Chapter 15: Chapter 15: The Rusty Iron City and Those Who Hate Machines

The morning sun on the third day felt different. There was no longer a giant leaf canopy filtering its light into beautiful beams. Here, at the end of the ruined asphalt road, the sun struck the skin nakedly—hot, dusty, and unforgiving.

Dayat walked in silence. The events of the previous night—the fight at the gas station ruins, the blood on his hands, and Dola’s hug—still played in his head like a broken cassette tape. He felt… older. Not in age, but in mileage. He was no longer Dayat the unemployed guy who panicked at the sight of a rabbit. He was Dayat who had just broken a man’s nose to protect his “wife”.

“Master Dayat,” Dola’s voice broke the silence. “Your heart rate is stable, but cortisol (stress hormone) levels remain high. Do you require verbal stimulation? I can tell the chicken joke again.”

Dayat smiled thinly. “No need, Dol. Your chicken joke is dry. I’m just… thinking. This world is a real bastard, isn’t it?”

” The world is merely an environmental variable, Master,” Dola replied, walking beside him with the tarp cloak now covered by Dayat’s shabby flannel shirt. “What makes it a ’bastard’ are the occupant variables.”

Dayat nodded. He looked ahead.

The forest finally stopped completely. The tree line was cut off as if sliced by a giant knife, replaced by a vast expanse of barren brick-red earth. And in the middle of that expanse, their destination towered.

Bakasa City.

Dayat stopped walking. His mouth parted slightly.

He had imagined a fantasy city like Lord of the Rings: white, clean, majestic, with fluttering flags.

But Bakasa was not like that.

Bakasa was a monstrosity.

The city was surrounded by walls thirty meters high made of a mixture of ancient black stone, rusty iron plates, cemented airship carcasses, and rough concrete patches. The wall looked like a wound stitched haphazardly.

From behind the wall, black chimneys puffed pollution into the sky. Leaning towers with messy cables were seen piercing the clouds. There were giant pipes hissing green steam.

“That’s the city?” Dayat asked, his tone a mix of awe and horror. “Why does it look like a landfill with a fortress around it?”

“Bakasa City,” Dola scanned the structure in the distance. “Eastern Sector regional trade hub. Estimated population: 50,000. Air pollution level: Hazardous to lungs without filters in the long term. Architectural structure: Post-Disaster Scrap-Gothic Style.”

“Scrap-Gothic…” Dayat snorted. “A cool name for ’slum’.”

They continued walking across the barren land toward the main gate. The closer they got, the more crowded it became. The asphalt road, once deserted, was now beginning to fill with people.

There were caravans of merchants with carts pulled by giant lizards. There were hooded wanderers. There were mercenaries in leather armor full of scratches.

And not just humans.

Dayat saw creatures two meters tall with gray skin and tusks protruding from their lower jaws (Orcs?). He saw dwarfs with braided beards carrying large axes (Dwarves?).

“Dol,” Dayat whispered, pulling Dola’s hood lower. “Lots of weird creatures. Don’t let them see your eyes.”

“Understood. Incognito Mode Active. I will lower my head 15 degrees.”

They joined the long queue in front of the half-open giant iron gate. There, a dozen guards in iron plate armor (which looked dented) were inspecting everyone entering.

The guards didn’t look friendly. They held spears with tips glowing faintly blue—magic weapons.

“Prepare your mental state, Master,” Dola whispered. “Here, the law of the jungle changes to the law of bureaucracy and bribery. Look at 2 o’clock.”

Dayat glanced over. He saw a merchant slipping a bag of coins into a guard’s hand so his cart wouldn’t be inspected.

“Damn, I have no money,” Dayat mumbled. “Do we use the ’Pox Walker’ trick again?”

“Negative. There is a Cleric (Healer) on duty at the city gate. If Master claims to carry a plague, we will be burned on the spot or forcibly quarantined. We need a new strategy: The Scavenger.”

“Scavenger?”

“Master possesses the ring from yesterday’s Golem. Show it if asked. Say we found scrap items and want to sell them.”

The queue moved slowly. Dayat felt his heart pounding hard. He felt small under the shadow of that giant wall.

As they got closer to the gate, Dola suddenly stopped. Her hand gripped Dayat’s arm hard, her fingernails (synthetic but hard) digging into Dayat’s flesh.

“Ow! What is it, Dol?”

Dola didn’t answer. She was transfixed, staring at a large notice board nailed to the outer wall of the gate. The board was full of wanted posters and royal decrees.

But there was one poster that was the largest. The image wasn’t a face, but a drawing of a machine gear crossed out in red.

The text below used rough local script, but Dola translated it real-time into Dayat’s ear.

“DECREE OF THE HOLY CHURCH OF GEAR-BREAKERS:” Dola whispered, her voice sounding… scared? “All forms of ’Thinking Ancient Technology’ (Sentient Machina) are HERESY. Whosoever hides, repairs, or interacts with the Remnants of the Iron Demons of the Past shall be punished by death via melting.”

Dayat felt his blood freeze. He looked at the poster, then at Dola wrapped in the hobo cloak.

“Thinking Ancient Technology…” Dayat repeated slowly. “That’s… you, Dol?”

“The definition covers Artificial Intelligence and high-level Automatons,” Dola replied stiffly. “Master… my existence in this city is not just strange. It is illegal. And forbidden.”

Dayat swallowed hard. “Okay. Okay. Calm down. They don’t know you’re a machine. You’re warm. You have skin. You’re just a mute girl in weird clothes. Don’t get caught.”

“The inspection ahead uses a Mana Detection Crystal,” Dola warned. “If that crystal detects my Mana-fueled Core Processor…”

“Can you turn it off?” Dayat interrupted. “Turn off your engine? Go into… whatever mode, stone mode?”

“I can enter Deep Hibernate. My system will shut down completely, leaving only basic motor functions moved manually. But my eyes will go dark. I will be blind and deaf.”

“Do it,” Dayat said firmly. “I’ll guide you. I’m your eyes now.”

Dola looked at Dayat for a moment. “Initiating sensor circuit disconnect… Shutting down in 3… 2…”

The blue light under Dola’s hood went out. Her body jerked slightly, then went limp. She didn’t fall, but her posture changed. She truly looked like a doll, or a severely ill person. She leaned heavily against Dayat’s body.

“Next!” the gate guard barked.

Dayat dragged his feet forward, supporting Dola who was now in “suspended animation”.

“Halt!” The guard, a burly man with a helmet covering half his face, blocked Dayat’s chest with a spear shaft. “Identity? Purpose?”

“Hidayat,” Dayat replied, his voice hoarse (acting). “This is my wife, Dola. We are scavengers from the forest. Want to sell found items. My wife… is blind and sick with fatigue.”

The guard looked at Dola who was slumped limply. He wasn’t interested in Dola (probably because Dola looked like a walking corpse right now).

“Scavengers, huh? From which forest?”

“Sector Delta,” Dayat answered randomly (remembering the writing on the pillar yesterday).

The guard’s eyes widened slightly. “Sector Delta? Are you crazy? Going in there is suicide.”

“Luck comes from anywhere, Sir,” Dayat forced a smile, then with trembling hands took out the Black Ring obtained from the Golem. “We found this.”

The guard took the ring. He examined it under the sunlight.

“Level 4 Authority Ring…” the guard mumbled. “Ancient scrap. But sellable to a blacksmith.”

He returned the ring to Dayat, his gaze softening slightly (or perhaps turning dismissive).

“You got big luck, Hobo. Usually, scavengers who enter Delta come out as just bones.”

The guard then took a clear crystal the size of a fist hanging from his waist. He pointed it at Dayat’s body. The crystal glowed a faint purple—detecting Dayat’s latent Mana.

“Near-zero Mana. Not dangerous,” the guard mumbled.

Then he pointed the crystal at Dola.

Dayat’s heart stopped beating.

The crystal… remained silent. No glow.

Because Dola was in Deep Hibernate mode, she emitted no active signal. She was detected only as a lump of (biological) flesh and dead metal (accessories).

“Your wife has no Mana at all,” the guard said, lowering his crystal. “Crippled?”

Dayat nodded quickly. “Yes, Sir. Birth defect. That’s why I look after her.”

“Fine, go in. Entry fee is 2 copper coins. If you don’t have any, that ring is collateral.”

“Huh? Collateral?” Dayat panicked. That was his first loot.

“Or do you want to sleep outside with wild Goblins?”

Dayat growled internally. He handed over the ring with a heavy heart. “I’ll redeem it later.”

“We’ll see,” the guard grinned slyly, pocketing the ring. “Move! Others are waiting!”

Dayat supported Dola through the thick iron gates.

Once they crossed the threshold, the city noise hit them instantly. Merchants shouting, the sound of forging iron, gears spinning, babies crying, and the pungent smell of spices mixed with coal smoke.

Dayat dragged Dola into a narrow alley between two tall brick buildings, avoiding the main street crowd.

“Dol… Dol, it’s safe. Wake up,” Dayat whispered, patting Dola’s cheek.

Silence for a moment.

Then, a soft Whirrrr sound came from Dola’s chest. Faint blue light lit up again under her hood. Dola took a long artificial breath, her body straightening up again.

“System Online,” Dola’s voice sounded glitchy for a second before returning to normal. “Status: Safe?”

“Safe. We’re inside,” Dayat leaned his back against the dirty brick wall. He slid down to sit on the ground. “But the ring is gone. Taken by that corrupt guard.”

Dola scanned the slum alley environment. Sewer rats the size of cats ran in front of them.

“That ring is a replaceable asset,” Dola said. “What matters is unit integrity and Master’s safety are maintained.”

Dayat laughed hollowly. He looked at the sky covered in factory smoke.

“Safe, my ass, Dol… We’re poor. We have no friends. We have no place to stay. And apparently…” Dayat looked at Dola seriously. “You are the number one fugitive here. If anyone finds out you’re a smart machine, we’ll be melted down.”

Dola fell silent. She processed the poster information earlier.

“Conclusion: Survival mission difficulty increased from ’Hard’ to ’Extreme’,” Dola said.

Dayat sighed. “Welcome to Bakasa, my Wife. The dream city that turned out to be a nightmare.”

In the distance, the city tower bell tolled, its sound heavy and grim, welcoming the arrival of two alien souls who would mess up the destiny of this world.

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