CHAPTER 1: THE MACHINE

March 1, 2142, at Battlefield No. 7.

Black smoke engulfed everything, the ground trembling violently as fireballs rained down one after another, incinerating all within their impact range. Scattered around were corpses that looked human on the outside but revealed charred machinery within. We were accustomed to this. Whenever a body was destroyed, our consciousness would automatically transfer back to the Server via signal towers, preserving our memories before uploading them into a new body. Then, we fought again.

“This is CBT-002. Target detected in the air. Deploying W4RDOG.”

Years before launching total war against Midgard, the Olympus Federation reached the pinnacle of magic—not only by creating powerful Homunculi but also by summoning Mythical Beasts, creatures thought to exist only in legends. Kulshedra, the red dragon now raining fire on us, was proof. For massive targets like this, heavy weaponry was essential. W4RDOG—a cannon firing a beam of light capable of completely obliterating anything in its path—was a fitting choice at this moment.

“Target locked… 100%... awaiting firing command.”

“Fire.”

A pillar of light shot straight into the sky, reducing the once-rampaging red dragon to ash in an instant.

“This is CBT-002. Target neutralized. Awaiting further orders from Command.”

“This is CMD-006. Reinforcements are en route. Continue the assault.”

The strength of Androids lies in our immortality. We can fall countless times—as long as the Server endures, so do we. I charged into the fray, standing amid the enemy. For an ordinary human, rushing into a warzone rife with danger like this would be sheer madness, the line between life and death, recklessness and courage, razor-thin.

But I’m not human.

I’m an Android. A second-generation combat model, designation CBT-002.

Our mission at Battlefield No. 7 was singular: eliminate all Olympus Federation forces and protect the signal tower.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Deploy ST1NG and ELIT3 shields,” I commanded. ST1NG—a submachine gun fitted with a heat-emitting bayonet, boasting terrifying firing speed. Paired with the ELIT3 anti-magic defense system, these were standard gear for combat Androids. While ELIT3 was active, we closed in on the enemy, blasting their chests apart with gunfire until their cores were exposed, then piercing them with the heat bayonet to finish them off. This method was brutally effective against Homunculi—powerful at range, even surpassing W4RDOG, which required a brief charge-up and at least 24 hours to recharge after each shot.

“This is CBT-002. All targets within radar range neutralized.”

“This is DEF-129. I’ve eliminated all targets as well. Awaiting further orders from Command. Glory to Midgard!”

“CBT-148 reporting. Wiped out all those test-tube freaks in range. They squealed like pigs when I crushed them—music to my ears,” came a voice, followed by a savage laugh over the comms.

“This is CMD-006. Thank you all for your excellent work. However, Android CBT-148, I request you report with professionalism,” a cold voice responded. Second-generation Androids like me and 006 were upgrades over the first, with superior performance but retaining the emotionless demeanor of our predecessors. Third-generation models like 129 and 148 not only had enhanced capabilities but also varied personalities and emotions. 129 was serious and zealous, while 148 was the opposite. To him, war was a game—killing freely, heedless of all else, just to sate his bloodlust. The Aesir Council, Midgard’s leaders, believed that allowing newer Androids to express personalities and emotions, rather than restricting them like older models, would improve efficiency.

“Emergency support requested!” a voice crackled through. “This is CBT-122. Repeat, emergency support needed at my coordinates. A black-clad Homunculus has wiped out my ent—”

The transmission cut off abruptly, silence descending. “All Androids at Battlefield No. 7, listen up. Those near 122’s coordinates, move to assist immediately,” 006 ordered, her usual calm fraying. “Be cautious. The Reaper may have appeared.”

I knew that name.

Every Android on these battlefields knew that name.

I was the first to arrive at 122’s coordinates, being the closest. Chaos greeted me.

Two Androids, burned beyond recognition.

Three others, including 122, with gaping holes in their bodies, surrounded by melting ice spears.

The last one, as I arrived, had his head shattered by lightning, black smoke rising from what remained.

Behind the smoke, I glimpsed her. Long black hair blending with her dark combat attire. She wore a mask covering half her face, and beneath it, a pair of glowing purple eyes shone brightly, as if symbolizing the abundant mana dwelling within her.

A surge of anomalous data disrupted my system.

The Reaper had appeared.