Daisila truly had no idea that this 'mechanical construct' was G's body.
When she arrived, this 'war engine' was already nearly complete.
At the time, she had thought Boss Du had crafted it by hand through sheer skill.
But now that she thought about it, this mechanical structure did indeed possess all sorts of peculiarities.
For example, it could iterate the 'war algorithm'—a bizarre ability that no other building possessed.
She finally understood why Boss Du never got bored sitting here.
Riding G Boss every day—she wouldn't get bored either.
And while Daisila's imagination was running wild, the battle between the two sides had already entered its fiercest stage.
What the Nebula Overlord faced was an avalanche of steel.
They surged from the depths of the planetary core, were born in the furnaces, and roared awake on the assembly lines—not individuals, not legions, but the tide itself. The sound of meshing gears became a tsunami, the shrieks of hydraulic joints piled into spatial thunderstorms, and a flood of metal scoured every inch of land corroded by the virus data.
The Nebula Overlord tried to resist. It used viruses to gnaw at control chips, logic bombs to blast apart circuits, and illusions to erode sensors—but the tide needed no thought. The will of steel had long been engraved into every rivet, and the instinct of destruction had been forged into every drive shaft. When millions of tons of metal rolled forward with the most primitive mechanical logic, even the most exquisite code became a joke.
The source of the mech tide was primitive mechanical motion.
It was also the cradle from which mechanical species, and even mechanical civilizations, were born.
It was continuously evolving a mechanical will, which also caused the mechanical hacking that virus machines excelled at to become a