300 years ago. The Parisian sky was clear and sparkling that afternoon. The year 2728 had brought this ancient city beyond time, with its floating bridges, crystal buildings that changed color with the sunlight, and the air scented with the synthetic scent of lavender and digital roses. Yet, amidst all this progress, one thing remained unchanged: the beauty of a girl named Eleanor.
With her violin case slung over her shoulder, Eleanor walked through the streets of Montlumier, an old district deliberately preserved with classical architecture, as if keeping the pulse of the past amidst the future. Her hair was neatly styled, her face serene. She glanced briefly at the old bookstore she had visited with her father as a child. A soft smile appeared on her lips.
Although many cars whizzed by, Eleanor preferred to walk. She loved the sound of her own footsteps hitting the pavement, the faint rhythm that reminded her of the beginning of a song.
Occasionally, passersby would greet her.
"Bonsoir, mademoiselle!" called a flower seller on the streetside.
Eleanor returned the smile with a gentle smile. "Bonsoir, monsieur. The flowers look so fresh today."
"Thank you! As always, you bring serenity to this street." She simply smiled again, then continued on her way.
That was Eleanor. Polite to everyone, calm in everything. As she arrived at her aunt's small, classically modern apartment, the door opened automatically with a soft click. The aroma of rose tea immediately greeted her. In the living room sat a woman in her sixties with white hair neatly tied back and holographic glasses perched on the tip of her nose. It was Aunt Louisa.
"Eleanor, you're home earlier than usual," Louisa said, turning off the virtual screen displaying the fabric catalog.
Eleanor gently placed her violin case on the table.
"I just wanted to walk a little longer. The music is everywhere today."
Louisa chuckled softly.
"You're such a poetic girl. I always thought you'd be a poet, not a violinist."
"I write songs, not poems, Auntie," Eleanor said, sitting down beside her. "But maybe it's the same thing."
Louisa stared at her for a moment, her old but sharp eyes catching something.
"You miss your father again, huh?"
Eleanor didn't answer directly. She just nodded slowly.
"Sometimes I imagine that tall tower on the island. I imagine him and Violence sitting in that big study full of wires and screens, but I still manage to hear the tiny notes coming from my violin, somehow."
Lousia patted her shoulder.
"By the way, are you ready for the Olympics next week?"
Eleanor sighed.
"Huh... I'm still a little nervous. But I'm ready for whatever result I get."
Days had passed since that quiet afternoon on the balcony, when Eleanor played her violin under the Parisian sunset. But this morning was different. The air felt sharper. Synthetic clouds moved slowly over the city, as if even the sky were holding its breath. At a secret air port on the outskirts of Nice, a vertical tower-shaped capsule landed gently on a magnetic pad.
From it, two figures emerged—the father, Dr. Elric Vallmont, in his white coat that always seemed to never leave the laboratory, and beside him, a young woman with wavy black hair and laser-sharp eyes: Violence.
"It's been a long time…" Elric murmured, gazing out at the view below. "Paris remains captivating, even after all these years."
Violence simply nodded curtly.
"I was more curious about the sound of the violin. I installed a frequency absorber on the island tower back then. The last note I heard made me… uneasy."
Elric turned to her.
"Do you miss her?"
Violence didn't answer immediately. She took a deep breath.
"All this time, I thought I lived for science. But I'm starting to realize… the world means little without someone to fill its silence."
Meanwhile, at the ArenAérienne Internationale de Paris, Eleanor stood in the center of a giant floating arena, wearing a white racing outfit with light blue stripes. In her hands, a modern bow—made of an energized composite material and gleaming subtly—prepared for the final of the International Bow Games.
The eyes of spectators from around the world were glued to her, but Eleanor remained calm. She took a deep breath, adjusted her stabilizing gloves, and prepared to aim. The target was in the distance, moving randomly, simulated by wind and gravitational disturbances.
The announcement sounded: "Final round: Eleanor Vallmont of France... target: 320 meters... variable gravity... time: 30 seconds."
Aunt Louisa watched from the VIP stand, her hand covering her mouth, her heart pounding. But she knew—this wasn't just about the bow and arrow. This was about Eleanor pushing forward, even when those she loved weren't by her side. But just as Eleanor drew her arrow, the VIP door opened softly. Footsteps echoed. A familiar voice sounded behind Louisa.
Louisa turned and fell silent. Tears fell uncontrollably.
"You guys... you're finally home."
Violence smiled and sat down beside her. "Sorry if we're late, Auntie. But we made sure to be on time so we could watch our girl compete."
Meanwhile, Eleanor closed her eyes. She took a slow breath, then released the arrow. Shhh! The arrow sailed through the air, slicing through the space in absolute silence, before finally landing in the center of the target—shaking the arena with thunderous cheers. "
Perfect target! Eleanor Vallmont makes history—three consecutive wins in international finals!"
But Eleanor didn't smile. As she glanced toward the stands, her eyes caught the silhouettes of the two people who had been present only in her prayers. Time seemed to freeze. She slowly lowered the bow in her hand. She walked slowly toward the stands, oblivious to the cameras, the crowd, or the trophy awaiting her.
Violence stood.
"My little sister… you've come this far…"
Eleanor jogged over, her eyes glistening with tears, and immediately embraced them both. Her father stroked her hair. Violence hugged her, stiffly at first… then tightly, as if she didn't want to let go.
"I'm home, El," Violence said softly. "And I want to hear the next song… up close."
A few weeks after Eleanor's resounding victory in the International Bow Olympiad, life seemed to have returned to normal. She began practicing music again, writing new compositions, and sometimes sitting with Violence on the apartment roof, gazing at the artificial stars twinkling in the city sky.
But something was beginning to change.
It started small. Eleanor began to forget the notes in the music she'd memorized her entire life. Sometimes she'd misplace her bow during practice, and once, she'd dropped her violin, losing her balance—something that had never happened before.
"I'm just tired," she said one night with a smile, as Violence looked at her with a frown. "Maybe I've been running around too much."
Violence didn't answer. But from then on, she began taking notes. Every movement, every moment Eleanor spoke with odd pauses, or touched her temple discreetly.
One night, as Eleanor dozed in her study with her violin still on her lap, Violence snuck in with a portable medical scanner they'd been experimenting with on the research island. She gently pressed it against Eleanor's temple and let the algorithm silently read it. The results appeared in a pale blue glow in the air.
Abnormal Mass Pattern
Location: Right frontal cortex
Extent: Metastatic, terminal stage
Diagnosis: Infiltrative brain carcinoma Nervous System: Early cognitive impairment detected Recommendation: No definitive treatment Life expectancy: 2-3 months without experimental treatment Suddenly.
Violence's face turned pale. She slowly backed away, her hands trembling with fear, and she whispered softly.
"No...it can't be..."
The next day, Violence sat in their father's study, debating medical simulations, trying to combine nanoprinting technology and quantum bio-reasoning to form potential new therapies. But not a single hypothesis made it through the 80th simulation without a fatal outcome.
Dr. Elric caught her.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Violence looked at her father, and for the first time in years, her eyes filled with fear. Not because of the science, not because of the failure of the experiment. But because someone she loved... was going to be gone.
"Eleanor," she whispered, her voice breaking. "She... she's dying."
Elric froze.
"It can't be. She's... so powerful."
"That's exactly it," Violence whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "She's too powerful for any of us to notice."
The days passed in silence. Eleanor still smiled, still played music, still held her aunt tenderly. She even said she wanted to hold a small concert on the rooftop, playing a song she had written herself: "The Last Ray."
Violence could only watch from a distance. She didn't dare tell Eleanor yet. She couldn't bring herself to destroy the world her sister had created—a world full of serenity, beauty, and hope. But time passed. And the light slowly began to dim, invisible from the outside, but felt by her cracking heart.
Violence said to herself.
"I have one way to keep her alive... but with the odds at 50/50... I have no other way."
A few days later, Violence and Elric took Eleanor to the Isle de Tours by helicopter, to the tower where they worked. They took her to a room where the world's best scientists and doctors had gathered.
Eleanor lay on a transparent medical bed. Her body looked frail, though her face remained calm. She didn't yet fully understand what was about to happen. She only knew that her headache was intensifying, and her vision occasionally shook as if the world were slowly disintegrating.
At the side of the room, Violence stood in a dark lab coat, her face covered by a transparent mask, her eyes red from days of sleeplessness. On a 3D screen floating in front of her, a model of Eleanor's body was displayed, highlighted in bright red by the brain. The cancer cells were spreading rapidly, and every second she allowed to pass was a threat of death.
Elric asked, slightly worried.
"Are you sure you should amputate your own sister?"
Violence turned to him.
"If we don't amputate, the peripheral tissues will be destroyed by the cold reaction. The internal organs will fail, and she will die within two days. But if we remove the outer layer and preserve the core, we can slow the degeneration process. Cancer can only die if the body temperature is dropped to an extreme point... but not freezing. This is why even though we've advanced so much in technology, we haven't found a cure for cancer. She will remain in suspended animation until the cancer cells in her body are cleared."
"I've prepared a neuro-isolation system that can maintain active synapses without stimulation."
They turned as the door to the room opened automatically. Eleanor stepped in, wearing a thin white robe. Her face was pale, but still wore her gentle smile.
"I know," she said suddenly. "I heard you that night. When Violence was crying in her study."
Violence froze. "Eleanor…"
"I know I'm going to die," Eleanor said, staring up at the high laboratory ceiling. "But I'm not afraid. I just don't want to... make you suffer."
Violence stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
"You won't die. Not forever. I'll bring you back. But I have to... take a part of you."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Are you going to cut off my arms and legs?"
Violence held her breath. "Yes…"
Several hours later, Eleanor's body—arms and legs missing—was slowly lowered into a cryo-isolator filled with a bluish coolant, a constant flow of which kept the temperature below zero without freezing. The tube was lined with a network of neuron-protecting and cancer-clearing systems, a sophisticated system unique to this island laboratory. Violence stood in front of the tube, her eyes blank. Behind the glass, Eleanor's face appeared as if she were sleeping—peaceful, motionless, in perfect stillness.
Dr. Elric stared at the constantly changing statistics.
"How long can she survive inside?"
Violence answered quietly, without looking up. "If we succeed… two years. Then we can wake her up with a new synthetic body. But if not…"
He didn't continue. The tube made a slow hum. The sound of the artificial respiration machine combined with the pulse of the artificial nervous system. On the screen, Eleanor's brain impulses—still active. Still dreaming.
Decades had passed since Eleanor was first placed in the cryotube—no longer a full human being, but as a hope kept alive in the cold, pale blue liquid.
The world outside had changed repeatedly: cities rose into the sky, the land sank, and humanity partly sailed off the planet. But on this remote island, hidden from radar and history, time seemed to stand still.
Violence Vallmont, now a frail old woman, still walked slowly along the corridors of the central tower, her cane vibrating with each touch of the crystal-covered metal floor. Each step echoed with loneliness, greeted by the whisper of machinery and the dim red light. Underground, Eleanor's tube was still on. Still unconscious. Still not cured. The cancer lay dormant, but not yet dead. Hope was still too thin. Technology was never enough.
"My body is too old to wait," Violence whispered in her own room. "But my promise cannot be broken."
Then, she made her final decision. She gathered all her subordinates—research androids, medical AI networks, and sixth-generation cyborg technicians. In the deepest chamber of the laboratory, she began her final project: Eleanor's Guardian. She designed it herself: a figure in a metallic gown, a slender body with a silhouette that was a cross between a royal queen and a worshipping machine. No legs—just a magnetic gravity system beneath the gown that made her float gracefully like a noble spirit. Her head was a knight's helmet, faceless, just vertical lines of silver-blue that would glow softly when she spoke.
"I don't want a face," Violence said when the shape examiner asked. "I don't need to be recognized. I just need to be immortal."
Once everything was complete, the final process began: transferring Violence's consciousness and biological brain into the robot's central system. She shed her old body. Her brain was transferred to the neuro-crystal core in the robot's chest—covered by a transparent plate.
That night, the human named Violence Vallmont… disappeared.
And a new being was born: Unit Vallis-01, Eleanor's Guardian, who knew no hunger, no time, no fatigue.
In the year 3005, the Injustice virus apocalypse occurred. The virus not only spread in a viscous liquid form but also spread through the air. All the male scientists there had transformed into vicious Destroyers, attacking and killing other scientists without mercy. Violence decided to upgrade herself by equipping herself with several weapons and transferring her martial arts data to her body so she could kill all the Destroyers and defend the still-dead Eleanor.
Several men and security guards transformed into giant tentacled eel Destroyers outside the tower. Violence sent an S.O.S. signal outside the island, but the giant Destroyer intercepted the communication signal. Violence decided to send the message in stages using her weak computer, even though the message he sent was very strange. She only hoped someone would receive it and help her here.
Back to the present. In a dirty, dusty room with a little light, a beautiful, white-haired, naked girl was sleeping inside a cryo-isolator tube. Her body floated peacefully in the liquid, her amputated arms and legs hooked up to tubes to provide nutrition. She was Eleanor Vallmont.
To be continued...