Round 46: Cybertron (Part 2)

The journey ahead was entirely dominated by the desolate, rusted landscape of steel cities. The magnificent metal structures lay lifeless, devoid of even a hint of luster, resembling rows of giant coffins displayed beneath a dark dome formed by endless pipelines, mechanical frameworks, and supporting structures. The air was thick, heavy, and murky; every breath felt like inhaling machine oil. From the depths shrouded in web-like barriers, occasional dull, thunderous roars could be heard, followed by winds carrying a pungent odor that stirred the almost sludge-like air, as if a seriously ill person were struggling to exhale after great effort—rotten, filthy, barely sustaining a life on the verge of extinction.

Forty-seven led the group through the empty, silent streets toward another station. The deeper they went, the more evident it became that this miraculous city was in its dying stages—more areas had collapsed, and signs of massive disasters were everywhere. Everything around them conveyed an atmosphere of irreversible decay that permeated the entire city. There were signs of life along the way, but they were all hidden in the city’s shadows, just as lifeless as the rusted metal. Kari fell silent, while Forty-seven remained energetic, his eyes shining brightly, like a newly crowned king inspecting his lands.

They boarded a transit rail car. Soon, the dark carriages lit up one after another. The vehicle trembled, emitting harsh sounds of metal friction, and moved along the elevated tracks with creaking noises, passing through abandoned, ruined neighborhoods and weaving through the dark, silent steel city.

“Damn it, I’m never taking this again. I’m going to hang this city’s transportation minister—or appoint one first and then hang them,” Forty-seven declared as he sat down on a seat covered in dust, after starting the train. The others stayed as far away from him as possible to avoid sneezing.

Fortunately, there were no more problems like blocked passages or broken bridges on the rest of the journey. Eventually, they arrived at the foot of the great pyramid in the city center, saving a future transportation minister from the tragic fate of being hanged. Here, things finally seemed to be functioning normally. Huge mechanical arrays surrounding the base of the pyramid roared, and from time to time, bright lightning bolts traced paths along the pyramid’s surface, tearing through the darkness before plunging into the dense, hundreds-of-feet-tall metal coils, generating stable, controllable high-voltage currents that powered the tightly interlocked, rotating gears deep below—reaching places too far down to see—firmly and coldly keeping the city’s core functioning, preventing it from coming to a complete standstill.

Several strange black shadows appeared in the forest of pipes and quickly crawled toward the people who had just stepped out of the car. They were giant ants, about ten feet long, covered in brownish-black carapaces, with sharp limbs, claws, and jaws. These ants were equipped with artificial devices; one of them touched Kari’s outstretched finger quickly and rhythmically, then the ants dispersed back to their posts, ignoring them.

One heavy iron door after another swung open as they entered the interior of the great pyramid. After passing through numerous thick, astonishingly armored walls, a gray corridor began to move automatically as they stepped onto it. Faint light illuminated a space of about ten feet ahead and behind; as the moving corridor lit up and dimmed in sequence, the darkness ahead seemed endless, with darkness following closely behind—there was nothing interesting to see anyway; the areas they passed through were all similar, lacking any distinct features. Time passed by, and they continued to descend deeper, unsure when they would reach the end.

“Now, I need a clear answer from you,” Kari said, looking at Forty-Seven. “It’s time. You must make a choice.”

“What’s there to choose? I’ve come to see your old relic maker,” Forty-Seven replied. “The situation is indeed bad, but that’s the case anywhere where energy runs out. Be realistic—after living for millions of years, it’s time to die a natural death.”

“I’m disappointed by your attitude. The Dominators are also your creators; loyalty to them is our unchangeable fate!” Kari glared at him. “Without loyalty, what’s the difference between you and the beasts we once fought against and will fight again? To forget is to betray; to flee leads to destruction! Why won’t you ever admit it? Can’t your memories and reason be awakened even here? What do you think Moriel is? She’s not a haven for you to ‘conquer’ fate! Sooner or later, you’ll drag her down with you!”

Forty-Seven grabbed Kari by the neck. The flames of hell burned in his eyes, his face instantly becoming ferocious—not just in expression, but in the fundamental transformation that occurs in a werewolf under the light of a full moon.

The steel began to vibrate, emitting rapid, howling low-frequency noises. The metal resonance grew stronger with each wave, spreading like biological electricity, soon causing hundreds of corridors within the pyramid to echo with this metallic roar. It wasn’t until the screws on the walls popped off one after another and the lights burst under the pressure that the terrifying howling gradually subsided.

“Listen carefully. I’ll say it once more. My name is Galileo Space·Aristotle Eighteenth Legion·AK-R-5 Mechanical Assault Model·Number Forty-Seven. Every bullet bears Krupp’s anti-counterfeiting barcode. I wasn’t created by any Dominator,” Forty-Seven said sternly.

“I know you don’t understand. It’s okay. I guess you’ve never thought about this side of things, have you?”

“Stop arguing,” Moriel said, raising her staff and tapping Forty-Seven twice. “What’s the point of fighting among yourselves? With a great enemy at hand, you’re still turning on each other. You’re letting the Dominators down greatly.”

Forty-Seven turned his head, the red light in his eyes dimming significantly. “Don’t worry. Master Titanium’s era is over. Besides, how do you know they’ll be disappointed?”

“There are no strangers in this world, only friends yet to be met,” the female mage said, tapping her own forehead. “Communication—I guess you’ve never thought about that either.”

The automatic corridor came to a silent halt, and a ring of starlike lights illuminated the outline of the hexagonal platform. Once everyone stepped onto the platform and steadied themselves, the lights flickered and suddenly went out. A strong sense of weightlessness surged from their feet to their heads, as if the City of Steel had vanished, and they were falling into an endless darkness.

The descent lasted for a considerable time—by the time the lights came back on, what appeared before them was the most precise and perfect hemispherical hall they had ever seen. A honeycomb-like structure made up of countless hexagons covered the sky, with the highest point reaching about a thousand feet above the ground. They glowed brightly, with each small hexagon likely having a slightly different brightness and flickering pattern—there were countless combinations at any given moment. Yet this incredible glowing dome did not cause dizziness; it was possible to look directly at it without issue, just as peacefully as looking at a clear sky.

Apart from the bright lights, the hall was empty. They were at its center, able to see straight through in any direction. The entire scene was magnificent and awe-inspiring, filling them with both reverence and anticipation—anticipation for the great beings who had conquered fate, gods, and even time.

A hissing sound of electrical activity filled the air, as if a charged breeze was blowing. A voice emerged—stiff, monotonous, lacking variation in pace or tone. It switched through various languages, most of which were ancient and beyond the listeners’ comprehension. After a long while, it finally shifted to the universal language commonly used in the current material plane.

“Apologies, learning the current language isn’t as easy as we expected,” the voice said. “Thank you for taking care of them all this time, helping them evolve to such a degree.”

Morriel bowed slightly toward the reflective emptiness. “It is an honor to travel with such a masterpiece.”

“Yes, indeed a masterpiece,” the voice replied, still stiff, but with a hint of pride. “Our greatest achievement, our strongest force. We developed living metal capable of withstanding the primordial energies of the multiverse, forged indestructible metal bodies, endowed them with thoughts and power, to protect our race and secure a place to survive among the increasingly insane ancient gods. With a little more time, a little more inspiration, we might have made them even more perfect and extraordinary, capable of truly shouldering the responsibility of becoming the guardians of our race—more worthy of worship than the ancient gods.”

The voice paused. “It’s a pity it’s too late now.”

“Your will is my destiny,” Kaeli said, looking up at the sky. “Please give your orders. I will fight to the end for you, no matter what—this is the meaning of my existence.”

After she spoke, there was no immediate reply; only a brief silence.

“No, my child.” A moment later, it seemed as if another person had taken over, the stern king turning into a kind elder, though it was still the same mechanical voice: “It’s not necessary. You are on a brand new path, one different from our design. This isn’t a mistake; our path has reached its end. We once believed that the meaning of our existence was to serve the ancient gods and give everything for them. Generation after generation, we devoted ourselves completely to the ancient gods, plunging into their civil war that swept across the multiverse, sparing no effort in sacrificing our brief and insignificant lives for the victory of our faith.”

“But after paying a terrible price, we didn’t gain a better future. The ancient gods drained the energy of stars, lands, and living beings to sustain the enormous demands of the war; countless realms were destroyed, turning into barren, lifeless worlds of death. Even worse, we realized that the war was affecting the fundamental energies that ensured the stable growth of the multiverse, undermining its very existence. As for the ancient gods, sadly, we still don’t know why they refuse to stop, preferring to perish together rather than cease fighting. Perhaps they can no longer control the scale of the war, cannot control themselves, or even cannot distinguish between friend and foe.”

The voice continued, describing how, in this strange and magnificent hall, people seemed to be back in that era of raging war, hearing the storms raging outside the pyramids, hearing the roars of the ancient gods devouring each other amidst the storms.

“Finally, we realized that there would be no victors in this war, not even survivors. For the first time since we gained wisdom, we began to consider our own fate. Because of the existence of metal warriors, the enemies paid increasing attention to us. They destroyed every city and factory we had, trying to wipe us out completely. The rate of consumption exceeded our capacity to rebuild, and our own vulnerability and flaws gradually developed into a plague that cursed our entire race, even without the enemies’ attacks—thousands of our people died needlessly, infants going straight from cradles to graves. Our population dwindled; we no longer had the ability to create new warriors, and even maintaining them became a difficult and hopeless task. We came to the worst and only conclusion: we were doomed to destruction, and the decline of our race could not be reversed.”

“We had no other choice but to fight to the death,” the voice recalled. “We abandoned all our cities, ordered the remaining metal warriors to carry out suicidal attacks to distract the enemies, and migrated here as a whole. Fewer than one in a hundred survived. At that time, this place had just experienced a great war—a Phaeton set the entire world on fire before dying, leaving nothing but flames. We used Phaeton’s burning corpse as cover and gathered all the energy we still had to build this final refuge. We decided to abandon our physical bodies and use the remaining living metal to create containers, pouring all our minds into them, just as you see now.”

“Hey, as I expected,” said Forty-Seven with a grin.

“As for you, there is a part of you that we cannot see through. You are our creation, but now you are beyond our understanding,” the voice said to Forty-Seven. “If we were still the race we once were, we would explore and study, trying every means to uncover the mystery of your transformation. But we cannot do that. Though metal has preserved our thoughts and, to some extent, granted us immortality, it has also strangled our souls, emotions, and the creativity that arises from a short life. Today, all that stands before you is an echo, a shadow left by a vanished race. As time passes, we have blurred our individual thoughts, lost our independence, and given up all the talents we once had, while you and she have gained a complete sense of self. This is truly the greatest irony of fate against us. Go. We will not ask you to continue serving us as before; you have done enough. If you came here because you still see our existence as a bond of fate, then now we release you from it. We command that you be free—nothing shall bind you anymore, not even us.”

Forty-Seven’s chin hit the ground with a thud. Not exaggeration—his chin quickly snapped back into place. “I didn’t expect that.”

“But you’re in danger!” Kaili said urgently. “You and your city are under threat! We’ve learned that a demon intends to launch an attack using abominations!”

“I know,” the voice replied. “Time cannot lessen hatred, nor can it erase the lingering wrath of the ancient gods. Staying here is useless. You must have seen that the energy supplying the city is nearly exhausted. The various monsters brought by the tide of chaos are just a prelude. Soon, an energy storm will come with the anger of the ancient gods, and everything will descend into chaos. Destruction is the only outcome.”

“Can’t anything be done? We saw many residents in the city when we arrived,” Moriel asked.

“We’ve calculated it—there’s no way. Those residents are also descendants of the ancient race. To adapt to their environment and survive, we modified them. They have helped us maintain the city’s operations, but they can no longer leave it either. They have become prisoners of steel, just like us. In fact, even without the ancient gods, our decline was inevitable. The laws governing the multiverse have forever changed. We once thought the severely damaged universe would fall silent, and life would wither away, but now younger races thrive in environments far better than ours. We have lost our bodies and minds, and memories alone cannot solve our problems. Unable to draw enough energy from the multiverse, we are completely trapped. The city has long since become a tomb. If it weren’t for the deep-seated memories in our minds, we wouldn’t even continue to live. We’ve endured long enough—every moment of this long existence has been agony.”

For the first time, emotion clearly emerged in the voice—a profound, suffocating sorrow.

“Alright then. We’re leaving. It was great meeting you all. Good luck.” Forty-Seven waved his hand.
“What? We can’t leave!” Kari shouted. “You know that!”
“Why not? You saw it yourself,” Forty-Seven sneered. “You went through all this trouble to see Martivak, thinking he could solve all your world’s problems, only to get a little piece of paper that says ‘I want to die’—what do you think now? To be honest, dear, I don’t give a damn.”
“Maybe… maybe we could consider asking the current gods for help?” Kairo hesitated. Then the girl turned to Moriel. “It’s… it’s the Mist Goddess’s suggestion. She says it will definitely work. As long as we get the coordinates, a powerful god can break through spatial barriers and establish contact with the city. Although providing enough energy for the city’s operation will drain the helping god greatly, the ancient secrets in return are well worth it…”
Suddenly, the girl frowned in realization. “Oh no, what kind of scheme are you plotting? Are you trying to take this chance to regain your strength and return to your throne?”
“Unfortunately, that won’t work either,” the voice replied again. “We don’t mind new gods taking over, after all, they’re completely different from the ancient gods—young, energetic, full of vitality. But calling them will expose our location, giving our enemies who want to destroy us a clear path. We don’t have enough time to establish stable dimensional tunnels before darkness falls. And worse, the ancient gods, who refuse to rest, will not only kill us instantly but also take the chance to enter your current multiverse and your world. You should know what that means.”
Of course they did. They had seen the ominous signs when Xuzexker nearly revived, almost freezing the entire north.
“Well, it seems the feasibility report is done,” Forty-Seven said.
“How long would it take to do everything using Little Red Riding Hood’s method?”
“In your time, at least a week. If there’s no clear response, it might take months. And with the city’s current state, it wouldn’t take an hour to eliminate us.”
“That’s none of your business,” Forty-Seven grinned. “This body is still pretty useful, so I’ll do you one last favor. Go find Christ, Allah, Laozi, or whatever. Leave it to me to see if I can last an hour. Anyway, you don’t have any feelings for this place anyway. You don’t mind telling me the system administrator’s password, do you?”
“Which god should we contact?” Moriel asked. “To be honest, I’m not keen on following Lady Lies, and I’m even less optimistic about Shirek.”

“Whatever.” The Tin Man sprouted flames from his feet, ready to take off. “Weren’t they saying that meddling will get you burned? Well, wait and see who will step forward out of selflessness. No conditions at all—let them know we can’t be stopped, and the entire universe will suffer. That Grazt is just waiting for chaos to profit from it; he sits back and watches us struggle, leaving us caught between choices. We need to be friends with good people—good people won’t ignore the floods outside just because they have their own ship.”
“Yes.” Morriel sighed, pondering which fate was worse—his city destroyed or falling into his hands. “You have to combine intimidation, extortion, and deception to be a perfect diplomat.”
When he found Forty-Seven again, he was standing atop enormous ruins. This must have been the landfill for the city’s waste—no area was free of abandoned, collapsed structures. Ant-like creatures scurried around, and countless steel debris formed rolling hills of rust-colored mountains.
The female mage walked along the creaking overhead pipes toward Forty-Seven. He turned to look at her, his gaze sharp and intense.
“Veterans never die; they just wither slowly.”