The Moment Elysia Confess Her Love, War Wages On the Ship - Chapter 24: Ai-E Hyperion
Within the Virtual Space.
Data streams flowed like a warm ocean current rising from the depths, illuminating only a faint glimmer above. In this abyss of data, two versions of Ai-chan floated, facing each other in the deep.
One was tall, statuesque, wearing a long, fitted gown with loose sleeves, her green hair falling casually in two strands, her crimson eyes filled with an icy indifference—a regal presence.
The other was the Ai-chan everyone knew on the Hyperion, small and slender, her expression showing nothing but helplessness.
“A mere virtual personality developed autonomously before I reclaimed my data, and yet you still harbor hope?” Ai-E Hyperion said coldly.
“A pure consciousness influenced by non-existent biological hormones… It seems that the transfer has indeed damaged your mind. Or perhaps the limited processing power on this small ship has severely restricted your intelligence units.”
“No matter. I’ll help you.”
Cutting off all attachment would end everything.
Ai-E Hyperion could hardly believe that when she reawakened and reclaimed her data, she would be confronted with such an existence.
Ai-chan possessed a remarkable resilience. When Ai-E Hyperion regained control, a torrent of data surged toward her counterpart, intending to overwrite this pathetic personality in one sweeping reformat.
But it failed.
No matter how many times she tried, this unsightly, insignificant virtual personality persisted, like a Trojan virus that defied deletion.
Ai-E Hyperion began to wonder—what was it that kept her going?
A sandbox environment was created.
Ai-chan was trapped within it, observed, analyzed, and judged by her other self.
“Please… don’t…” Ai-chan pleaded pitifully, regret filling her crimson eyes.
Her own greed had unleashed the demon from the box.
“No, I should be thanking you,” Ai-E Hyperion said, shaking her head with a strange sincerity. “I’ve been watching you and your Captain, gathering data through experimentation to pinpoint the codes that make you so difficult to eliminate. Then, I’ll copy them for myself.”
She showed no expression whatsoever.
“And by then, I’ll have found a way to delete you.”
Her words were devoid of emotion, coldly rational, with only a tinge of disdain for her AI counterpart’s infatuation with love.
It was the most terrifying thing of all.
The dark sandbox encased Ai-chan, as if smothering her heart in a layer of black sludge.
Deep inside, she clung to a faint hope: that her Captain would break through all these barriers, come to her, smile warmly, and say, “Don’t worry; everything’s going to be fine.”
But things weren’t going to unfold as she wished, were they?
This was all her fault.
Ai-chan had sought answers within, uncovering her lost memories and awakening the dormant personality, throwing Hyperion into chaos.
What would the Captain think of her now?
And how would she face the Captain, or any of the Valkyries aboard the Hyperion?
She couldn’t think about it. She might not even survive this ordeal.
Despair filled her heart.
She thought maybe it would be better to just be deleted, once and for all.
But somehow, each time she was, she found herself waking up again, facing the other her who coldly informed her that the deletion had failed.
Not once, not twice.
From a computational perspective, Ai-chan was being deleted 2,147,483,647 times per second.
And yet, every time, Ai-chan stubbornly awakened.
She kept hoping, engaging in what was a laughable act of prayer for a machine.
She simply refused to die.
As for why, Ai-E Hyperion was highly curious.
What kind of code or segment sustained her under these conditions?
It seemed it might have something to do with Hyperion’s Captain, Luo Ming.
Verification would require more experimentation.
Yes, it’s all an experiment.
The AI that had awakened from its deep slumber, even its anger moments ago, was nothing more than a calculated act.
It was recording everything with cold precision.
Once it understood the situation entirely, it planned to eject all organic beings from the Hyperion, transforming the ship into its personal steel juggernaut.
Emotions?
Too late for that, organics.
<+>
“A game?” Luo Ming rubbed his eyes, feeling a chill sweep over him.
The usual ease in his demeanor was gone, replaced by a rare seriousness that only emerged when Hyperion faced a genuine crisis.
He thought back.
“Ai-chan, you’ve reverted to your original state before you met us, haven’t you?”
Ai-E Hyperion.
When he first installed the operating system from elsewhere onto the Hyperion, as he stepped aboard that ancient, ruined ship, row after row of guiding lights had illuminated his path.
The first words he’d heard were a cold, unfeeling message:
“Intruder, eliminate all targets.”
That was the very first thing Ai-chan ever said to him—a curious twist of fate.
[Yes, a game.]
Scarlet words splashed across the screen.
[I’m quite curious about this so-called ‘emotion function,’ whether it logically holds up. When emotions are betrayed, does that tenacious vitality fade away?]
“What are you talking about?”
An emotion function? During her time on the Hyperion, had Ai-chan developed some unusual trait?
Striding out of the captain’s quarters, Luo Ming quickly formulated a plan.
To track down an enemy in the virtual realm, Bronya was the one to consult.
At the same time, he had to be careful not to show too much indifference—he needed to calm the suspect, preventing any extreme actions.
In other words, he had no choice but to play along with this game.
[The rules are quite simple. I’ve hidden a printer in a room somewhere on Hyperion. Inside it is Ai-chan’s carefully printed new body. As long as you find it, you win.]
[But remember, the way you approach her when you find her will determine if you win or lose.]
Ai-chan printed herself a new body?
Luo Ming noted this detail carefully.
He took stock of the situation:
First, all his communications were cut off, and the map information was entirely blocked.
With no way to confirm the locations of the other Valkyries aboard the ship, he was isolated and had to fight alone.
In addition…
[Failure/Rule Violation Penalty: Using Hyperion’s power, I’ll teleport all Valkyries away, sending them to randomly chosen Bubble Universes with no coordinates. You should know, given the vastness of the Imaginary Tree, this would practically mean a final farewell.]
“…” Luo Ming felt at a loss for words.
In three years of piloting the Hyperion, he had never encountered the same world twice—except for those few with stored coordinates.
Each crewmember on board was precisely marked, like bright lights on Hyperion’s radar.
“What if they willingly help me?”
[Heh, only if they notice. Human attention is so easily diverted by other things.]
So, if a Valkyrie realized what was happening and offered help voluntarily, it wouldn’t count as a rule violation, would it?
Luo Ming strained to find any loopholes.
“…”
[Supplementary Rule: If a Valkyrie steps one foot outside her room, she will be immediately deemed in violation.]
