Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 591 - Four Hundred and Seven: Long Silence

Chapter 591: Chapter Four Hundred and Seven: Long Silence

Ferreiro put down the scalpel in his hand, took off his rubber gloves, and stared into the clean cavity of the eyes, lost in thought. It was so clean, without any foreign objects; the parasite he imagined was completely absent.

"Where could it be?"

He lit a cigarette and walked toward the balcony, ready to breathe in some fresh air.

Passing by the skeleton rack, the old elf saw the white bones processed by Malin himself, which were once the remains of a drunkard who had frozen to death in a drunken attempt to pass through a checkpoint. Malin had bought the body from his relatives and promised his young son an Apprentice slot... If Malin were here, he would surely know; the boy had many ideas.

Just as he was thinking this, Ferreiro stopped in his tracks. He saw something he had never considered. Reaching out, he opened the top of the skull and, looking at the wooden replica of a brain inside, Ferreiro remembered something Malin had once said—if humans truly possessed souls, the brain was like the puppeteer’s board, controlling the flesh. Without it, the soul couldn’t truly and permanently control the body, because it was no longer the master of the flesh.

Yes, the brain!

Ferreiro turned and went back to the operating table, put on a new pair of gloves, took out a saw, and then looked toward the Proxy at the door: "Record the close-up of the brain on the Demon Crystal."

Picking up the knife, Ferreiro steadied the child’s head: "Forgive me, child."

He began by apologizing, then started working, shaving off the hair, then peeling back the skin, and finally using a circular saw to open the skull.

As the skull fell to the ground, Ferreiro looked at the strange object on the brain and grabbed his beard.

"This is... desecration!" he roared with all his might.

The Church of the Goddess of Harvest attested to nature, and for such acts that transformed the form of life, there was no forgiveness.

.........

"Life is born into this world with a mission. Some are born to create miracles for this world, others to save human lives, and some to end another’s life on the battlefield..." With that, Malin looked at Number 87: "Why do you cling desperately to this moment, still dreaming of becoming deities? Is eternity really so important to you that you would annihilate your humanity for it?"

"If you know this, why ask why? We have lived from the old era to this era, for survival, for the glory of humanity, for the Union, how much have we sacrificed? What could a kid like you possibly understand?"

The mechanical body of Number 87 was incomplete, and it leaned in its chair, looking at Malin.

"Is that your justification for treating life as a tool?" Malin sat across from him.

"We are improving life! Generation after generation... We are transforming life forms to re-adapt to this planet! We dream of restoring the glory of the Union!" Number 87 looked furious, struggling to sit upright: "Do you know? The Union has decayed for eight millennia! And you, the dog of the Deities, you want to destroy it all!"

"The management like you also think about becoming deities, or do you believe there is a difference in the eyes of the gods?" Malin countered.

"Of course, there’s a difference! We need Earth’s deities! Not those so-called gods from who knows where! Haven’t we sacrificed enough because of them?!" Number 87 bellowed: "No, you wouldn’t understand! You’re the child of an outsider! A half-breed!"

Malin scoffed coldly at Number 87’s insult and shook his head: "I have seen the last warriors of the Union in ancient records; they never gave up until death, ready to perish with enemies using anti-Chariot mines for victory... and you? You submit to power, obsessed with immortality, the pursuit of the so-called supreme... What you do is no different from Chaos. You claim you curse Chaos, you hate it, but what you do is no different."

With that, Malin spat out: "You want to be gods, to be the masters of this planet under our feet. You naively think becoming deities will resolve everything... What will you use to contend with the four Evil Gods of Chaos? If not for Nameless, the Evil Gods would have already come to this world, and you, like all the innocents on this planet, would ultimately perish!"

"It’s particularly amusing to hear such words from a believer like yourself. Do you also consider yourself innocent? Can’t you see how many innocents the foreign deities have destroyed? Can’t you see his spreading of faith? Oh, of course you can’t, because you’re nothing more than a believer!"

"You’re wrong, I’m not a believer, I have remained an atheist until now," Malin said, and then, looking at Number 87, he smiled, "You naïvely think that I’m a believer, but I’m not."

"Impossible! You’ve just been granted the position of a red-robed Bishop!"

"It’s just a position. I rely on the Church of the Goddess of Harvest merely because it spares me a lot of trouble, and everything I do is for the planet beneath our feet, which is my home."

"I told you, you’re a half-breed! Keep your covetous eyes off our homeland!"

Looking at the frenzy of Number 87, Malin shook his head—they had gone mad, the longing for eternity, the belief in rebirth, had turned this Number 87 into an irrational maniac.

With this thought, Malin stood up and headed towards the gate.

"I curse you! I curse your existence, you lackey of the deity!"

The feeble curse from behind made Malin pause. He turned around and looked at Number 87, "You have never considered what your white ancestors worshipped, something that couldn’t manifest before people, couldn’t change the weather, couldn’t even suppress evil or save the good! And when real deities appeared, you couldn’t wait to become one... How hypocritical of you."

"How did you know?!" Like a tail stepped on, Number 87 howled in inquiry.

"I possess a soul from the ancient past, from the 21st century. To this day, I have never truly believed in any deity, because I believe in the goodness in people’s hearts. Unfortunately, coming to this world, I see your actions... just as hypocritical, laughable, and double-standardized as they were eight millennia ago." Having said this, Malin lifted his head, "Jason, Dorothy, initiate the destruction protocol."

"Injecting the destruction fluid into the first brain reserve," said Jason, his voice containing a hint of satisfaction.

"As you wish, your Excellency," Dorothy was the second to respond.

"No! Wait! We can serve you!" In that moment, Number 87 chose to bow to reality.

But nobody could save them, just as Malin had said before.

They had sealed their own fate.

"Goodnight, Mr. Number 87. There’s no place for you in my ranks," Malin said as he closed the door behind him.

Outside the door, Jason’s mechanical body handed the overcoat in its hand to Malin.

Jason had originally planned to choose a child from the incubation center to be his Proxy—Jerin’s remote electronic brain would be installed within it.

But Malin rejected Jason’s request—these children’s memories had not been written yet, and after much consideration, Malin decided to destroy them.

As for the entire shelter, Malin thought long and hard, and ultimately decided to entrust it to Nameless.

It was a haven for a civilization, as well as a grave for one.

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