Does the mechanical girl dream of the Messiah?

From time to time, I would look back to confirm whether they were really still as they were at the beginning, but it seemed that there was no change. They really seemed to be completely still, neither changing their state nor trying to catch up. This should be a reassuring situation, but for some reason it was creepy.

pat, pat.

The toes were raised, and then dropped, accompanied by the sound of footsteps, a very normal sound, echoing in the corridor as Ella and Ashlee walked forward. This was a very normal phenomenon, there was nothing suspicious, and there were no extra sounds mixed in - Lunicia's flowing blood soaked the lining on Ella's shoulders, but it had not completely dyed her undershirt red, so it did not drip onto the ground - compared to usual, it was too loud, which was nothing, after all, this place was empty and dead silent, but the sound sounded a bit weird, not like the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor, but rather like the sound of something wet and heavy falling to the ground.

pat-

Ella Heper stopped dead in her tracks.

——No, that's not right.

Where is this place?

A corridor? A walkway? A simple passage between two walls with only a front and back difference? No, it was totally wrong. There was a strange corridor that had no end and led to nowhere. This huge aerial fortress seemed to be filled with such unreasonable spatial anomalies. There were corridors with no end, corridors that reached the sky and the abyss, and the inside and outside of a door seemed to have no connection. But I just took three steps, and nothing seemed to happen around me. But that weird and dangerous feeling kept lingering. What happened? Where was this place?

Magnificent and magnificent - the style is similar, but even better. In addition to the floor made of Balder red pine, the walls of film hardwood, the handrails plated with gold, and the lamps inlaid with many jewels, which look like golden trees, the azure dragon crystal network is densely covered underfoot, on the walls, on the ceiling, and everywhere in sight. The grooves and platforms on it can be judged at a glance. They can be used to charge magic props, and can also activate various functions connected to the dragon crystal network; unlike the corridor, a large number of carvings are used here. The columns, walls, and even the ceiling are everywhere. Intricate carvings can be seen. They are not narrative carvings with religious, political or historical significance, but the lush golden tree, as well as the many flowers, branches, leaves and vines surrounding the glorious tree.

That is the belief unique to the Kingdom of Nasaran—the lush and boundless rootless tree and the eternal and immortal magic corridor.

The architectural layout here was not unfamiliar to Ella Hepper. It was hard to explain before, but now at least she had a clear idea. The spacious circular base, countless rows of seats, and the closed boxes suspended in the air at the edge - not long ago, Ella had just walked on the most luxurious and magnificent stage in the eastern part of the continent. The scene here was similar to the same one, for people to perform, for people to play music, and for people to appreciate.

The lights were turned up to maximum, and under the reflection of countless light beams, the rootless tree carved from golden Palaris dragon crystal shone brightly, and its complex slopes reflected scenes of various colors, streets, forests, valleys, peaks, shops, baths, palaces, city walls, pastures, tombs - all the things that belonged to the magic kingdom that were always glorious, now reflected only darkness and death, dilapidated buildings, withered vegetation, dried-up corpses. If the burning theater could still make people feel the splendor of destruction, then what was reflected now was only misery and terror.

Hualalalalalalal————

applause.

The curtain opens.

Standing at the entrance and looking back, the door that was supposed to be there was nowhere to be seen.

This is not the entrance, you should understand that now, right? The panel used to indicate the status is flashing a warning red light. "This is not the place you should go to", it seems to be heard saying such words. Whose voice is it? That kind of thing is also unknown.

The auditorium was empty.

The photos placed on the seats are bustling.

The face of the portrait was dug out, leaving only a hollow hole from which black liquid flowed.

They are clapping.

A bouquet of flowers tied with diamond rings lay in front of the stage.

Trombones, French horns, cellos, flutes, harps, triangles—countless instruments piled up above the stage. Flowers, bouquets, petals, still looking as beautiful as they were picked yesterday, champagne bottles gurgled and rolled down to the side of the table, the golden liquid bubbling with bubbles and glittering dewdrops, as if it had just been taken out of the freezer, waiting for someone to pop the cork and pour wine for—who?—to cheer the crowd up.

Blurry shadows were reflected on the instruments, the armrests, and the glass bottles.

Whose figure is that?

The curtain opens.

"What's in a name? What we call a rose would have the same scent by any other name."

No one responded.

“It is a tale told by a fool, full of sound and fury, but meaningless.”

No reply.

"I don't know whether this is due to my forgetfulness like a deer or due to my overly cautious considerations that are three parts cowardice and one part wisdom."

Of course, as always.

Now you have nothing, so, are you willing to continue looking at the stage, are you willing to continue looking at that strange girl?

Red seats.

Red curtain.

Red eyes.

Red blood.

You are a being without blood and tears, you have been like this since the beginning, and you will be like this forever.

Whose voice is singing softly, whose voice is whispering, a familiar voice, chanting in an unfamiliar tone, applause like thunder, clapping until the skin and flesh are torn, bones and blood burst, because - who? - didn't say it can stop. Not enjoying all this, but also not choosing to reject all this, just because there is no concept of all this, what a self-centered, paranoid, and arrogant existence, that figure - who? - can only accept the actors chosen by it, the script chosen by it, and the playwright chosen by it. It's not a monkey, just a broken typewriter.

"Aishelin."

"Last words? They may not be passed down to future generations."

"Find a way to take Lady Luna away."

"It's really unreasonable. Lunicia will definitely not agree."

"There's no point in three people dying here together."

"Yes, it is more meaningful than having one less person. And if we really need to delay time, this machine is more suitable. You can't do it, no matter how you dance."

"Maybe not."

"That's right. Ashe is being watched along with you."

"You only need to see this kind of thing to know it."

To be precise, one can tell at a glance. Ella almost wanted to let out a wail of sorrow, but it seemed that she didn't have the luxury to do so. All she could do was to hold the dark "punishment" tightly in her hand and be ready to make the worst choice at any time. It's too familiar, isn't it? At least I've seen it enough during this period of time - that's a shadow, right? Maybe it's not right to say that. At first glance, they are indeed exactly the same, but in fact they are probably completely different things.

Shadows can only exist as projections of objects on a surface, and can only move on the plane where they are born, interfering with things on the same plane. Shadows can only touch shadows, which is dangerous, but it is easy to find ways to deal with it.

But - what is that?

It was like a piece of paper suddenly appearing in front of my eyes, a black silhouette. No matter from which angle I looked at it, I could see the same shape. It seemed that the only factor that could affect my observation was distance, not anything else. There were men and women with their own shapes, wearing tuxedos, dresses, with different hairstyles, heights, and physiques, but it was hard to say that "they" really existed. No matter how I looked at it, it was just like a piece of human shape was dug out from the space in front of me, leaving a dark and lightless hole.

They are shadows.

They are also things that resemble shadows but are not.

They stood on the stage, lined up, sitting or standing. They held instruments in their hands, and like them, they were like silhouettes that were carved out of the field of vision, with only the outlines remaining. Surrounding the unclear conductor, the applause stopped and the thunderous roar ceased to exist as the baton swung. Only the sound of something swaying gently in the air remained. The baton swung gently, and the performers prepared themselves accordingly, putting the bow on the strings, the flute to their lips, and their hands on the keys, and then -

"—Fire!"

What followed was the roar of gunfire.

Chapter 21: The Call of Shadow

Crossing the gap between mountains and sea.

Across the border of the woods, on the other side of the city.

Across the end of the sky, across the boundless sea of ​​stars.

After an extremely long and distant journey, we came here just to meet again.

Where are you?

I feel your breath.

Your voice, your warmth, the touch of your fingertips, your lily-of-the-valley scent, you are here, within reach, so clear, yet seemingly elusive.

Where are you?

I want to hold your hand again, I want to meet you again. Our connection has long been broken. Let me hug you again, let me feel your presence again.

Please hold my hand, please meet me, please tell me your oneness like before, please show me your tenderness like before, please call me like before, please hug me like before, and give me the warmth of your chest that I miss day and night. How much time has passed, how many days and nights have passed, in the endless dark night, you are the only light I can look up to.

I have been waiting for you for a long, long time.

Where are you?

It's cold, desolate and silent here, with only the eternal darkness and my shadow drifting in the deep sea.

Where are you?

You always say that I am stupid and slow, that I am wild and immature. You tell me reproachful words, but you pin the newly opened golden osmanthus on my hair. Where are you? I want to see you so much, I want to tell you that the stupid and slow, wild and immature person can catch up with you and no longer worry you. I can share the beautiful poems, moving operas, and fairy-like songs with you now, so - please hold my hand, please meet me, please tell me your only love as before, please show me tenderness as before, please call me as before, please hug me as before, and give me the warmth of your chest that I miss day and night. The night without you is so long, and the severe winter without you is so cold.

Where are you?

I can feel your breath, your voice, your temperature, the touch of your fingertips, and your lily of the valley scent.

But - I can't see you. I can't see you.

I can't see the face I miss so much.

Where are you?

Are you here?

My dear sister, my beloved Rusa Ephayeret.

……

"Fire!"

The order was followed by the roar of explosions and a hail of bullets.

"Mr. Opera, ammunition—"

"Why worry about ammunition at this time? Fire them all!"

"Yes!"

Hearing familiar voices, familiar names, and even the rain of bullets was familiar. Ella didn't feel it deeply, after all, under the chalk wall, she had only witnessed such scenes as a bystander, and received fire cover from the rear, but that was all. For Ashleelin, this familiarity was even stronger - much stronger. It was true that not everyone had the opportunity to receive that baptism of fire, and not everyone could be as lively as they are now after having their arm broken by a sniper rifle.

The unpleasant, even disgusting feeling of familiarity, but for Ashatherine, all she could feel was a mysterious joy.

"What's the target's status?!"

"Which target are you talking about, Mr. Opera?"

"Don't say stupid things to me!"

"Special Surveillance Subject No. 1, Special Surveillance Subject No. 2, and Special Surveillance Subject No. 3 are all here. Special Surveillance Subject No. 2 and Special Surveillance Subject No. 3 are in good condition, but Special Surveillance Subject No. 1's vital signs are unstable."

"Okay, continue to provide fire coverage while advancing there!"

Push forward? Is it necessary to use this word?

Perhaps some onlookers will have such doubts, and then suspect that the so-called "Opera House" might be a formalist. The result is not wrong, but the inference process must be corrected: she is keen on meaningless forms, performances and self-titles, but for things that do not interest her, she will simply ignore them. "Advance" is a common term used when there is a stalemate or even a quagmire. If it is an "Opera House" that loves gorgeous words, it will probably only replace it with alternatives such as "march".

In other words, the "Iron Leviathan"'s aggressive attack was not as effective as it seemed.

In fact, it is true.

"how should I do it?"

"Get closer to them!"

"They are on the other side of the stage. This machine can carry you and fly over with you."

"That would mean we would lose the means to deal with the danger."

"Just leave it to Ella, right?"

"...that's okay too."

The girl named Ella Heper handed Lunicia to Asheselyn and drew another long sword from her waist.

"Are you planning to keep it secret at this time?"

"As a spell swordsman, you have a better ability to adapt to changing circumstances. The same goes for mobility."

"That's very thoughtful. Which place do you want this machine to hold?"

"…The waist is fine."

On one side was an undoubted enemy, a shadow of unknown nature and thoughts, like a malicious collective. On the other side, they could not be called companions either. They were an army of steel that was equally hostile to humans, that destroyed the world and trampled on peace. But if she had to choose between the two, Ella Hepper would still choose the latter - at least it was an existence she could understand, unlike the former, which made her feel disgusted just by seeing it.

Iron bodies, false hearts, cold consciousness, these guys now have reasons to actively challenge unfavorable situations, so there is no possibility of not choosing them.

What was happening before my eyes could not be called a "battle" at all.

From the moment the "Iron Leviathan" army broke through the gate and rushed into the stage, whether it was because they made too much noise or there were deeper reasons, the shadows on the stage that were originally watching Lunisia and her group immediately shifted their attention to the "Iron Leviathan". In other words, the mechanical puppets of the "Iron Leviathan" directly bore all the pressure from those shadows.

"...Woo!"

"Stand back! Cut off the damaged part!"

"Pain shielding is not effective!"

"The switch of perception simulation was automatically turned on. These things--"

"Don't fight!" Although Lusa's expression could not be seen, her voice at least sounded calm. "Keep your distance! Don't give those things a chance to get close! The purpose of this operation is to rescue, not to maintain the front line!"

Indeed, as she said, all they needed to do was to buy time for Lunicia and her group, without having to consider fighting those shadows to the death. However, the other party did not seem to intend to let them go so easily - unlike the shadows projected on the wall by the light, these shadows did not need to rely on a certain plane to exist. They themselves were a plane independent of the horizon and could move back and forth like three-dimensional individuals and launch attacks.

They are shadows, and as such, they don't seem to need to follow human rules.