Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Echoes of the Past
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If “Who’s protecting whom?” had been just an uppercut, then “I like women” was a straight kick to the gut.
Dean took a brutal hit. Even after they’d climbed that endless journey and finally reached the neural net access port, he still hadn’t recovered from the massive pain.
“Wait here. I’ll go plug the computer into the neural net.” Gavin held his breath and squeezed into the narrow gap. Dean snapped back to attention. “It’s too dangerous for you alone—hold on for me!”
From inside the gap, Gavin asked, “Can you even fit?”
“...”
“Theoretically, bulkier guys should have more strength. You’re weird.”
...Dean lay there numbly, feeling utterly hollow inside.
Gavin carefully maneuvered his body through the twenty-centimeter-wide gap. Judging by the frame structure, he was probably near the spine now. If the mech were scaled down to human size proportionally, he’d be like a tiny mosquito on its back.
Gavin had an unusual patience when dealing with machines. After inching along chest-out, stomach-in for over ten minutes, he finally reached the end of the passage. The view ahead opened up dramatically—beneath his feet stretched a deep, shadowy canyon, with countless tangled neural nets creeping up from the bottom like the gnarled roots of some bizarre ancient tree.
That technician senior had been right: a C-class mech’s neural structure was already incredibly complex. For something like Gryphon, a 3S-class, the internals must be unimaginably intricate.
“Who are you?” A muffled mechanical voice rumbled from the depths of the ancient tree, as if enduring immense pain. “Are you a technician?”
“I’m an armed technician,” Gavin replied coolly. “So if you don’t behave, you’ll get scrapped.”
...That was downright cruel to a mech suffering from severe viral corruption. Gryphon silently covered his eyes.
The mech Ranzhu froze stiff for several seconds. The neural nets parted with a whoosh, and a slender emerald nerve tendril extended cautiously, dangling toward the tablet. That tendril was clearly the main control source, with a small external program port on it. Gavin grabbed it and plugged it into the computer. The screen instantly flooded with over ten thousand lines of data.
“Half your neural data is corrupted. How does it feel right now?”
“...” Ranzhu fell silent for a moment before saying, “I’ll be good.”
Gavin leaned back against a thick pipe in the metal passage, resting the computer on his knees. His fingers flew across the screen, entering self-cleaning commands. His ultra-high mental threshold came into play again. To the mech, he seemed to radiate maximum affinity. Ranzhu curiously extended a nerve tendril, circling around him as if wanting to brush his face.
“Roar—!” Gryphon’s light orb let out a ferocious bellow, and the tendril snapped back over ten meters.
“Be good!” Gryphon roared fiercely. “Look but don’t touch! Got it?!”
Ranzhu: “...”
A C-class mech was no match for a 3S. It could only tremble all over, its remaining uncorrupted neural nets scared half to death. After Gryphon finished flexing, he proudly bounced back into the backpack. After a while, once Ranzhu was sure it had gone still, it timidly squeezed behind Gavin and huddled into a ball.
“Don’t be scared. You’re both machines anyway,” Gavin said kindly. “You’ll definitely become good friends.”
Gavin deleted the corrupted data, pulled backups from the database for restoration, and spent half an hour cleaning the virtual mental leash.
The virtual mental leash was essentially the mech’s intelligent core. Cleaning Gryphon’s had taken a full two days, but Ranzhu, as a C-class, wasn’t comparable. Its AI was rudimentary—equivalent to a seven- or eight-year-old human child in independent thinking.
Gavin finished in half an hour. He shut down the computer and said, “Check your security systems properly. Don’t let anyone plant viruses again... I didn’t touch your firewall. Get Dean to call in an AI expert for that.”
“Thank you,” Ranzhu said gratefully. “Analyzing the virus data source, I was probably hacked by someone from the Interstellar Military Academy. Dean’s dad and Principal Dina have conflicting politics. I’ve been hacked before—You’re an amazing technician, sir. Will you pilot me in tomorrow’s match?”
Gavin asked curiously, “Dean won’t pilot you himself?”
“No. Giant mechs below A-class sometimes need armed technicians for assisted piloting. I’d be honored to fight alongside you.”
But Gavin had no interest in a bunch of people brawling in C- and D-class mechs. He turned down the enthusiastic Ranzhu, telling it that Dean had already paid a senior technician to come, and he was about to take his leave.
Ranzhu was extremely reluctant to part, waving a nerve tendril in goodbye. Gavin found the wriggling motion pretty amusing and casually gave it a gentle tug.
But no one expected that the instant his fingers touched the tendril, a massive shockwave hit him head-on. In that split second, his mind buzzed!
—It was the incomplete mental pollution that hadn’t been fully cleared!
Deleting viruses took time. Programs ran at varying speeds, and it was normal for some spots to lag. But Gavin hadn’t anticipated that a mere light touch would let the residual mental virus surge into him!
Was this also due to his high mental threshold? Could humans even get infected by mechs?!
Gavin’s hand went slack, and the computer crashed to the ground, its screen shattering into pieces. He staggered back a few steps, leaning against the metal pipe wall, panting in shock.
Ranzhu and Gryphon were both roaring something, but he couldn’t make it out at all.
The intense, malicious, destructive mental pollution swept through all his consciousness in mere seconds. Like a tornado plunging into the ocean, it unleashed massive turbulence while stirring up countless ancient sediments from the seabed.
Those images surged up from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, overwhelming him in a chaotic flurry of fragmented scenes. Gavin felt suffocated. He clutched his throat desperately, staring in terror as the surroundings seemed to shift—he was standing in a lab bathed in white light, facing a translucent incubation pod with a hazy human figure inside.
What was this place?
Who was he?
Behind him, many people in white coats bustled about, murmuring among themselves, but no matter how wide he opened his eyes, he couldn’t make out their faces. He turned back in fear, fixating on the sleeping figure in the pod. For some reason, it terrified him. He wanted to flee but couldn’t move a step.
“This area’s about to be sealed off, Celia.” A gentle female voice said. “It’s just discard. No need to look. Let’s go.”
Gavin whipped his head around, stunned to see it was Dean’s dean, Edna—she looked younger, clutching a folder, her green eyes framed by glasses, exuding an intellectual and gentle beauty.
He wanted to call out to Dean Edna, but what came out was—
“Why is it discard?”
Edna shook her head. “The mental wavelength is too mismatched with yours. Success rate’s less than one percent. Of course, we can’t kill you once just to prove it, so we have to scrap it.”
“What a shame.”
Gavin realized he could move. His body acted on its own, shrugging off the white coat and draping it casually over a chair by the pod.
Edna smiled and asked, “Leaving a change of clothes behind?”
“Just in case.” Celia turned and headed out of the lab, saying flatly, “Let’s go.”
The scene shifted abruptly. Celia strode down a long corridor, indistinct attendants trailing behind. Then he halted suddenly and shoved open a grand door, revealing a luxurious office in total disarray.
Several people were dragging two students out. The struggling and cursing stopped dead the moment he burst in. Behind the desk, a middle-aged man shot to his feet. “C-Celia, sir—”
“You’d better explain yourself, Councilor Fortsen.”
“Y-Yes, it’s just as you see. These two military academy cadets barged in here smashing and fighting—”
“So the rumors about your son molesting a female soldier at the academy, only to be stopped and reported by two cadets, are all false?”
“N-No, sir Celia! P-Please don’t believe those jealous fools’ nonsense! You lot, drag them out—quick! Sir, let me explain...”
“No, Fortsen. I don’t want to hear about your son anymore.”
Councilor Fortsen gaped futilely, silenced by Celia’s decisive hand gesture to shut up.
“What are your names?” Celia pushed through the uneasy crowd to the two cadets pinned on the floor.
They were at most eighteen or nineteen. Bruises marred their faces, blood streaking their lips and foreheads. One, a boy with striking blond hair, glared with hostility. After staring at Celia for a long moment, he said warily, “...Anders Aaron.”
Celia turned to the other.
The face was strikingly handsome, eyes shadowed but emotions restrained, sea-blue irises like thick, unyielding ice. For some reason, seeing this man stirred an indescribable emotion in Gavin’s heart—intimate familiarity in an instant, laced with a hint of disgust, and an inexplicable deep sigh.
“Heinrich,” he heard the cadet say. “Set Heinrich.”
—Heinrich.
Gavin pressed his hand to his eyes as tearing pain ripped from the depths of his brain, like it would cleave him in two.
Who am I? Who is Celia?
Who is Heinrich?
How did all this come about? Why am I here?
He collapsed to his knees hard, but felt no pain. Bodily sensation had gone numb—no pain, no sight—until, after what felt like centuries, a frantic voice pierced the haze. “Gavin, Gavin!”
“What happened to you, Gavin!”
“Hold on! I’ll get you out of here right now!”
“...I’m fine,” Gavin mumbled, head spinning as he grabbed Dean’s sturdy arm. “Give me some space, or I’ll—”
Before he could finish, a wave of dizzying nausea surged up his throat. He nearly vomited on the spot.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Dean patted his back while hoisting him up with effort.
Gavin leaned on him, one hand braced against the wall. It took a while before he caught his breath with difficulty. The delayed sensations gradually returned—his knees really hurt badly. No need to look; they were surely soaked in blood.
Dean looked wretched too, his forehead and hands scraped with bloody streaks. “I heard noises inside, so I squeezed through that gap... What happened to you? Can you walk?”
“Mech mental pollution.” Gavin was utterly drained but forced himself upright. “I think I had a nightmare.”
“A dream?! What about?”
“A student said his name was—”
Gavin cut off abruptly.
He’d forgotten the name.
Those dream fragments, the scene of the youth looking up and stating his name, sank back into the ocean depths like sediment. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t recall a shred.
“...I forgot,” Gavin said blankly after a moment. “I can’t remember... anything.”
Dean stared at him in confusion, instincts screaming something was very wrong, but now wasn’t the time for questions.
Gavin’s face was deathly pale, his black hair soaked with cold sweat. Seeing he couldn’t walk, Dean stepped in to support him, letting him slump fully into his arm. “Come on, I’ll take you to the medics.”
“...Okay,” Gavin panted faintly, exhausted. “Thanks.”
2.
“Heinrich.”
“My name is Set Heinrich.”
...
The emperor bolted upright. “Marshal Celia—”
The words died as the study fell silent. The female attendant about to wake him looked mortified.
“Your Majesty...”
“...Sorry.” The emperor rubbed his temples wearily. “I dozed off without realizing and had a dream. What is it?”
The attendant didn’t know he’d dreamed of his first encounter with the marshal a century ago, but she could tell he was in a foul mood, so she spoke extra carefully. “Your Majesty, Elder Langfero of the Senate is here to see you. He says he has the latest updates on the exiled army establishing a regime in the Ophiuchus system.”
A cold smile tugged at the emperor’s lips. “Show him in.”
The attendant bowed and withdrew. Moments later, an elder in black-and-gold robes hurried up and inclined his head outside the study door. “Good afternoon, esteemed Majesty.”
Heinrich gestured casually at an armchair. “Here to discuss military reports, my lord? Sit. How’s the exiled army’s new regime coming along?”
Elder Langfero’s face flickered with embarrassment but quickly smoothed over. “Come now, Your Majesty. You know I’m not here for that—By the way, haven’t seen Miss Ruisha around the palace lately? She should be assisting with your paperwork at this hour, no?”
Langfero glanced around dramatically, only for Heinrich to scoff coldly. “If you mean that Omega doctor, she told Us plainly: even if every Alpha in the universe dropped dead, she wouldn’t marry the likes of Us as empress.”
Langfero: “...”
The poor elder struggled on. “Th-That young lady is far too willful. I’ll have her father speak to her properly. How can she insult Your Majesty like that?”
“No matter. We never intended to marry and have heirs anyway. If you’ve no military matters, you can leave now. Honestly, these exiled army incursions on the imperial borders are getting annoying.”
Heinrich reached for a document, but before flipping it open, Langfero’s shrill cry startled him. “—Your Majesty! You can’t do this—!!”
Heinrich: “...”
“The empire’s been around fifty years! And you’re a vigorous Alpha in your prime! Not even an urge to mark an Omega?! Even if not, think of the succession! Who’ll inherit this vast empire in a century?! Please reconsider, Your Majesty!!”
“...” Heinrich swiftly dug half a box of myocardial infarction rescue pills from a drawer and offered them earnestly. “You left these last time we discussed this. Want some?”
Langfero snatched them bitterly.
The emperor watched him swallow two pills, ensuring no mishap, before drawling, “We’ve kept this matter at heart, but We won’t mark a mate just to satisfy breeding instincts... As you say, the empire’s only fifty years old. Alliance-era issues linger, national strength wanes, and unrest simmers. Succession talks are premature.”
Silence blanketed the study. Emperor and elder locked eyes in a staring contest until Langfero finally spoke coldly. “Your Majesty, technology’s advanced these days.”
“...?”
“So even if something’s... off down there, we can... treat it gradually. No need to hide from doctors.”
Heinrich stared woodenly for a beat at the elder’s solemnly punchable face, suddenly tempted to play tyrant.
Sensing danger, Langfero edged back half a step. “Your Majesty, stay calm. The media only cares about your health—no other motives... Tea? Coffee?”
“...Get out...”
Langfero retreated two meters instantly.
“Speak like that again, and you’ll—”
The emperor paused, each word forced through gritted teeth with a hissing edge. “We’ll give you an heir, but get out... Now! Immediately!”
Langfero needed no repeat, bolting for the door like a rabbit with its tail pinched.
“Shut that media pack up!” The emperor, still fuming, hurled a document. Langfero dodged like he had eyes in the back of his head and yelled back, “Impossible! Free speech is the right of every imperial citizen!”
“To hell—with—your rights! We are the emperor!”
Heinrich slumped heavily into his chair, watching Langfero scramble away. His rage showed no sign of cooling—in fact, it burned hotter.
His gaze fell on intel about exiled army probes on frontier defenses. Fury flared; he snatched a pen to jot something, but only gouged the e-board. Slamming the pen down, he僵 held for a moment before rising abruptly.
“Attendants!”
Several aides hurried in—they’d wisely waited outside.
“Prepare the shuttle. We’re going to the Royal Military Academy.” Heinrich paused, voice dark. “Tell no one!”
Caroline learned of the emperor’s arrival while having tea with Edna.
Edna’s face darkened; she started to rise, but an attendant politely blocked her. “Please don’t leave, Dean Edna. His Majesty specifically asked for you.”
The two women exchanged heavy looks. Caroline cleared her throat. “In that case, our thanks to His Majesty’s concern. Let’s go greet him together—”
Before she finished, an icy, low male voice cut from the lab doorway. “No need, Caroline. We wouldn’t bother if We had no business.”
The attendant bowed out. Caroline and Edna rose as Set Heinrich strode in, clad in black military uniform. His sharp, intensely masculine features radiated chill at all times, sending shivers down spines.
“His Majesty seems perpetually busy lately. After Principal Dina relayed the order transferring Phoenix, I’ve sought audience many times, yet you’ve had no time.” Caroline pivoted sharply, composed. “What brings you here today, Your Majesty?”
“Not for Dina.” Heinrich said coldly. “We have no issue with Phoenix’s ownership.”
“What a pity. You think the Interstellar Military Academy’s research surpasses ours.”
“At least they haven’t exhausted Our patience over fifty years of waiting. Any objections?”
“Your Majesty! Alliance Phoenix is a double-S mech with quintuple-dimensional alloy plating! Forcing it open guarantees cockpit damage!” Caroline softened her tone accusingly. “Fifty years ago, Phoenix sealed Marshal Celia’s body in the cockpit—forgotten that?”
Heinrich stared at her expressionlessly.
“‘To avoid damaging the body, do not force Phoenix open violently’—your own top-secret military order. Forgotten entirely now?”
Dead silence filled the lab. The three glared at each other, breaths unevenly audible.
After a dozen seconds, the emperor spoke slowly and clearly. “We’re here to revoke that order.”
Principal Caroline stiffened.
“We’ll open the cockpit, but not for Phoenix.”
“We want Marshal Celia’s DNA.”
The lab plunged into utter silence. The emperor’s face was impassive, but Caroline and Edna’s both changed.
Author’s note:
Elder Langfero: “Your Majesty! This concubine can’t do it—!!”
Heinrich: “...”
The emperor suddenly senses malice from the universe [.
There will definitely be smut, but it’s not time yet~