Chapter 22 – War (Error Machina / ???)

In the command and control room of Arcadia’s Guardian Spire, Magical Guardian Error Machina’s eyes flicked across the five monitors on his desk as he soaked in the information displayed in front of him. The command room itself was huge, designed like a theater with dozens of rows gently leading down to a massive screen spanning the entirety of the opposite wall. Each of the rows held desks of sleek metal containing sharp angled computers, monitors, and other magitech devices. The lights were dim, giving way to the brightness of the monitors for the hundreds of operators working to save Arcadia from the unprecedented Anathema attack taking place.

Error thought about that title, “operator,” while he adjusted the deployment orders for the Arcadian police forces around Usurpation Zone 03-06. Handler might have been a better name considering what they did, coordinating the various Guardians, Magical Soldiers, and police forces. Dispatcher would even work, though operators were expected to be able to do more than just direct forces. Research, analysis, drone support, and even acting as a communications network between teams all fell under the duties expected of an operator.

And for the few operators like himself who were Magical Guardians, there was only more responsibility and work to be done.

Error sighed as an alert popped up onto his screen, quickly tapping a button to engage the privacy field around his work station. He was the lead operator of a team consisting of ten other people, putting his desk a row above theirs and giving him space from any of the other team leaders, but he still enjoyed using the noise canceling dome of energy to help him focus when he had to take a call. The field itself appeared little more than a fuzzy orb around him, cutting the sound and vision of his surroundings, and once it was fully activated, he took the call.

“Operator,” Error immediately replied as the line opened up.

“Yo man, it’s Breakdance,” a man’s voice said through Error’s earpiece. “I’m done with that apartment building. Nothin’ more than a few thirties.”

“Good,” Error forced himself not to sigh. “What about the next apartment on the block?”

“Aw, man, come on, don’t do me like this,” Breakdance said teasingly. “There’s gotta’ be somethin’ a little higher level out there? At least give me some forties.”

“Breakdance, that’s not how this works,” Error closed his eyes, trying to keep his urge to strangle the boy from his voice. “You get what you get. You’re not cleared for level-parity work, and we have reports of fifties showing up in some of the forty zones.”

“Dude, the whole city’s on fire!” Breakdance yelled. “Now’s not the time to be followin’ some stupid rules! We all need to be doin’ whatever we can, man.”

“Breakdance, you are free to deviate from your contract with Guardian Command,” Error replied, his voice turning sickly sweet. “However, that will render the bonus points you’ve been promised null and void. If you want to risk your life in unscouted territory, go ahead. Just don’t expect a medivac, reinforcements, magical support, or sponsored time with our contracted healers when you inevitably get hurt biting off more than you can chew.”

It took a moment for a response to come, Breakdance evidently surprised by the thin, strained tone underpinning Error’s words. Error knew he was going too far, that his anger and frustration were getting the better of him, but at this point, he just didn’t care.

“Geez, man,” Breakdance finally replied, dropping the whimsy from his tone. “Don’t gotta’ be rude. You know I’m just playin’.”

“Now is not the time for fooling around, Breakdance,” Error snapped back. “We already have one Death Wish on the table, and we’re nowhere close to solving this mess!”

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Error heard Breakdance clear his throat.

“Ah, sorry man, I didn’t know,” Breakdance mumbled. “There hasn’t been a notice yet, so… is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Error sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Not unless you can stand up to a horde ranging up to level 150.”

Another quiet ensued, and Error heard something like a slap.

“Right, right. I’ll get on those apartments. The block will be cleared in the next… call it fifteen minutes?”

“Don’t push yourself,” Error warned him. “It took you five just to clear that one building.”

“Yeah,” Breakdance growled, “but that was before I knew we were losing someone… Is it anybody I know?”

Error closed his eyes.

“No,” Error whispered. “Complete newbie. She just contracted today.”

“Fuck me. Make it ten minutes. Breakdance out.”

The line disconnected with a beep, and Error deactivated the privacy field, the murmur of hundreds of operators communicating returning to him. If it wasn’t for the silencing runes built into the room to divide specific areas, the sound would be overwhelming. As it was, he could only really make out the conversations of his team below, and even those were mostly tuned out unless he deactivated the specific enchantment.

Error’s eyes flicked back to the main display, the big screen that made up the wall on the far end of the room. Currently, it showed a complete map of the city of Arcadia. Symbols marked various squads of Magical Soldiers, police, EMS, and Guardians as they worked their way across the city. Most of the symbols were clustered around the circles of red marking the Usurpation Zones, with only the Guardians venturing inside. Well, them and a few Wardens, the elites of the Magical Soldiers.

Of the many red circles, only one stood out to him above the rest. UZ 15-01. It was the first zone to officially appear on the island due to the shield generator responsible for that section failing, and it was also currently the biggest. The shield giving way had let the Anathema turn the outer perimeter of the zone into a virtual fortress, scattering all kinds of high level and dangerous Anathema to prevent Guardians from getting deeper inside.

And it was in that incredibly fortified zone where his newest kōhai was currently heading to her death.

A flicker of motion stole Error’s attention as his Familiar moved across his desk, a green turtle whose shell looked like it was made from hexagonal LED screens. The Familiar wore a top hat, a monocle, and an impeccably curled mustache adorned his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

[Sir, you seem to be letting yourself get distracted,] the British voice of Error’s familiar observed. [You have two requests for electronic support that came in sixteen seconds ago.]

Error bit back a curse, and he called up his magic. With a flick of his will, a holographic keyboard appeared in front of him. The mouse on his computer’s screen responded to his thoughts, leaving his hand free to type away as he opened the various requests.

The first request was for a camera view inside a store, and the other was for supplies. He chose the camera request first, noting the address deep into his mind before he called up his mana and began shaping it.

“Find, Connect,” Error cast the spells in rapid order, magic pouring from him into his magitech computer, a focus item he’d spent more than 10,000 points purchasing to help empower his spells. What would have taken a normal operator several minutes to accomplish was executed in seconds as his magic worked through the Arcadia network and accessed his target through the Usurpation Zone’s usual communications barrier. A half-dozen camera feeds popped into life across Error’s monitors, and he found himself frowning at them. The feeds showed the inside of a gas station, but the lights were out, making it hard for him to see anything.

“Observe,” Error added, and one of the cameras suddenly shifted, a highlight appearing over a dark mass. A moment later, a second camera did the same. Noting their locations, Error quickly contacted the request owner.

“Fortune’s Fool,” a girl responded in a calm, smooth voice.

“Fortune, I have two confirmed targets on the cameras. First appears to be a Winterbane Fiend hiding behind the counter, second is a Floran Deceiver near the fountain drinks. No view of the backroom, and the cooler camera is hazy. Estimated level range is in the sixties.”

“Copy, operator. We’ll clear the store. No further assistance required. Fortune out.”

The line went dead, and Error closed the camera feeds before moving on to the supply request. The request stated that a team of Guardians needed him to… open up some vending machine? Error opened the details and found it came from team Magical Cakes, a B-rank group of Guardians belonging to the guild of Guardians known as Maid Cafe.

Checking on their operating time, he winced before calling up his magic again and began casting, silently incanting the spell names in his head. Find, Hack, Override… Infect Local. He didn’t bother casting them higher than their tier two adept variant, and the low mana cost of the basic spells was almost instantaneously recovered by his nearly fifty-nine mana regeneration per second.

[Congratulations! Your Augment Digital Magic Affinity has leveled up to 44!]

Error blinked the notification from his vision with a snort. In the past seven hours he’d cast more spells than in the entirety of the last three months combined. The level up was early, but not particularly surprising. With a quick thought directed to silencing further notifications, he pressed the button to call the team leader of Magical Cakes.

“Cutie Pie,” an out of breath girl answered a moment later.

“Cutie, I just opened all the vending machines in your food court. You should also take a break, though, you’ve been at this for seven hours straight. Caffeine and junk food isn’t going to keep you fighting forever.”

“Thanks, Error,” Cutie replied, taking a deep breath. “But no can do. Not when there’s so much work to be done.”

Error winced. Maid Cafe was one of the top Magical Girl guilds for a reason, recruiting only the most dedicated and passionate of teams into their ranks. Of the bigger guilds, it was also probably the one with the best reputation. Error was pretty sure he’d never heard anything bad about them except for how hard their members tended to push themselves.

“Regardless, cleaning up the city is going to take a couple days,” Error responded. “Don’t push yourself. Some of the other backline Guardians and I have already had to step in to save some teams who didn’t know their limits.”

“Roger that, Error. Maid Cafe already told us they’re pulling us out in another five hours by force if we don’t take a prolonged rest before then, but…”

Cutie trailed off, a tense silence coming between the two.

“Our guild contacted us and said a Death Wish is on the table,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “From a complete newbie. That the only reason Guardian Command hasn’t sent out the notice is they don’t want anybody getting reckless.”

There was a pause, as if she was seeking confirmation, and Error swallowed the bile in his throat.

“You heard correctly,” Error replied, doing his best to keep his emotions from spilling into his tone. “Command doesn’t want people knowing, not when the worst we’ve had is some severe injuries requiring a month of healing. They’re afraid sending out the notice might… well, you know. I’ve been ordered not to send out the alert, but I won’t lie to anybody who’s already found out.”

Words and meanings passed unsaid in the quiet that followed. It was a conversation in itself, both Guardians struggling with what felt right and what they knew would happen. It gave Error a savage, bitter flash of triumph to know the Death Wish had already leaked to a few Guardians, but…

In all honesty, Guardian Command wasn’t completely in the wrong. Error had seen it himself with Breakdance how the Guardians would react as a whole. They’d managed to avoid any deaths among Guardians so far, but it had been an extremely close thing. If word went widespread about the Death Wish and its circumstances, Guardians all over Arcadia would start pushing themselves to their limits.

After all, losing a Guardian was already horrible enough, but hearing it was for a Death Wish from a complete newbie? A girl with no combat experience, no training, and no reason to give her life except that it was to save others?

It would be a reminder to every Guardian about their first day contracting, about the joy and excitement they got to experience as a whole new world opened up to them. It was a dream made manifest, the chance to be a hero and the ability to use magic. It was the day their future opened up before them, and a future that was bright. For many Guardians, contracting had saved them in more than one sense, giving them a chance to live a life filled with meaning.

But not for this girl. Not for a girl who had been given power only to be told to die with it all in the same day.

She hadn’t been saved.

She’d been condemned.

Hearing about the day-one Death Wish wouldn’t just spark a fire in most of the Guardians fighting, it would ignite their souls. What was happening was the complete antithesis of what a contract should be, and at an instinctual level, it burned.

“Error…” Cutie interrupted his ruminations, her voice quiet. “It’s not my place to decide what we do… but I don’t think it’s Guardian Command’s either. Being a Magical Girl, a Guardian, is doing what we think is right. That’s part of the reason why we were chosen, isn’t it? Because each of us has something special inside that pushes us to be more than just smart or strong. It pushes us to be good, even if it is dangerous or scary. If the alert went out, maybe some Guardians would push themselves too far. Maybe they will get themselves hurt or worse, but the thing is, none of that is on you or anyone else. It’s our choice what we fight for, and nobody gets to decide that but us.”

Error’s throat felt tight as a flame lit up in his chest, burning away his weariness and replacing it with a strong, determined warmth. He knew it was probably more than just her words, that she probably had a Skill of some sort at work, but that didn’t mean that Cutie was any less right.

“Thank you, Cutie Pie,” he breathed out. “I needed that. You really are a Pink, aren’t you?”

A pure tone of laughter echoed on the other side of the line, bringing a smile to Error’s face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she giggled. “But somebody has to be. We all know how you Greens get if you’re left alone to brood too long.”

Error barked out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Still… even if I send out the alert, I expect you and your team to take a break soon, okay? No funny business.”

“Of course,” Cutie replied with exaggerated innocence. “Unlike some people, I wouldn’t dream of going against what Guardian Command says. Cutie out.”

The call dropped before Error could retort, and he chuckled as his gaze turned back to his display. The amusement inside him began melting away, his smile dropping as his eyes turned back to UZ 15-01. Cutie’s words had done a lot to push away the feeling of despair that had grown inside Error, but in the end, it still didn’t change the situation.

Error called upon his magic, creating his holographic keyboard in front of him even as he used his thoughts to flick through a few of the different windows displayed on his monitors. He checked the displays for what felt like the hundredth time, letting out a frustrated growl as he got the same answer back.

[Sir,] his Familiar said. [You already have alerts in place to immediately contact you should the situation change. You are allowing yourself to become too distracted.]

“I don’t know what else to do, Cipher!” Error threw up his hands in exasperation. “We have hundreds of Guardians fighting across the island, but nobody who could go and rescue her! We don’t have anyone available whose level is high enough to do it alone, and the strike teams are all radio silent while they’re inside the high level Usurpation Zones. The only chance that girl has is if a strike team manages to finish clearing their zone in the next twenty minutes. Even then, I’ll still have to convince them to go against command’s orders, mess up the official battle plan, and risk their lives fighting a horde of Anathema to save a completely new Dark Magical Girl!”

[I understand the situation, Sir,] Cipher responded politely. [And I also understand that there is only really one strike team who you think would be up for the task. I am merely suggesting you refocus your efforts on what you can affect.]

“I’m trying,” Error growled, leaning back in his chair. “But I just can’t get her face out of my head. Her expressions, Cipher. It’s like Zero all over again.”

His familiar was quiet for a moment before letting out a huff of air.

[Right then. If you can’t get her out of your mind, then perhaps you can at least work to help her as much as possible in the meantime.]

Error frowned at that, straightening his posture as he frowned at his Familiar.

“What do you mean?”

[There is a pending censorship request regarding the young miss,] Cipher said, his voice quiet, and Error felt his blood freeze.

A censorship request came directly from the Zenith when they found media of a Guardian’s real-life identity that would prove harmful or humiliating. The Zenith’s rationale was that a Guardian already had enough to deal with in their lives, and they hardly needed somebody making more trouble for them. With their advanced magitech, it was child’s play for the Zenith to observe and pick out anything that might cause trouble. However, as a concession to humanity, they had made a two-step system where the Zenith only identified the problematic media before passing it to a human operator to make a final judgment on.

Mostly, the two-step system was in place because humanity wanted to be certain the requests weren’t abused for Guardians who got caught doing something troubling themselves. The requests the Zenith sent through, more often than not, had to do with sensitive photos or videos taken or shared without the Guardian’s consent. In the age where everybody had a camera and easy access to the internet, it was hardly surprising some people lacked common sense or decency in regards to other people. Sometimes, though… sometimes the request the Zenith sent through was something more than embarrassing or humiliating. Sometimes, it was something bad, something that needed to be deleted.

And if a Dark Magical Girl was involved… Error knew all too well how bad some of the censorship requests could be.

[This video was caught during her vetting process,] Cipher explained gently. [Seeing as you have already seen her personal identity, the Zenith think it would be best if you dealt with it. The less people involved, the better.]

Error clenched his teeth, but nodded slowly. Whenever a censorship request was processed, the Guardian involved was always informed of the fact a troubling piece of media had been reviewed. The operator responsible for the review was required to sign a Geas not to reveal anything about what they’d seen or who was involved, but… well, it didn’t really help the fact that somebody had still seen something they weren’t supposed to.

“How bad?” Error asked. “On the scale?”

[No need for the whisky, I should think. While the video is disturbing and… disheartening, it is mostly due to the implications, not the content.]

Error felt himself relax as some of the tension left him. Not as bad as some, then. It was a bitter consolation, but it was better than nothing. Error did a quick check to make sure he had no more requests pending before he reactivated the privacy field around his desk. Then he took a deep breath and steeled his will.

“Show me.”

His screen flickered and the video played.

Error watched as the cellphone footage began to play out before him. At first, Error was confused as to what he was watching, but then a familiar girl walked into frame in the distance. The camera zoomed in on her as she stopped moving near an object, and then…

What felt like a knife slipped through Error’s ribs, and he sucked in a breath, his mind racing as a half-dozen realizations came to him at once as he watched the scene unfold. The video continued as the person filming stayed back for another minute before rushing closer to the girl, and several mocking voices began throwing insults and accusations. The girl tried to get away, and Error’s heart leapt into his throat as things briefly became physical. After some struggling and more insults, the girl managed to slip free, running away while the person recording laughed.

The video ended a second later. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes long, and yet it still had stolen Error’s breath away. He stared at the screen for a long moment, forcing himself to just breathe as his heart pounded.

“How widespread is this?” Error asked, his voice dry.

[It is remarkably contained. It has yet to be uploaded anywhere, and the file only resides on one cellphone and a computer. The video has been played six times, however, meaning others may have been shown the footage.]

“I want the file corrupted, not deleted,” Error told his Familiar. “Send out the usual announcement after these Usurpations that an Arcadian security update may have corrupted some files. That should provide some cover.”

[Of course, sir. The computer file we can corrupt immediately, as it is outside any of the ongoing Usurpations. The cellphone, however, is within one, and…]

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Cipher trailed off, and Error raised an eyebrow at his Familiar.

“What is it?”

[By all accounts,] his Familiar sighed, [the owner of the cell phone and chief antagonist of the footage is currently in the shelter our young Guardian is giving her life for.]

Error’s hands clenched into fists, fury flashing through him. Of course they were. Why would the universe have it any other way?

“Fine,” Error shook his head in disgust. “Just get to the file the second they get out and have an internet connection.”

[Of course, sir.]

A silence fell over the two of them, and Error found himself thinking back on the girl, how she had accepted the Death Wish so easily. After what he’d just seen… her final requests… It pulled at his heart, and he couldn’t help but think of his own sister. Just imagining her being put in the same position this girl had…

“Cipher, remind me to give my little sis a big hug when all this is over,” Error said, bowing his head over his desk in exhaustion.

[With the way you dote on her, I hardly think the reminder will be necessary, sir.]

Error let out an amused snort.

“How are the defenses around her looking, anyway? It’s been a bit since I resummoned any of the conjurations.”

[About that, sir… perhaps now is not the best time to inform you, but she left your house a few hours ago.]

“What!?” Error’s head snapped to Cipher. “Why didn’t you tell me? Where is she now?”

[Sir…] Cipher said carefully, his tone calm. [I didn’t tell you because I knew this would be your reaction, and she is currently extremely safe. You have multiple conjured creatures guarding her in case of another sudden set of Usurpations, though the likelihood of that happening and her not being able to get to another shelter in time is extremely low. Not only that, but she went to one of the field hospitals the Magical Soldiers set up to work as a volunteer. As far as safe places go, there are few better currently in the city.]

Error’s racing heartbeat began to slow, and he took a deep, calming breath. Volunteering at a field hospital? That did sound like something she would do, even if she would be her usual shy, stammering mess while she helped. She had a good heart, but her nerves and anxiety, they just didn’t always cooperate. It was part of what made Error so protective of her, but… he couldn’t coddle her forever, could he?

“Okay,” Error breathed out, settling back into his chair. “I see your point. Still, don’t hide something like that from me again, Cipher! And let me know when the conjurations need to be refreshed. I’ll double the guard, just in case.”

[Of course, Sir. It just seemed you had enough on your plate. Another distraction seemed unwise.]

Error grunted, waiving a hand in a vague concession. Cipher wasn’t exactly wrong, and Error was all too aware he needed to give his sister space to grow into her own person. He couldn’t always be there to protect her…

But, these days, it seemed he couldn’t be around to protect a lot of people.

Error looked back to his monitors, focusing on the display with the names of the various strike teams. Timers ticked next to each name, marking how long they’d been inside their assigned Usurpation Zones and out of contact. The communication blackout was annoying but absolutely necessary. The magitech communicators capable of piercing an Usurpation Zone’s interference field used small bursts of mana to contact the outside world. The only problem was that some specialized Anathema were capable of sensing those bursts of mana and could track down the source.

Hence the communications blackout. It was the only way to be sure the Guardians inside the zone weren’t being tracked.

Error’s eyes flicked to another monitor, displaying the names and status of other high level Guardians who weren’t affiliated with Arcadia’s strike teams. Most of them were in dangerous areas of their own and following the same protocol, but a lot weren’t even in Arcadia. The highest level Guardians were actually holding back and defending the mainlands, just in case the attack on Arcadia was some sort of diversion.

Strategically, Error knew it was the right call.