My Players Are So Fierce – Handsome dog Frank

Chapter 2729 - 910: Monica and Mosna – All Good and Bad Forgotten, All Past Emptied

Murphy toyed with the Sentinel Lightsaber in his hand and said:

"I have prepared a faith contract for you. Upon its conclusion, you will gain unprecedented freedom, but the premise is, you must take practical action for this generosity.

This is destined to be a difficult battle.

So my advice to you is to fight bravely, to show Old Su Head your potential, and not to make me regret this decision.

Werewolves, you will step onto the battlefield under the guidance of vampires. Are you ready?"

"Of course, my lord, ’Benefactor’."

A strong and wild female werewolf raised her head and said loudly:

"We are willing to follow you onto this destined battlefield, and we will never let you down!"

"Very good, then let’s go."

Murphy flexed his neck, reset the countdown on his mechanical pocket watch to thirty minutes, took one last look at Mosna, whose occipital bone was being carefully disassembled by Old Flywheel, and then led the werewolves onto the teleport pad, heading to the battlefield of Klim Fortress.

-----------------

The Sentinels’ memory modules come with upgrade slots during installation, allowing them to switch to new plugins without losing past memories. Due to the uniform standard components of the Sentinel Corps, the data reading of this thing is instantaneous.

The moment Old Flywheel and Little Sheron inserted the memory core into the back of Mosna’s head, even though it was still temporarily shut down, Mosna’s compatibility program had already started, beginning to import the data from the new memory module into the Sentinel’s processing core.

This involves a very intriguing question.

For instance, do mechanical beings dream of electric sheep? Or to simplify, do Sentinels have dreams?

Mosna previously had not dreamed.

Although their design is very advanced, it had not reached the point of simulating dreams through data programs, not due to the creator’s lack of black technology, but because there was no necessity for it.

After all, what the creator needed was a group of determined and brave warriors, not a bunch of melancholic clowns. Besides, in the battlefield against the Subspace, dreams, even in a data bio-simulated form, would become carriers for the pervasive spread of chaotic pollution memes.

However, at this moment, Mosna was pulled into a peculiar "data dream" before rebooting.

In that illusion woven by countless characters and data streams, she opened her eyes to see another Sentinel individual almost identical to herself.

The latter stood in front of her like her reflection in a mirror, watching her with a sentimentality and warmth not belonging to mechanical beings.

Mosna noticed the hidden combat modules on the other, then knew it was a Combat Sentinel, and judging by the special ID only Sentinels could decipher, it was an elite assault-type Commander.

Mosna instinctively straightened her body and said loudly:

"Salute to you, Commander!"

"Huh?"

This reaction startled the other.

Then that guy covered their mouth and let out a crisp laugh, a posture not at all like Sentinels’, more like a truly vivacious life form.

"You’re still so lively, sister. It seems even General Phemis’s personal training hasn’t brought you back to the steadiness expected of an elite Sentinel repairer."

Monica, with a hint of sentimentality, said softly in the data image left in the memory core:

"But that’s also good; perhaps the creator added more wonderful ingenuity when molding you, endowing you with an optimistic trait absent in other Sentinels, making you stand out and become that person always drawing attention, or let’s say, a ’troublemaker’.

Sigh, I am sorry this farewell has delayed for so long, but it has finally arrived.

I am also sorry I can only reunite with you in this ’afterimage’ state. Mosna, after you awaken, you will recall all that happened a millennium ago, but please don’t mourn for me. I have already walked into the most perfect ending a Sentinel could have.

My story has ended, but through a twist of fate, your story seems to be just beginning now.

This perhaps fulfills your dream.

After all, back then on the patrol ship, you kept whining about how boring the Subspace was, wanting to see the material world crafted by the creator.

Sister, cherish this journey.

In the tortures within Subspace, I obtained some precious things, and I left them for you, allowing you to truly feel joy, excitement, anticipation, and the sense of dreams.

You might become a real ’person’, and not just a tool.

Maybe this is also what the creator wishes to see. He crafted this world not just for those exiles; it will also become our home.

Do not cry for me, Mosna.

I will always be with you until the end of this road..."

The phantom walked in front of the bewildered Mosna, reached out to touch her cheek, and in the dispersing digital pixels left a final farewell kiss on her sister’s forehead.

"You should wake up now, go, embrace your new life, see for me that perhaps not bright but definitely worth fighting for future..."

In the lingering echo, Mosna’s system reboot was completed. When she opened her eyes, the intense data stream rapidly oscillated in her mind, even sparking dangerous sparks from her many chips. Amid this machine-specific "romance", she recalled those memory data she had deleted, of course, the event involving over a thousand years ago recorded from Monica’s perspective.

"The subspace rift is nearing out of control! The squad suffered heavy losses, the corps front is also besieged by subspace shadows, and the headquarters cannot send more warriors... Monica! It’s just us two now; we must suppress the re-expansion of this rift..."

"Fix the base’s Energy Bay, sister, I brought this strange module; that vampire councilor told me before losing his memory, this thing they created can suppress Chaotic Power..."

"No! Its positioning beacon is damaged; we cannot accurately lock onto the core node! Damn, we don’t have a standard Hyperdimensional Beacon... Monica! What are you doing? Come back!"

"I can jump over there, sister, use my Hyperdimensional radar signal to replace the positioning signal, I am a Combat Sentinel, I have anti-subspace and purification modules, I can hold on longer."

"I won’t allow it! Come back! We can still..."

"Sister, fix it! This is our last chance; Sentinels cannot betray their mission, the creator’s eyes are on us."

"Monica, come back! Don’t..."

"Let me go! You’re not a Combat Sentinel; you can’t withstand this level of chaotic scour, Mosna! You fool, let me go!"

"I won’t let go; you are my little sister. I knew I had to take care of you when we came off the production line together. The creator provided me with an overly active emotion module when creating me.

I know it’s a problem, and I know I’m a troublemaker, but I just don’t want to let you go! Monica... I don’t want to..."

"Beep beep beep... Detected chaos pollution breaching safe threshold... Level 1 alert! Pollution meme in generation... Memory module formatting initiated..."

"No! No!!! Monica... I won’t forget you, I will not forget you, I promise..."

"Be strong, sister; we will meet again someday."

Erratic memory fragments replayed the farewell from a millennium ago, Mosna’s memory froze at the moment when Monica was swallowed by the subspace rift.

She remembered everything, yet she had already missed everything; the belated farewell had already ended before it began.

"I forgot her... Oh God, I forgot... I didn’t even say goodbye to her... Oh creator above..."

Mosna collapsed on the spot, covering her face with her hands, wailing. However, robots and vampires alike cannot shed tears. This is not a gentle world for them.

Next to her, Little Sheron wanted to step forward to comfort her disconsolate mentor but was held back by Old Flywheel. The old Half-body Man, who also had a deeply memorable past, gave Mosna a look of pity, shook his head, and said softly:

"Give her some time. Despair and sadness always require someone to slowly savor before fermenting into hope. Sigh, in this damn world, yet another sad person."