Another peaceful day in the Dino Park lounge.
I was playing with the Water Pig in my hand, pressing it rhythmically.
The tiny, squishy creature let out a different squeal with each press—and that made it unexpectedly fun.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw sothing black slink by.
Hmm?
Curious, I turned my head—and to my surprise, it was another Water Pig.
“?”
I looked back and forth between the Water Pigs in my hands.
Now there were two of them...
Duplication? No—more like division?
I had no idea how it worked, but the important thing was clear: the toy had doubled.
“Gyuu.”
“Gyiiik.”
“Gyugyu.”
I pressed one Water Pig in each hand, alternating between them to create my own kind of lody.
It really did feel like playing a pair of miniature instrunts.
Humming a tune along to their squeals, I stepped out into the hallway—only to find the children trailing behind like ducklings.
[Gyuu!]
[Gyugyu!]
They mimicked the Water Pigs’ cries and my humming, echoing them enthusiastically as they followed.
A long line stretched down the corridor.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of children in a row. It felt like sothing out of a fairy tale: the Pied Piper of Babel.
Except I wasn’t holding a pipe—I had Water Pigs.
I wandered through Dino Park like that, leading the kids in a slow parade, until we eventually arrived at the ecological garden, full of towering trees.
Enormous trees—rare in Babel—reached skyward all around us.
And at the heart of that forest stood two familiar figures.
Riley and Whitey.
Whitey sat atop the Water Pig, eyes closed in deep ditation. Riley was staring up at the massive trees, lost in thought.
Soft artificial sunlight filtered through the leaves and rained down on them—it looked like a scene from a painting.
“Gyuiing.”
As I approached, squeezing the Water Pig, Riley turned and gave a warm smile.
“A! Out for another walk today?”
Riley was a researcher dispatched from Paradigm Directive to Dino Park.
Dominic had never explained exactly why she’d been sent, but I figured it was probably because she didn’t have an implant.
And that made sense—Babel was crawling with dangerous things like fluorescent lizards these days.
At first, Riley had looked a little uneasy whenever she saw . But by now, she seed to have ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) realized I wasn’t dangerous. She’d ward up quite a bit.
I plopped down next to her and stared up at the trees.
Maybe because they were ant to replicate prehistoric flora, a lot of them were absolutely massive.
As I looked up in fascination, Riley began to explain them to .
“They put a lot of care into recreating the vegetation from the dinosaur era. tasequoia, ginkgo, cycad... all plants that dominated Earth tens of millions of years ago.”
“For so reason, they’re twice the recorded size. That’s... kind of odd.”
I nodded along.
Whether they were really from the age of dinosaurs, I couldn’t say—but they were certainly impressive.
“What’s Whitey doing?”
I pointed to Whitey, still perched on the Water Pig.
“Oh, Whitey’s ditating. It does that sotis.”
Naturally, the conversation shifted to Whitey and the research around it.
“Honestly, the company had high hopes in the beginning. Whitey is a remnant of Titan Tech’s self-upgrading AI, after all. If it was part of the prototype that created the Shadow systems, then maybe it would still have traces of transcendent intelligence...”
Riley gave a wry smile.
“But the detailed scans didn’t match those expectations. Whitey didn’t have any of those capabilities left. The final conclusion was that it’s just a fragnt—no more than the leftover personality of the AI it once was.”
I nodded, unsurprised.
If Whitey still had any higher AI thinking abilities, then the children would too.
And in that case, they’d be closer to the smart versions—not the goofy ones.
****
After chatting for a bit, A strolled away again with a carefree rhythm.
The squeals of the Water Pig grew more distant, and A’s figure, along with the long line of children, vanished past the forest edge.
Riley watched them go and let out a small sigh.
It was a tangled mix of envy and admiration.
“Such a free person...”
A always seed to live however she wanted.
Despite being the master of Dino Park, she didn’t care at all about authority or appearances.
She played with Water Pigs, ran around with kids, showed up out of nowhere and disappeared just as suddenly. Sotis it was almost mystical.
Of course, being in charge of the park likely ca with burdens Riley couldn’t see—but at least on the surface, she was the embodint of freedom.
“...I’m jealous.”
At Riley’s quiet whisper, Whitey slowly opened its eyes.
Still balancing perfectly on the Water Pig’s back, Whitey tilted its head.
[You’re jealous? Of what?]
“Oh, Whitey. ditation’s over?”
Whitey nodded, hopped down from the Water Pig, and landed on Riley’s shoulder.
She paused, then spoke thoughtfully.
“Co to think of it... when you destroy the core of a Corrosion Domain, what erges is usually an AI remnant like you, right?”
Whitey nodded again.
“There’s this new theory in academia... that Babel itself might be a Corrosion Domain. A radical idea, but—if it’s true...”
Riley trailed off, turning to look beyond the do.
It looked like a vast expanse of black outer space—but in reality, it was a massive curtain of shadow.
Her gaze reached toward sothing beyond it, as if she could sense the invisible heart of Babel out there.
“...Where would the core of Babel be?”
The wind blew gently through the trees, and Riley stood there silently, lost in thought.
****
One month had passed since the Dreamland incident.
Babel’s nights were no longer a playground for Aberrations.
Inside the command vehicle of Paradigm Directive, Dominic Krilov gazed at the holographic display with a satisfied smile.
A graph showing the frequency of Aberration occurrences across Babel lit up the screen—and the numbers were clearly trending downward.
“The system’s finally working as it should.”
Just two weeks ago, it had been chaos. But now, things were being handled in an organized, systematic way.
Special detectors installed throughout Babel were picking up the unique wavelengths released during Aberration events in real ti, transmitting that data instantly to the central control center.
And the response protocols? Flawless.
The first response unit ca from the BPD’s Aberration Response Division.
Ard with corporate-grade heavy weaponry, they possessed enough firepower to take down most Aberrations in minutes.
The more “typical” creatures—like winged water deer—barely lasted a few minutes in their hands.
But not every Aberration could be dealt with through physical force.
That’s where the second response teams ca in.
Hexa Core Armory’s Circle Energy, Paradigm Directive’s Shadow Technology—top-tier gacorp tech was deployed for those special cases.
Even infinitely regenerating fluorescent lizards or ghost-types impervious to physical attacks proved helpless against them.
And on extrely rare occasions, a third level of response was required.
“The capture unit.”
Because so Aberrations, regardless of how weak or strong they were, simply couldn’t be destroyed.
The only option was to contain them in specially designed isolation devices.
With this three-tier system in place, most incidents inside Babel were being handled efficiently.
And as the Aberrations were eliminated more smoothly, their appearance rate steadily declined as well.
After all, these beings fed on rumors and fear to grow.
Gradually, Babel was regaining stability.
But Dominic wasn’t satisfied.
“Suppressing the symptoms isn’t the sa as removing the root.”
That was why he had personally led a unit down to New China, in Babel’s southern zone.
A faint charred scent floated on the breeze.
Soot, ash, and the acrid stench of sothing organic being burned all mixed in the air.
Once the most glamorous hub of gambling and entertainnt in the south, the district had been reduced to ruins.
During the early phase of the Aberration crisis, this place had been among the first—and worst—areas to be destroyed.
What stood out most was that this territory had belonged to Jinlong Technologies.
New China had essentially been ruled by Jinlong.
From the casino security systems to the street-level surveillance caras, everything had been under Jinlong’s control.
And yet, when the Aberrations appeared, Jinlong had gone silent—as if it had never existed.
Thousands of tourists and gamblers had vanished overnight, leaving behind nothing but echoes of screams and terror.
And Jinlong Technologies had sent not a single agent, not even a single drone.
“Reporting in. Scan shows abnormal readings.”
A soldier approached and delivered the report.
Dominic nodded and signaled the troops to advance.
As he walked through the ruined city, he ntally reviewed the site’s unusual profile.
A location in Babel where Aberration occurrence rates were unusually high. Where gray auroras frequently appeared.
Statistically, sothing had to be here.
“This way.”
They were led to a half-collapsed office building.
It looked ordinary from the outside, but Dominic’s ocular implant picked up faint energy signatures rising from below.
The staircase leading underground was covered in dust and debris.
Soldiers cleared the path carefully and began their descent.
And at last, deep beneath the ground, they discovered a hidden chamber.
“...My god.”
A low exclamation escaped Dominic’s lips.
A massive tank lood before them.
But it wasn’t filled with water.
It was packed—hundreds deep—with blackened, desiccated brains.
As if soone had gathered a massive number of brains... and burned them all.
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