’I...’
’...am...’
’...the Master of the Legion!’
A sense of total control, born from a perfect grasp of his own body, Magic Power, and Spiritual Power, was burgeoning uncontrollably. Countless logical chains in his mind snapped into perfect loops. Allen’s excess emotions were deed redundant static and were being systematically filtered and stripped away.
Just then, a familiar voice echoed from the deepest recesses of his Sea of Consciousness.
[Warning.]
[Humanity value is decreasing rapidly. Current value: 49%.]
[Non-combat status confird. Activating ’Humanity Anchor’ highest-priority protocol.]
Allen’s thoughts froze for an instant.
’Wait a minute!’
Before he could even mobilize his Spiritual Power to stop it, a pre-set program began to execute automatically—a command to which he himself had granted DSeek the highest level of authority.
SWISH—
His link to all the chanical Bodies was violently severed.
Inside the workshop, all the chanical Bodies resud their previous tasks, as if that mont of unified worship had been nothing but a hallucination.
anwhile, Allen’s consciousness was forcefully dragged into the "mory Corridor" he himself had built.
The cold workshop before his eyes was gone, replaced by a vast darkness.
Then, a giant screen lit up in the darkness.
On the screen, a man in a gaudy, multi-colored outfit was shouting nonsensical lines in an absurdly exaggerated tone. The background music was so jarring it made one’s skin crawl.
It was a clip from his "Classic Bad Movie Collection."
Allen’s chanical Mind imdiately began its analysis: [Ineffective information stream. Chaotic visual composition. Illogical. Negative aesthetic value.]
He tried to exit, but the protocol’s authority was ridiculously high.
The scene changed.
A song with a heavy beat kicked in. A few guys, looking like they were straight out of a cringey social dia trend, started waving their arms wildly for the cara. The bizarre movents and their utterly confident expressions caused even Allen’s ntal subroutines to lag for a mont.
It was from his "Cringey Internet Video Compilation."
[...Data unanalyzable. Behavioral motive unclear. Recomnded classification: anomalous contamination sample.]
Then, the scene changed again.
It was no longer those bizarre images, but a mory from a first-person perspective.
Steaming hot pot with bubbling red chili oil, tripe being dunked in and out with chopsticks, the boisterous clamor of friends urging each other to drink, all mixed with the cumin-scented smoke of grilled skewers... It was from his past life, an ordinary weekend night.
An emotion called "craving" surfaced without any warning.
The next second, the scene shifted.
A late-night office. The aroma of instant noodles. The word "PASSED" glowing on the computer screen, followed by a heartfelt, "Holy shit!"
Joy.
Another mory surfaced.
It was a randomly selected clip from his hidden "Study Materials" folder, where two pixelated figures were engaged in the great, harmonious dance of life...
[...]
[Analyzing biological instincts...]
Allen felt his thoughts descend into complete chaos.
All this "garbage" he had sealed away in the depths of his mory—all the things his chanical Mind had deed useless, inefficient, and full of emotional interference—was now being unearthed by DSeek and force-played on a loop.
His anger now had warmth; his joy was no longer quantifiable. But at this mont, sha, embarrassnt, nostalgia, irritation... these more complex and chaotic emotions were being forcibly injected into his soul.
DSeek’s voice rang out once more.
[Levels of cortisol, dopamine, endorphins, and other hormones detected below preset safety threshold.]
[Activating physiological intervention module.]
A warm current materialized inside his body, followed by an inexplicable sense of happiness.
Then ca a sudden wave of sadness; he even rembered the mont his first cat died.
Under DSeek’s control, his emotions were on a roller coaster.
Allen Wesren.
A powerful First-level Wizard.
The future master of the Golem Legion.
And right now, he was being virtually locked in a dark room by the very program he created, subjected to brutal ntal tornt.
After an unknown amount of ti, this bizarre "torture" finally ended.
[Humanity status: 75%.]
[Status stable. Protocol suspended.]
[To cancel this protocol, please correctly answer one thousand randomly generated emotional response questions and one thousand Turing test questions in a row.]
Allen’s eyes snapped open, his face a mask of agony.
He was still standing in the center of the workshop. Nothing around him had changed.
Ah Fu was still wiping down a workbench while the Fortune-series chanical Bodies transported materials. Everything was in perfect order.
But Allen felt different.
His thoughts were still clear, and had even beco more active and divergent due to the recent emotional shock.
He subconsciously evaluated the experience.
"DSeek, that experience was a complete grind. Pure ntal torture!"
"Would you like to cancel this protocol?"
"Uh, on second thought, never mind. This protocol... is actually quite useful."
He realized that while pure rationality was efficient, it also trapped him in a rigid mindset. It was like how even the most powerful supercomputer can never operate outside the frawork its creator designed for it.
Art cos from life, but even more so, it cos from emotion.
His Alchemy, his chanical Body designs, those flashes of inspiration—like putting Ah Fu in a tuxedo, or the Spider Slayer’s unorthodox tactical modules—ultimately all stemd from his very "human" sense of aesthetics and cunning.
If he completely beca a machine, he might be able to build chanical Bodies with better performance, but he would only be repeating the paths of his predecessors, never surpassing them.
’Looks like I need to find ways to interact with people more often from now on...’
Allen rubbed his brow. He had no desire to be forced to watch those cringey videos again. It was absolute torture.
’Interact with people...’
He thought of Vera and Colin, and the "New Western" they were in charge of.
He calculated the ti. He’d been in closed-door training for over eight months. The new business venture he’d entrusted to them should be showing results by now.
He pulled up his personal terminal, searching for the business plan from a few months ago.
[Product Line Expansion Plan]
1. "Spider Slayer" Basic Edition (Security Model): Removed "Shadow Travel" module. Enhanced autonomous combat and reconnaissance functions. Price: 700 Low-Level Magic Stones.
2. "Ah Fu" Custom Edition (Factory Butler): Retains core modules for auxiliary work and reception etiquette. Appearance and functions can be customized by the client. Base Price: 450 Low-Level Magic Stones.
This was his move to tap into the mid-to-low-end market using his existing technology.
’Perfect. I’ll go see how those two "professional managers" of mine are doing.’
Allen sent a ssage to Vera.
"Are you free? I’m heading over to check on things."
The reply was almost instantaneous.
"Yes, yes! Boss, you’re finally out of your training? Hurry over! I’m waiting for you!"
Allen put away his terminal. Instead of taking the Flying Skateboard, he walked directly out of the workshop.
He needed so ti to readjust to this world that now felt a little more "alive."
...
On the edge of the apprentice trade district, the sign for the "New Western Apprentice Service Center" glittered in the sun.
When Allen reached the entrance, he was taken aback by the scene inside.
The entire first-floor lobby was packed with people, several tis busier than the last ti he had visited.
The consultation booths were full, and even the sofas in the waiting area were crowded with several apprentices deep in spirited discussion.
At the front desk, two apprentices in "New Western" uniforms were so busy they were practically running off their feet, registering information while answering all sorts of questions.
"Excuse , can I book an academic planning session with Senior Colin?"
"I’m sorry, Senior Colin is booked until next month. You might consider our new ’Elite Teaching Assistant Team.’ They were all personally trained by Senior Colin."
"I heard you sell chanical Bodies here? The kind that can help with missions?"
"Yes, sir. Right this way, please. A dedicated sales consultant will be happy to assist you."
Listening to these conversations, Allen couldn’t help but smile.
’Looks like Vera and Colin have done an even better job than I imagined.’
Just as he was about to head inside, he saw Vera dashing down from the second floor in a flurry.
She spotted Allen at the door, and her eyes instantly lit up.
"Allen!"
Vera rushed over to him in a few strides. Her face was alight with an excitent she couldn’t hide, yet there was also a hint of urgency in her expression.
"You’re finally out!" She grabbed Allen’s arm and began dragging him inside. "Co with , quick! Sothing huge has happened!"
Allen let her pull him along, not feeling particularly worried.
"Did they sell too well, or not well at all?"
"They’re selling like crazy!" Vera replied without looking back, her voice filled with excitent. "Those two chanical Body models of yours are practically printing money! Especially the ’Spider Slayer’ Basic Edition! With your competition victory as an endorsent, we’ve already received over a hundred orders!"
"Isn’t that a good thing?"
"It is a good thing," Vera said, pulling him up to the second floor and pushing him into the largest office. She shut the door behind them and lowered her voice. "But the ten units you gave sold out ages ago! I couldn’t get in touch with you, and I’ve been worried sick!"
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