Clones, also known as artificial humans, occupied an even lower position in the citizen hierarchy than naturally gestated hybrid embryos.
They could usually be identified by the black crystalline identification code implanted behind one ear at the time of production.
The clone had no idea what he meant.
Then the man raised one hand and made a brief gesture.
The adjutant immediately understood.
He drew the laser pistol from his waist and fired once, the beam striking the clone directly between the eyebrows.
Not long afterward, the clone’s body was taken to the tiger enclosure kept by the man and devoured until nothing remained.
Alion calmly lifted his coffee cup and took two small sips before opening the personnel roster for the 616 Sentry Tower.
The moment Cyrus’s portrait appeared at the top of the list, a cold smile curved across Alion’s lips.
"Cyrus. So this is where you’ve ended up."
Enjoy rotting in District 616 for the rest of your life.
He scrolled all the way to the bottom and noticed an additional entry. But it was not about a Sentinel -- it was about a Guide.
Name: Bunny Dunn
Age: Bone age, 22
Height: 160 cm
Mental Power: Rank A
Place of Origin: Unknown
Genetic Ancestry: 99.99% Caucasian
Maternal DNA Sequence: Unable to match
...
Beneath the information was a photograph taken shortly after Bunny had been awakened from a cryogenic chamber.
She was wearing a simple white nightdress, looking utterly bewildered as she faced the camera.
Her wavy pink hair flowed down to her waist like silk ribbons, framing a pair of bright, doe-like eyes. They were clear and innocent, carrying a faint sheen of moisture.
Even while staring directly into the lens, she couldn’t hide her unease and fear toward the unfamiliar surroundings.
She looked like a newborn fawn—small, delicate, and irresistibly vulnerable.
Bunny’s features were certainly pretty. But compared with the genetically optimized descendants of Terra’s elite families, she wasn’t particularly remarkable.
If anything, she could be considered ordinary.
It was probably why Bunny had always wondered why every sentinel seemed to be ridiculously handsome.
Yet there was something unusual about her eyes. They were clear, luminous, and completely untainted.
It was the sort of purity that could never have been cultivated amid polluted wastelands, lifeless ruins, and the suffocating deserts of Terra.
Her eyes seemed to belong to someone who had once seen a bluer sky, whiter clouds, clearer lakes, and a world far more pristine than this one.
But that wasn’t what caught Alion’s attention.
99.99% clean ancestry.
In an era when genetic databases had been merged, recombined, and continuously crossbred for generations, such an exceptionally pure lineage was almost impossible.
And she didn’t even possess a maternal DNA sequence.
That left only two possibilities.
She was either a hybrid embryo... Or a clone.
Alion couldn’t imagine the mysterious "creator" responsible for Bunny going through the trouble of selectively eliminating countless genetic traits simply to produce such a genetically pure specimen.
Who would be bored enough to do something like that?
"The upper administration hasn’t sent a Guide to District 616 in nearly thirty years. Why have they suddenly sent one now?"
His voice carried a trace of disdain.
"Have those people decided the death toll isn’t high enough yet?"
Alion set his coffee down. From beneath the shadow of his cap, his scrutinizing gaze seemed to pierce straight through the adjutant.
The adjutant’s shoulders trembled.
"Marshal, District 616 is still an important strategic outpost. If... if they don’t send another Guide there, I’m afraid that group of mad dogs won’t be able to be kept under control."
Bunny had no powerful family backing her and no political influence. She was practically the perfect expendable asset.
A contemptuous laugh escaped Alion.
"They were born with a fate that ends in death. Does it matter when they die?"
The adjutant fell silent. Then, from outside the office, a sharp female voice suddenly rang through the corridor.
"Where the hell is Alion?!"
The office door was kicked open with a heavy bang. A woman in an elaborate, frilly dress stepped inside, a leather riding crop dangling from one hand.
She swept her gaze around the room before quickly locking onto Alion standing by the window.
"Where’s my obedient little dog?" Her eyes narrowed. "Where did you send him this time?!"
The woman was furious. It had taken her considerable effort to persuade the people at the gestation facility to give her a sentinel who perfectly matched her tastes and preferences. She had raised him herself ever since he was born.
He was her favorite pet.
The adjutant knew better than to provoke this woman. She was the daughter of the commander-in-chief, a young heiress no one dared cross. She could barge into Alion’s office whenever she pleased, spoiled and domineering, with no one willing to rein her in.
Yuna snatched the tablet from the desk. The moment she saw that her sentinel had been reassigned to the West One Sentry Tower, her beautiful face flushed with fury.
Smash!
She hurled the tablet to the floor, shattering it. As if that still wasn’t enough to vent her anger, she raised her riding crop and brought it down hard against the desk.
"Alion, you have three days. Bring him back yourself. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you regret it!"
Alion leisurely settled back into his temperature-controlled chair, crossing his long legs beneath his military trousers. Yuna’s threat didn’t seem to concern him in the slightest.
"As an S-rank sentinel, he’s far more valuable there than he would ever be in Central."
"I don’t give a shit!"
Yuna paced around furiously. That sentinel was the pet she’d been most satisfied with training lately.
She raised a finger and pointed it directly at Alion’s face, launching into an angry tirade.
"What are you pretending to be so righteous for? Don’t think being Marshal gives you the right to do whatever you want."
"That little green crocodile from before—I hadn’t finished having my fun with him, and you sent him off to 616. I’ve been putting up with you for long enough!"
No matter how she tried to break that stubborn crocodile, she had never managed to tame him. But the harder a pet was to subdue, the more determined Yuna became to make it obey.
Faced with Yuna’s arrogance, Alion’s voice suddenly turned colder.
"You’re only a C-rank Guide, yet you expect a 3S-rank sentinel to obediently play your dog. If I hadn’t transferred him away..."
Alion casually toyed with the firearm at his side, an amused curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"You wouldn’t even know what killed you."
A 3S-rank sentinel was a living weapon—the very embodiment of a human meat grinder.
If he’d ever been given the chance to break free of the leash, Yuna’s head would have been separated from her body long ago.