The Last Stand of the Sword-Picker

[Alert, alert, right limb damaged over 99%!]

By this description, it was practically hanging by a few threads.

Iordera was in such agony that she nearly lost consciousness, beads of synthetic saline, like cold sweat, trickling from her forehead.

Yet, she uttered not a whimper, her lips remaining tightly sealed.

Her ruby eyes, fixed intensely on the floor, suddenly filled with a dark golden fluid.

[First Authority (50%) activated!]

“So, is the fight over? What a pity,” Martin Sword-Picker slowly emerged from the shadowed corner. “You’re destined to die once more, after all, and to end up in such a crippled state. What was the point?”

He still wore the dampener; even if Iordera were to use an energy detector instead of her eyes, she would remain oblivious to his presence.

“At this point, what more tricks could you possibly have?”

The puppet had just expended its power, its arm membranes unfurling to dissipate heat.

Martin Sword-Picker, in no rush, simply stood by and watched.

Once this cooling cycle concluded and the puppet began its next power output, it would spell Iordera’s demise.

Yet, at that very moment, the white-haired loli, whose bones had been crushed into the ground, suddenly twisted her neck, her head swiveling around.

It was a 180-degree horizontal rotation utterly impossible for a human.

The dark golden hue in her pupils slowly receded, replaced by the blazing crimson of her ruby eyes.

Her adorable little face puffed out, reminiscent of a hamster stuffing its cheeks.

[Alert, alert, accumulated heat has reached its limit. Dissipate heat as quickly as possible.]

Indeed, Iordera had kept her mouth tightly shut, forcefully holding back the heat that had accumulated over several days.

But she wasn’t merely suppressing the engine core’s heat; she was holding back something far older, far more ancient, something seemingly stockpiled since her very inception:

pure fury.

“ROAR—!!!!!!!!! ”

The dragon’s roar, infused with the essence of natural order, effortlessly tore through the puppet’s membrane shell, which had already been partially breached.

Graphite debris, carried by the energy circulating through its ‘veins,’ surged from the exterior directly to its core.

Martin Sword-Picker was startled by the furious roar, his ears filled with a deafening hum, his mind utterly blank.

By the time he recovered from his daze, the combat puppet had already charged at him in a frenzy.

“This is impossible. I couldn’t have been detected…”

Boom!

Indeed, Martin Sword-Picker hadn’t been detected; however, under the immense overload, the combat puppet had spiraled into complete disarray, smashing anything in its path, or simply striking at thin air if nothing was present.

The once-illustrious Lord of Junbourg was relentlessly assaulted as if he were mere air, his form obliterated in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a crimson mist.

[Alert, alert, main body damaged 83%!]

Iordera’s eyes fluttered open slightly, her vision blurred.

Of her entire body, only her head remained capable of movement, yet a head cannot walk.

Thus, she could only watch as the combat puppet, in its madness, turned into a fiery red mass, and then—

BOOM——————————————

On the last night before dawn, Junbourg witnessed an earth-shattering firework erupt from the Lord’s Mansion, prompting every resident in the inner city to open their windows and gaze from afar.

They saw everything on the second floor of the Lord’s Mansion blown away, a small mushroom cloud slowly ascending, its fiery glow illuminating a portion of the night sky, lingering long before fading.

Iordera was blasted sky-high with the mushroom cloud, soaring incredibly high.

Her already utterly damaged hands had long since disintegrated, and by mid-air, her fractured spine could no longer bear the strain, her body breaking into pieces.

Finally, even her delicate neck succumbed to the immense pressure, and her small head, with a soft *plink*, flew off.

She beheld the twinkling starlight, just as she had in her original world.

The small retail shop owner, Uncle Andrew, and the shop’s mistress—their smiling faces seemed to shimmer in and out of existence among the stars.

Iordera’s lips curled into a smile.

Perhaps this was truly the ‘last stand of the Sword-Picker’ that bards sang of.

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

Various parts of the doll’s body fell back to the ground, her small head rolling far away with a soft rumble, its fragmented pieces scattered everywhere.

It was as if countless stars had been strewn across the earth.

****

The earth-shattering explosion late last night had terrified the people of Junbourg.

But they could never have imagined that an even greater shock awaited them the next day.

The two great families arrived at the Lord’s Mansion as agreed, only to find utter devastation.

The Lord’s guards, witnessing the scene, were momentarily thrown into a panic, unsure how to proceed.

Consequently, the two great families initiated an investigation, and Lord Martin Sword-Picker’s half-year-long machinations and true objectives were all brought to light, exposed to the public.

The Lord they had trusted and relied upon was, in fact, the true mastermind behind a self-orchestrated plot, with all innocent lives lost at his command.

Moreover, the guards, who were meant to ensure the people’s safety, turned out to be accomplices of the masked figures.

As Junbourg’s enforcers, they had done precisely the opposite of their duty.

Junbourg was utterly shaken to its core.

****

“Left side, left hand, left hand! Do something, left hand!”

“You keep muttering ‘left hand,’ but you’re attaching it to the right side. Are you dense?”

“Well, from my perspective, it’s the left. Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just determine left and right based on Young Miss’s orientation? Are you foolish?”

Her consciousness was muddled, her eyes refusing to open, yet two familiar girlish voices chattered incessantly beside her.

Oh, right. They were her two little maids, Nina and Yuna.

“Young Miss, my Young Miss. Sister, do you think Young Miss can truly live?”

“Of course she can! Look at her body; when we found her, she was charred black, like charcoal, but now her appearance has fully recovered.”

“Her skin is like white jade, surpassing frost and snow in beauty. Marvelous.”

“Stop spouting those flowery phrases all the time; do you really think you’re a bard?” Nina nudged her. “But seriously, Young Miss’s hair has grown out… it’s as long as it used to be. It grew so fast!”

The voices grew clearer, her consciousness slowly returned, and her thoughts began to stir.

‘So, I didn’t die after all.’

The chip’s control panel opened, revealing a lengthy error log.

Iordera, however, had no inclination to read through it all, scrolling directly to the end.

[Currently repaired: 85%, 120 minutes remaining. Please correctly reassemble body parts upon completion of repairs.]

Iordera was still unable to open her eyes and assess her surroundings.

Yet, she knew she wasn’t dead; she was alive, and familiar people were by her side.

That was enough.

Everything she had held onto, she had clung to until the very end.

After her life-gambling frenzy, she had narrowly salvaged her existence.

Could there be a better outcome than this?