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Ramattra stepped outside, beads of water formed on his metallic surface from the morning mist. It was a common occurrence in the mountains in which he dwelled. Another year had passed and it was that day again. The only day Ramattra would take it upon himself to make the trek down to the bustling city of Busan. The day when he would see her again.
To the city folk he’s become something of a legend. On the same day, once a year, for the past hundreds of years, he descends from the mountains to pay tribute to a single statue. They started to call him ‘Sanui Suhoja’ (Keeper of the Mountains), this unfortunately attracted many tourists who were obtusely unaware of the purpose his visits had.
Nonetheless Ramattra started on his journey, the fog was so thick he could see only a few feet in front of him. The path he walked was greatly faded, moss slicked the surface of each stone, crumbled mounds of rock framed the path. Every foot or so there were pillars which used to light the way for visitors, but were long diminished, now they house birds nests and spider webs. Twiggs snapped under the Omnics feet as he made haste downwards.
The water that had accumulated on his surface began to make its way between his circuits and wires, an occasional spark flew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had only one mission on his mind, one that stood with him every passing second, one that he would never forget, never forgive.
Ramattra gazed upon the city, it had come so far since all those years ago. Everything was covered in lights, it was even more distracting than when Hana was its protector. It was as if the city never slept. Ramattra pressed the button of the large metal door that guarded the city from those who intended to cause harm.
“Hello, Keeper of the Mountains. Welcome again to Busan.” He heard from a robotic voice through the intercom as the strong doors peeled open to reveal a bustling street. People stopped and stared as he passed, some even bowed believing him to be a spirit or god of some sort. He did not stop once, he blocked the sidewalk, interrupted traffic, and even almost trampled somebody in the process but he made it at last. In the center of a plaza stood a bronze statue, the area was flooded with tourists. He absentmindedly pushed through them, some shouted at him, but quickly decided otherwise once laying sight to his stature.
Ramattra knelt in front of the statue, both his knees dug into the concrete as his hands rested on his thighs. At the bottom of the base it read ‘D.va 2054-2127, Savior of Busan’ it always made Ramatra's heart ache that the people of Busan wouldn’t remember her name, only by the role she was forced into. The role that made the hair he used to braid turn grey until all that he had left was the ribbon he tied it with. He ached that they never saw the real her, they never knew how much she sacrificed, how much she endured just to be there for them. The commitment that dwindled at her life force, that destroyed her ability to simply exist.
Now he was left to grieve alone. The world he once knew destroyed and rebuilt again, his old friends a memory long since drowned out by his sorrow. He hated humans. He hated how they dismissed and forgot, how little they cherished those who risked it all. He hated the humans standing around him, the ones who gawked and took photos of him as he grieved. He hated the ones who used his grief for profit, the ones who sold food, and plushies he never authorized at the memorial of his most beloved. He hated the news anchor blabbering about his descent from the mountains, telling the whole city to come and see, to watch as his yearning destroys him from the inside out. He wanted them gone, but he could never bring himself to do that. To destroy her life's work. No matter how badly they dishonored her, because the last thing she would've wanted was to see her people die. So he stopped feeling.
He focused his mind on her, and her alone. The paint that covered his mechanical body had long since peeled off. Scratches and dents etched into his surface. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not about the humans, or the scratches, the trek he took, the rain, nor the sparks that sprayed from his circuits in the mist. He only cared for her.
She was the sole thing that filled his mind each and every day, the sole reason he kept their home clean. The game of chess they started but were never able to finish still lay untouched all these years later. He memorized every piece, he still remembers how he planned to win. How he would clear the Nanocola cans off of her desk whilst she was away on a mission. He remembers how he would beg her to rest, how her weight felt as she laid across his lap and finally closed her eyes to sleep. He remembers it all.
It was his curse. Ominics were not programmed to forget, to age, to change, to grow. Hana had granted him the ability to change, to be freed from his hatred, of the purpose he was created for, but now that she was gone the ability was lost with time. He will be immortalized forever the same, like words set in stone.
Quiet taping sounds filled his ears. A water droplet hit his face, it ran across his cheek till it eventually fell from his chin, staining the ground. The people began to leave one by one as the rain got heavier, water pooled at his legs, yet Hana was the only thing on his mind. Even as his hinges ached, as the water drowned his circuits, causing sparks at his chords, he knelt. He knelt with his head hung low, his memories replaying in his head. Over and over again, he remembered how they met, how they laughed and hurt together, not a moment was left unplayed. As his vision blurred, and patches of sight dwindled away, as his memories of his past disappeared within his mind. He saw her face smiling at him, then it all went dark.
A second statue was added to the plaza that day. One of an Omnic kneeling at a long forgotten hero. His plaque read “The Keeper of the Mountains, May your soul rest with ease”. Years later people will attempt to decipher the meaning behind it, just to fall short of the pure tragedy that took place.