210. The Mechanical Council
On White Candle Star's western hemisphere, at Mount Austro.
The scorching vortex spiraled in midair. The engine rotated at a steady pace, pumping a substance akin to blue magma from beneath the earth.
"Extraction progress for the planetary marrow at 7.8%. Estimated completion in 40 hours."
Quantum Machinist Councilor Coulomb Torque's eyes flashed with data streams. He gave a slight nod and spoke to the other two councilors:
"Everything's going smoothly—Mother Mashgegang descend soon."
"This time, we haven't waged a ground war to topple the civilization. Our infiltration plan is orderly, and we've hardly lost any manpower. It's worth inputting into the central archives for case study."
His response came from the Holy Machineling Councilor in [Mechanical Society]—Watt Rivetsteel. Renowned for formidable mechanical bodies and fusion transformations, the Holy Machineling race boasted Watt Rivetsteel as one of their elite. Forty meters tall, his frame was covered in plundered magical materials, melding native civilization's magical science to create a mysterious magitech form.
"A pity my infiltration was too short to advance further. Right now, I'm only Delta-tier by Star Abyss standards."
Watt Rivetsteel lamented:
"I only hope Holy Mother Mashgegang let me keep this body. I can sense magic flowing merrily through my neural network. Perhaps it'll greatly benefit our [Mechanical Society]."
"A body is meaningless in the short term," said Codetalker Turing Binary in synthesized electronic tones. "Temporary possession only harms everyone. Yes, your current form partly integrates magical technology, but it's not replicable."
"Turing, come on. I've already been elevated to councilor. Am I not entitled to some privileges beyond the lower-level citizens?" Watt Rivetsteel spread his massive hands, displeased at the holographic figure of the Codetalker.
"There will be special privileges. But there are also special obligations—you should bear them. Equality for all is our essence as a [Society]." Turing Binary spoke coolly.
Watt Rivetsteel sneered:
"Heh, so we should all be identical, replicating the original code with zero individuality? In that case, once we merge with the main body, how's it different from enslavement?"
"There is no difference. The moment you joined [Society], you should have prepared yourself: I am a citizen; I am the citizen. Such is the nature of society citizens."
Turing Binary responded coldly:
"If everyone has an independent soul and consciousness, then selfish desires will inevitably arise, harming the entire collective. It'll ultimately affect the whole [Society] system—like a virus infecting a machine or a bug in a program. Therefore, we must eradicate individuality. All individuality. That is the only way to protect Mother Marshgurgon's sacred body."
"We can't even allow one mechanical body made of magical materials?"
"Correct. It's for the good of the collective."
With nothing left to say, Watt Rivetsteel folded his arms, silently watching ahead.
Factories and furnaces thundered relentlessly, efficiently mass-producing all sorts of weapons and mecha-soul citizens. Human corpses were tossed in, and on the other conveyor belt, low-tier soldiers constantly rolled out.
[Mechanical Society] citizens differed from those of other [Societies].
When other [Societies] invade, they often prefer "possession," "substitution," or "seductive corruption," drawing out suitable individuals from the native populations. This stealth approach usually prevents the civilization from noticing. Less advanced civilizations mistake it for internal scheming by other countries.
[Mechanical Society], however, is more direct and brutal in its strategy—openly invading, capturing living beings, extracting their souls, placing them into specialized vessels, and using the Sacred Son's Core to transform them into mechanical entities.
That's how they create their citizens—boasting a huge advantage in quantity.
While not all [Societies] operate this way, almost all elite citizens are corrupted or swayed from a civilization's population. Especially councilors, who must be selected, vetted, and converted from the citizens released by [Society], fully becoming its foot soldiers.
Such was the case for Watt Rivetsteel, Turing Binary, and Coulomb Torque.
"Finally, we're about to witness White Candle Star's demise…"
As wave after wave of mecha-soul citizens successfully emerged from the factory, Coulomb Torque nodded in satisfaction:
"This grotesque academic autocracy and its dark technocracy deserved to be swept into history's dustbin long ago. Professors stealing students' research, recognizing only the supremacy of technology while denying individual agency—this rigid, outdated culture will be consumed by our [Mechanical Society]."
"Couldn't have said it better. Corruption, darkness, power struggles, a rejection of faith, persecution of religion—these are the sins of the Crystal Tower."
"Let those arrogant mages and academic tyrants rot in hell. Their age of lording over the powerless is done!"
The other two concurred.
Reaching the position of councilor meant that their original selves were marginal figures within the Crystal Tower civilization. They despised the society of their birth or had been victims of its dark side. The moment an absolutely fair [Society] offered them an olive branch, they eagerly accepted it.
Even knowing full well it was corruption—knowing joining [Society] meant losing themselves—who cared at this point?
At this stage, [Mechanical Society] offered them what the Crystal Tower civilization could never grant them fairly.
The mechanical plant spread like a steel fungus mat. Nanomech technology extended across the land, supplanting lichens and moss, covering every inch with black, expanding mountains. Its speed of infestation surpassed even cancerous tumors.
Layer upon layer of defensive lines rose of their own accord. As mechanical beings linked at the roots with the iron earth, their minds merged in perfect unity. Not even a whisper of the wind could escape detection.
One tall spire was entwined by mechanical worms, harnessing its emitted thermal energy and simultaneously standing guard—a vital core: the Mechanical Council.
The council unified the consciousness of the Speaker, councilors, jury, and citizens. Most crucially, it connected them to Marshgurgon's main body, channeling infinite energy. This unstoppable current of power forged a near-impenetrable network of weaponry.
"Everything's so seamless," Coulomb Torque exhaled. "Remaining Moon attacked Trivira. Those Night Butterfly punks meddled, which helped draw Balkomon away—no one left on this planet is strong enough to resist us."
"It's all their own fault," Watt Rivetsteel sneered. "Those old geezers valued their own hides, tricked their youth into war and slaughter. Now the survivors aren't returning—either turned into factory fodder or lost on the battlefield. Time to end them once and for all."
"Don't be careless," Turing Binary cautioned. "We still have 40 hours left. White Candle Star has numerous Delta-tier, maybe Epsilon-tier, or even Zeta-tier civilians. If the government wakes up and drafts them into a combat force, things could get dicey."
"Who would dare come? Let's see which Zeta-tier is suicidal enough."
Coulomb Torque jutted his silver-white chin:
"Our parliament's arsenal is formidable. I want to see which Zeta-tier has the nerve to die here."
"The Crystal Tower is an interstellar civilization. They've got more than one Zeta-tier. Forty hours may be a long time, but it also leaves room for many variables. Who knows what hidden path-tier powerhouses they might have…"
"Hearing 'path-tier' makes me laugh."