People Who Changed the World

It felt like plunging into the depths of the Ice Sea. Endless cold and darkness swallowed your warm body. No matter how you struggled or reached up, you could never touch the faint light receding above you. A crushing sense of suffocation gripped your throat. All you could do was keep sinking until you reached the bottom of the abyss.

In the end, nothing remained. Apart from the cold, all you had left were your thoughts, turning over in the darkness. Gradually, you lost track of how much time had passed, until even that last spark of awareness sank into the dark.

"Begin the will assessment."

"Electrodes activated... recording readings..."

Someone murmured in the darkness. Apparently, it wasn't his time to die yet. So he opened his eyes and returned to this mad world.

Galahad began coughing violently. A little blood spilled out beneath the translucent breathing mask. He gulped down breaths as the machine rumbled, pumping painkilling mist into the mask.

His weary gaze swept back and forth. All he could see were steel walls and a swarm of serpents carved into the steel dome overhead. They writhed together, biting one another's tails. Their black scales were as dark as night, and together they formed an endless ring.

That was the Ouroboros, a religious symbol of sorts. Some said it represented the cycle of life and death, or perhaps reincarnation. In the mysteries of alchemy, it was described as the crystallization of the soul. But Galahad knew exactly what it meant to him.

Infinity. Perpetual motion.

The concept had been proposed by the first director of the Mechanical Institute, the man who invented the great steam engine. He believed there ought to be a machine that, once started, would work forever without needing any further energy. He adopted the Ouroboros as its symbol and named the machine the perpetual motion machine.

Galahad knew little about mechanics, but even he knew that such a thing violated the conservation of energy. It couldn't possibly exist. But, like humanity's other mad delusions, the director had been convinced that it did. So he built the Perpetual Motion Pump atop the Mechanical Institute and pursued his ideal machine, right up to the present day.

"I thought you'd be unconscious for at least a week. I didn't expect you to wake up so soon."

A voice sounded nearby. Nikolai came over at a leisurely pace, holding a cup. His pallid face bore a pair of dark circles, and he walked so lightly that it seemed he might drop dead at any moment.

"How do you feel?"

Sitting down beside him, Galahad tried to move. That was when he realized he was inside a translucent tank, immersed in pale green liquid. Leather and steel held him firmly in place. His fatal wounds were slowly healing in the fluid, while metal-exposed cables soaked in the liquid beside him.

"Like a nightmare..." Galahad said weakly.

Apparently noticing where he was looking, Nikolai continued, "Please forgive us. You were corrupted by the Original Sin Armor. If you lose control a second time, we scientists won't be able to contain you."

Nikolai glanced around with a smile. The people there wore uniforms like his, but they moved like ghosts, making no sound as they walked. They spoke only when necessary. The only other sounds were buttons being pressed and formulas being written out.

There were young people and old, and even someone pushing a huge external life-support machine while working tirelessly. Everyone here was a towering figure in their field. They had pushed the boundaries of humanity's understanding of the world to where they were today.

The Mechanical Institute advanced mortal technology. The Perpetual Motion Pump, above it, pursued the power of the gods.

This was the true center of the world's technology, the center of Inverwig's intellect. If these people died, Inverwig's technology would stagnate for at least ten years.

"So this is your insurance?" Galahad said, mustering some strength as he looked at the cables submerged in the liquid.

"Of course. The Pillar of the Furnace is right above us, and we have the highest priority for power, by order of the queen. If you lose control, all I have to do is pull the switch, and you'll know what it feels like to be struck by Odin's lightning."

Nikolai forced a ghastly smile.

"But it'll be over very quickly—less than a second, probably. Without the Original Sin Armor, your brain will burn to a crisp in an instant, and your whole body will turn to ash. Then I'll press this drainage button, and you can embrace the Thames River."

Galahad didn't like the joke. "Nikolai, you didn't used to talk so much nonsense."

"Shouldn't we offer a terminal patient some consolation?"

"You think those damnable jokes are consoling me?"

These lunatics had spent so long underground that their mental state was, frankly, a little off.

"Fine. Let's skip this unpleasant part."

Nikolai's expression darkened, going as still as water. He picked up a report from beside him, walked to the edge of the tank, and addressed Galahad.

"Galahad, your will assessment results are poor. You've been contaminated by the Original Sin Armor."

"Just tell me the results. I'm a Knight Commander. I know what the Original Sin Armor is made of."

Galahad spoke calmly, unconcerned by the so-called "terminal illness."

After a brief silence, Nikolai slowly read out the figures on the report.

"Your nerves have been eroded by the Original Sin Armor by 47 percent. You haven't crossed the critical threshold, but your nerve damage is severe. Treatment should reduce the erosion somewhat, but only somewhat."

"So the damage from this exposure is irreversible?"

For the first time, Galahad's expression changed. But only for an instant. He quickly returned to his usual impassive look.

The Original Sin Armor was a secret weapon of the Perpetual Motion Pump. God knew how these lunatics had built the thing. It possessed the traits of a Fiend, but unlike a Fiend, it could be controlled by humans.

But, like a double-edged sword, using it meant enduring its corruption, just as if one were fighting a Fiend.

"Yes. Contact with Fiends contaminates you, and then that strange corruption begins to erode you. Once you're away from the source, the erosion gradually subsides. But for those exposed for too long, like you, it can only decrease slowly—and it may even rise again. Once it crosses the critical threshold... you'll begin to turn into a Fiend. At 100 percent, you'll become one."

Everyone in the Purification Agency knew this. But hearing it now made it cruel in a different way: those who fought Fiends would eventually become Fiends themselves.

"But don't worry. I'll suggest to Arthur that he reassign you. You're not suited to frontline work anymore, Galahad."

As if remembering his distant hometown, Nikolai continued, "Would you like me to help you plan your retirement? You could go to my hometown. It's a bit far from Inverwig, but the weather's sunny, and it's a nice place to retire."

Hometown?

Galahad was momentarily taken aback. He'd known Nikolai for so long, but had never heard him mention his hometown. Nikolai was a foreign student, from some tiny place. In his very first semester at the Royal Mechanical Engineering Academy, one of his inventions had knocked out power across the entire school.

He hadn't been punished. At the time, a researcher from the Mechanical Institute was working there as a director. He recognized Nikolai's talent and brought him into the Institute.

A madman had entered a paradise of madmen, and he'd risen through the ranks to where he was now. In Galahad's eyes, Nikolai's life consisted of nothing but inventions and explosions.

"Yes, my hometown. If I hadn't heard that Old Dunling was the most advanced place in the world back then, I wouldn't have wanted to leave home."

"Leaving home... that sounds awfully heavy. Why did you come here?"

"For science."

"Science?"

"That's right, science. Galahad, you're just a brute. I've seen your university transcripts. Your mechanics grades were appalling."

Geniuses were always like this, mocking ordinary people in the course of casual conversation.

"Whether it's a political regime or exquisite swordsmanship, their influence on the world only goes so far. They affect a few generations, that's all. Science is different.

"Everyone in the world enjoys the conveniences technology brings, directly or indirectly. No mere idea or force of arms can do that. So the people who truly change the world aren't politicians or soldiers. The ones who truly change the world are scientists."

His sleep-deprived, vacant eyes lit up. It was hard to believe that Galahad could see something like an ideal in the eyes of this madman.

"So, Galahad, whatever decision Arthur makes, don't resist. If you keep going, you'll only become a Fiend. You'd have very little impact on the world."

It sounded almost like an appeal.

"...What did I do after I lost consciousness?"

Ignoring Nikolai's words, Galahad looked down after a brief moment of confusion, at his body submerged in pale green liquid. He'd lost control, but he was still alive. Galahad remembered the power he'd felt after putting on the armor. By all rights, he should have been eroded to death by it. But he'd survived... someone had subdued him.

"You nearly killed Robin and Shrike, then nearly killed me too, despite the hits from the smoothbore cannon and the high-voltage current."

Nikolai analyzed the battle. His sickly face showed no expression. Perhaps staying up all night for so long had killed the nerves in his face.

"A thirty-kilogram shell could barely make you pause. Even lethal mercury vapor couldn't stop you. And thanks to your rampage, we've learned that all the other Original Sin Armors need to be recalibrated, except Lancelot's. I don't want to have to retrieve you people a second time."

Lancelot.

The familiar name came up again, stirring an indescribable feeling in Galahad.

"He can control the armor?"

It had been a nightmarish experience. Even knowing his comrade had endured that terror, Galahad couldn't help feeling a strange sense of distance.

"That man was practically born for the armor. You Knight Commanders have all undergone nerve enhancement. Compared to ordinary people, you can hold out longer against a Fiend's will—or even ignore most of its corruption. And Lancelot is the best of you."

Nikolai remembered the first experiment. Lancelot had been the test pilot. Once the Original Sin Armor had completely enveloped him, he hadn't lost control. He hadn't even shown the slightest emotional fluctuation. He was perfectly rational, like a cold machine.

Following Nikolai's instructions, he'd completed every difficult maneuver. He was ruthless, efficient, and absolutely obedient. So Arthur had arranged a separate test just for him, and Lancelot had passed with a perfect score.

"You know how special the Original Sin Armor is. It took the Perpetual Motion Pump all these years to produce the first batch. Every deployment requires Arthur's approval, but Arthur has given Lancelot special permission to carry the armor whenever he wants."

"Enough. Don't think about it so much. You need to rest, and we need to wash the residue of the Original Sin Armor out of your body. Go to sleep."

Apparently tired of the conversation, Nikolai didn't give Galahad another chance to speak. He pressed a switch beside him, and fresh gas flowed through the breathing mask into Galahad's windpipe. Within seconds, Galahad's consciousness sank into darkness again, and he fell into a deep sleep inside the tank.

Watching his sleeping face, Nikolai's expression gradually grew solemn. He went around to the back of the tank, where Galahad's body was visible through the translucent wall.

His back was a strange gray. Most of the flesh looked dead, slowly breaking down in the pale green liquid as tiny lumps of flesh sloughed away. The wounds were worse than Nikolai had let on.

"We've removed the areas that had fused with the Original Sin Armor. Judging by his neural activity during the conversation, Galahad's level of corruption is stable."

An assistant came over. He'd been recording the readings in that dark corner ever since Galahad woke up.

"Pretty bad..." Nikolai knew exactly what the Original Sin Armor was made of. Being fused with something like that was practically the same as partial transformation into a Fiend. But they'd managed to save Galahad. Otherwise, he'd have ended up in the Perpetual Motion Pump's incinerator.

"Give the report to Arthur. He can decide what to do with Galahad."

As he spoke, Nikolai signed his name on the report. After writing the first half, he seemed to remember he'd forgotten something. He rummaged through his pockets for a long while before finally finding his nameplate. No wonder Shrike called this place a den of lunatics. They were so busy enjoying their madness that they couldn't even remember their own names.

He raised his pen, but it stopped in midair. Nikolai stood frozen like a statue, staring at the figure inside the tank.

Once Galahad left the front lines, he'd never be able to return to the battlefield. Nikolai had traded away most of his emotional intelligence for intelligence, but he knew this would be a blow to Galahad. And Nikolai was partly to blame. If not for his experiment, perhaps Galahad would have been fine.

As if trying to console both himself and Galahad, he murmured, "So one person can't change the world. But I'm different, Galahad.

"I'm a scientist. I'm destined to change the world."

As the words fell, a bolt of lightning several meters thick streaked across the steel dome. It lit up the dark corners and cast Nikolai's face in a pallid glow.

Thousands of cables were arrayed around the room, like some mysterious ritual. Now and then, lightning flashed and thunder rolled, as if a god were about to descend.

The staff stopped what they were doing—not to rest, but to wait for Nikolai. Every preparation for the experiment was complete. Now they were waiting for him to set it all in motion.

After taking one last look at Galahad asleep in the tank, Nikolai handed the signed report to his assistant. Beneath the dense rows of figures was a line of crooked handwriting.

Nikola Tesla.