Round 45: Cybertron (Part 1)

“Sample collection is complete. Ready to proceed with particle concentration analysis.”
“System reading in… Energy reaction level remains within expected range. Data will be printed shortly.”
Phylgas and Kari sat side by side in front of the semicircular metal console, working together as if all past grievances had been forgotten. Faint electric lights danced at the tips of their fingers, flickering like notes played by a musician, flowing toward the conductor listening behind them.
As electricity flowed in, the chart images floating before the female mage began to shimmer and change, casting a shifting glow over her delicate face. The silver-colored runes and curves kept changing constantly, each second vastly different from the last. Morriel observed calmly, staring intently at the kaleidoscopic, chaotic magic array. They had left the Bottomless Abyss and were now adrift on the edge of the cosmic wheel—where the boundaries between dimensions were no longer clear, and there were no stable portals. Through the reinforced, integrated cockpit window, the vast void was filled with destructive traces from elemental clouds and energy vortices. The safety pathways were even more fragile than ropes holding back a fierce bear. A single mistake could turn the ship into a rubber duck suddenly dragged from a bathtub into a tornado.
Forty-Seven would never admit any resemblance to a rubber duck, but Morriel had no intention of discussing it with him. The arcane knowledge forced upon her by Dagón could fill ten libraries, and now the female mage was amazed to find that 99.9% of her work so far relied entirely on it. She found ancient spells long lost, learned about the primordial chaos that had persisted since the early days of the multiverse and refused to integrate into its current structure, and calculated the correct coordinates to guide Forty-Seven toward their destination. If she relied only on what she had learned in twenty years, she might never progress even a mile in her lifetime.
She made a few gestures, filtering out most of the information in the magic array. She continued to simplify it, discarding the unnecessary to identify the next energy node they could use to proceed. Although much of the remaining information was as valuable as genetic maps to biologists, now was not the time for in-depth study.
“Maybe you should try the Tavern Math Driver,” Forty-Seven said, growing bored—if a donkey pulling a mill could speak, it might agree with him.
“Time is not absolute; it depends on the observer’s actions in space. Space is not absolute either; it depends on the observer’s actions in time. Similarly, numbers are not absolute; they depend on the observer’s actions in a tavern. Those two over there—stop playing chess and come help. I’m getting ready. We should be able to meet the minimum standards of the tavern calculation model…”
“Can you still hold on? The intensity of the spatial storm is increasing. Do you need my help?” Kari asked, her tone calm.
“Of course, no problem. I’m feeling great now—like Michelangelo floating in the middle of a pizza.”

“Then just focus on eating your pie,” the Steel Angel said coldly, her expression changing. “From now on, please don’t touch anything else!”
After several more rounds of collection and screening, Morriel finally determined the next trajectory for the jump. It should be the last time… Having served as the central processor for so long, her mind had remained in high tension, fully focused—both exhausted and greatly benefited. Forty-Seven received instructions, and the engine power increased rapidly in a geometric progression, with the thrusters emitting bright, dazzling energy reactions.
The spaceship transformed from the Tin Man was nothing more than a speck in the torrent of spacetime, yet its acceleration remained unchanged, once again triggering terrifying butterfly effects. It was as if thousands of dormant demons were roaring in alarm at once; nightmare-like flashes filled the space with colorful, unstable particle vortices, which collided and annihilated each other—spreading magnificent fireworks across the world. Despite being ahead, Forty-Seven still flew perilously close to the mouths of these energy beasts made of interwoven colors, with burning gases licking against the cockpit windows, surrounded by chaotic flames, as if they had entered an abyss filled with waves of fire.
The final stretch was both difficult and long. Forty-Seven couldn’t immediately dissipate the heat generated by friction, and under the prolonged high temperatures, even the steel walls began to warm slightly. Amidst severe turbulence, deafening thunderstorms suddenly erupted around the spaceship, tearing apart massive walls of fire as they crossed what seemed like insurmountable barriers.
Swirling vortices rose from the center of the dark green clouds, like serpentine flames spreading along the thick clouds, igniting violent storms and framing the clouds with boiling golden edges, resembling a giant bud blooming slowly. Forty-Seven shot forward like a meteor, drawing fiery trails across the sky, flying over the silent, desolate land below.
From above, the endless rocky plains appeared gloomy and dull; the rocks seemed to have once melted and then cooled, still retaining the traces of their once chaotic flow, like a solidified ocean. Craters of various sizes dotted the plains—some several miles high, with diameters of dozens or even hundreds of miles—too vast to fully comprehend at a glance. Not a trace of life could be found, not even a single tree, bush, or patch of moss.
“Air pressure is unstable, and the toxin levels in the air are deadly,” said Philegas. But if one observed closely the strangely colored dark clouds beneath, along with the glowing mist layers resembling oil slicks on the water’s surface, her statement seemed overly optimistic.
Scattered across the wasteland were some seemingly man-made ruins… Weathered giant debris was half-buried in the rocks, like annoying cysts beneath the skin. A few that were slightly more intact still had broken supports left, with the remaining halves as tall and thick as the largest redwoods. Morriel guessed they might have been some kind of mechanical device—when they were in operation, they must have been incredibly powerful. She wondered what kind of people could have built such massive structures and what purpose they served.

A few spiky objects could be seen faintly on the hazy horizon. As 47 flew toward them, gradually more flickering lights became visible. Only after flying for a long distance could they hear the dull thunder coming from those seemingly endlessly elongating objects. By the time everyone realized they were magnificent spires made entirely of metal, their tops were no longer in sight. The steel comprising these towers fit together seamlessly, like swords piercing the sky, deep into the swirling clouds above. Storms within the clouds circled around them, with energy vortices erupting to create the lightning and thunder that Moriel and the others had seen before, resembling magical light surrounding the sword blades.

These towers resembled the dwellings of gods—supported by an unparalleled super-steel city hidden among the radiating mountain ranges. The main tower itself was an extension of a giant pyramid-shaped structure at the city’s center, its scale easily surpassing that of most cities in the main material world. Numerous interlocking metal domes spread in all directions, even covering the majestic mountains, with only gentle ridges extending like spider legs beyond the city’s boundaries, merging with the dark plains in the distance.

“Wow! I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime!” 47 exclaimed in a rare, childlike awe, rushing straight toward the city without any intention of slowing down. The riveted steel quickly filled the entire windshield, and everyone instinctively grabbed the handrails, bracing for impact—but at the last moment, he slowed down and turned, landing lightly on an open platform at the edge of one of the domes like a swallow circling after rain.

“What’s going on here? Are there no maintenance robots? Where’s the entrance to the hangar…” 47’s complaints were cut short by a fireball suddenly appearing ahead.

“Let me out!” Kaili’s blue eyes emitted a fierce glow, and her seat flattened into a bed, sliding along rails into a black hole that suddenly appeared beneath the control panel. 47 obliged her wish, throwing her far away. The Steel Angel’s shiny high heels touched the ground briefly before changing to a head-first flight mode, and with a powerful leap, she dashed forward at even greater speed, like a silver lightning bolt.

“Come on, let’s go take a look too.” 47 revealed his wheels and sped off with a whoosh.

An explosion ripped a huge hole in the steel walls, with thick black smoke billowing out, twisted into bizarre shapes by the chaotic airflow. 47 leaped high and made a move typically used only by lions hunting, plunging into the steel city. What greeted them was a horrifying sight. Smoke burned and gathered near the high arched ceilings, with sparks and ashes falling like rain. In the scorching wind, there were cries and panicked people everywhere. Several massive, flickering fires roamed around, spreading destruction and suffering indiscriminately. Whenever they swept over those who couldn’t escape, their expanding forms trapped more victims, burning them to ashes, leaving only faint, twisted shadows of despair within them.

Kerry is dealing with them. The clusters of Incinerators pose no threat to her, but her efficiency isn’t high either. To avoid greater destruction, she abstains from using her Light Spear; her Energy Blade cuts through the flames as easily as a butter knife goes into cream, with the flames flickering briefly before merging back together. If severed into pieces too small to heal, each fragment acts independently, greedily pursuing the scent of living beings and tirelessly spreading terror.

The danger of death isn’t limited to this. Morriel saw several elf-like creatures running in panic, trying to stay away from the glowing gas leaking from the broken pipes, but the monstrous mist quickly caught up to them. Those people stumbled a few steps before falling to the ground, writhing in pain—once the paint-like mist passed over them, all that remained were motionless corpses, their terrified faces marked with faint glimmers, like the blinking eyes of Death itself.

Morriel immediately cast protective spells on herself and the others to shield them from the poison gas and flames, then prepared to go help Kerry.

“Don’t be reckless,” she reminded Forty-Seven habitually. Otherwise, after an onslaught of gunfire from the Ironman, not to mention whether the swarm of flame corpses could be completely wiped out, hardly any of those they wanted to help would remain.

As Kayro left the steel war chariot, the temperature dropped sharply. Frosty mist swirled around the girl’s skirt, and the wind that blew past her turned from hot to cold. The chill made people shiver, while the flame undead recoiled as if doused in a bucket of ice water. A column of flames that might have devoured hundreds of people roared upward, but before it could attack or flee, an invisible force field grabbed it first. The pillar of fire twisted and contorted, struggling desperately yet unable to escape, like a snake choked at the throat. Frost surged forward like parasitic maggots, gradually weakening and extinguishing it.

The rules governing magic here were vastly different from those in the Main Material Realm or even the outer planes. If the Magic Web still existed, it was a tangled mess of countless threads rather than a well-ordered, hierarchical energy circulation system. Morriel wasn’t stumped; she chanted spells carefully and swiftly, adding temporary variations that academic mages could never imagine, weaving a stable magical palm with even greater power than before.

Kerry also quickly changed her tactics, ceasing her futile attempts to tear apart the flowing flames and instead starting to slice them mercilessly and meticulously—Fergas followed closely, cooperating fully. The flames torn off by Kerry’s sword were passed to his clawed blade arms, and after several exchanges of cuts, it was as if they were ground again. Reduced to ashes, they were truly cut into tiny pieces, with not a single whole fragment left.

But in the end, it was still Forty-Seven who played the decisive role.

The Tin Man snapped back into human form with a clattering sound, stood between the two tracks he had created, looked around, then walked away on his own. The situation reached a stalemate for a while. Morriel and her companions, like powerful high-pressure water jets, rushed wherever they went, causing the flames to shrink and disappear. Yet, the eerie flames would always reignite in places they couldn’t reach, quickly spreading again—until a dull roar of machinery could be heard amid the smoke and fire. Extending steel shutters sealed the cracks in the dome, the air circulation system resumed working, turbines whirred as they filtered out smoke and toxic gases, and then a heavy mist was sprayed down, like a timely downpour… Most importantly, the chaotic energy was cut off at its source, as if firefighters had finally sealed the leaking fuel pipes.

When Morriel found Forty-Seven and the bat-winged beauty, the cheerleader, he had just pulled the probe out of the wall socket and snapped it back into his hand with a swish.

“Do you know? One R2 is worth a hundred Jedi,” he said to the female mage whose hair was still dripping water.

After the disaster, survivors gathered in small groups, still shaken. But they behaved in an orderly manner, almost methodically. Even facing the charred remains of their loved ones stuck to the melted metal floor, they didn’t cry out in despair; only faint sobs could be heard among the silent figures. There were perhaps a few hundred, or a thousand, and each quickly found their place. Maybe they were lining up by family, Morriel wasn’t sure, because aside from the children, they all looked almost identical—slim bodies, pale almost translucent skin, ears similar to elves, handsome faces with androgynous features, and eyes that held a faint sadness despite the devastation.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Keri asked.

These beautiful creatures wore confused expressions, clearly not understanding what the Steel Angel meant. Keri frowned, about to find another way to communicate, when one of them, seemingly a leader, stepped forward. The man lowered his eyes, ignoring his severely burned legs, knelt before Keri, pushed aside his collar, and offered his smooth, hairless head and graceful neck. There was a gold coin-sized implant on his occiput, almost identical to the one Forty-Seven had just used.

“Ahah, he must want to join the Matrix,” Forty-Seven said again, pulling out his probe—long enough to pierce this poor man through.

Keri stopped the Tin Man with a fierce look. After hesitating for a moment, she raised her right hand. A silver-white tube emerged from the tip of her index finger. Though her movement was gentle, he still trembled uncontrollably as it entered the socket.

After breaking the connection, something changed in Keri’s blue eyes. She nodded slightly, and two people stepped forward from the crowd to carefully help their collapsed companion back.

“Can’t I even find one volunteer?” Forty-Seven continued, waving his weapon-like probe. “And I could even throw in the director’s cut of The Matrix.”

“Stop being silly. Your rudeness will kill them,” Kari said to him, turning her head. “They see us as their representatives… Don’t disappoint them. We must act immediately—the City of the Rulers is facing a huge crisis!”
“Are they the Ruler race? I don’t think so. What do you think?” Kayro shook his head in response to the succubus’s question; the two of them were pure examples of “naive idiots” with big breasts and no brains.
“Machine worship, the psychological alienation of humans in the post-industrial era…” Siqi Shi laid his hands flat. “What does that have to do with me? I’m not a religious or sociologist.”
Moliere didn’t join their argument. She pricked up her ears, as if sensing something—later, the female mage raised her eyebrows, walked through the crowd who silently parted for her, and followed Siqi Shi’s steps.