Chapter 207: Clever Tricks Part 2

The word arrogance carries weight.

It’s a word heavy enough to send even a final boss candidate to their doom.

Eden, Lemegeton, Under Chain, Speartip of Snow Blossoms, Ex Machina.

And the Empire.

Among these six factions locked in a fierce power struggle, only one can emerge victorious.

Lobelia may be a protagonist character affiliated with the Empire, but that doesn’t guarantee her victory.

After all, this wasn’t a novel or a film with a predetermined ending. It was a game.

A simulation where nothing is fixed, and everything changes based on choices and split-second decisions.

In such a setting, reaching the endgame inevitably narrows the enemy Lobelia must face down to just one.

And the remaining factions?

They destroy themselves through conflict with one another.

Each faction’s leader has the potential to become a final boss candidate, but not all can succeed.

Most fail. Only one remains.

And the cause of that failure is none other than the price of arrogance.

The consequence of complacency.

There’s a reason I’m bringing up this messy tale now.

The price of arrogance.

Born of carelessness.

“Knight?”

Because it looks like I’m the one about to pay it.

It was right after I’d gotten the disciplinary device for Mephistopheles from Helena.

I encountered him in the middle of a secluded forest path. He was a man clad in thick armor, like a knight.

An imperial knight?

No… that’s not it.

I’ve been through enough chaos to know. Whether it’s instinct or intuition, I could immediately sense something was wrong.

“You’re the Babel Gear, right?”

“…Who are you?”

The moment I spoke, I realized it.

I’d been far too complacent.

I’d grown stronger or so I believed.

I’d made connections with all sorts of terrorist groups.

And since nothing had actually happened to me,

Somewhere along the way, I’d started thinking it was safe to walk around freely.

“I won’t ask for formalities.”

Zeeeeeeeng!!

A sound like a roaring car engine ripped through the air.

Blue electricity surged across the heavy gauntlets I had mistaken for armor.

A massive hammer, larger than my head.

The moment I saw it, I knew.

“I am a former Holy Knight of Elysium and a Spur Gear of Ex Machina.”

One of the most alien and powerful executives of Ex Machina.

The Unmoving Knight.

“My name is Ryute. I’ve come to retrieve the Babel Gear from you, Johan Damus.”

Too many questions sprang to mind, but I asked the most pressing one first:

“May I ask something before we go further?”

“Go ahead.”

“How exactly did you find out I was the Babel Gear?”

…Something’s not right.

It hasn’t even been a month, and I’ve barely used it. So how the hell does every random person and their dog know I’m the one who has the Babel Gear?

Did they put it up on some kind of billboard or something?

At this rate, they might as well run a feature on my private life in the papers too.

“The Scriptwriter told me.”

“Aha.”

That crazy old geezer.

There’s loose-lipped, and then there’s that.

“Hmm.”

First things first…. let’s assess the situation.

There’s one thing I need to figure out before anything else.

Can I run?

I shook my head.

These lowlifes were all either criminals or people just like them.

In other words, they’ve got something to hide.

So naturally, they build their hideouts in remote places where no one comes.

And the place I’m in right now?

A deserted forest located right between the city center and the hideouts of the lowlifes.

That perfect middle ground meant Ryute calculated things so I couldn’t run in either direction.

“Let’s at least have a conversation first.”

If that’s the case, then on to the next option.

Talk, negotiate, and try to reach a compromise.

“First, just to be clear…you don’t have any personal grudge against me, right?”

“I’ve no reason to hold a grudge against someone I’m meeting for the first time.”

“Great.”

I didn’t know why Ryute was after the Babel Gear.

And honestly, I didn’t want to know. I’d throw the damn thing away if I could.

“Honestly, if I could give it to you, I would. It’s something I don’t even need. The Scriptwriter just dumped it on me… But there’s a problem.”

“A problem?”

“I have no way to hand it over right now.”

“……”

“I know, I know….saying it like that makes it sound like I’m up to something. But seriously, it’s just not possible right now.”

“Enough.”

Yeah, fine. Let’s admit it.

This situation is complete crap.

Right now, the Babel Gear was fused with my right arm, and I still haven’t been told how to remove it.

Who would’ve thought that stupid snowball would roll all the way here?

Let me say it again…I was way too careless. I should’ve known this thing was basically a ticking time bomb…

“There’s no point in listening further.”

Right. Of course this wouldn’t work.

I mean, even people you know wouldn’t buy this. So why would a terrorist I just met believe it?

“Wait! We’re not done talking yet. Let me make another offer!”

But negotiations and compromise weren’t off the table yet.

If Plan A fails, you move to Plan B.

Since handing over the Babel Gear isn’t an option right now, I have to propose the most reasonable alternative.

“If it’s the power of the Babel Gear you need, then I’ll cooperate. Isn’t it better to work with someone who knows at least a little about how to use it, rather than kill me and try to figure it out on your own?”

“As I thought, you really don’t know.”

“…If I did know, do you think I’d be this desperate?”

“A gear is a component. It only functions when it meshes with others. What I need isn’t the Babel Gear’s abilities. It’s the ownership itself. So your cooperation means nothing.”

“Then why don’t you go after someone else?”

“I plan to. But first, I’ll retrieve the gear from you, who lack both the qualifications and the capability.”

Great. Got it loud and clear.

In short, he came after me because I looked like the weakest link.

This was seriously unfair.

In the game, this group never had any internal conflict. But now that the weakest guy landed an executive position, he was pissed and came charging in.

And that sneaky bastard. He must’ve been biding his time, hiding his ambition the whole way through.

Terrifying.

And my situation? Absolutely horrible.

Why’d it have to be him of all people…?

“Want to shout out the words?”

“Now you’re skipping the formalities too, Mephisto.”

Be honest, Mephistopheles. You’re not planning to make a deal with me anymore, are you?

You’re sick of this too, right?

“Whatever. If you’re not going to help, then stop distracting me and stay out of the way.”

Negotiations have failed.

My offer to hand over the Babel Gear in exchange for time was ignored.

Saying I’d help if he had something he wanted to do….that meant nothing.

Which meant Ryute now has only one path left to take.

“To someone who doesn’t even recognize the value of the item, it’s far too much. But ignorance is not a crime, is it, Johan Damus? That’s why I won’t take your life.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll just take your right arm. The one housing the Babel Gear.”

“How merciful of you.”

Battle.

In the end, the world always circles back to the law of the jungle.

I’m not sure if I can win against a top executive of Ex Machina. Honestly, the chances are slim.

But I’ve never fought solely for victory.

My greatest strength is my connections. All I can do is hold out, hoping someone who noticed the commotion comes to help.

“This is why I hate people like you.”

Damn terrorists.

Maybe this is why they say you should never negotiate with terrorists.

You can’t negotiate with someone you can’t reason with.

***

“Do you know what the founding ideology of Ex Machina is?”

“What kind of nonsense is that? Getting sentimental because you’re close to death?”

“You insolent brat.”

The scriptwriter Deus, on a rare occasion, revealed a secret to Theseus who was attending to him only to be scolded in return.

But he was a stubborn old man. The kind you’d call an old-fashioned person.

He went on with the story.

“Evolution.”

“Ah, sure.”

Theseus only half-listened.

More than anything, he couldn’t understand why Deus was explaining all this to him.

“I dreamed of the evolution of humanity. In a way, you could say it shared similarities with Eden’s ideals.”

“But things didn’t go as planned, huh?”

“No, I found a method. I just never put it into practice.”

There were many possible directions for evolution.

But in this world, no living being could ever be truly perfect.

And so, Scriptwriter Deus stopped his research.

Instead, he expanded the ranks of Ex Machina, sharing knowledge and teaching, fostering their growth.

Out of boredom? No…

“This experiment has no fallback. After all, it’s a trial for the evolution of mankind.”

“Could it be, old man…”

“That’s why I split it up and scattered the results of my experiment to all those who are worthy.”

Scriptwriter Deus was a genius.

A genius unmatched in all of history.

Which meant there was no one who could fully succeed him. No one who could truly assist him, either.

That’s why he left behind a task. Clear, easy to understand, with a reward.

That’s the symbol given to all members of Ex Machina. And the gear they earn by solving that task is both a reward and a mark of qualification.

Another task remains.

“What do you think is the requirement to become an executive of Ex Machina?”

“Someone smart?”

“Theseus, you’ll never be part of Ex Machina.”

“Well, I mean… I’m just here to keep an eye on you. I’ve never once thought about joining Ex Machina.”

“Yet you still use my technology?”

“Only for saving people. It’s useful, after all.”

“You’re good with words.”

Theseus was the exact opposite of the ideal Ex Machina member.

And that’s precisely why Deus could open up to him. Because he knew Theseus would never covet his legacy.

“The world says I choose Ex Machina members based on something they call talent.”

“Isn’t that right?”

“It is. But what is talent, really? Is it some clear, visible measure? How can that even be compared to luck?”

“Spare me the philosophy.”

“Yes, it’s complicated. How do you evaluate people with such vague criteria? That’s why I judge people by only two things.”

Long before Eden ever appeared, there was the empire’s state religion of Elysium.

One of Elysium’s holy knights awakened their Spur Gear through relentless effort.

Deus summed up that kind of potential in a single word:

“Persistence.”

A student of the Cradle, with potential but lacking knowledge and drive.

Johan Damus achieved his goal through a single flash of insight.

Perhaps the ability most closely aligned with what people usually call talent.

An indispensable trait for progress.

And Deus gave that kind of potential its own name too. Again, it was just one word:

“Insight.”

Of course, Johan Damus wasn’t exactly qualified. He had potential, yes, but he came off as lazy and lacked purpose.

And yet, Deus found himself oddly drawn to that fool.

At the very least, he had ambition. It was still a bit beyond his means, but Deus believed that kind of ambition was a crucial spark that could lead to self-improvement.

“There are many paths. And many ways to walk them. Whether they choose to cooperate or compete…that’s up to them, isn’t it?”

“As the head of a group, you are the worst kind of person.”

“Puhahahahaha! Is that so? Well, I love who I am….spontaneous, narrow-minded, and driven by uncontrollable curiosity to shake the world.”

“……”

Theseus frowned.

He couldn’t help but feel furious. This man was openly bragging about his irresponsibility and neglect.

The old man in front of him was, in many ways, the very one responsible for spreading the terrorists known as Ex Machina across the world.

“…Good grief.”

Even so, Theseus couldn’t bring himself to truly resent the stubborn old man before him, even as he furrowed his brow.

He wasn’t a villain.

If anything, he’s just a child.

His body may have aged, but his mindset remained pure and stubborn like that of a child.

Maybe that was why.

“If you love yourself so much, would you please just stay quietly in bed?”

Perhaps that’s why Theseus felt a strange pity as he looked at the bedridden old man.

“Because I love myself, I want to leave something behind. Someone needs to carry on what I’ve built, don’t you think?”

Scriptwriter Deus.

He had two months left to live.