"I think she's already succeeded. I can smell it... that stench, like something dead for centuries, just dug out of a damp coffin."
At that moment, another relatively intact, even somewhat leisurely, Dr. 077 mech appeared from somewhere, holding a steaming cup of coffee. It sat on a bench riddled with bullet holes, simulating a sipping motion.
"That foolish woman finally proved somewhat useful, not wasting the 'Blood Moon Simulator' I provided."
The synthesized voice actually carried a hint of satisfaction.
Victor's curiosity was instantly ignited. He pointed at the coffee cup:
"Wait, you tin-can body, can you even taste a damn thing?"
"This body of mine is a high-end custom model, its performance far surpasses the one you first encountered."
Dr. 077's mechanical puppet actually began explaining with patience, as if showing off a prized creation.
"It's equipped with high-precision chemical sensors that can collect taste signals and transmit them to my brain for real-time analysis. I have always believed that the perfect coexistence of machine and biology is the ultimate direction of evolution."
"I haven't even blocked pain signals. A pure, non-sentient machine can hardly be considered true evolution."
He paused, his tone seeming to carry a trace of emotion, as if having found a kindred spirit.
"In my research on machine-biology coexistence, I actually hit a bottleneck for a while. Until I observed C-137, your little black monster. It showed me new hope and possibilities, so..."
"Whoosh—Boom!"
Victor didn't even let him finish. He directly hurled the mechanical wreckage he had just torn apart at the mech like throwing trash.
Dr. 077's mech deftly swatted the debris aside with one hand. For the first time, the synthesized voice carried a fluctuation akin to displeasure:
"Did no one ever teach you not to interrupt others? It's extremely rude behavior."
Victor flexed his symbiote-covered wrist, producing cracking sounds. His tone became dangerous and full of anticipation:
"Sorry, I just asked casually. I didn't expect you to launch into such a lengthy lecture mode; I was almost falling asleep. However, from all your nonsense, I only understood one thing—since you haven't blocked pain signals, does that mean..."
He took a step forward, the symbiote coalescing on his fist into the form of a massive hammer. His voice brimmed with eager madness:
"If I hit you hard enough, I can beat you until you cry for real, right?"
A fight was imminent.
Meanwhile, from the nearby passageway, an ancient and evil aura began to spread, accompanied by a thick, rotting stench.
"These aberrations are always so rude, aren't they? Like uncivilized monkeys. This world has no place for them."
Accompanied by low, disgust-filled words and the crisp echo of a staff striking the ground, a figure slowly emerged from the shadowy passageway at the edge of the plaza.
He wore tattered pilgrim's robes that still hinted at their former grandeur. His face was withered and ashen, with deeply sunken eye sockets, emanating an intense, centuries-old tomb-like aura of decay.
It was Joseph Crackstone, forcibly resurrected.
He held a twisted staff in his hand, each step carrying ancient arrogance and extreme contempt for everything around him.
Laurel Gates followed closely behind him, her face glowing with the triumph of her plan's success and a near-fanatic worship.
"A pack of shameless thieves!"
Crackstone's murky gaze swept over the smoke-filled plaza, over the students and parents exchanging fire with the mechanical puppets. His voice was hoarse and furious.
"How dare you steal my land and build some sort of... concentration camp on it?"
"It's a school, Ancestor."
Laurel cautiously reminded him, her tone obsequious.
"Silence!"
Crackstone rebuked without turning his head, his staff striking the ground heavily.
"I didn't ask you! You should be ashamed, my descendant! Letting these aberrations usurp our home, defiling the bloodline and glory of the Crackstone family!"
Witnessing this dramatic scene, Victor couldn't help but raise a hand to scratch his Venom-covered head. He turned to the Dr. 077 mech still'savoring' its coffee nearby, his tone filled with incredulous mockery:
"Hey, Doctor, is this your grand, meticulously planned ultimate mission? Providing simulators, sending cannon fodder to buy time, all to assist a psychopathic idiot in resurrecting a... uh, let me take a closer look..."
Victor deliberately squinted, looking Crackstone up and down, his appearance somewhere between a mummy and a zombie. He delivered his exaggerated conclusion:
"An 'Inferius'? The kind even the lowest Ghoul would dislike and detour around? When did your scientific taste plummet to this level? What research value does this thing have? Studying how to efficiently emit chronic halitosis?"
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It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
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