Seoul Cyberpunk Story-Chapter 37: Machina (7)

Victor lifted his head, eyes locked on the mist ahead.

The thick fog began to lift, revealing a massive silhouette.

His pupils dilated—he couldn’t hide the shock on his face.

“What the hell is that...”

Emerging beyond the haze was a massive robot—

one that looked just like A.

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Its features were simplified, something like a ^, but everything else was disturbingly similar.

Except in scale—there was no comparison.

Not even Babel’s most advanced tech could realistically support something of this size.

As far as Victor knew, there was only one company capable of building something like that.

MK Corporation.

The origin of all tech. The primordial megacorp from which all others descended.

Only they could’ve made a machine of this scale.

None of the current megacorps under Babel had the means.

And maybe because of that, the robot’s surface wasn’t stable.

Its metallic armor was constantly breaking under its own weight, then regenerating again—over and over.

Veins of violet energy flowed through its body like blood, just barely holding the collapsing structure together.

The moment Victor laid eyes on the robot, his brain immediately began mapping escape routes and strategies.

‘Escape west. Use the smoke to obscure vision. Use debris for cover...’

Of course.

Victor wasn’t some soldier ordered to destroy the Machina Cult.

His job was already over—Amber’s recon assignment, and the mission from 329 to find his sister, Iris.

‘Obviously, I should be running right now...’

But his legs wouldn’t move.

Despite everything screaming survive, something in his gut was saying otherwise.

A groundless instinct whispered to him—

that this giant robot was somehow connected to 329’s sister, Iris.

Then, a priest stepped forward beneath the robot—

wearing a lavish ceremonial robe woven in gold and violet.

He raised both arms high toward the sky.

["Ahh, O Guide... You who are free from the madness of implants... Lead us to the promised paradise..."]

The priest’s voice trembled with religious ecstasy.

And in that instant, Victor understood the impossible truth.

‘That’s... an implant?’

That towering robot wasn’t just a machine—

it was an implant directly linked to someone’s nervous system.

An extended body.

Any normal person would’ve dropped dead the moment they connected to something that size—nervous system fried.

And despite the priest’s words, Victor could tell—

this “Guide” was about to snap.

The flickering lights in its eyes.

The twitching, reversed movements.

Signs of a mind spiraling into madness, losing all control.

The priest, wild-eyed, pointed at Victor—his voice booming like divine judgment.

["The Prophet commands it! Eliminate the heretics!"]

And the robot moved.

Its massive body, which had been so slow, suddenly surged with terrifying speed—

reaching out toward Victor.

He tried to back away on instinct—but it was useless.

Too fast to outrun, even with a jetpack.

A monstrous shadow fell over him—blotting out the sun.

The enormous metal hand descended—ready to crush him flat like a pizza in a press.

And then—

A shockwave exploded out from the direction of the cathedral.

A ripple of violet energy pulsed outward like a tide, reaching all the way to Victor’s position.

It felt like a bomb had gone off—

but there was no physical force.

Still, Victor and Scarlet staggered as vertigo hit them—

and the robot froze, mid-motion.

‘...’

The Guide trembled, as if stunned—

and the violet energy that had coated its entire body began to dissipate like steam.

Victor watched in stunned silence.

Without the energy, the robot’s body couldn’t support its own weight anymore.

THUD.

A massive metal plate caved in and crashed to the ground.

SCREEEEECH.

Internal frames twisted.

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As the machine collapsed—piece by piece—Victor turned his gaze toward the cathedral.

‘Was that... A?’

****

The Prophet watched, paralyzed, as the colossal robot fell apart.

Despair flickered across his face.

["AAAAAAAAHHHH!"]

His scream filled the Machina Cult compound.

His voice carried rage, sorrow—

and above all, bottomless despair.

He trembled violently, staring at the fallen wreckage.

["It’s not over! The time of Revelation has not come! The Guide... the Guide..."]

Madness filled the Prophet’s eyes.

His words grew increasingly incoherent, devolving into fevered gibberish.

From under his torn robe sleeves, dozens of tiny bells dangled from his arms.

As if performing a final ritual, he raised his many arms toward the sky.

The robe ripped apart—bells ringing in chaotic unison.

Their sound converged into one massive wave.

From it, a violet pulse spread across the ground.

It was similar to the wave that came from the cathedral.

Then the Prophet pointed a trembling finger at Victor and Scarlet—screaming fanatically.

["Heretics! They seek to harm the Guide! Kill them! Kill them all!"]

Victor’s eyes swept the area.

At some point, hundreds of cult slaves had surrounded them.

Their bodies embedded with decaying implants.

Their eyes empty.

But they were all moving—slowly, mechanically—toward Victor and Scarlet.

Victor turned to look at Scarlet.

Scarlet’s power armor still had high-explosive grenades left.

Victor had a few rounds in his SMG.

But he couldn’t pull the trigger.

They were all victims. Kidnapped. Used.

Scarlet tried remote-hacking the slaves—

but it didn’t work.

As if they weren’t operating on an AI frame at all.

“What do we do?”

She asked quietly, almost a whisper.

Before Victor could answer, something changed.

The violet wave was weakening.

As if the energy source behind it had vanished, the light from the Prophet’s bells began to fade.

‘...’

And when that light finally died—

Something incredible happened.

The crawling slaves stopped.

And then—

as if on cue—

they all turned their heads.

Toward the Prophet.

["Obey the command."]

The Prophet screamed again—

but the slaves no longer obeyed.

Something had returned to their empty eyes.

The final spark of humanity.

“Ughhh...”

One of the slaves, so lobotomized he could barely speak, let out a faint moan toward the Prophet.

That sound—

it acted like a signal flare.

All the slaves began walking toward the Prophet.

Their movements were slow, awkward.

But every step carried a quiet certainty.

The fragmented pieces of their identities—what little the neural slicing couldn't erase—were guiding them.

Toward blind, inevitable revenge.

["No! Stay back! I said stay back!"]

The Prophet stumbled backward in fear.

But there was nowhere left to run.

The wreckage of the fallen robot loomed behind him like a wall.

The first slave’s pickaxe smashed into his leg.

The Prophet screamed and fell.

But that was only the beginning.

His body was tough—fully cyberized.

And so, his end came slowly.

Painfully.

Victor and Scarlet watched the horror unfold in silence.

It wasn’t justice.

It was closer to tragedy.

No victors.

Just a pitiful, broken ending.

Amid the chaos, Victor spotted 329.

The slave once called 329 didn’t join the others in revenge.

Instead, he was digging through the collapsed wreckage of the giant robot—pickaxe in hand.

Victor saw him and stepped in to help, clearing debris.

329 tore into the armor with inhuman strength—

ripping, smashing, forcing it open.

Smoke burst from his implants—they were breaking down, pushed beyond their limits.

But then—

the interior was revealed.

Inside was a girl.

Her body was covered in wires and cables.

She looked nothing like the girl described in the contract.

But Victor knew.

He just knew.

This was Iris.

329’s sister.

The one he’d searched for all this time.

329 carefully lifted her into his arms.

Her eyes fluttered open—

as if waking from a dream that had lasted too long.

Her lips moved slowly.

A whisper escaped her.

“...O...ppa...”

And with that single word, 329’s face broke.

A storm of emotion—joy, grief, relief, love—washed over his previously frozen expression.

He didn’t say a word.

He just held her tight.

As if he’d never let go again.

****

Where the violet entities had disintegrated into waves—

only a strange, hollow silence remained.

Their traces lingered faintly in the air, like light residue burned into space.

I lay there on the rubble, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Black dust had settled on it—

and faint drawings were visible.

“...What the hell were those things...”

I muttered, still trying to make sense of it.

Those violet beings that looked like me.

They clearly had something to do with MK Corporation’s AIs.

But they weren’t just AIs.

They were something else entirely.

Something fundamentally different from birth.

Like witnessing the early signs of a great disaster.

Like staying still would bring on something colossal.

‘I was planning to just eat pizza and live quietly for the next ten years...’

I sighed.

Guess it was time to start digging again.

Into MK Corporation.

The vanished Korea.

And the AIs they built.

Why did MK disappear without a trace?

Why did the kind AIs trigger the Great Fusion and start tormenting humanity?

And why... why doesn’t Babel have Korea?

Back when I started merc work, I used to chase those questions.

But I didn’t have the skills. Or the money.

‘Guess I should ask Amber to collect all available data on MK Corp...’

But now it’s different.

Now I’ve got both.

Which means this time, I might actually get somewhere.

As I was thinking that, the image on the ceiling finally came into focus.

A faded mural.

It looked like an ancient religious ceremony.

Countless people, reaching out toward a woman—

one who looked vaguely like me.

Reaching, as if begging for salvation.

Without thinking, I raised both hands to mimic the image.

“...?”

And that’s when I saw it.

My severed left forearm, cleanly cut.

“...Ah.”

Now I remembered.

I lost that hand during the fight with the violet things.

I sat up among the wreckage and looked around—

and to my surprise, I spotted my severed hand immediately.

‘?’

Well, of course I did—

Because my severed hand was walking around on two fingers,

dancing.