As the King of Fall Resistance, I Guess" departed, the crowd in the Great Labyrinth City Square gradually dispersed.
In the distance, in a building that was at least a dozen stories high, a figure behind a window drew the curtains with a somber expression.
This was an elderly man who looked to be around sixty or seventy years old, but he was very robust, with clearly defined muscles and an imposing presence on his face.
At this moment, he was shirtless, making no attempt to conceal his half-human, half-machine body.
The old man appeared to have suffered a major accident; the entire left half of his body, from his eyes to his arms, chest, and legs, had been replaced by machines.
At the junction of the machine and the flesh, some unhidden burn marks can still be seen, indicating that his injuries must have been more severe before the mechanical modifications.
He sat back down in his chair and began to pour himself a drink.
About fifteen minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door.
"Come in."
The old man gave the order, and the door immediately opened. A simply dressed young man walked in and bowed.
"Teacher."
"Um."
The old man swallowed the wine in his mouth and suddenly asked:
Is it fun?
"... Well."
The young man immediately became somewhat flustered, while the old man reached out and tapped twice near his left prosthetic eye, followed by a hissing sound of a camera zooming in.
"Stop pretending. I saw you go to the rally downstairs, and you were the one shouting the most slogans."
"I'm sorry, teacher."
I'm not blaming you.
The old man's tone was calm yet authoritative:
"I was just asking, is it fun?"
After hesitating for a moment, the boy nodded:
"It's fun."
What's so fun about it?
The old man asked earnestly.
Upon hearing this, the young man became reserved again. After a moment of thought, he said earnestly:
"I never imagined that machines could possess their own consciousness."
"Yes, that's the truth."
The old man nodded:
"Have I ever thought about that?"
He put down the bottle of wine in his hand and asked:
So, do you think this is a good thing or a bad thing?
The young man hesitated for a moment and said:
"That should be a good thing, if all the machines could wake up and work on their own without human help..."
"So here's the question--"
The old man interrupted the boy's rambling and asked in return:
"What gives them the right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why should a machine with a soul help us?"
The old man raised his left arm and asked:
How well do you think I'm getting used to my prosthetic body?
The boy paused for a moment and said:
"Of course it's excellent—who in the entire Great Labyrinth City doesn't know that your martial prowess is already..."
"But what if this half of my body developed its own thoughts?"
The old man repeatedly clenched and relaxed his fist, asking:
"What if we disagree? What if it has its own ideas? What if it wants to control me instead?"
The young mechanic froze on the spot, his lips trembling twice before he finally spoke:
"No way, teacher. I listened carefully to what those outsiders said. They said only machines driven by Blood Corpse can generate Machine Spirit."
"That's how it is now."
The old man continued to press forward relentlessly.
"As someone from the Graycast Corridor, don't you know just how terrifyingly fast a technological advancement can go?"
The boy remained silent.
The old man continued:
"Undeniably, this ' Machine Spirit ' is a good thing, but it shouldn't be rushed..."
He looked the young man up and down before finally saying:
You wouldn't want your legs to one day develop their own ideas, would you?
"..."
The boy was finally speechless after being refuted, but the old man ignored him and stood up from his recliner.
He went to the wall where the map was hanging and began to examine it carefully, while muttering his analysis to himself:
"This 'resurrected' fellow returned from the capital of the Second Holy See, likely via the trade route he personally pioneered..."
"Hmm, let me see the satellite cities he passed through..."
"If there's still enough time..."
The old man muttered to himself, but his left hand had already grabbed a piece of paper from the table next to him.
One of his mechanical fingers split open, revealing a pen tip with ink still wet inside, and he began to write casually on the paper in front of him.
After writing a few lines of hastily written orders, the parts that made up his palm began to flip over and then pieced together, forming a hidden steel stamp bearing his name and title.
With a loud "snap," the paper underwent irreversible deformation. The old man folded it twice and handed it to the waiting boy.
"Go, and be sure to hand it over to the lord of Satellite City No. 20 personally."
The boy was quick-witted, and after listening to his teacher's self-talk, he had already pieced together some ideas in his mind.
Seeing that the teacher had actually handed him the handwritten letter bearing the official seal, how could he dare to accept it? Instead, he immediately took a step back and said earnestly:
"Teacher, no, Grandpa, intercepting a candidate for the Grand Foundry Master, this, this is..."
Upon hearing the boy's unfinished sentence, the old man's remaining right eye widened instantly, as if he had heard something unbelievable.
He suddenly raised his left leg and brought it to his front, tilting his body slightly to prepare for exertion, while a clicking sound came from the mechanical leg as it wound up.
Just as he was about to deliver a brutal blow, the old man sighed, lowered his left leg, and used his right leg to kick the boy hard.
The boy didn't dodge, letting the kick land on him.
Although the old man was strong, his kicks were slow, clearly indicating that he only intended to teach the man a lesson and did not intend to use excessive force.
So, without feeling much pain, the boy's body was lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall several meters away, paused for a moment, and then crashed heavily to the ground.
"Ouch..."
A low, painful groan escaped his throat.
"Alright, stop pretending."
The old man waved his hand:
"I only had those city lords split up to intercept and delay that merchant who had twice come back from the dead. Who said I was going to kill him?"
"If you don't believe me, you can open the warrant and take a look."
The boy felt relieved, but was startled by the second half of the sentence and quickly shook his head to indicate that he dared not pry into the secret.
The old man sighed and said:
"You may have fun as you please, but don't forget which side our family should be on."
"For families like ours where every generation has to go to the front lines, having Luke Aoziben take over is the best option."
Never forget your position, understand?
The boy nodded again, but the old man finally ran out of patience and silently pointed towards the study door.
The boy, being quite sensible, put the warrant away and turned to leave.
He went down to the first floor and onto the street. He sat down on the steps by the building entrance as if no one else was there, and took out a small knife to start cutting his trouser leg.
He soon revealed his calves, two dark, matte-finish prosthetics with a mechanical and metallic aesthetic.
With a sound similar to the old man's left leg winding up, the boy's figure disappeared into the twilight of the Great Labyrinth City like a sharp sword.