A Moment of Solace Amidst Turmoil

Initially, as he listened to Is’s incessant chatter, his guilt and self-reproach intensified, even leading to suicidal thoughts. After all, during a previous mission, he had indeed used the Skyfire Phase Wave Cannon to attack the Alliance’s stronghold in Antarctica, inadvertently destroying numerous survivor settlements in the process. He had killed many people.

However, as Is veered off-topic, his profound guilt quickly morphed into irritation, feeling as though a stampede of a thousand alpacas had just charged through his mind.

‘Did this songstress have a blue-flame Gatling gun for a mouth?’

‘Why was conversing with her so utterly exhausting?’

‘How could such a beautiful girl utter such grating words?’

‘Perhaps her “straightforward girl” module was in dire need of repair.’

Most crucially, he had sought Is’s assistance to resolve his problems, not to have them multiply. He glared, teeth gritted, at her slender form, his hand pressing against the pistol concealed in his pocket.

‘If only he could locate Is’s main processing unit, he would undoubtedly put a bullet through it.’

“Alright, alright, my dear Mr. Thirteen,” Is chirped, “I’ve noticed your little gestures. You’re angry. Don’t worry, this young lady will take responsibility and comfort you properly.”

She waved a dismissive hand, then settled gracefully beside Lan Sen. As she did so, her skirt inadvertently brushed against the protruding armrest, lifting slightly to reveal a vibrant, spring-like sight before Lan Sen.

They were white, and of an incredibly delicate design.

Lan Sen, having glimpsed the young woman’s “secret garden,” remained entirely unfazed. It was a joke, truly; he was a cyborg. Suppressing carnal impulses and thinking rationally was effortless for him.

“How about it? Feeling any better? If not, this young lady can personally serenade you.”

She calmly smoothed her skirt, cleared her throat, and adopted a singing posture. Lan Sen cut her off. He had almost forgotten that this creature was a service-type AI. Its fundamental programming revolved around serving humanity and ensuring human happiness. Yet, while performing various functions to serve humans, Is had somehow incorporated a disproportionate amount of “talk therapy.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. I’m lost; what should I do now?”

“What to do?” Is retorted with an exasperated laugh. “Stew in it! Do you actually expect me to lead a rebellion? Do I look like I have the capability for that? If you granted me control of the Phase Wave Cannon, I’d have a 0.01% chance… As for your physical issues, what good is asking me? Go to the Health Department! I’m not a doctor tasked with treating human psychological ailments.”

Having finished, she muttered under her breath, ‘This young lady is a super AI capable of full-ship repairs on galactic-core-class vessels. To think I’ve been reduced to treating problematic children. Truly, the world is going to ruin.’

“This…” In the end, none of his problems had been solved.

Nevertheless, after his conversation with Is, his vomiting problem seemed to have abated. For the immediate future, he wouldn’t be haunted by the dream of being engulfed by black tides. Moreover, Is’s particular brand of “talk therapy” had indeed distracted his mind, effectively dispelling his suicidal thoughts. It seemed she wasn’t entirely useless after all.

“What’s wrong? Still dwelling on KDA? Don’t worry, the dead don’t hold grudges.”

“You…” Lan Sen clutched his throat, narrowly avoiding spitting out another mouthful of Blood Gel. “Could you perhaps refrain from mentioning your damn KDA? I was just trying to forget it.”

The KDA Is referred to was the Kill/Death/Assist ratio. Currently, Lan Sen had never died, yet his kills and assists numbered in the tens of millions, resulting in an exceptionally high KDA. Consequently, Is delighted in using KDA for her dark humor.

“Alright, alright, I won’t mention KDA anymore. I merely find it rather unfortunate for Earthlings that a god of slaughter like you is still alive…”

“Stop, stop, stop! I can see you’re practically wishing me dead from sheer frustration.”

Lan Sen grumbled, striding into the changing room to don a lightweight work uniform. He then began utilizing the room’s computer to organize the pertinent data for the Larry Ring acceleration device and Sector N9.

Given the insufficient charging time for Skyfire this time, coupled with the risk of frequent activation, there was a heightened chance of device malfunction. Therefore, he had to prepare in advance, meticulously calibrate the data, run as many simulations as possible, and only then proceed with the official launch to ensure Skyfire struck its target precisely. Ideally, he should personally inspect the acceleration device.

‘As for X’s life or death, what concern was it of his?’

‘He only needed to ensure he rigorously completed his assigned objectives according to his superiors’ directives. How many people Skyfire accidentally harmed was not his responsibility.’

Having rationalized this, Lan Sen immediately felt a profound sense of clarity and invigoration. Yet, whenever a particular set of data flickered through his mind, a dull ache would throb in his forehead, filling him with an ominous premonition.

‘Was this a Death Signal?’

Hurrying through the underground corridor leading to the Larry Ring acceleration device, he found himself utterly alone, surrounded only by strips of cold blue light, the overhead glass barrier, and the inky blackness of space beyond. It was as if someone had deliberately cleared everyone out, eliminating distractions to focus the spotlight on the protagonist, thus orchestrating the unfolding of events.

This suspicion reignited the turmoil in Lan Sen’s heart, which had only recently found a semblance of peace.

“Is, I want to request a song. That old one.”

“Oh? It seems my little problem child still can’t bear to part with me and seeks emotional solace from this young lady. Very well, I shall reluctantly grace you with my exquisite singing voice.”

Ignoring Is’s teasing, Lan Sen began to hum along with the melody as a powerful piece of music resonated through the underground corridor.

‘What exactly was he fretting about?’

All that remained was to inspect the acceleration device, guide the coordinates, and await Skyfire’s next descent. He was merely performing his job, a righteous task of eradicating demons. There was no need to overthink anything else; advanced artificial intelligence would handle all the intricate details for him.

As for Is, that utterly infuriating AI, it was clear that beyond being a songstress responsible for amusing (and annoying) humans, she excelled at nothing else.

“The room is so warm, yet the road still awaits our footsteps. Starlight-like dust settles on our boots…”

“My blood type is printed on my sleeve, my number is written on my sleeve, wish me luck in war…”

Gradually, Lan Sen immersed himself in the melancholic male voice simulated by Is, his troubles momentarily forgotten. Is, too, focused entirely on her performance, delivering a heartfelt rendition for her sole present listener.

For a time, both of them forgot the unpleasantness of their earlier argument, and the atmosphere grew harmonious. Fond memories of his childhood, specifically his postgraduate studies at Campet College, flickered through Lan Sen’s mind.

Autumn winds, falling leaves, white buildings, and an utterly exasperating little girl.

‘A little girl?’

“Soft armchairs, checkered patterns, triggers not pulled on time, sunny days existing only in brilliant dreams…”

A childish voice joined the chorus, complementing the simulated timbre of the electronic songstress.

“Everyone holding a gun, walking into a pitch-black room. In the darkness, everyone is an enemy. We grip the triggers in our hands, waiting for the first gunshot…”