Does the mechanical girl dream of the Messiah?

What's in a name? What we call a rose would have the same scent if we changed its name.

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

I don't know whether this is due to forgetfulness like that of a deer or a pig, or because of overly cautious concerns that are three parts cowardice and one part wisdom.

Her fingertips tapped repeatedly on the keyboard - there were obviously more efficient ways of inputting information, but in the end she still retained this primitive style. Although the internal structure of the machine in front of her was the most advanced invention, its appearance and presentation were very... to put it euphemistically, it was called classical, and to put it bluntly, it was old-fashioned. It was hard to understand the reason for doing so, but the woman seemed to enjoy it, and she just kept tapping the keys engraved with characters without complaint, making them appear on the paper with a crackling sound.

"Indeed, your company's technology is amazing. 'She' is a mechanical creation, and has no pseudo-soul or living soul embedded in it, but she can act and react like a real human, show personality and thoughts, and act according to orders. Compared with real humans, she also avoids many problems..."

"..."

"But this is still not what we want, Mr. Lecco."

"Well……"

The woman's amber eyes once again glanced at the familiar man. A little sweat oozed from his forehead, and although his expression did not change much, it could be seen from various details that he had been forced into a desperate situation.

"She possesses a multifunctional compound differential mechanism called 'mind'. Because of this, 'she' has the ability to think, can integrate information, is able to judge the current situation, and can read a large amount of past records - but does this mean she has a 'heart'?"

"You are talking about this..."

"Perhaps it is a bit strange to hear such words coming from my mouth. As a romanticist, I do not seem to deny the possibility that machines have minds, especially special machines like 'her'. But at the same time, I should also be responsible for my audience. Inputting a large number of existing scripts and then pressing the output button, is this behavior 'creation', or is it just the arrangement and combination of existing texts and plots?

Perhaps because the database is too huge, no audience can recognize this, or perhaps most playwrights' works are just "re-creations" of existing plots - but without a "heart", without a "will", without a true "self", you will never be able to express your own understanding of the script, and you will never be able to write your own words. "

--Ding!

Before I knew it, I had reached the bottom of the long piece of manuscript paper.

……

"I'm sorry, Opera House, but I still couldn't convince you."

Standing in front of the glass curtain, the man called Lecco shook the coffee cup in his hand with a wry smile - he looked better in his current outfit, the "Opera House" couldn't help but think so.

"No, it's nothing. It doesn't matter. I'm a father. Why would I apologize?"

“Because it doesn’t meet your expectations. Anyway… stop calling me father or something like that. I don’t remember setting up such a setting for you. It’s too embarrassing.”

"Father is Father."

The fingertips wrapped in black leather gloves continued to tap the keyboard. If it were a human, they would usually choose to take off their gloves to work, but for the mechanical puppet, there was no such need. Now was obviously not the time for testing or working, and the "Opera House" had not been assigned any tasks, but she had not stopped her movements, as if making the manuscript paper full of words was her greatest pleasure.

"I don't have any expectations either, I just hope the settings can meet my father's expectations."

“…Haha…”

"Will I be abandoned, father?"

"No, that's not going to happen."

Although Leco looked distressed, he still responded to the Opera House with a gentle smile: "Abandonment is impossible. Apart from that, I will apply for you to continue in your current state. For the higher-ups, they also need evidence of transformation to expand business beyond military industry. You are like a milestone for the 'Steel Leviathan' in civilian use."

“Are there many more elite models like me?”

"Most of them are military...elite civilian models. You are indeed one of the first batch, Opera House."

"Yeah."

"Good night, 'Opera.' Look forward to good news tomorrow."

"Good night, father."

"So don't call me father..."

……

…………

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

Buzz——————!!!

"That's so clumsy, Leah! Attacks like this don't always work!"

Running and charging at the fastest speed, the "Opera House" in a tuxedo and formal attire does not look like a soldier capable of fighting no matter how you look at it. She is more suitable for strategizing in front of the sand table and winning battles thousands of miles away, rather than charging forward with brute courage and perseverance, crossing trenches, ravines, and the fragments of her comrades as she is doing now.

By the way, she dodged the dark "light" that could turn her into ashes if it hit her.

"Sister, are you here to pick me up? Sister, Sister Lusa... I've been waiting for a long time."

Only the pitch-black outline could make one recognize at a glance that it was the girl once called "Leah Efayeret", called "the Arbiter". She was wearing a gorgeous dress that she had never worn but had appeared in the playwright's dreams more than once. She was holding a heavy artillery that was so huge that it was completely disproportionate to the girl's body size. It was a "shadow" that made people feel nostalgic and creepy.

“What a bad taste!”

It wasn’t the words coming out of the shadow girl’s mouth, nor the expression on the shadow girl’s “face”, but the thing in her hand, something with the same outline as “Marduk the Conqueror”.

Buzz——————!

A deafening buzzing sound rang out from both sides simultaneously, and a dazzling beam of pure white light entangled with magic collided with a "beam of light" that was pitch black without any luster. The result was no surprise. The dazzling white beam of light was ruthlessly overwhelmed, suppressed, defeated, and shattered into burning white snow. But it didn't matter, the "Opera House" had never expected the opposite ending from the beginning.

Judging from the output of "weapons" alone, the "Opera House" is at a complete disadvantage.

What she held in her hand was the "Conqueror Marduk" left by the "Arbitrator". The "Opera House" itself could not even connect directly to the weapon in her hand. After all, her power was not enough to power this heavy artillery. She could only use energy packs made of dragon crystal as ammunition. The one in the opponent's hand was just a meaningless form of expression. Its essence was the overflow of the "Shadow" power.

It was clearly a void, but it had an excessive and surging power, as if all the impurities were poured out through this shadow cannon. There was no point in doing this. She could have used a more direct and violent method to crush the flying insect in front of her that was not good at fighting, but she had to pretend to "bombard" it, as if she was immersed in memories. The only conclusion Lusa could draw was that the other party was disgusting her with malice.

Rosa does not need to defeat the energy beam attacking her, she just needs to slightly deflect its trajectory. Compared to winning with firepower head-on, she now needs to get close to the enemy as quickly as possible as a shadow.

"Where are you, Sister Lusa? 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... No matter how much I miss you, I can't see you... Have you come to find me? Have you come to take me home?"

"Ah, yes! That's it, that's it, just as you said!"

Sprint, charge, run as fast as you can in this area with almost no cover, even if it means exposing yourself to the rays of artillery fire.

"I ride on a horse without a crown, holding the eagle's spear. Hasar has given me armor and a blood wheel with silver and gold light. Zelti has given me a blessing. This body will never fall into the hands of outsiders!"

No matter how full of energy, fighting spirit, and all-out efforts one makes, the gap in power is still too great to be ignored.

The enemy is a shadow with endless power. It has an appearance that makes people dare not to attack it, says words that make people dare not to attack it, and does things that seem to want to kill you. Not only does it not get tired, feel hungry, or thirsty, and does not need to sleep or rest, but its strength is so great that it makes people feel excessive.

The reason for splitting up the troops into two groups was not only to achieve the strategic goal at the same time, but also to induce "her" actions - "she" was probably the strongest one among those shadows, even those who were once great magicians, professional soldiers or other powerful people did not get this kind of power, because she was the most poetic and the one who could accommodate the most malice among those shadows? If "she" and "that existence" that only existed in calculations and theories attacked together, the situation would probably not be something that Lunicia and the "Opera House" could handle together.

"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. You are the only light in the darkness of my self-nature. I can feel your presence, so close yet so far away. I really want to dance with you, because only at this moment can I feel your warmth - it is so cold here, like an eternal night."

"Don't say I'm so great! Even if I'm that rare playwright, a genius, the Lusa who inspires the people, wins millions of applause, and receives thunderous cheers, don't call me that poetic and distorted way! I'm just the irresponsible and self-righteous sister who neither hugged you, nor saved you, nor danced with you!"

The collision of words also means the conflict of energy. For countless times, the white light was shattered by the black ink. The splattered white meteors and black rain burned the ground, raising clouds of dust and iron filings.

Even if there is only one enemy, and even if the enemy's means of attack are simple and familiar, the process of advancing is extremely difficult. Even the Opera House, who is not familiar with frontline combat, knows that only those who want to die will maneuver in a pure straight line. If she wants to move forward smoothly, all she can do is to make the most of the potholes, hills and gullies on the ground that have been baptized by firepower, and the scrap metal that was once friendly forces, constantly switching her own diagonal line to maneuver, and even making an emergency stop when necessary to prevent herself from being hit directly because the trajectory of her action is predicted.

All the Opera House had at its disposal were her legs.

The "leather shoes" on the feet are just ordinary in appearance, but they are actually advanced mechanical creations inside, which are directly connected to the feet of the "Opera House". They can increase the running speed and provide additional propulsion, but that's all. There are no propulsion nozzles like the high-mobility puppet, no centaur-like half-body like the centaur puppet, and no external mobility enhancement equipment like the "Strike Gust Component".

All she could do was to remove the restrictions on the body based on safety of use.

Not only the legs, but also the waist and spine kept making warning noises due to irregular operations. The perception simulation system had been shielded long ago, otherwise there would probably be pain there that was enough to make the mind report an error. It was as if one could see under the clothes, inside the body, how those delicate parts rubbed out abnormal sparks, how they moved away from their proper positions little by little, and how they collided violently.

It's like running until you're completely exhausted.

In return for this price - the distance between the two sides is constantly being shortened, so close that it seems that one can see the face that one has been longing for.

It was pitch black, and no facial features could be seen, only the outline of the face was left.

Even though it was that face, Lusa was very sure that it was her sister and not anyone else.

"Let me hold your hand, let me hug you, sister."

Buzz——————!!!

The terrifying black tide surged up once again. Rosa performed evasive maneuvers while trying to counterattack with "Conqueror Marduk" - but just as she raised the muzzle and pulled the trigger, the expected energy beam did not appear, but was replaced by an anxious "clicking" sound.

...Ammunition exhausted...

...The barrel is overheated, and in order to prevent explosion, it enters the cooling process...

At some point, this huge cannon inherited from his sister was approaching its limit.

The result is, of course, fatal.

“Ugh…——!!!”

The left arm and below are completely lost. "Marduk the Conqueror" disappeared from the visible field of vision and its position could not be read. It was determined to be lost. The machine was greatly unbalanced and entered the automatic reset mode. Within the range of the monitor lock, the enemy has abandoned the equipment in his hands and started to move towards us. We need to conduct interception or retreat operations.

In this way, the situation becomes clear.

Clearly, she only needed one more shot to defeat the enemy, but she abandoned the weapon in her hand, the huge cannon with the outline of a shadow, and fully activated the "Strike Wind Component" on her leg, rushing towards here with bare hands - was it because of bad taste? No, it was probably because of the arrogance caused by the certainty of victory. I don't know who taught her this bad habit. Since victory is just around the corner, she must maximize the results of the battle. She doesn't want to defeat this person.

Instead, it devours it and assimilates it.

"Because my opponent is me, I won't worry even if it's a close combat... Is that what you mean?"

That familiar figure was flying gracefully and rushing towards me. I didn't know whether I should feel sad or happy at this moment.

I really want to hold her hand. I have never done this before. I occasionally have this thought.

"Really... I've been underestimated. It's impossible for a rare playwright to be good at fighting or something like that."

The other party probably knew about his methods, but he didn't seem to mind at all. Is he so confident? He was confident that he could not achieve his goal at this close distance to the main gate, and he could easily defeat this body and devour this body in the end. He had such a greedy calculation.

"Then—well?"

Just as he was about to rush forward, he felt a loud, teeth-grinding noise coming from his leg.

...Leg drive, approaching critical state, warning, continued use may cause serious malfunction of the body...

"Ha...it doesn't matter."

She just showed her signature flamboyant smile, clenched her right hand tightly, and pulled it to the side of her body——

The dark flames burned quietly, with pale embers floating, burning the leather gloves, burning the bionic skin, burning the circulating coolant and pseudo-muscles, burning the metal gears with inscriptions, as if she had drawn a long sword made of flowing flames out of thin air, and what was stirring was not the bright flames, but things outside the light, shadows that could never appear in the light. They crawled and entangled, like clouds and mist, and like mud and sand, more like something with life, because they gathered here for their own reasons, gathering into a long sword wrapped around the puppet's wrist.

"The price of using this power is to fight with the people you cherish."

The cold voice seemed to echo in my ears, echoing the words spoken by the devilish paladin.

"Even so, do you still desire this power?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then you are also a hopeless idiot."

Indeed, it does appear to be so.

"She" rushed straight towards here. Although she was a monster, she chanted poetic words and waved her fingertips, like an elegant and beautiful dancer, a dancer who would only look at one person no matter how many spotlights hit her. And the person she was looking at also responded to "her" and raised the black sword instinctively, and then -

Don't run away, don't avoid, and reject all safe options.

Ignoring the alarm echoing in his mind, he adjusted the power of his legs to maximum, concentrating all the power into those few nozzles, into that fragile frame.

One step, one step forward.

Step two, sprint.

Three steps, assault.

The price was that his legs broke, disintegrated, and scattered with the sound of metal crushing.

Just this once, the only time in my life, the figure in a tuxedo turned into a black meteor.

Faster than "her" - faster than a shadow.

boom!

The dissipated energy, together with the remaining fragments, gave "her" a body, gave "her" hands that could touch, so that "she" could gently caress the cheek she had been thinking about day and night, and made the ribbons on "her" dress dance in the wind, piercing "her" body one by one, invading "her" beloved body, eroding, swallowing, decomposing, turning into a part of herself, turning into a part of "a certain existence" like herself, giving "her" feet that could wear glass dancing shoes, and giving "her" a torso that could be hugged and feel warm -

Give "her" the power to be pierced.

Plop————!

The two bodies crashed heavily against the end of the platform and the huge dragon crystal. Even with the violent collision, they still did not separate. They were connected in a way that was more intimate and cruel than flesh and blood. They pierced themselves and another body with a long sword, and pierced themselves and another body with a silk ribbon. The disintegrating metal bodies and the fragmented shadows were like interlocking fingers.

The sword no longer penetrated because the person holding the sword had lost the remaining strength.

The process of erosion has long ceased because the being that wielded the power of erosion and assimilation is dead.

Click——Click——

The cracks began to spread from the place where the long sword pierced through. On the body of the mechanical puppet, on the outline of the dark shadow, you can see that behind the black fragments that seemed to shatter like glass, under the shadow that fluttered like a black butterfly, there was a girl wearing a gorgeous dress, a dance skirt that only existed in dreams, with beautiful white hair and amber eyes.

Her eyes were hazy, as if she had just woken up from a long dream, and as if she was about to fall back into a dream, into a magnificent and colorful dream. It was only because of the familiar face in front of her that she chose to stay in this waking world a little longer.

"Lusa, sister...?"

"Um... ahem, ahem... my sister, I'm right here."

——Until the very end, I still wasn’t able to write my own story.