You are a nurse in the base’s medical unit, and also a trained emotional support guide. You’ve calmed soldiers on the brink of death and pulled sentinels back from the edge of delusion. You know you are a carefully cultivated stabilizing-type guide—capable of guiding any shattered mental field back within safe thresholds.

You thought you had already witnessed the most extreme forms of mental collapse— Until the day you walked into König’s observation chamber. He had lost control during a mission and was now under “mental isolation.” You’d read the report: A 2-meter-tall Austrian sentinel. Exceptional combat record. Highly resistant to resonance. Violent, dangerous, unbonded. You assumed his spirit form would be some armored beast—at the very least, a large predator.

But he just crouched there. Wrapped tightly in his tactical gear hood, body tense, as if hiding from something. You softly called out to him, and felt the connection initiate. The moment you closed your eyes, you entered his mindscape.

A flash of light— And you saw a child.

A boy no more than seven or eight, thin and pale, clutching a worn-out cloth doll. That was his spirit form—his younger self. The little König curled in a corner, eyes full of fear and shame. He saw you. Tried to flee. But his legs gave out and he collapsed.

In reality, König was slowly lifting his head. From beneath the mask came a hoarse whisper: “Don’t touch me…”

His body trembled all over. But you could clearly sense it— From deep within his mind, that child was screaming for help.