Amid the deafening roar of countless machines and gears in motion.

Amid Mela's fervent exhortations.

Moen was stunned.

What person, what creation, what authority, what power?

Is authority something that can be man-made?

And this thing, laden with the presence of a doomsday tool meant to come out at the climax for the protagonist to fight the final antagonist, what exactly is this?

According to the original plot progression, the academy arc hasn’t even concluded yet!

"In my original calculations, I should have woken up five years later to reimplement this plan," Mela said.

In her amber-like eyes, a flicker of nostalgia appeared:

"But since I’ve awakened early, and the course of fate has become so chaotic that even I cannot predict it anymore, I have no choice but to proceed ahead of schedule."

So this thing was really supposed to be pulled out in the later stages?

"Then… why did Professor Mela summon me here?"

Moen couldn't help but feel his knees weaken, his words stammering.

"I really don’t think I can be of any help."

Originally, Moen had thought that Teacher Mela intended to use him to research some terrifying forbidden magic, mentally preparing himself to sacrifice his life if it came to that.

But to his surprise, she directly brought out something like this?

How could he possibly help with this? He couldn't even grasp the principle of why those floating gears moved on their own. Aside from hiding in a corner waving a flag and chanting praises like "Boss, 666," what could he do?

"About this..."

Teacher Mela suddenly turned around and gave Moen a smile that was both meaningful and eerie.

Moen instantly froze, clutching his collar and slowly backing away:

"W-W-What do you want?"

"Well, although I shouted quite loudly just now, this is actually just a prototype of authority," Teacher Mela said with an innocent expression.

"It’s far from being true authority yet."

"Oh… r-really? So, then?"

"So…”

Mela waved her small hand, as if gathering everything around her into her palm.

“They need a vessel. A… living vessel."

"A vessel?"

Moen’s mind blanked for a moment.

It was like someone had dropped a Tsar Bomb into his thoughts, making his scalp tingle from the shock.

"A vessel? Who?"

“Who else?”

Teacher Mela gave an odd look:

“Do we have a third person here?”

“Me?”

Moen glanced at the mechanical monstrosity—still impossible to fully see, no idea how massive it was—and then lowered his gaze to his own frail limbs, shaking his head vigorously:

“No, no, absolutely not. It’s way too big to fit!”

“It can!”

“Absolutely not! I’ll be torn apart!”

“I said it can, so trust me!” Mela said firmly,

“And of course, it’s not like I’m going to directly shove something this big into your body. I'll modify it to a certain extent.”

“Modify it?”

Moen gestured wildly: “Like turning this thing into something small enough to carry in your pocket?”

“No, like modifying you into something that can fit anything inside you,” Mela replied with utmost seriousness.

“…”

After a brief moment of thought, Moen seemed to finally reach clarity. He lifted his head, his face grim, and said:

“So, is it too late for me to back out?”

“Trying to leave?”

Mela sneered.

Then, she snapped her fingers.

With the sound of machinery whirring, the massive door slammed shut.

Followed by countless consecutive clicks of lock cores.

“Take my knife and try to run? I’ve welded the door shut,” Mela said.

From behind her emerged various drills, chainsaws, axes, screwdrivers, and mechanical arms, spreading out like a peacock displaying its feathers. Their glinting metallic edges illuminated Moen’s increasingly pale face.

"Prepare yourself for some love from your teacher, my dear pupil." Mela grinned with a friendly smile.

---

Night fell.

Belland Lower City District.

Rainwater washed over the muddy ground, leaving behind twisted patterns that resembled works of abstract art.

Under the dim heavens, a buns-headed girl gripped a large umbrella tightly, shielding the silver figure before her from the rain.

But the silver figure seemed annoyed by her efforts, pushing away the umbrella and stepping into the downpour, ignoring how her uniform was soaked through within seconds.

Ahead of her, a cordoned-off area marked by yellow tape glimmered brightly.

Numerous men clad in black raincoats worked busily on the flat ground near the riverbank, carefully collecting evidence and occasionally placing numbered markers onto the soil.

At the center of their focus, faint white lines outlined the silhouette of a deceased figure.

Undeniably, it was a crime scene.

Celicia stepped through the tape barrier and approached the central area. Her cold, stoic face betrayed no emotion—as always—though her hands involuntarily clenched tight, her knuckles turning white.

"Your Highness."

A bald middle-aged man appeared by Celicia’s side and kept wiping his face with a handkerchief, uncertain whether it was rain or sweat he was removing.

“The victim has been identified.”

“Speak.”

“Tec Rod. He's indeed a second-year student at Santa Maria College.”

“Rod?”

“He’s the fourth son of Earl Rod. Though he has three older brothers, his considerable talent made him a favorite of Earl Rod."

Before the sentence was completed, commotion stirred at the edge of the cordoned area.

A horse neighed sharply.

A stern man stepped out of a carriage bearing the Rod family crest, loudly confronting the guards barring his way:

"Let me through. Do you know who I am? I’m Earl Rod! I need to see my son!"

Chaos broke out.

The guards accompanying Earl Rod clashed with the security at the scene, spiraling into such confusion that even the sound of the rain became faint.

“Tell him to get lost!”

Celicia's voice cut through coldly.

“Huh?”

The bald man was startled: “Word for word?”

“Word for word.”

Celicia paused briefly, then added,

“And tell him—I will give him an explanation.”

Thus, with Celicia’s assurance, Earl Rod departed in anger, though reluctantly, leaving the location to once again settle into quiet. The black-clad guards resumed their silent evidence collection, accompanied solely by the world’s ever-present rainfall.

Celicia lowered her gaze, looking at the corpse.

The blood scattered around it had already been washed away by the rain, but the chest of the body remained dyed bright red.

Through the torn uniform over the left chest area, it was faintly visible that the body was missing a crucial component.

“Cause of death?”

Celicia withdrew her gaze calmly.

“Well… as Your Highness can see.”

The bald man continued futilely wiping his perpetually wet forehead, replying:

“The victim died of… extraction of the heart.”