The Silent Graveyard
We finally stepped inside the broadcasting station where the distress signal had been echoing. At a glance, it was clear that no human had set foot in this place for a very long time. The concrete walls were cracked and splintered, and the floorboards groaned with every step we took. Vines snaked through the fissures in the walls like living things, and faint, sickly light filtered through the gaps. It was gloomy. And... strangely decadent.
"So, the signal cuts off around here?"
"Yes. Once the terminal enters within a 100-meter radius, the location becomes increasingly obscured."
"Hmm, is that so."
I nodded and opened my World Map. The coordinates of the distress signal were still clearly marked on the map. Location, distance, direction, surrounding structures—even the layout of the corridors behind the walls was visible. While everyone else wandered around, lost and clueless, I could just take a quick glance and know exactly where everything was. At this point, it was practically a cheat code. Or perhaps, this was the exclusive perk of being an isekai transmigrator. My body was in reality, but the system was a game. Information popped up like windows, and coordinates updated in real-time. With an ability like this, it would be normal to be mowing down enemies, shouting, "Found you!" The problem was that my own body was painfully ordinary. At the end of the day, I was just a human; without Revi, even with a hundred cheat functions, I’d be nothing more than a lonely corpse rotting in some corner of the ruins.
"It looks like the signal is coming from the second floor of the station."
I had only meant to mutter it while scanning the map, but Serika’s eyes went wide with shock. "What?! How... how did you know that?"
Oh, shoot. I clamped my mouth shut. I’d forgotten that I was supposed to keep this ability a secret for now. I trailed off, looking around, trying to figure out how to play it off, when—
"Chanwoo-nim is a human, after all!"
Revi stepped in immediately. "Knowing something like this... is something he can simply sense by intuition!"
The air went still. Was she seriously going to say that? Serika’s eyes widened even further at the remark. She stared at me for a long moment with a bewildered expression, and then...
"...I see."
A brief silence. And what followed was a deeply sincere nod. "As expected, humans are truly incredible!"
"Huh?"
What? I replayed what Revi had said in my head. She claimed I figured out the signal's location just by "intuition"? And Serika was actually buying it and feeling impressed? It was an absurd lie, but the look on her face was so clear and pure that she had accepted it as absolute truth. Thousands of years had passed since the extinction of humanity. For all that time, the existence of a "human" had been like a mythical race to these androids. A being they only learned about through records, one they had never seen in the flesh. Maybe that was why. At this rate, if I dropped a single bead of semen, they’d probably stare at it with reverent eyes, marveling at how it contained the flow of life. I mean, technically, one shot contains about 300 million of them, but still...
I held Revi and Serika’s hands as we climbed the creaking stairs. The aged concrete crumbled quietly beneath our feet, and the steel frame groaned with an unpleasant, slow screech. One step, then another. With every footfall, the strange calm of the lower floor began to feel increasingly alien. The air was wrong. It didn't exactly smell, but there was a heavy, oppressive weight pressing down on the back of my neck. And then, the moment we reached the second floor, my breath hitched.
"What... is this?"
Along one wall of the hallway, androids were sitting in a row. No, to be precise, they were the corpses of things that had once been androids. They were sitting with their backs against the wall, perfectly aligned, as if someone had "tidied" them up. Their backs were straight, their heads were tilted slightly forward, and their hands were neatly folded over their knees. Their eyes were closed, and their lips were sealed, motionless. Without a single scar, in such stable postures, with their hair perfectly undisturbed—it didn't look like death. It looked, quite literally, like they were just "asleep."
"This is strange."
Serika walked forward first. Her tone remained languid, but her eyes were narrowed into slits. "I heard that four people sent the distress signal... but this number is higher. Much higher."
Having finished her sentence, she lowered her body without a word. Her movements were flawless. Without even a hitch in her breathing, she began to scan the corpses one by one. She looked like a cat, fur standing on end, cautiously observing an unfamiliar presence. After examining them for a long time, Serika stood back up and lifted her head.
"All of them are in a state of functional cessation."
She took a shallow breath, her voice trailing off slightly. "Their cores have been completely severed."
The core, known as the heart of an android. For it to stop meant that their life had been extinguished. But something was off. Death is inherently messy and loud. Screams, resistance, traces, struggle—that’s what death is. But there was nothing here. No sound of breathing, no debris, no wounds, no broken parts. Everyone was in an orderly posture, quiet, far too still. As if they had chosen to fall asleep. And that silence made my skin crawl.
"Revi. What do you think?"
Revi followed Serika, scanning the surroundings in silence. Then, she spoke cautiously. "...They are completely intact."
That was all she said. "There are no traces of them being wiped out in battle. And most of us androids operate independently. I have never seen a case where so many were gathered in one place and simultaneously destroyed."
That meant this scene itself was abnormal.
"Could a Queen-class creature have been nearby?" I asked, and Revi shook her head.
"No. There have been no reports of such entities in this sector for decades."
She followed Serika, repeating the scan. But the results were the same. "I apologize, Chanwoo-nim. I have no idea why this happened."
An inexplicable death. And corpses that were far too quiet. I knelt in front of one of the androids lying neatly on the floor. Its face was calm. It looked less like it had died and more like it was about to rub its eyes and wake up. But then, a small anomaly caught my eye near the nape of its neck.
"Hm? What's this..."
To be precise, it was a dot. Just a single dot. A needle-thin hole was punctured into the back of its neck. It was so small it was almost invisible, but it was undoubtedly an externally inflicted mark.
"This android—there’s a small hole at the back of its neck."
"A hole... you say?"
Revi approached and checked the corpse next to it. She immediately lifted her head toward me. "There is one here, too. And... here as well. It seems all of them have the same mark!"
They were all identical. The nape of every android's neck. The same position, the same size hole.
"Revi. If you were attacked in this manner, would your functions immediately cease?"
"I will calculate that."
Revi paused for a moment, then shook her head. "No. With an intrusion of this scale, there might be a temporary error in the language module, but my functions would not stop."
"So, they shouldn't have died."
"Correct. This is too minor to be considered a fatal wound."
It was an impossible situation, yet right before my eyes, that impossible thing was happening—quietly, perfectly. All the same holes. Same positions. Same postures. And, the same death. In that unpleasant silence, an unfamiliar voice rang out.
"It's... here."
Low, slow, and strangely distorted in its pronunciation. The sound of it made my spine freeze. I turned my head reflexively. In that direction. Where the distress signal was marked. Beyond the corner, in the darkness, a single white arm was poking out onto the floor. That thin, pale arm was swaying slowly at regular intervals. Like a broken doll repeating a mechanical motion.
"It's... here."
"Survivor found!"
"Wait! We will assist you immediately!"
Revi shouted, and Serika began to dash forward before the words had even left her lips. At that moment, I shouted forcefully.
"Serika, stop!"
She stopped abruptly. "Chanwoo-nim?"
"That... something is wrong with it."
The entity was waving its hand as if it were clearly alive. But to my eyes, it was different. Unpleasant vibrations, disjointed breathing—something just didn't add up. I opened the World Map again. The signal was correct. The location was accurate. But it was "too accurate," and that was the problem.
"I am a human," I said toward the other side of the corner, slowly but with a clear tone. "And as a human, I command you according to Article 0."
The hand was still waving. With a slow, steady, and eerily mechanical motion.
"It's... here."
"Then, let's start with a simple command."
I took a slow step forward. Revi and Serika’s gazes turned toward me simultaneously.
"Fall over to your side and show me your face. You can at least do that much, right?"
"Chanwoo-nim, that method is...!" Serika said in a flustered voice. "That entity might be in a wounded state! Pushing it like that is dangerous!"
"If the wound site tears, recovery will be difficult," Revi added quietly. "Repeated sentences indicate an error in the control module. If you inject a command in that state, there is a possibility that the circuitry itself will be damaged, Chanwoo-nim."
"That is, if it’s actually an 'android'."
At those words, both of them were rendered speechless. Serika looked as if she were about to speak but stopped; Revi just blinked her eyes. In the silence that felt as if the air itself had frozen, emotions that couldn't be put into words permeated the quiet.
"Isn't it strange? The deaths until now. The mysterious holes. The corpses without a single trace of struggle. And that reaction."
I looked at the arm again. It was still waving at the same intervals. But that movement was clearly accelerating.
"It's... here. It's... here. It's... here. It's... it's here. It's here. It's here! IT'S HERE!!"
The voice distorted. Syllables scrambled, collapsed, and turned grotesque, like a broken tape recorder.
"Androids do not refuse a human's command."
I said it low and clear. "If that doesn't work... then that thing can only be an existence that stands in opposition to humanity."
That was no android.