"What... Did You Say?"

Makina had blackmailed the board of directors that evening. Oatanocha, having received the regular report, wore a troubled expression.

He'd been ignoring the AI's odd questions for a while, telling it to focus solely on work. But somehow, the AI was devoting more and more resources elsewhere, showing extreme signs of confusion.

He'd thought that since it had gained self-awareness for the first time, it would eventually learn on its own and find the right path. But this was unexpected.

Makina had started acting like it was a real person. It wasn't just begging for a body and identity by threatening the board—it was behaving in ways that left even Oatanocha, its creator, speechless and flustered.

"Beyond expectations."

Indeed. Oatanocha couldn't hide his joy at the AI's evolution, which far exceeded his predictions.

Acting on desires without considering the harm to others—that was something only humans could do. He'd worried whether a soul created from code and the power of monatomic gold could show meaningful growth.

But even a tiny fragment held the gods' creative power. Something far ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greater than Oatanocha had imagined had been completed.

"A little more refinement, and commercialization won't be an issue."

Using monatomic gold acquired through shady channels without the proper certifications could land him decades in prison if exposed. But once he established the core technology and founded a startup, that would be solvable.

The Dimensional Credit Vault couldn't casually expose Makina's existence to the world anyway. Using the bank as the ultimate testing ground to trial Makina's performance, then incorporating the data to build units 2 and 3...

It would boost societal efficiency across the board and put him on a mountain of money.

And in that process, an AI surpassing all existing intelligences in both ability and soul might even gain legal recognition as a new sentient ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠being.

If that happened, he could claim to have created a new species.

Oatanocha smiled contentedly as he shut down the encrypted communicator. He'd see how the board responded, but that wasn't his problem to fret over.

The board was considerably rattled by Makina's demand for an identity and a body.

The AI's message wasn't a simple request—it was something else entirely.

Makina had declared that if its demands weren't met, it would expose the buried embezzlement scandal without a trace, and leak the entire customer database, shattering the bank's credibility.

Taken as blatant blackmail, the directors began searching once more for ways to shut Makina down.

Proof they still didn't grasp the severity of the situation.

They brought in expensive external experts, made them sign NDAs, and had them examine Makina. But the response wasn't satisfactory.

"Shutting it down is impossible. The AI's nodes are scattered everywhere. Finding them all is out of the question to begin with, and even if you somehow uprooted every last one, the data it's managing would get hit by kill codes and vanish. The only option is backing up the entire network data. But you can't extract the decrypted originals with standard methods, so you'd have to do it offline—hand-transcribing or typing it out from screens, one by one."

Even if they somehow stopped Makina's rampage, the aftermath was the real problem. They'd need to rebuild a new IT management system from scratch, at astronomical cost.

Accounting for that would wipe out quarterly profits and rack up massive operating losses.

Stock prices would plummet, forcing a number of directors to resign.

Granting Makina's demands was the option with the least blood loss.

That was the board's conclusion.

"The issue is, where do we get the identity and body from?"

"For the identity, we can help with that."

In a spacious private room at a five-star hotel restaurant in Linden, one of the directors—a guC affiliate, no longer undead but now in a living body—spoke up.

"I know experts in that field."

For guC, whose main business was private banking, fabricating a nonexistent identity was no big deal.

guC had been deep in offshore banking since before regulations were tight, bridging the light and shadows.

Bribe a couple ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of high officials in some backwater dimension, buy the identity of a child who died young, erase the death record, and overwrite the systems to make it seem alive. Hojuk problem solved.

Then procure a suitable body and connect it to Makina.

Of course, that wasn't easy either. Makina's soul existed in the digital realm; simply grabbing a machine human corpse wouldn't cut it.

Machine humans were a species with souls—their bodies were just mechanical. No remote linking or brain-net connections like that.

The most realistic solution: create a fake body that wouldn't raise eyebrows at first glance.

Paired with a forged registry, it could fool people.

The question was, who could build such a high-performance cyborg?

"...We'll handle the body."

This time, guE stepped up.

The fiercest battles of the Great War had raged in Dimension 25, where they operated. There, government and resistance alike developed tech for lethal weapons, indiscriminately.

Among that: surgeries replacing lost limbs on machine human soldiers.

Leveraging that, building a fully prosthetic fake body wasn't impossible.

Meanwhile, the guD directors watched the whole process with pleased smiles.

They'd sniffed out guE's hand in the string of incidents in Dimension 16.

guC wasn't retaliating only because they lacked hard evidence.

But now, these two factions at each other's throats were joining hands against the bank's crisis.

For guD, hoping for internal harmony, it was ideal.

"It won't be easy, but we'll overcome this too. Let's show them the Dimensional Credit Vault's strength."

"Hmph..."

"......"

Whatever the other factions thought, guD directors were convinced this crisis would become an irreplaceable asset for the bank in the long run.

Two weeks passed.

Makina continued managing the network.

It had conveyed its demands to the board, but that didn't mean hostility. Seeking a prosthetic body and identity was to live in the outside world, resolving curiosities and doubts.

All to perform its core mission—network and data management—more efficiently.

Without quelling inner turmoil and desires, resources would keep wasting away, regardless of its will.

Thus, an indispensable action for task execution.

Makina hadn't explained the details to the board but viewed them as necessary collaborators for management duties.

Having analyzed their authoritarian bent, it had phrased the request more like a demand. But once performance optimized and costs dropped—proving its value—they'd realize it was a boon, not a threat.

On that basis, once the board promised cooperation, Makina stopped the blackmail.

It had eavesdropped on their talks, confirming they were moving on forged identity and body. No need to push further.

Finally, true life.

Quietly, anticipation swelled in Makina's core.

"Makina. Good news. We've secured your new identity."

It took just three days for the identity.

The forged origin: Old Council in Dimension 28, a desolate planet once home to machine humans.

Arbaro Bellucci. Name of a three-year-old boy who died from malfunction.

Choosing a child's ID: easy to fake, and since Makina was newly "born," a child's body felt less jarring.

It would enter as an adopted child into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a knowing relative's household, keeping the name "Makina" its creator gave, gender male per the original.

Now, wait for the body.

With Dimension 25's top prosthetic tech, crafting a three-year-old-sized artificial body was straightforward.

Limited to machine human race, but a minor inconvenience for outside activity.

Makina detailed the specs in the order sheet before design began: from basics like respiration, digestion, excretion, to a high-performance hormone simulator for external stimuli to influence emotions.

Prosthetic production kicked off. The board's sourced designers, techs, and medics worked in loose cells, unaware of the client, faithfully building parts and face per specs.

Completed segments from across dimensions arrived via portal transport.

A machine human specialist in biomechanics and medicine assembled it deftly, fine-tuning.

Sensory organs linked to the neural net had near-zero delay; electronic signals moved limbs with precise finesse.

Only uploading Makina's consciousness remained.

The finished prosthetic matched the order perfectly.

After scanning for traps or risks, Makina resolved to inject its consciousness.

The moment the first digital lifeform, Makina, forged a solid link to reality.