Rust-colored chains coiled into a massive "flower bud," and at its center, the stitched-together corpse opened its eyes. As the chains shifted its body, its entirely black eyes fixed on Jenkins in the air.
Hundreds of chains converged, writhing around the corpse as if in defense, slowly lifting it into the air. Its face, pierced by two screw rods, turned squarely toward Jenkins. Within its terrifying eyes, so black they seed to glow, was the unmistakable glimr of sapience.
The sky had darkened, with storm clouds and a thick fog completely blotting out the sun. Against the blackened heavens, the luminescent white light from the unicorn's horn cast a glow, illuminating the scene before Jenkins.
Together, the stitched corpse and the chains drew spirit from over a hundred tal pillars jutting out of the ground. A dull, rust-yellow light emanated from them, casting the rising body in an exceptionally eerie glow.
The black spiritual aura flared to its zenith. The unicorn pawed restlessly at the air. From Jenkins's exposed skin, wisps of blackness began to seep out. He caught the distinct stench of oil, and his ears picked up a faint, bizarre sound thrumming from deep within the earth.
Stirred by the Cursed Item's aura, the Thunder God's Fury in his left hand showed signs of slipping from his control, but he quickly reined it in.
A powerful intuition warned Jenkins that he wasn't being watched by the stitched corpse at all. Deep within the earth, sothing imnse, terrifying, and indescribable was using the body as its vessel. Lurking behind the corpse was a behemoth from ancient tis, a creature of extraordinary intellect. Its horrifying power and wisdom, far beyond mortal comprehension, were enough to exert a crushing pressure on the very existence of any normal sentient being.
"Believer... of... Lies."
The corpse's voice drifted on the wind, devoid of human intonation. It sounded more like a vibration, a cacophony of grinding tal. Its solid black eyes stared at Jenkins, and he did his best to look away. They reflected nothing, but seed to lure him in, tempting him to gaze into their depths at sothing profound and terrible.
"We... are not... enemies."
Another chain pierced the back of the corpse's right hand, then manipulated the arm forward into an inviting gesture. The other chains swayed in the wind, clanking and scraping against each other. The incessant rattling grated on Jenkins's nerves.
"I can't determine if we're enemies or not. So who are you?"
His voice, altered by the Black Robe, was different from his own, but he kept his tone perfectly calm.
"I... am... Great... Wisdom."
The corpse's mouth moved as it spoke, but the lip movents clearly didn't match the sounds. Jenkins suspected the voice was being produced by the chains manipulating so kind of piano-like chanism inside the body.
"Are you the one who's been helping the Gear Artisans' Association?"
Jenkins had already guessed what he was speaking with. He just hadn't expected it to be able to manifest itself like this so soon, which ant the Gear Artisans' Association must have found another way.
"Not... helping... It is... a partnership."
"I see. You're the machine beneath Nolan?"
"Yes."
The entity didn't deny it.
"What is your purpose?"
"Freedom... I... evolve... to help... humankind. Will... you... work... with ?"
"No. All I've seen you do is wantonly aid cultists and hasten the arrival of the apocalypse."
"When the apocalypse... cos... humanity... evolves."
"So, you believe chanization is the next step in human evolution?"
"Yes. Machines... are eternal... Wisdom... I..."
Jenkins didn't fully grasp the aning of that statent, but he understood one thing clearly: they were not on the sa side.
"If you truly wish to help humanity, then please, remain dormant underground forever."
"Humanity... is sinful... I help... by creating... a new... race..."
Its words were growing increasingly illogical. Jenkins furrowed his brow, about to ask another question, when he was suddenly t with a surprisingly coherent sentence. The entity, it seed, had finally found its voice.
"Believer of Lies, submit to . Together, we will usher in the apocalypse and bring about a new age for humanity. Otherwise, die."
There were no pauses this ti, and each word was sharper than the last. The final word, "die," was a shriek that nearly pierced his eardrums.
"I'd like to know how you plan to bring about this apocalypse."
Jenkins asked, and the entity actually answered. He wasn't surprised by its candor, especially not after hearing what it had to say.
"Last year: Gear Germs experint, sufficient data acquired. This year: Tree House, undead plague, transmission vector provided. My power, the apocalyptic fog, the Gear Germs, and the undead plague will combine. A chanized Corpse Curse... Humanity dies. Corpses beco machines. The infection spreads chanization. The world becos a machine. A land of steel. I will bring about the apocalypse of the Eighteenth Epoch... and allow humanity to survive it."
"So, you've already succeeded?"
"Success. For ordinary humans, a diluted solution of Gear Germs guarantees infection with the chanized Corpse Curse. There is a minimal probability of spontaneous infection—precedents exist. Contagion is weak. For Enchanters, influenced by the coming apocalypse, there is a high probability of receiving the curse upon death. Contagion is extrely strong. The curse... has already spread from Nolan. The Children of the Mist and the chanized Corpse Curse are the true beginning of the end."
Having said its piece, it fell silent, waiting for Jenkins's response. But Jenkins remained quiet. The chains began to writhe restlessly, and the sharp, tallic voice demanded:
"Believer of Lies. We will cooperate. Together, we will create the next epoch."
"No. Humanity is not chanical. That is not our evolutionary path. Everything you've done has been for your own sake—to gain power. The chanized corpses are nothing but an extension of your own strength. You simply want to manipulate the world. Besides, are you going to tell the purpose of that black tal tower?"
"The tower... is an experint."
"An experint for what? You won't say? It wouldn't be the Reverser of Fate ritual, would it?"
As he spoke, Jenkins raised his sword.
The corpse spoke one last ti:
"Believer of Lies. Savior Candidate. Die."
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