like you to work for me as my direct subordinate. Let me know what you think.”

Van put his hand on Sync's shoulder and steered him behind the trees.

“It's not that I dislike training, but...” Wiping the sweat dripping from under his mask, the boy opened his mouth.
“I... don't know why I'm doing this training. You've taught me a lot, and you've drawn me a fonic glyph to control the Seventh Fonon to the fullest, but I was born to be a substitute for the Fon Master, wasn't I? I don't need this training.”
“I see. It is true that a different replica than you will take Ion's place, but I do not think that his life will be better. Even if he is revered as the Fon Master, everything will be decided for him - he will be nothing more than a puppet. On top of this, he will have many enemies. It isn't freedom.”
“...Freedom?” Sunlight pierced through the sky and glimmered on Sync's mask.
“Yeah, I may be under restrictions, but I'm freer than the seventh Ion. But what does that change? Don't try to gloss things over. You're only trying to use me as you please.”
Van's eyes twinkled. “I am putting your potential into practice. If you don't like it, you can go back to Mt. Zaleho. If you want to hate something, hate the Score that brought you to life.”
“...Yeah. I think I'll do that,” Sync replied sharply.
“I’m free. You've gone out of your way to acquire me, but it's still up to me whether I live or not.”

Impossible! Van wanted to shout. A replica would consider suicide...? I never considered the possibility. It seems we should have programmed them so that they avoid self-harm.

His decision to pick up the boy from Mt. Zaleho again brought him satisfaction. With him, he could learn more about replicas than he would ever be able to with Luke.

But Sync, I will not let you die until I can no longer see value in you. You can throw yourself to the depths of the earth all you want - I will always come and pick you up.

“Hey, Sync,” Van said, squinting down at the city of Daath, which was hidden from view beyond the trees.
“I resent the Score as much as you do.”
“Huh?”
“I think you and I are of the same mind on that.”
“What do you mean?”

The replica's expression was completely different from before, staring at his mentor as if he were devouring him.

Van smiled at him. “You see that? That is the new Ion.”

Van cracked open the door to the room where the Ion replica was being educated and looked down at Sync.

“Soon the current Fon Master will pass away and be replaced. Learn his face well and never come into contact with him.
“Remember, it's the same face as yours.”

Sync huffed as he tentatively peeked into Ion's study.
Ion faced a group of men who looked like researchers, probably receiving a lecture he would need as Fon Master. He seemed to have a very busy schedule every day, but for some reason, Ion was smiling.

It sure doesn't look like freedom, Sync thought. But why was he smiling so peacefully?

It's because you've been successfully chosen as a substitute for the Fon Master and are being treated well, unlike me.

A feeling of envy welled up in him. Sync cast a quick glance at the furnishings in the room. The other hadn't even become the Fon Master yet, but his desk, bed, and bookshelf were all luxurious items.

Is he really the same replica as me? I can't believe the original data is the same.

At that moment, Ion turned toward them, as if he had sensed their presence. Had Van not pulled Sync away a moment earlier, they would’ve been discovered.

“Don't linger. Let's head back.”

Van didn't miss the hurt look on the boy's face.

“Regardless of what you were born with, you're better than him now, Sync.”
“No need to be a sycophant.”

They walked through teleporters out into the aisle of the church.

“Shh. Do you hear something?”

Curious, Sync stopped. What seemed to be a faint ringing leaked from the chapel.
It was...
Peering out, he saw a girl. Van ordered Sync to wait for him, entering the chapel alone.

“Arietta, what's wrong?”

In the back of the chapel, crumpled on the floor and crying, was Arietta, the original Ion’s Fon Master Guardian.

“...Van.”

With a whimper, Arietta looked up at Van through wet eyes.
“Ion...”
“The Fon Master will soon be healed.”
“Liar!” She glared at Van.
“Then why can't Arietta go into his room?”
“Who kicked you out?”
“Grand Maestro Mohs, sir.”

Naturally, Van thought. He just wants to manipulate the next Ion to his will. If we don't eliminate those close to the subject, they’ll notice when we switch them.

“I'm sure he would like it if we allowed him to get some rest.”
“That’s not true!” Arietta shook her head vigorously.
“Ion misses Arietta! That’s what Arietta is sad about. Ion knows that Arietta feels sad. So...”
“You want to see him.”
“That's right! Because Ion is Arietta’s Ion! Arietta has to be with him in times like these!”

Van stared at Arietta. The girl he had picked up from the sinking Isle of Feres had somehow grown to love the Fon Master.

I pity her, but we'll need to trick her. It pains me that I won't be able to get information through her. But...

He remembered that Sync had hinted at suicide to him before.

I don't know if he was serious or not, but even replicas may try to choose death. It was obvious what Arietta would do if she lost her original.

Sync observed this exchange from behind the massive doors of the chapel.

You're the original's Fon Master Guardian, you idiot. You don't even know the Fon Master is about to die.

His mouth twisted as he stared coldly at Arietta. Just then, he felt a presence behind him.

“What?!”

Spinning around, Sync was momentarily startled. Though he was in a church, two large monsters were glaring at him, emitting a low growl. It was the first time he had seen a liger, but he had encountered and defeated medium-sized monsters in the woods during his training.

“What the... I’ll kill you!”

Van sensed Sync's intent, and Arietta caught sight of the monsters about to attack the boy, calling them back.

“No! Come here.”

Strangely enough, they stopped threatening Sync and meekly walked over to her.

“What a surprise. ...You're keeping them?”
“Yeah.”

Flustered, Arietta looked between Sync and Van. Van did not introduce Sync to her, but said,
“I'll advise Mohs to put you in the sick bay when I see him.”

He exited the chapel. When he returned to Sync, he said quietly,
“You were listening, weren’t you? That's the current Fon Master Guardian. That girl, Arietta, can talk to monsters.”
“Talk to monsters?”
“Yes. Those monsters are more like friends than pets. They protect her.”
“Oh, so the guardian is being guarded.”
Van tuned out Sync's attitude.
“That's the way it goes. I am leaving for Baticul. Don't forget to train while I'm gone.”

And he left in the direction of the Oracle Knights Headquarters.

Once he was alone, Sync slowly turned around. He saw Arietta with her arms around the monster’s thick neck, grinning ticklishly as it licked her.

Even though she was crying just now...

He turned on his heel and went back to his room to avoid being seen.

The room that Van gave to Sync was on the outskirts of Daath, small and without much sunlight. Up until now, he had thought it fine in order to avoid being judged by others. But what did he think of the new Ion’s room he saw today? Despite it being a temporary room, there were no cheap items that would undermine his dignity. His clothes and hair ornaments were, of course, custom-made.

“Damn it!”

Sync threw the cushion on the hard bed against the wall.

What's so different between us? I'm the fifth, he's the seventh... I was born first! Why didn't they choose me?!

He felt he was becoming mad with envy. He struck the bed's wooden frame, kicked over the chair, and lastly flung off his mask. Trembling with rage, he traced the outline of his face with his fingers.

We have... the same face... If you don't need me, don't keep me alive!

As his fingers slid over his cheeks, he recalled the scene in the chapel. Arietta protects the Fon Master, and is protected by her monsters... Sync realized that people spent their lives creating bonds with others by protecting them and being protected in return.

No one protects me, and I have no one to protect. I don't share a bond with anyone.

He was just alive, completely excluded from this circle called the world. No one truly needed him. He had no place to call his own. Sync couldn't forgive the ones who created him. They might’ve blamed it on the Score, but it was humans who relied on the Score the most.

Who should I take revenge on, then?!

Sync cried and cursed his foolish existence, which held no hope for a future. Ion opened his eyes as if he were being forcibly pulled out of a shallow sleep. It was not a pleasant way to wake up, but it went like this every time he got a tune-up.
Ahmed had explained to him that this would be the last time. The original had almost expired and would soon be replaced.

“You can get up now.” Ahmed's assistant held out a hand.
“Thank you.”

As Ion got up, he heard footsteps rushing into the facility. It must have been the Oracle Knights.

“I'm here on an errand for Grand Maestro Mohs.”
“Yes, just wait there.”

Ahmed slipped past the door so that Ion could not see into the other room. When he returned, he had a letter in his hand.

“I don't know what to call it. Who knows what they call this kind of thing. I suppose it's Yulia's will,” he muttered as he approached.
“Ion. I have just received word that the original Fon Master has passed away.”
“Really? My condolences.” Ion gently lowered his eyes.
“From now on, you are Fon Master Ion. It may seem strange to offer my congratulations, but... Congratulations.”

Ahmed was a bit at a loss for words, continuing,
“This is where we part ways. I won't be seeing you again, but please take care.”

He bowed his head.

“Why can't I see you anymore?” Sitting up in bed, Ion was puzzled.
“I was hoping you'd keep teaching me things.”
“It was Mohs’ idea. I will likely be sent to a monastery somewhere remote. We, as well as all those who knew the deceased Ion well, will be replaced over the next few days. So please do not worry about anything,”

Ahmed spoke, and he was sad that they would have to pretend their encounters never happened.

“You were cramped in there for a short time, but you were able to endure it without making a single unpleasant face... With all due respect, I had no idea replicas were... like this...” He choked on his words.
“I would serve you like this if I could.”

The man let out a sincere laugh.

“Thank you, Ahmed. I am glad. If I live long enough, I'll call you back when the time is right.”

Ion smiled. But it was merely to show his gratitude; he was not really attached to Ahmed. Everything had been set up as planned - not only Ahmed, but also the temporary staff, his schedule, as well as his duties as a Fon Master - and there was nothing he could do about it.
We do the best we can at each moment, and when the appointed time comes, we end our lives without a care in the world. There is no room for special feelings.

Ion didn't think he could live up to the expectations of the people who created him. He had thought that there would come a day when he would be so used to being the Fon Master that he would forget that he was a replica. But there would be no such day. Was it possible for a substitute to live as a substitute without a sense of inferiority or superiority? Unsure what to do, Ion stood to return to his private quarters.

This is a good thing. I am the Fon Master Ion who survived his disease.

The smaller the knot between the two strands, the better. He suddenly wondered if there would be a third. But then he quickly reminded himself that it was none of his business. “Nice to meet you. I'm Anise Tatlin.”

The girl who appeared in the office of the Order of Lorelei's leader, Ion, had a rigid posture as she saluted, probably due to extreme nervousness.

“Fon Master. Starting today, I’ll be your new Fon Master Guardian, replacing Arietta.”

Rayold spoke up. He was a young man, also newly appointed under Mohs' command.

“Thank you, Tatlin.”

The girl's expression softened as Ion smiled at her.

“Please call me Anise, Ion.”

Seeing the tip of her index finger buried in her cheek, Grand Maestro Mohs, who stood beside her, coughed.

“I'll do my best,” Anise said, bowing her head and pretending it was all the greeting she needed.

I don't feel well when Mohs is around.

She let out a small sigh so no one would notice.

I'm glad that I'm going to get paid a little more for being the Fon Master Guardian instead of Arietta, but I’ll have to keep an eye on Ion.

Over a decade ago, when Anise's kind-hearted parents had been struggling with huge debts, Mohs had taken care of them, he claimed. The Tatlin family had been at his mercy ever since.

Mom and Dad are working for free every day, and now I'm supposed to be Mohs' liaison.

She glanced stealthily at Ion's face.

I've never seen him up close, but he doesn't seem like a bad guy. I mean, maybe sort of...

“What are you smirking at?”

At Mohs's disapproving expression, Anise came back to herself and shrugged.
Once she left Ion and walked down the corridor, she let out a sigh of relief. But then she heard her name called in a sharp tone.

“Anise!”
“Huh?!”

It was Arietta.

“Oh, it's you. What do you want?” she replied curtly.

Arietta gripped Anise's arm and started shaking it.

“Give back my Ion! Come on, give me back my Ion!”
“Are you stupid? I didn't steal him!”
“Then why am I not Fon Master Guardian anymore?!”
“I...” Anise lost her temper at this point.
“I've told you already, I don't know! It's our job. It's not something I can decide. You know that too!”

Arietta's big eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Uuh... They wouldn't let me into his room because he was sick. And now that he's better again, I can't be with him anymore... That's so mean!”

It's so that Mohs can keep him under surveillance, Anise almost said, but she managed to refrain.

“Ion doesn't like you, Anise. Ion is my Ion!”
“Oh, for Yulia's sake! Are you always like that? Are you sure your name's not Gloomietta?”
Arietta blanched at Anise’s teasing. “Anise, that's mean! I'm not gloomy! I'll never forgive you!”
“Let me go, that hurts!”

Anise tried to pull away from the small hand squeezing her arm, but Arietta was too stubborn to let go. As they struggled, an Oracle soldier arrived.

“Now look what you’ve done, Gloomietta! This is because you’re whining too much.”

Anise thought a guard had come to intervene, but the soldier turned to Arietta and bowed.

“Third Division Commander, I have a message from Commandant Van asking you to leave immediately as it is past your scheduled time.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Arietta tossed aside Anise's arm and dashed off.
“What was that? How creepy!” Anise rubbed her arms, cheeks puffed out.

Why Commandant Van? Did Mohs’ people force him to take Arietta, the girl he'd gotten rid of?

“I'd better get back.”

Anise was curious as to what kind of person this Fon Master Ion whom Arietta adored so much was. Arietta loved monsters, and Ion might actually be much wilder than he looked - but that couldn’t be right. Remembering the Fon Master’s calm face, who seemed to hold no trace of malice, Anise stepped into the teleporter again. As soon as she opened the door to Van's office at the Oracle Knights’ Headquarters, Arietta felt a strong stare piercing her. It was almost like a real wound.

On the other side of the huge monolithic desk stood Commandant Van, and next to him stood his second-in-command, Legretta. In the middle of the room, on the sofa, and by the window, there were four men, all of whom had their eyes on little Arietta.

“What were you doing? I hate tardiness,” Van said in a suppressed voice. It was enough to make the air tense.
“Excuse me, Commandant. I was with Anise.”
“Anise?” Van's eyebrows twitched.
“Anise Tatlin will be with the Fon Master starting today. You’re not needed at his side anymore.”
“I know.” Arietta turned bright red and shrank back.
“Oh, well. It's just as the order said. You are one of the Six God-Generals from now on. Even though we are acquainted, we have gathered here specially for this purpose.”

Van looked at Largo the Black Lion, Asch the Bloody, and Dist the Reaper in turn, then at Sync when none of them opened their mouths.

“I met you at the chapel the other day. You’re -”
Sync paused for a moment, then said nastily, so that everyone could hear,
“You know, when you were crying, saying, ‘I want to see Ion, I want to see Ion!’ But it looks like you couldn't see him in the end after all, because he dismissed you.”
“Ah!” Arietta gulped, but bit her lip and said nothing.
“I'm glad to hear that Fon Master Ion's illness has been cured.”

From his comfortable chair, Dist grimaced at the meaning of Sync's words, which Arietta could not understand.

“Hey, Van.” Asch, the special division commander, who was leaning against the window, clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Are we done? I don't have time for this shit.”

He slammed the window shut.

“Yes, you’re free to go.”

At Van's words, Largo got up from the sofa as well. The two of them swiftly exited the office.

“Well, well. Those two certainly are cold.” Dist smiled at Arietta theatrically.
“I, Dist the Rose, am rooting for you, Arietta. May your precious Isle of Feres be restored as soon as possible.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Excuse me, then. Sync, please open the window.”
“What?” As his name was called, Sync turned around.
“That idiot is the one who closed it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Sync scowled but walked over and opened the window for him. Without thanking him, Dist floated up in the air with his chair and flew straight out the window.

“He’s so inconsiderate.”
“Don't say that.” Van chuckled at Sync.
“If I hadn't brought that man here, you wouldn't be here either.”

Arietta overheard this and tilted her head.

“Is that so?” she asked Sync.
“Did you join the God-Generals on Dist's recommendation?”
“Stop.”
Instantly, Sync spat out, “It's none of your business.”

It was then that Legretta told Van, “Commandant, it's time. We must leave.”
“Mmm. You guys are good to go.”

Van strode off, accompanied by Legretta. A silence fell between the two left behind. After a while, Arietta opened her mouth.
“Hey, did Arietta say something wrong?”
“No,” Sync denied, turning away.
“You don't have to worry about the others. I heard that the Six God-Generals have agreed not to pry into each other's affairs. Like with you and Ion.”

As soon as the Fon Master’s name was mentioned, Arietta's face took on a hurt expression.

“Anyway, you're lucky to be in the God-Generals. Congratulations.”

Seriously, congrats. You don't even know you're being lied to. Sync gave a thin smile.
I'm sure you're all just being used by Van.

He remembered when Van asked if he would join forces with him.

“I resent the Score as much as you do,” Van had said at the time.
“Eh!?”
“I think you and I are of the same mind on that.”
“What do you mean?” Sync had asked in surprise.
“Do you remember Hod?”
“‘Hod’ as in the Isle of Hod? I remember being taught that earlier. The one that disappeared because of the Score.”
“Yes.” Van nodded.
“I'll tell you something special. I was an inhabitant of that destroyed Hod.”
“!!”
“I was only eleven years old at the time, and it's a wonder I survived.” Van's voice was hushed and distant as if revealing an important secret.
“I had a home that I miss, and friends that I was close to. It was war, and I lost everything I cared about, all because they were wiped out as foretold. That's why I hate the Score too.”

Sync listened quietly and intently.

“But what's the point of a life of bitterness if you're going to die holding a grudge? If hating could change the world, I wouldn’t suffer so much. I'm going to eradicate the Score, the Seventh Fonon and all, from this world.”

Having said all that, Van stared into Sync's face.
“Will you fight with me? I believe that replicas are the hope for a world without the Score.”

I don't know what I said exactly, Sync thought, smiling as he tried to jog his memory.
It doesn’t matter anyway. I agreed to it.

He had been picked up and kept alive by Van, so he had no other choice. He had known this and dared to admit it. Both Dist and Largo were probably drawn to the powerful magnet that was Van because of their inexplicable personal feelings.

“Um...”

The reserved voice brought Sync back to himself.

“Arietta is going now...”

He deliberately kept quiet, and eventually she fluttered away. “Anise.”

Ion, who had been writing at his desk, put down his pen.

“What is it, Ion?”
“You don't have to keep staring at me like that.” Ion smiled with a troubled expression.

All morning, Anise had been sitting by the wall across from him, dangling her legs and looking at him.

“But you’re sick, right? You never know when you might fall ill again, so I've been told by my superiors to keep a close eye on you.”
“I've been healed for a long time now, and I don't collapse when I'm here. This doesn't take much energy.”

Anise tilted her head inquisitively.
“‘When you’re here’...? Are you going somewhere, Ion?”
“Well, one of these days. I've been thinking about something.”
“Huuuuh.” Anise looked curious.
“Just to be sure, I'll be with you when you go out, won't I?” she asked.
“Yes, of course. I'm counting on you.”
“Yaay!” Without thinking about it, Anise jumped up from her chair.
“No, I mean, isn't it suffocating to be indoors all the time? I always feel like I'm being watched.”

She rushed to make an excuse. But then she realized that she would have to keep a close watch over the Fon Master once he was outside, and her cheek twitched.

“I'm glad, but, you know...”
“But what?” asked Ion, amused.
“Huh? Oh, it's nothing! I'm just not used to traveling, so I'm a little nervous.”
“I see.”

Ion loved to watch Anise's face as it changed from one moment to the next. From the first time he’d met her as a Fon Master Guardian, he’d felt drawn to her vivacity.
He had heard from Ahmed that the original Ion had had feelings for Arietta. He didn't know if it was natural to have feelings for something close to you, or if it was imprinting. He couldn't say either way, but he was sure that he enjoyed being with Anise.

“Anise, by the way.”
“Yes?”
“I've been wondering about that thing you're always wearing on your back.”
“You mean Tokunaga?” Anise brandished the stuffed animal and held it out in front of Ion's nose.
“Isn’t it cute? It's totally different from the weird thing Arietta has!”
“Ah, yes...”

Ion gently touched Tokunaga's face. The left and right sides contrasted, and there were some rough stitches, which he found refreshing in its imbalance and imperfection. If Anise said it was cute, then it was probably cute.

“Do you play with dolls with this?”
“Huh?” Anise couldn't help but let out a guttural squeak.
“Yes, I did do that when my mom made it for me a long time ago. This little buddy reacts to my fonon frequency for some reason...”

She kept her explanation vague. For some reason, she was hesitant to use the word “weapon” - and to reveal that it was the God-General Dist who had created it - in front of the mild-mannered Ion.

“If you want to play with it, I’ll let you borrow it anytime you want. It seems like it could be good for you!”
“Thank you. But...” Ion lightly grasped Tokunaga's fingers as Anise sat him down on the desk and shook them.
“I'll see you next time. I need to do some research in the library.”
She stood up. “Oh, well, me too.”
“No, Anise, you should rest. I'll be right back.”
“Really?”

After reassuring Anise, who was still trying to follow him, Ion entered the library alone. He inhaled deeply once, as he always did.

I love the smell of books.

It was quiet and smelled of paper, ink, and time. He loved the library.
He walked slowly through the stacks and pulled out a book on the history of Auldrant. It was one of the many books he’d been obligated to read before becoming Fon Master, but he wanted to check it again.
He read through the descriptions of past wars.

War... the Score... The planet’s memory... It’s foolish to start wars and cause people to lose their lives by trying to make the Score absolute when it’s just one option available for the future...

Ion was aware that the Grand Maestro Faction was thinking of starting a war. What would happen to the people who enjoyed the current prosperity if they did so just to comply with the Score? The relationship between the Kingdom of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear and the Malkuth Empire was already becoming more and more delicate. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the spark had not been completely extinguished in the fifteen years since the Hod War.

Ion pursed his lips, “I have to do something to make my birth meaningful.”

How ironic that Mohs, the powerful Grand Maestro himself, would go to the trouble of creating a replica of Fon Master Ion. Ion thought sadly that this might be a good example of how the observance of the Score could lead to corruption.

When Ion returned to the study, Anise was asleep. She was propped up on his desk, breathing softly in her sleep. He watched for a moment as Tokunaga moved up and down her back.

A number of choices for the future...

Suddenly, the thought that he’d had in the library came back to mind.
I don't think I'll be given any choices, Ion thought.
But ordinary people are different. The past that we have built up is what makes us important... Everyone should have an equal right to live the future they want.

He brought a blanket from the bed in his private office and draped it gently over Anise's back. He pondered for a moment then left the office once more.

Eventually, Anise woke up with a scowl on her face. “Mmmmn.”

Something’s heavy... and kind of hot. Wait, did I... fall asleep?!

When she tried to sit up, the blanket on her back slid to the floor.

“Huh, did Ion call me? Oh, no! What should I do?!”

She didn’t know which one of them was the protector.

She hurriedly picked up the blanket. “Huh? Why are there two of them? No wonder it's so heavy and hot.”

Anise's hand stopped. Maybe one of them is for Tokunaga?

“That Ion sure is weird!”

Still, Anise reached over her shoulder and lightly tapped the stuffed animal. "Good for you, Tokunaga.”

If Anise Tatlin was a sudden splash of color in the tasteless days of his life as Fon Master, then Luke fon Fabre was another strong presence that leapt into Ion's short life.

Among his few years of life, ND2018, when he met Luke, was truly a special one. A confidential messenger had come from King Peony of the Malkuth Empire. There was no end to the number of skirmishes with Kimlasca, and a full-scale war could break out at any time on the front lines.

“So you’ll make me a peace envoy?”
“Yes. We will soon be dropping off His Majesty's letter of intent in Engeve,” said the Malkuth military messenger, disguised as a pilgrim.
“The Fon Master's person will be protected by Colonel Jade Curtiss, Commander of the Third Division of the Malkuth Imperial Forces. I would like you to enter the Kingdom of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear with Colonel Curtiss and request an audience with King Ingobert VI.”
“All right. I'll be with you in a moment.”

Ion didn't let him finish, but nodded clearly to the messenger.

“I'll only take one attendant with me, so please escort her to Engeve.”
“Yes, sir!”

When the messenger backed away, Anise, who had been waiting in the corner of the room, pointed to herself.
“By 'one', you mean me, right?”
“I'm planning to, but...” Ion smiled.
Anise said, “Wait just a minute, Ion,” and backed away, squirming.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, you know, I'm a girl, so I have to prepare for my trip and everything.”
Ion tilted his head but said, "Okay. But you have to come back soon.”

He sent Anise on her way. In hindsight, she had already been in contact with Mohs at that time. He’d had a faint inkling that she was doing something wrong, but even when the land ship Tartarus was attacked and the Six God-Generals took him into custody, he continued to deny these suspicions.

Luke had caused quite a commotion when he met up with Jade Curtiss at Engeve and waited for his letter of intent to arrive. Falsely accused of being an apple thief, Luke was ranting and raving beside his companion, Tear Grants. To be honest, he looked like nothing more than a rogue, but Ion’s suspicions were confirmed when he discovered the hair of the sacred beast, Cheagle. The next day, Ion went into the Cheagle Forest by himself and used a Daathic fonic arte to defeat a monster.

Luke had rescued Ion from the enemy then. In a strange twist of fate, they had been working together since then, but if that was Yulia’s will, then Ion thought that she’d had something else in mind.

Before he met Luke, he had rarely paid attention to the existence of replicas other than himself. He remembered that there had been six others when he was born from fomicry technology. He was told that they had been discarded. All of them had stood naked on a table and had their isotopic values measured - and all of his companions had disappeared.

If eight of them had been created, then the eighth Ion might have been even closer to the original. He believed that he had been chosen and survived by chance, and that he had no freedom to choose his future. Yet Luke struggled to better himself, despite the fact that he was a perfect isotope replica that coexisted with the original named Asch, and that his existence had even been determined by the Closed Score.

For the first time, Ion realized that some pieces didn’t fit perfectly into the receptacle of prophecy. And he had a premonition that his life would change its course now that he knew.

Ion wondered if he’d been taking advantage of the fact that he’d been the chosen replica. He started contemplating this when he found out that another replica of the late Fon Master, all of whom he thought had been discarded, was still alive.

Guy Cecil, who was traveling with Luke, Tear, Natalia, and Jade, had been given a curse slot. When he collapsed in Chesedonia from severe pain, Ion examined him and found that he had a scar on his arm that looked like an insignia.
Sync had done it to him the other day, Guy explained in a pained tone. The results of the analysis of the fondisc that was taken from the Choral Castle had been exchanged, and he had ended up tussling with the God-General Sync the Tempest.

“Impossible. This looks like a curse slot...” Ion mumbled in disbelief.
“Curse slot?” asked Luke, worried about Guy.
“Yes. It's a Daathic fonic arte that is applied to human fonslots. It reads information from brain cells and uses the memories stored in them to manipulate people...” Ion trailed off there.

Only Fon Masters of the Order of Lorelei can use Daathic fonic artes. He must be...

His face was hidden by a mask, but he must have been one of the replicas made at that time. Ion was sure of it. However, no other replica was capable of using Daathic fonic artes. His power must have been amplified in some way, and if so, Van could be the only one behind it.

Ion wondered why Van had kept another replica on hand. Was Van planning to replace him with Sync someday? If that were the case, how could he be sure that Mohs wasn’t planning the same thing? There was no way to say he wouldn't.

A replica who was born to be an Ion, yet could not become him. How did Sync feel now that Ion had been chosen as the winner, so to speak? He remembered one of his few encounters with Sync the Tempest. He had never spoken to him face-to-face, but he’d happened to overhear the sarcastic tone of his speech. His cold-hearted and ruthless approach to combat.

Ion's heart ached as he recognized the unfulfilled sorrow and resentment of that replica. At the same time, he wanted to meet and talk to the replica who looked just like him.

“Ion, are you alright?”

At the sound of Anise's voice, Ion came to his senses.

“Yes. The power of the curse slot changes depending on the distance from the user. The sooner you get out of here, the better, considering the possibility of him being nearby.”

As he explained this to Guy, Luke, and the others, he secretly watched the places where Sync might be hiding. But he was unable to find him.

Ion noticed my presence.

At the Malkuth consulate in Chesedonia, Sync thought. Since he’d used a Daathic fonic arte, it was of course possible for Ion to have discovered the existence of the survivors of Mt. Zaleho, imperfect copies as they were. However, something about his form had caught Ion's attention.

He hadn’t done anything stupid like expose himself, but it certainly appeared that something special connected two people created from the same data.

What if I... Sync wondered, as he watched the ship carrying Luke and his party leave for Kaitzur Naval Port,
Ion is hiding his true identity... What if I were to reveal this face under my mask and appear in front of him? Of course, with all those cronies around.

A chuckle escaped Sync's throat. He didn’t care about other people, but that sounded kind of funny.

It took some time for the opportunity to actually present itself.

It arose when the land ship Tartarus was launched to still the vibrations in the earth's core. Sync had snuck onto the landship and erased the glyph painted on the deck, just as Van had instructed.

“I won't let you get away. You're going to drown in the sludge here. Die!“

Without that glyph, they wouldn’t be able to surface. Sync could see Ion out of the corner of his eye as he confronted Luke and the others.

Hmph. You can't even fight!

Guy swung his sword downward. Sync ducked out of the way, as Luke lay in wait at his feet with a Reaper’s Toll. In no time at all, he had cornered Jade, Tear, Natalia, and Anise in the rear of the ship, lifting them high above the deck and slamming them down.

Haha, piece of cake.

Sync struck Luke and Guy with Frigid Blast, before a burning pain shot through his back as Luke slipped behind him.

“Gyaaaah!”

Luke's sword rang out again as Sync took in the image of the wounded Guy. At that moment, Sync felt a blow to his face.

Clang!

With a loud thud, his mask fell to the floor. Sync fell to his knees in defeat.

“You... You’re...!” Luke's eyes widened in astonishment.
“It can’t be. There are two Ions?” Anise cried out.

Ion, who had been watching from afar, walked up and spoke to Sync.

“Just as I thought... You are also a replica of the Fon Master.”
“Wait! What do you mean, ‘also’?!” Guy questioned.
“...I am Fon Master Ion's seventh replica - the final one.”
Luke froze. “You’re a replica?!”

Luke. You never thought there could be replicas of anyone but yourself, you careless fool. What a joke.
Sync chuckled under his ragged breath.

“I'm sorry, Anise. It's only been about two years since I was born.”

Anise gasped as Ion lowered his eyes.

“Two years... That's when I became one of your Guardians... Wait... was Arietta reassigned because you had no memories of the past?”

Look, they’re all so surprised. Serves them right.

In his mind, Sync responded to Ion in a nasty manner. However, the expression on his face was one of pain.

“...You had the closest abilities to the original. Unlike us trash. We were thrown into the crater of Mt. Zaleho because our abilities weren’t good enough. We were still alive! We were alive!”

It was a cry that he had never wanted to utter, except in front of Ion. However, once he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop. The words continued to overflow like a dam.

“I'm garbage, a replica that can't even be used as a replacement! I'm nothing but trash, and the only reason I'm still alive is because Van is using me. As long as I have a use.”

Sync stood up and started backing away.

Yes, and maybe I'm not even allowed to die. Van will have me live a foolish life for as long as he can make use of me.

With each step, the deck receded. Sync fell into the dark sea. There are many options for the future.
Ion muttered the words only to himself.
He had been ordered by Grand Maestro Mohs to recite the Planet Score. When he did, he would surely run out of power and die. He didn’t mind that. The only thing he regretted was that he couldn't save Tear from her contamination.

I should have chosen to live my life a long time ago. That way, I could have helped her. But I was too cowardly to do anything about it...

He had thought he could live and die peacefully as a replica. He had thought it was his true intention, until he spoke to Sync. After seeing Sync fall from the deck of the Tartarus into the planet’s core, with Van in control of his life and death, Ion wept uncontrollably.

“...Ion, please don't cry...”

He was surprised when Anise took care of him.

“I'm not crying.”
“But those are tears...”

Ion touched his cheek and noticed that it was warm and wet. It was true. It was the first time he had cried in his life. He stifled a gasp and stared at the tears glistening on his fingertips.

“I guess I was sad... This is the first time I've ever cried. I understand now... All this time, I had it wrong.”

He thought he didn't care when he died. But that was wrong.

I’ve seen Luke's tears with my own eyes... yet I don't know why I didn't notice it. I want to live on as proof that I am who I am. I'm sure Sync has shed countless tears too....

He must have shed more tears than he could count.

He had been looking for a way to die ever since then. Ion bit his lip. He wished he had realized sooner that only those who had lived to the fullest could meet their chosen death.

Deep in the depths of Mt. Zaleho, which had fallen into the Qliphoth, Mohs was waiting for Ion.

I realized that Anise was being used by this man, but I didn't do anything about it. If I had taken a step forward, I might have been able to save her.

In a cage in the corner of the Sephiroth, Anise could see her parents being held captive. But it was all too late now.

“There is no time. Hurry up and read it,” Mohs said, irritated, turning up his nose.

Ion placed his hand on the huge fonstone on the Sephiroth.

I didn't want to use the Seventh Fonon for this. Please forgive me, Tear. Everyone...

He quietly recited the Score. It felt like a long, long time passed. As his consciousness began to fade, he heard footsteps that seemed like a vision.

“Stop, Ion! Don't do it! Stop!” Luke grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him.

Luke, everyone... I'm glad you're here. Good...

He collapsed into Luke's arms. But he managed to open his narrowed eyes, and his lips kept moving.

“...The light of the sacred flame shall approach a Kimlascan city of fon machines, seeking a way to purify the taint. There, salvation shall be found through the use of a forbidden power...”
“Ion! Stay with me!”
“Luke,” Ion called out to the replica, the same as himself.
“Luke... That was my reading of the Score for you... A single path... among your many possible futures...”

His voice was scratchy. Nevertheless, he appealed with only his breath.
“I know you don't depend on others... but this was the only way I could help you.”
“Shut up! You've helped us out a million times! And you'll keep helping...”

Ion smiled weakly at Luke's tearful face.
“Luke. Don't look at me like that. There are plenty of replacements for me...”
“How can you say that?! Those other replicas don't know me at all! You're the only Ion that went to the Cheagle Woods with me.”

Thank you. Ion smiled.
Yes. I am no one else, I am the one and only me. So I have a choice.

“Tear, come closer...”

Ion's head turned, and when he caught sight of Tear, he held out his hand. Tear knelt.

“I will...take the miasma from your body into my own.” He gently squeezed Tear's hand.
“But, Fon Master, you’ll...”

She shook her head, stunned, but Ion said,
“I told you before. There's only one way to save you. The Seventh Fonons are drawn to one another. As my own Seventh Fonons dissipate, so will your contaminated ones.”

It was the only way. Saving Tear was also a way to repay Luke, a replica who cared about her.
Ion's fingers tightened around Tear's hand. Both of their bodies began to glow. The Seventh Fonons, stained a light purple, separated from Tear's body and went inside Ion. The fonons immediately converged.

“Don't you see? This way... Tear is... safe.”

His heart was filled with joy. He could see it clearly now. He knew exactly why he’d been born into this world. It was not merely to be used as a replica of Fon Master Ion.

I am here now for this instant. This is the future I have chosen for myself, a pure white future untainted by others' ambition. I am... happy...

Right then, Anise approached with her arms slack at her sides. Ion saw her and squinted.

“You don't have to... watch over me... any more... Anise...”

I had my circumstances, Anise had hers. I had a compelling reason to be here. I didn't mean to deceive you. The truth is more...

“Ah!” A choked sob escaped Anise’s throat.
“I'm so sorry, Ion! I... I...”

But Ion smiled gently, as though everything was fine, and kindled the remaining fire of his nearly expired life for the sake of the last words he would ever utter.

“Thank you... for everything... My most... cherished...”

He could no longer make out anything; not Anise's screams, nor the faces of his friends, nor the feel of Luke's arms around him. Ion lost his form as if he were drowned out. The news of Fon Master Ion’s death quickly found its way to Sync’s ears.
He immediately recalled the moment he had fallen into the Planet Storm.

It would’ve been nice if he’d died peacefully. But Van wouldn’t allow it.

After taking Lorelei, a collection of the Seventh Fonon, inside his body, Van had quietly embraced the fallen Sync and shared his power with him. Sync was still worth using as a pawn.

He had to live again.

Ion, I envy you. Even if it means dying a dog's death.

As a traveling scorer, Sync gave people the now forbidden Score and extracted information. Eventually, Van's replica earth would be filled with replicas.

Would this mission last forever? No, it couldn’t.
It wouldn’t be bad if Van’s ideal world came to fruition. But Luke and Asch held the Key of Lorelei. The allied forces of Kimlasca and Malkuth were supporting them in their quest to defeat Van. They would have to settle for the glorious land that emerged.

While working for Van, the man who had put Lorelei to sleep inside him, Sync observed the situation with a wary eye. After Ion's death, Sync felt his hatred for Luke becoming more and more focused.

It seems that Asch has recently approved of the inferior replica... yet the world still won’t accept me?

In addition, Mohs had said that he would have another Ion replica read the Score of the Seventh Fonstone. He had secretly kept another one of the scraps that had been dumped in the volcano’s crater.

Van kept a cool face.

“Even though I'm better at reading the Score.”

He hadn't even bothered to take Sync's words to heart when he’d complained outside the Absorption Gate.

“There’s no need for you to take Ion’s place now that you agreed to destroy the Score. You can return to Eldrant with me and stop the invasion of the replica Luke.”
“...”

Van wasn’t even looking at Sync anymore, likely too preoccupied with controlling Lorelei, who was trying to rampage through his body.

No more... That's enough! Van, I'm already...

Sync bit his lip as hard as he could. The blood oozed bitterly through his mouth.

A glyph appeared on the cobblestones of Eldrant.

“Look out! It’s a trap!” Jade shouted.

But Sync watched as the trap caught Luke firmly by the ankle. The fonic glyph under their feet activated.

“Damn it, we won’t make it!”

Luke involuntarily reached out, calling Asch's name in his head. At that moment, a glowing column of light shot forth. When the roar became more distant, he and the others were protected and safe, as though enveloped by something invisible.

“Hyperresonance... no... second-order hyperresonance? Impossible!” said Jade.

Luke was also staring at his hands in surprise.
“The moment I thought about Asch, something in me just... It was like when I destroyed Akzeriuth... But I think I can actually control it...”

“A second-order hyperresonance... You've got to be joking,” Sync interrupted, standing in front of them.

Anise glared at Sync past his mask.
“Sync, you're a replica, just like Ion! Why are you helping a project like this?”
“I'm not like him. You know that. Ion... the seventh Ion was a naive child. He believed the Score was merely one possible choice for the future. But in the end, he couldn't oppose the Score. Fon Master Ion will die. That was the planet's memory. Your Ion died like a dog.”

He gave a thin smile.
“I hate the Score. I hate it. I was born because the Score dictated that Fon Master Ion would die. You already know that I was thrown away once.”
“That's why you hate the Score? Because you were thrown away?”

Without pausing to answer Luke's question, Sync refuted it.

“Because I was born! I'm not even a substitute like you. I was born a piece of meat. If the Score hadn't existed, I wouldn't have been stuck with this pathetic life!”
“...Are you saying you've gained nothing since you were born?” Anise asked.
“Not a thing.” A strange smile formed on Sync's lips as he answered immediately.
“I'm empty. But it doesn't matter. I didn't care who it was, as long as they would erase the Score - the Seventh Fonon! I may be inferior, but my power of the Seventh Fonon is that of the Fon Master. You would know if I unleashed my full power! Let's test it. You, or the empty me. Let's see which side this world wants to survive!”

Luke drew his sword and stared at the mask as Sync began to chant.

Is this guy trying to die?

There was no way that Sync didn’t know the answer to which side the world was trying to keep alive. Luke was also a replica who had been struggling with the same thing with Asch.

The roar of Thunder Blade hadn’t yet stopped when Guy kicked the floor. In the midst of the flames of Razing Phoenix, Sync casually rested his blade against his slender form. Then he turned toward Luke.

Sync...?

Luke had heard that he was a replica born with athletic abilities that were far superior to those of the original. And yet, he seemed to be asking Luke to kill him, wasn’t he?

Luke, however, wasn’t intimidated. Van was waiting for him in the back.

“Haaaahhh...! Now, die!”

A stab to Sync's heart. Luke's sword pierced through his rather flimsy chest.

“Van... Destroy... Lorelei...” Sync stumbled, his back slamming against a pillar that crumbled into rubble. His mask fell to the ground.

The sound of fleeing footsteps grew distant.

Luke and the others must have gone, Sync thought vaguely.
The blood spurting from his gouged chest spread over the floor. He was about to reach into the scarlet pool when he realized it was coming from his own chest.
From the elbow down, his wrist and fingertips were transparent. They appeared and disappeared like a slow, blinking light.

“Fhuu.”

Sync let out an involuntary laugh.

Finally... I’m finally going to die.

Looking back, he had been dancing in Van's hands since the day he was called up the hot slope.
Lorelei's disappearance would be welcome, but so what?

It’s got nothing to do with me. I don’t care anymore.

His form from the elbow down vanished, never to be seen again.

Disappear, all of this damned flesh. How I deserve it.

Sync was truly happy now. That man would never know how much he had wanted to die.

Everything will disappear... Doesn't that fit me, Van? I'm grateful that you gave me a chance to take revenge on the world, but... but I no longer care what's going to happen next. At this moment, I have finally won. I, who had only kept losing until now...

His arms were already invisible.

I'll finally be able to relax.

He let out his last breath in a huff. With a satisfied smile on his face, Sync disappeared.

There was left a lone mask lying in the rubble, the one that had watched over the replica that hated its own life.

After charging down the boarding ramp of the Albiore, which had landed at Daath, Anise started running toward the cathedral.

“Anise, don't be so hasty, you'll fall! Anise!”

She could hear Natalia and the others, but she didn't care. She could finally return to the path she'd left behind that day for the decisive battle with Van.

“Florian!”

After greeting Master Tritheim, Anise ran into Florian's room. Florian was sitting on the bed in a daze, but he looked up at Anise’s voice.

“Florian, I'm home!”
“Anise!”

The replica’s eyes lit up, and Anise took his hand, happy to see him again.

Same face as Ion...

Anise secretly chided herself for seeing it that way. He knew nothing about being born as a replica of Ion, nor of any other replica, Score, or war. They were alike, but different. They were connected, but not the same.

“What?” Florian tilted his head.
“It's nothing. Florian is Florian, that's all.”

When Anise smiled, he smiled along with her, then became thoughtful.

I wonder why. When you call my name, I become me...

Florian put his hand on his chest. The warmth in his hand told him that he was here.
He was no longer something that could not be named.

My name is Florian.

Muttering slowly as he chewed, he looked straight up.

I'm Florian.