Round 9: The Garden Festival

Some didn’t agree, as witnesses at the intersection clearly saw that it was Castor who made a nearly suicidal move—though they were still shocked by Forty-Seven’s killings. But Moriel didn’t know the exact circumstances; her first decision was to go after Bloodaxe rather than hit Forty-Seven on the head. After all, everyone knew Castor was Bloodaxe’s most loyal ally and one of his runners. If this matter couldn’t be resolved properly, not only would the upcoming adventure be at risk, but whether they could stay in Rain City would also be in doubt.

By the time Moriel arrived at the Warriors’ Guild, it was almost dark. Although two suns rotated across the sky every day, the days still seemed extremely short.

Bloodaxe’s reply was simple and forceful: “I don’t want to waste time. We’ll set off for the swamp tomorrow morning; we can discuss the rest when we get back!”

When Forty-Seven returned to the Stone of the Future, Moriel was waiting for him.

“What did you do today?” Moriel asked, sitting behind a low table, having just prepared the gear needed for the next day.

“I tested my new equipment. I still think it’s necessary for me to have a meteor hammer,” Forty-Seven replied, turning his head.

“You killed Castor! When you killed that thief in the Mage Tower, I thought it was your duty. Now how do you explain this? Who ordered you to do it? Or are you just a bloodthirsty failure?” Moriel grew impatient. If they went into the swamp like this, she couldn’t predict what might happen.

Forty-Seven didn’t answer right away. Suddenly, he drew his sword and pinned a gecko to a crack in the wall.

“You mean taking someone’s life?” Forty-Seven seemed distracted. “I don’t know how you view life. Life is born, then it disappears—Isn’t that natural? My purpose in being born is also to disappear, to eliminate as many enemies as possible. Until I’m eliminated—that’s the battlefield. That’s the order I’ve received. That’s my world.”

“The battlefield? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe there are many battlefields in this world, but certainly not at a busy intersection!” Moriel tried to persuade Forty-Seven, though she still hadn’t forgotten that he was just an construct. “To survive in the city, one must follow its rules. No one can live forever on their own. You talk about orders—so who gave you those orders? I don’t remember giving you such instructions!”

“I gave them to myself,” Forty-Seven replied calmly.

Moriel suddenly laughed. “You say you gave orders to yourself? You’re a construct! As ignorant as I may be, I’ve never heard of a construct like you. Are you trying to tease me? What was the last order given to you by the master of the Mage Tower? What orders do you have? Speak!” By the end, Moriel was shouting, unable to tolerate having a construct that wasn’t completely under her control wandering around her.

Forty-seven stared at Moriel expressionlessly—actually, Forty-seven couldn’t convey any expression with that metal-like face anyway. He thought Moriel was overly nervous, though he could understand it; after thinking he’d gotten a powerful exosuit for free, only to realize he couldn’t control it at all, anyone would be upset.

“The mage in the mage tower never gave me any orders. To be precise, the first person to give me orders was you. So, by your logic, you should be my first master. Therefore, any orders I give now depend entirely on you. As for your question, I can’t answer it because I don’t have the answer—you do.”

After a while, Moriel stood up without responding and said before heading upstairs, “We’re leaving early tomorrow morning. I still have a lot to prepare. Idiot, you’ve wasted so much of my time. You’d better get ready too. Bloodaxe might not want us to get out of the swamp!”

“Why do we have to go back to the swamp? Is that sphere that important to you?”

“An exosuit shouldn’t question its master!” Moriel continued climbing the stairs without stopping.

Forty-seven turned his head slightly as a response.

The night passed quickly. Although Forty-seven didn’t need sleep, he could still shut down most of his functions and enter a dormant state, leaving only a faint pulse of consciousness to keep him aware of his surroundings. If humans tried to do this or used similar magic, they couldn’t truly rest. Thankfully, Forty-seven didn’t have to worry about such things. As for why Forty-seven went into dormancy, Moriel guessed it might be because his nervous fidgeting and head-turning used up too much “lubricant,” though she had never seen what that lubricant was.

Moriel placed several magic sigils, locked the door, and headed toward the warriors’ guild. Forty-seven followed, wrapping himself tightly in gray leech skin, revealing only his two red-eyed eyes, so as not to let the swamp’s moisture quickly damage his hard-earned shiny body.

Six people arrived from Bloodaxe’s side: Bloodaxe himself, human warrior Jason, two shifty-looking thieves, a dwarf as sturdy as Bloodaxe, and a giant werewolf with chains around its neck, the other end held by Jason.

“You’re late!” Bloodaxe leaned on his famous axe, his braids fluttering in the swampy wind, looking imposing, though a bit short.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get the exact meeting time.” Moriel kept her hood pulled low, so only her bright red lips and sharp chin were visible. A mage’s appearance was always mysterious, even to those familiar with them.

“Hmph!” Bloodaxe snorted and strode forward, with the others following closely behind. Before them lay an endless swamp.

One of the thieves approached Forty-seven and looked up at him. “Hey, big guy! I’m Quick. What’s your name?”

“Forty-seven.”

“Nice to meet you!” Quick clicked his lips. His protruding front teeth and crooked chin caused saliva to drip from the gaps between his lips.

“I’m glad to meet you too, sir!”
“Haha, sir, yes, let me introduce them! After all, we might spend quite a long time together on this journey! Needless to say, Lord Bloodaxe is the strongest warrior in Rain City; that’s my companion—his name is Kane. He’s not very talkative, but he’s a good guy; Jason is a formidable figure, though he might seem silly, hehe.” Quick continued, sucking on the saliva dripping from his mouth, “I don’t know that dwarf. He seems to have joined recently, or maybe he’s related to Lord Bloodaxe, hehe. And that monster—uh, why is it growling at me? You monster!”
The fanged werewolf turned to Quick and let out low growls, appearing extremely unintelligent—likely a failure whose mind had been completely infected by the beastification disease. They acted on instinct, obeying only their master, who was clearly Lord Bloodaxe, as the werewolf immediately lowered its head when Bloodaxe glared at it.
“Why isn’t that female warrior, Mary, here?” Forty-Seven was very disappointed. He had hoped to get that nice whip dagger during this journey.
“Oh, do constructs also have an interest in women? Hehe, I was there when you killed Castor. To be honest, I was his subordinate, but don’t worry—I hate Castor too. He always deducted from the rewards Lord Bloodaxe gave us. Those were hard-earned money we fought for…”
In truth, Forty-Seven cared neither about hard-earned money nor had any special interest in women. He certainly wasn’t interested in how much this vile, hunched-up guy hated Castor. To be honest, he was even a bit distracted. Ever since arriving in Rain City, he had a vague feeling that something was pulling at him—faint, fleeting. He didn’t know what it was, nor did he pay it much attention. But today, that feeling grew stronger. He was thinking about how to figure it out, even forgetting about Mary’s whip dagger for the time being.
It was similar to the feeling during those days after the mage fell asleep. Forty-Seven touched the skin on his chest, recalling those days in the mage tower.
Without the protection and sustenance of magic, the mage tower had become in ruins. Especially Morriel, who had taken all the magic from the tower before leaving. Many parts of it were now completely destroyed. It was now completely exposed in the swamp, at the mercy of those muddy swamp creatures. The outer layer of the tower had been mercilessly marked as their territory by the big-mouthed mud acid snakes and lizards with their venom and urine. The cruelty of those creatures was beyond description just by hearing about it.
“The nightmare is finally over. And it’s in such a filthy place! It must have taken us over half a year to find this dump. Half a year… I can’t even imagine how I got through those nights without velvet, silk, or the warmth of a girl’s body.”