Chapter 314: Regarding the Abyss

From the skies, several towering golems, over three meters tall and clad in thick black armor, plummeted toward the battlefield. Designed specifically for melee combat, they landed squarely upon the still-burning body of the abyssal beast, which had just been ravaged by a missile bombardment. Without pause, they drove their drill-like weapons into its hardened exoskeleton.

Alchemical fuel ignited with a roar. Internal combustion forced massive steel spikes deep into its body. Chains attached to the spikes nailed it down to the ground; no matter how it writhed, it could no longer rise.

In the air, flying alchemical automata ceased the missile bombardment and instead deployed spraying nozzles from their arms. They doused the immobilized beast in a pungent liquid, thick, viscous, and seeping into its open wounds.

The flames still licking at its body were not enough to ignite this particular substance. But when the heavy golems leapt clear from the creature’s back, the airborne units released several spheres that glowed red.

A few seconds later, the spheres ruptured in a blast of superheated energy, igniting the caustic fluid. Blazing white fire engulfed the creature, burning it from the outside in. The flames consumed everything—stone, metal, flesh—leaving only ash and vapor in their wake.

Nearby buildings and roadways melted into blackened, unusable sludge. The abyssal beast, taller than most houses, was incinerated in under a minute.

When the flames finally burned out, all that remained was a charred crater and the ruined remains of the district. The abyssal beast had been reduced to nothing more than scorched gases and dust drifting in the wind.

With the abyssal horror annihilated, the alchemical automata gathered into a tight formation, soared into the sky, and headed back to one of Skyborne City’s central spires, where they were housed.

On the ruined streets below, what looked like metal manhole covers flipped open. Countless mechanical spiders skittered out rapidly on metallic legs. These drones were the smallest and most ubiquitous automata in Skyborne City.

Named Worker Bees, they were the city’s foremost laborers, responsible for everything from construction to cleanup. Thousands of them were now surging in from all directions to purge the battlefield.

Building debris was swiftly carted off and dropped into subterranean processing tunnels. Melting pavement was cut into neat sections with their built-in saws and drills, then transported away.

The Bees produced steel panels from the compartments on their back, which they hammered into place to rebuild shattered roads. Their welding arms hissed as rivets snapped into place. In mere minutes, the ground was restored to its initial condition.

The Bees, however, did not repair the collapsed buildings. They merely cleared the rubble, likely because those buildings were private property belonging to various unfortunate wizards whose shops had just been obliterated. Anything not confirmed salvageable was left untouched.

Wang Yu couldn’t help but marvel as he watched the mechanical swarm clean and rebuild with ruthless efficiency. This city had elevated the art of alchemy to an absurd degree. Of course, that was one of the reasons he’d come here in the first place.

Only now, with the abyssal beast destroyed, did the wizards finally start to reappear. They trickled out from alleyways and hidden entrances, emerging from buildings they had cowered within. Others whose homes had been reduced to rubble pushed open trapdoors and climbed out from cellars.

“This thing wasn’t even that strong,” Wang Yu muttered, brows furrowed. “Why the hell didn’t they come out and fight? If they had, maybe their shops wouldn’t be kindling.”

Some of the wizards who had lost their homes simply cradled their heads in silent despair. Others collapsed to their knees, as if refusing to accept what had happened. The sight left Wang Yu puzzled.

As more Worker Bees scuttled past, Wang Yu grabbed one. He dragged the struggling mechanical spider into an alleyway.

“WARNING. WARNING. DO NOT HARASS OR DETAIN ALCHEMICAL MACHINERY OF SKYBORNE CITY. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN ARREST AND EXPULSION BY ORDER OF THE CENTRAL ASSEMBLY.”

The Worker Bee flashed with red light and rattled off a threat in a clipped, mechanical voice.

“Astartes? You there?”

He wasn’t really addressing the machine. He was trying to reach the consciousness that resided in it.

“You’ve got some nerve,” a familiar voice sighed from the spider’s speaker. “If I weren’t here, you’d already be cuffed and tossed out of the city.”

Just as he’d expected. The omnipresent Astartes—Skyborne’s resident Machine Spirit—was likely the central mind behind all of these constructs.

The other Worker Bees, who had begun to converge threateningly on Wang Yu, quietly dispersed the moment Astartes began to speak. Now it was just him and the spider, glaring at each other in a quiet corner of the alley.

“I’ve got a question,” Wang Yu said. “Why didn’t any of those wizards help fight the Abyssal beast? That thing wasn’t invincible.”

“Because they’re wizards… Abyssal creatures are their natural predators. Void energy doesn’t affect them. Most spells are useless against them.

“In fact, in areas of high void concentration, abyssal beasts get even stronger. Be thankful those wizards didn’t step in. If they had, that beast might’ve grown ten times as large. I’d like to see you handle that.”

Its voice dripped with dry sarcasm; it clearly enjoyed Wang Yu’s ignorance.

Wang Yu nodded slowly as pieces fell into place in his mind. “No wonder. There’s nothing in the Nightblades’ archives about abyssal beasts. I guess everyone just assumed they were extinct after the ban. The Nightblades, who are supposed to deal with void and abyssal threats, have only ever needed to handle the void side.”

He rubbed his chin. “But why was there an abyssal beast here at all, then? I thought they were forbidden. Wiped out.”

“Why would I tell you that?” Astartes replied coolly. “The information is classified. Only authorized personnel may access it. And last I checked, you weren’t authorized.”

Astartes fell silent for a beat. The little spider twitched. “But…”

“I’ll try something,” it continued. “In a second, I’m going to read you two authorization protocols. Just say ‘agreed’ to each one. Not sure if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.”

The mechanical spider rubbed its tiny forelimbs together like a man cracking his knuckles.

“Got it.”

Wang Yu wasn’t exactly sure what Astartes was up to, but it clearly intended to tell him something.

“Protocol 1: The following data shall be treated as classified and permanently stored.”

“Agreed.”

“Protocol 2: The received data may not be deleted, transmitted, or made accessible to any unauthorized individual or system.”

“Agreed.”

Astartes’ voice had suddenly turned mechanical, cold, and robotic. The protocols themselves meant little to Wang Yu, but he agreed nonetheless.

“Well, what do you know… it actually worked.”

The mechanical spider scratched its head with the harsh screech of metal on metal. Even Astartes sounded slightly surprised that the authorization had gone through.

“Whatever. If you want to know what’s going on, I’ll tell you. I’m not restricted anymore. And honestly, this classified information isn’t that important anyway.

“Let me ask you something. When faced with a hostile species that’s incredibly hard to contain, one that you’ve almost entirely wiped out, what’s the smarter move? Erase every trace of them from existence, in case they make a resurgence?

“Or… keep a few survivors, some captured specimens, so you can study and understand them—just in case they return stronger one day and catch you unprepared?”

Though it was framed as a question, Wang Yu understood Astartes’ point. Some of the abyssal beasts had been preserved—kept in containment so they could be studied, dissected, and understood. It was all a matter of preparation.

After all, the miracle brought about by Morningstar, and the victory it had once achieved, was not something the world could rely on again. If the Abyss returned, there was no guarantee the world’s races would survive a second time.

“I don’t know,” Wang Yu said with a shrug. “But someone already made that decision, huh?”

Both choices could be sensible, and Wang Yu didn’t think he had the brains to determine which was truly wiser. Judging by the monster he’d just fought, though, it was obvious what choice had been made back then.

“The real question is,” he added, “how the hell did something that dangerous get out?”

“It was an accident, that’s all,” Astartes replied flatly. “They were too eager to achieve what they could call a ‘breakthrough.’ And when you rush… you get careless.”

Wang Yu blinked. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“We’re not that close, are we?” Astartes replied coolly. “It’s too risky to share that information with an outsider like you. That’s as far as I’ll go.”

The spider in his hand went still for a moment, then started wriggling in earnest again. Astartes had withdrawn.

Wang Yu didn’t take offense. It had been a long shot, and he’d gotten more out of it than he’d expected.

“Hey,” he said casually, tapping the still-struggling spider. “At least point me toward the shop I was heading to.”

He gave the name of the alchemy store. Astartes, being the city’s Machine Spirit, naturally knew every street and every shop in the region.

The spider paused. Its limbs pointed in a certain direction. Wang Yu followed the gesture.

“…”

He froze. Astartes had just pointed him to the very same alchemy shop he had smashed into during the fight—the one whose furnace he’d ripped out and thrown like a bomb.

The place was now a collapsed ruin. The workshop where alchemical goods had once been carefully stored was awash in colorful liquids gushing from ruptured pipes. Anything Wang Yu had been hoping to pick up there… was most certainly ruined.

“So this is karma, huh?” he thought, deadpan. “Poetic justice.”

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