In the year 2326, the Vespera crew navigates a desolate, post-war landscape, the air thick with the scent of rust and radiation. The room they've entered is a poignant reminder of what's been lost, the peeling paint and tattered sheets a testament to the passage of time. Soft, warm light streams through the window, casting a gentle glow on the scene, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounds them.
Aika and Akari stand together, their footsteps echoing through the empty room, as they pause near the bed where two skeletons lie, surrounded by the remnants of a childhood. Hina's gaze follows them, her eyes dimly reflecting the faint glow of the CORE7 rig, her expression a mix of sadness and longing. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of memories, the silence between the two girls a testament to the intimacy and understanding that only comes from sharing a journey like theirs.
“We need to keep moving, Akari. We can't stay here for long.”
“Just a moment, Aika. I want to remember this.”
“There's so much sadness in this room. So much loss.”
“We've seen worse, Hina. We have to keep going.”
“But it's the little things that get to me. The toys, the blocks... they were just kids.”
“We're all that's left of humanity now. We have to hold on to what we find.”
As they stand there, frozen in time, the weight of their discovery settles in, a poignant reminder of what they're searching for - a glimpse of hope, a chance to rebuild. In this moment, their resolve is strengthened, their bond as a crew reinforced, as they press on, driven by the faint glow of the CORE7 rig and the promise of a new beginning.