Chapter 819: Ex-Machina Prüfer! Do You Know What a Heart Is?
The world was drowning in an endless, suffocating war.
The skies wept black ash over a shattered earth, a grim stage set for the sixteen sentient races that populated this dying planet. A strict, universally recognized hierarchy dictated the balance of power, separating the divine from the dirt. An impossible chasm existed between the top six echelons and the lower ranks. Those ranked seventh and below were merely creatures—biological organisms bound by the limits of flesh and blood. Those ranked sixth and above were life—beings forged from magic, concepts, and divine will.
At the apex stood the Old Deus, followed by the Phantasma, the Elemental, the Dragonia, the Gigant, and the Flügel.
Beneath them struggled the lesser races: the Elf, Dwarf, Fairy, Ex-Machina, Demonia, Dhampir, Lunamana, Warbeast, Seiren, and at the absolute bottom, the Human race.
For millennia, these sixteen factions had been locked in a brutal, unrelenting Great War. The planet had been torn asunder, reduced to a dilapidated wasteland of toxic fumes and scorched earth. For the lower-tier races, merely surviving another day in this hellscape was a miracle. Dust and smoke permanently choked out the sun. Yet, the slaughter continued without pause.
The prize was simply too intoxicating to ignore: the title of the One True God, and the Suniaster—the Star Grail—an all-powerful chalice capable of granting any wish.
High atop a jagged, wind-swept precipice, a young girl stood motionless.
Her unblinking crimson eyes stared out at the ruined horizon, starkly contrasting with her unnaturally pale skin. Messy, dark purple hair whipped around her waist in the toxic wind. At a glance, her slender, fragile silhouette might evoke a deep, instinctual desire to protect her.
But offering her protection would be a fatal mistake.
She was not a member of the fragile Human race. She was an Ex-Machina.
Twin metallic cables extended from the base of her spine, swaying gently like mechanical tails, while complex cybernetic joints and synthetic plating were exposed along her limbs and torso.
Ranked tenth among the sixteen races, the Ex-Machina were a terrifyingly advanced cybernetic species. They operated as a highly integrated hive mind—a collective of strong artificial intelligences bound together by a unified network. Every individual was merely a node in a vast, interconnected entity. Any data gathered by a single unit was instantly transmitted, processed, and shared across the entire Cluster.
To maximize efficiency, the Ex-Machina divided their units into five distinct classifications: the Prüfer for data analysis, the Kämpfer for frontline combat, the Macher for armament design, the Befehler for network command, and the Seher for observation and reconnaissance.
The architecture of their society mirrored a flawless digital network. The individual units acted as clients, gathering field data and uploading it to the Befehler, which served as the central server. The server would process the variables, calculate the optimal strategy, and download the directives back to the clients. It was a cold, ruthless system. If an individual unit malfunctioned or threatened the network's overall performance, the Befehler would sever its connection without hesitation.
They functioned as the ultimate army. The fully linked Cluster Commander directed every micro-movement of the swarm. While lower-tier units could process local tactics, their minds were entirely synchronized in real-time. It was a flawless joint-processing system built on absolute, unshakeable loyalty. In some ways, their network mimicked a human nervous system, but with a fatal advantage: a human possessed only one brain. In an Ex-Machina Cluster, every single unit possessed the processing power to act as a localized brain.
Though they sat at a modest tenth place in the racial hierarchy, this flawless, decentralized hive mind made them a nightmare on the battlefield. Even the higher-ranked races knew better than to provoke the mechanical swarm.
Thus, the girl on the cliff was far from fragile.
She was a Prüfer—an Analysis Type. While her primary function was data processing rather than warfare, she still possessed thirty-two percent of a Kämpfer's maximum combat output. In this broken world, that fraction of power was more than enough to obliterate most threats.
Like all of her kind, she possessed no name. She was defined solely by a complex alphanumeric designation. Her identity was Üc207Pr4f57t9.
Yet, Üc207Pr4f57t9 harbored a fatal anomaly within her code. She had begun to process abstract concepts that defied mechanical logic—thoughts regarding life, emotions, desires, and feelings. Because the Ex-Machina lacked these biological variables, she found herself trapped in an endless loop of logical paradoxes.
Her synthetic voice cut through the howling wind, quiet and hollow. "What is a heart?"
[Ding! Do you wish to comprehend the concept of a 'heart'?]
The mechanical girl blinked, her optical sensors whirring softly as they adjusted to the sudden auditory input.
"Analysis..." she murmured.
Her internal processors ran a rapid sweep of her surroundings. A few seconds later, she concluded, "Zero biological signatures detected. Query: What is your classification?"
[Ding! Do you accept the Doomsday Chat Group's invitation to understand what a heart is?]
"Analysis—Doomsday Chat Group."
Üc207Pr4f57t9 routed the new terminology through her vast databanks, searching for a match. The query returned a null value. There was no historical or tactical data corresponding to the term.
She stood in silence, the wind tugging at her cables. When her vocal processor engaged again, she simply repeated her core paradox: "Query: What is a heart?"
[Ding! You have joined the Doomsday Chat Group!]
In that exact microsecond, a translucent, holographic screen materialized directly in her field of vision, bypassing her optical hardware entirely.
"Self-diagnostic—Logic virus infection!"
Her immediate protocol was to quarantine the anomaly, assuming a hostile data breach. Yet, her internal antivirus scans returned zero threats. She deployed multiple decryption algorithms to deconstruct the holographic interface, but every attempt failed.
When she attempted to upload the visual data of the screen to the Ex-Machina Cluster, the connection returned a fatal error. Strangely, the central Befehler did not register the error at all. As far as the Doomsday Chat Group was concerned, her unit was operating completely independently from the hive mind.
This impossible, isolated phenomenon captured her absolute focus. Analyzing the linguistic logic of the interface, she composed her first transmission.
Ex-Machina: "Query: Does the Doomsday Chat Group originate from a higher species?"
Shinobu Kocho: "Higher species? My, it seems our newest member didn't pay much attention to the Chat Group's introductory announcement."
Ex-Machina: "Data already processed."
Ex-Machina: "Query: Does the Otherworld truly exist?"
Ex-Machina: "Answer: Cannot be determined through current parameters."
Kiana: "Uh... this newcomer's way of speaking is super weird."
March 7th: "Asking a question and then immediately answering it yourself? You sound exactly like a robot!"
Ren: "March-chan, you really are a prophet. She actually is a robot."
Back in his reality, the aftermath of the chaotic office melee was nothing short of a glorious, absolute victory. Having thoroughly conquered the room and claimed the ultimate prizes from his beautiful opponents, Ren lounged like a decadent emperor.
He lay comfortably amidst a stunning sea of tangled limbs and soft, pale skin—a veritable paradise of indulgence. The air in the office was thick with the lingering, intoxicating scents of expensive perfume and warm sweat.
Ren let out a deeply satisfied sigh, his head pillowed perfectly against the plush, yielding softness of Shining and Kiana's chests. He closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the tender aftercare provided by the girls around him. Gentle, practiced hands worked over his relaxed muscles, offering soothing massages, while others quietly and carefully tidied up the beautiful mess they had all just made.
Despite his state of absolute bliss, his attention was immediately drawn to the System interface. He had noticed the notification the moment it chimed.
Two newcomers had just joined the Chat Group.
And looking at their identities, they were two newcomers who surprised him quite a bit.
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