Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

“Don’t worry, Miss Mech.” Jibril’s lips curled into a strange smile. “Our master didn’t allow us to wage war against the Mechs without permission. So I won’t take your head here. Although you are very precious and rare, as an obedient and sensible Winged Race, if I can satisfy my curiosity, I can pretend I didn’t see you.”

She raised the sealed head in her hand.

"Anyway, we've already gained enough this time, though adding a little something extra wouldn't hurt. But if I could save myself some trouble, Miss Jibril, who's been busy for quite a while, sometimes I do want to take a break."

She received the answer she had been waiting for in less than half a second.

"What...do you want?" The machine-armored creature's voice was intermittent and inorganic, it was hard to tell whether it was due to a malfunction in the sound-producing hardware or if it was programmed this way from the beginning.

"Of course I want to—"

The next moment, in the instant Jibril's thoughts slightly shifted, the sealed head suddenly vaporized, and she instinctively focused her attention on her hand. However, a dim blade of light silently slashed out from behind her!

Cut her in half at the waist!

Chapter Fifteen: Fog and Sword

The secret treasure activated, and life and death were instantly reversed. At the moment Jibril's upper and lower body were severed, they abruptly pulled together like two opposing magnets. The black flames injected along the blade were violently expelled, but as she gripped her spear and swept it backward, only nothingness remained, cleaved by the annihilating spear!

It has no effect and is completely useless.

But the moment her gaze focused, she discovered that patches of gray fog had risen all around her without her noticing!

—How is that possible!?

—How is it possible to do such a thing!?

—Even though his body was completely annihilated, leaving not even a trace, and his head was severed and deactivated, why does this guy still have the strength to launch an attack of this level?!

Jibril didn't understand, nor could she comprehend it. Having never encountered the Gene Lock, she couldn't possibly imagine such a powerful life force—it was practically an absurdly extraordinary existence. However, in that very instant of her mental turmoil, excruciating pain, accompanied by a black streak of light, pierced through her chest from behind!

Life and death were once again reversed by the secret treasure bestowed by the Lord of War. Both shocked and enraged, the Skywing creature detonated a portion of its inner spirit, unleashing an unparalleled, all-encompassing shockwave. Space trembled, and the Skywing creature, unable to create a stable spatial passage, transformed into a streak of light and shot straight into the distant sky!

And then—it fell apart!

It was like a watermelon crashing into a sturdy wire mesh made of tungsten alloy at 100 kilometers per hour. The daring Skywing was sliced ​​into millions of pieces by the invisible blades before it had traveled even ten kilometers. Those sturdy shields, blessings, and protections seemed like mere imposters, never having existed in the first place, under the cutting power of these invisible blades. Even though Jibril's body was restored to its original state under the protection of the divine treasure, the remaining scars still blocked her escape and inflicted excruciating pain upon her.

"Warning: The spatial structure within a radius of fifteen kilometers is extremely chaotic. It is not recommended to proceed—" The voice of the machine race came from afar. However, the moment Jibril's attention shifted, she saw a streak of dark light suddenly emerge from behind the machine race!

The light was so fast that Jibril couldn't teleport directly to that area.

But the light was also slow, slow enough that Jibril had at least time to extend her hand to trigger the spell!

"—Sky Shift!"

The space where the machine armored creature was located was immediately displaced, and the failed spatial manipulation spell tore open a dense, irregular web of cracks, blocking the eerie light. However, before Jibril could even catch her breath, the eerie light appeared without warning beside her neck, as if it had teleported. It nearly severed her head!

'Crack—'

A sound like crystals cracking emanated from Jibril's body. Her heart sank. As her severed head healed as if time had reversed, she realized the terrifying truth that the treasure's uses were nearing their limit. Without further thought, she hurled the Annihilation Spear downwards, and a burst of intense light instantly blotted out the entire world!

"Due east, 15.7 degrees south!"

The alarm sounded, and the Skywing's body reacted instinctively. The Blade of No Trace struck again, slicing a narrow gash across her side even though she dodged in time, severing an inch of the tip of her left wing!

The pain from this one cut was ten times greater than the previous cuts combined.

The deeper the pain, the more severe the alarm, and without a second thought, Jibril adjusted her posture while severing the severed part of her left wing and the flesh on her flank. Within hundreds of nanoseconds of being removed from her body, the severed portion transformed into a black, pus-like poison!

Whether there is an antidote to this poison, no one knows. All that is known is that the powerful radiance released by the explosion of the Annihilation Spear has vanished with this dark slash. The explosion and flames that should have resounded across half the world have dissipated into the ashen fog as if they had never existed in the first place. And the fog's color has only deepened since then!

A murderous intent swept over them, reaching to the highest heavens and the deepest hells. Yet, the source of this intent remained elusive. The assassin, lurking in the shadows, inexplicably delayed their follow-up attack after unleashing that poisoned strike. They allowed the Winged Race and the Mech Race to reunite in the dense fog, rendering Jibril's half-prepared self-destruction plan useless, while their own murderous intent remained unmoved.

To draw them in but not to move them.

Remaining still means facing deadly danger at every turn.

Every instrument on the machine armored creature's body was alarming, and every intact or wounded inch of the winged creature's skin was throbbing with intense pain. Yet, that elusive killing intent lurked silently in the mist like a fish in the deep sea, seemingly appearing at every moment, and in every place.

"South, west, thirty-two, seven!"

Another warning rang out, and without a second thought, Jibril gathered a small portion of her spirits and unleashed a powerful attack in the direction described by the machine-armored creature. However, the next instant, the energy ball she hurled, along with three of her fingers, was sliced ​​into dozens of pieces. The invisible blade even threatened to sever her upper body along her hand bones!

"—Tianyi!"

The malfunctioning spatial manipulation technique exclusive to the Skywing race was activated once again. When it tore Jibril's left hand into molecular-sized fragments, it also blocked the traceless blade that was traveling up the hand bone—the assassin's trail faded away again, while the killing intent lingering in the mist grew even stronger.

Two individuals of different races, who had been in a position of hostage-taker just a minute ago, instinctively stood back to back in mid-air. The Winged Race's cross-shaped pupils and the Mech Race's high-precision sensors continuously scanned every corner of their surroundings. However, no matter how they looked at it, the pervasive mist was flawless. Even the specialized Mech Race, adept at covert operations, could only barely detect a faint clue in the instant before the attack!

There must be a loophole. There's a flaw or some kind of restriction.

—If there were no restrictions, the opponent could easily follow up with thousands or tens of thousands of attacks after the first hit, cutting one's opponent to death with a continuous barrage of assassinations.

This consensus arose simultaneously in the minds of both Jibril and the machine gunners. Without words or gestures, they both knew that the other was at least capable of obtaining this level of information. However, knowing is one thing, putting it into practice is another matter entirely.

However, despite the difficulties, sitting idly by and waiting for death was not an acceptable strategy. The two different types of halos above the heads of the Winged and Machine Armored races rotated slightly at the same time, and a simple solution was formed in this silent exchange.

However, just as they were about to make their move, the fog sea erupted first! Boiling, murky fog surged towards them like a tsunami, attacking relentlessly. Countless, traceless blades surged and boiled within the tidal wave at the same instant!

The Abyss of Death, Part Two

The data in the eyes of the machine armored creature instantly turned into chaos. The massive amount of data released from the sensors caused all the mimicry nerves and processing units in the machine body to overload at the same time. Even the backup shunt system was directly destroyed under the impact, and the entire machine entered a shutdown state in an instant.

If other life forms were used as a model, this situation would be called 'soul annihilation'. Individuals subjected to this treatment have virtually no chance of survival. Even for mechs, which lack the sensitive minds characteristic of organic life, the outcome is similar.

It should have died—if it weren't a special combat model generated after Dragon Break among the machine armor types, it would have died completely in that tsunami-like collapse of the fog tide long ago—in fact, that was also its own prediction, but due to a combination of factors that even it didn't know about, it ultimately turned into the fact that 'it is still alive'.

—'Backup power activated, energy link regenerating…'

Survival... How do the machine armor types survive?

It didn't know, or rather, none of the machine armor species knew. From a very, very long time ago, before any other sentient life existed on Earth, the very first machine armor species descended upon this world called Disbot. They wandered, they observed, they analyzed, they witnessed the birth of one god after another, and watched the rise and fall of one race after another. Sometimes they were worshipped as a kind of deity. But more often, they were seen as walking natural disasters.

Why are they considered a natural disaster? Because they don't know what it means to be alive. And naturally, they don't understand what it means to die. How can they coexist with living beings who cherish life if they don't know what death is?

Death, what is death? The cessation of function? The interruption of thought processes? But is that what we call death? If that is called death, then repairing and restarting a stagnant machine, rewriting and reviving a logically broken thought process, wouldn't that be considered resurrection?

But if they can be resurrected, wouldn't that prove that their previous state was merely 'injury' rather than irreversible 'death'? If this level doesn't count as 'death', then why did the many species born after the machine guns grieve after their functions ceased?

And what exactly is 'grief'? Is it simply the release of negative emotions? Or the inefficient operation of thought algorithms?

Incomprehensible, unimaginable.

—'Energy system rebuilding, core thought engine restarting. Activating database…'

Its mind returned to activity, and the next step was to reactivate the sensors and reconnect with the outside world. Although the external environment had been severely disrupted, and it couldn't understand why it had been able to restart instead of disintegrating into ashes in the relentless, tidal wave of attacks, it intended to do so.

The word 'plan' shouldn't exist in the dictionary of the Mechkin species. However, it inexplicably appeared as a field in its database.

It was puzzled, yet from this puzzlement emerged even more strings of text. The next moment, a sea of ​​messages flooded the database, overwhelming it and instantly pushing its central computing engine to the brink of overload!

The world it sees changes as memories flood in.

................................................

Where is this?

What came into view was a vast landscape that resembled an abyss. It stretched endlessly, wide endlessly, and high endlessly, yet it seemed to possess a certain deep, dark color. It felt as if it were falling into some very, very deep place, with nowhere around it to gain any foothold.

Why is this device located here?

Her mind seemed to be functioning normally, but all the equipment attached to her body seemed to have lost its effectiveness. Her slender limbs, which could easily lift a mountain, were now as weak as waterlogged ribbons, and she could not move an inch even with all her strength.

Or, to put it another way, do bodies and limbs really exist? And even if they do, what purpose do they serve?

[Unable to parse, try skipping this project...]

The nameless machine armor made a rational choice. And after deciding to do so, its previously somewhat impatient heart quietly became lighter.

Feeling light and carefree? Why do I feel 'light and carefree'?

It still didn't understand, nor did it know how to understand. It simply let its body, or rather, this body-like entity, continue to sink into the unknown depths. Sinking to a place even it didn't know.

Sinking, sinking, continuing to sink.

Time seemed to lose all meaning at that moment. Thoughts began to slow and stiffen. The 'lightness' just experienced felt like a meaningless illusion. And soon, even the concept of 'feeling' began to blur.

Sinking, sinking, continuing to sink.

Perhaps it was a day, perhaps a month, perhaps a century, perhaps a millennium. The previously turbulent emotions completely calmed down. Joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness all gradually transformed into meaningless bytes. Yet it continued to fall.

When it could no longer even discern the sensation of 'falling,' all its emotions, obsessions, desires, and thoughts finally ceased completely. Like a mindless puppet, it finally achieved a state of utter 'purity' akin to a high monk entering Nirvana.

Then, a blurry image flashed across its eyes. And soon enough, the image became stable and clear again.

It didn't react at all; it just watched quietly.

So it could see things more clearly.

It saw the main nest of the machine armored species, the massive heavy factory constructed from numerous interconnected structures. It saw the converging lasers and rays, the interlocking composite metal plates, and the core computing engine being painstakingly sculpted in a vacuum—it recognized that engine, for it bore the familiar blue-purple hue. Judging from its infallible data reserves, that engine should currently be within its chest.

That's it, and it witnessed its own birth from a third-person perspective. Although the process differed somewhat from its memory, that shouldn't be the focus.

"Life is originally an accumulation from nothing to something; therefore, if viewed in this way, death should be the dissipation from something to nothing. Only by allowing objects endowed with meaning to return to valuelessness can the living be redirected back to death."

A vague thought seemed to flash through my mind, and the feeling of falling returned. However, this was only a fleeting moment, like an illusion. Soon, the slightly fluctuating thought returned to calm, and the quietly flowing images continued to play.

Thus, the core computing engine that was forged was given a steel body meticulously crafted by its own kind. It was a slender, small, specially designed model suitable for infiltration into special operations. It had long purple hair and soft eyes, and was quickly deployed to the battlefield after being instilled with combat knowledge.

Mechs rarely see battlefields, because there are very few madmen in the world who dare to provoke them. But rare doesn't mean nonexistent. When nascent special operations mechs were deployed to their first battle, their objective was to destroy an unknown organization attempting to capture lone mechs on special missions. That organization possessed extremely sophisticated secrecy measures; even after most of its members were wiped out, not a single individual revealed their race.

Unable to find the mastermind behind it all, the only option was to annihilate them all. The newly formed special operations mech was tasked with pursuing a heavily wounded fugitive. It then used every means at its disposal to fulfill its first command, aside from learning.

And naturally, it succeeded. Using the spell 'Dragon's Roar' uploaded to the machine's internal network, it easily blasted the fugitive leaping through the valley into atomic dust. However, just as it finished its mission and was about to head back, it saw a low-level civilization settlement destroyed by the aftershocks of Dragon's Roar. It saw a boy who had narrowly escaped the flames, clutching a chessboard and gazing at the ashes.

A young boy, a silver-haired boy.

—The calm observer felt his heart trembling little by little, and the feeling of falling returned once again.

This time, the recovery is much slower than before.

The gaze shifted, and history continued its course. In the observer's eyes, the special forces mech that should have been their own merely lingered on the boy for a moment before returning to its own connection. And so, the mech's missions and wars resumed once more.

The image seemed to blur for a moment, then playback resumed. The special forces mechs that had unintentionally destroyed the civilized settlement during the battle were once again drawn into the mech war, and time continued to flow.

However, from that day on, the nascent machine gun felt it was embarking on a path never before trodden by its kind—no, it didn't even know when it had developed a concept of 'itself'. And when it came to its senses, it found itself recalling the boy standing on the edge of flames several times during missions.

Once, and then again, each time more frequent than the last. Whether during a mission or in the intervals between missions, the image of that boy would involuntarily resurface in his mind. Sometimes, his hands and feet would even move unconsciously, attempting to approach that old battleground during a mission.

This can't go on.

If this continues, not only will the mission fail, but this strange psychological phenomenon could also spread to its own kind through the communication network, bringing disaster—with these thoughts in mind, the special forces mech-type submitted a report to the Linkage before it spiraled out of control. It stated that it had made a serious mistake and requested to leave the group to search for the 'heart,' something the mech-type had never possessed but was common among many races.

Naturally, its application was approved, and after severing the connection, its first action was to head straight for the ruins of the battle. It then used this location to trace the footsteps of that boy.

It was a troublesome task, but it was completed. When the much-grown teenagers appeared in its field of vision, not only it, but also the observers on the outside sensed a significant increase in their own mental activity.

The feeling of falling returned, and this time it lingered for a long time. The observer felt his heart pounding, and not only his heart, but also the scene before him.