Chapter 65: Mecha Girl

“W-Wuu…

N-no, please don’t…”

The little girl with hair as white as snow, Clara, went from pale to ghostly.

Chen’s playful interrogation had shattered what little composure she’d managed to scrape together.

The dam broke, and her wide, red eyes instantly welled with tears.

She let out a choked sob, her small hands pushing against the grimy floor as she tried to stand.

Her legs, however, refused to obey, trembling uselessly from the shock of it all—and no doubt from the ache in her backside where she’d landed.

Defeated, she remained on the ground, her small face tilted up, streaked with dirt and tears.

Her voice cracked with desperation.

“Don’t bully Sister Svarog!

If there’s…

if there’s anything, just come at me!” she cried out.

“Hit—hit me instead!

Just please don’t dismantle Sister Svarog!

Wuuu…”

As she wept, she spread her thin arms wide, a futile attempt to shield the massive, damaged mecha behind her.

The gesture was pitiable, a tiny sparrow trying to protect a fallen iron giant.

The teasing smile on Chen’s face froze solid.

He blinked, the gears in his mind grinding to a halt as his entire theory of the situation imploded.

‘Sister…

Svarog?’So, this wasn’t some hostile takeover or a robot gone rogue.

It was…

a little girl piloting a giant robot to protect her’sister’?

This was infinitely more interesting.

Looking at the small child, crying so piteously yet still trying with all her might to protect another, the spark of mischief in Chen’s heart didn’t die.

Instead, it blazed into a bonfire.

Oh, this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

He decided to pour a little more fuel on the fire.

The light amusement vanished from his expression, replaced by the cold, analytical mask of Herta at her most imperious.

The air itself seemed to drop a few degrees.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned down, his shadow falling over the small girl.

He was so close he could count the individual teardrops clinging to her long eyelashes.

In Herta’s signature flat, yet utterly crushing, tone, he spoke slowly, “Oh?

‘Come at you’?”

He extended a single, delicate finger and lightly tapped the air just before Clara’s nose.

“Little one,” he mused, “do you truly believe that letting me strike you a few times would be enough to save that heap of scrap metal behind you?”

He straightened up, crossing his arms and looking past the weeping child.

His gaze settled on the dark bronze chassis of the defeated mecha, which was still twitching and sparking with stray electricity.

His voice became even more dangerous, laced with a chilling, clinical curiosity.

“I have no particular interest in striking children.

But…” He paused, letting the word hang in the air, watching as Clara held her breath, her small body tensed.

“I am quite well-versed in the disassembly of disobedient machines that get…

creative.

Especially one that just tried to aim its rather ugly cannon at me.”

He tilted his head, a perfect imitation of a scientist contemplating a new specimen.

“Now, where to begin?

The energy core is always a good starting point for a full system breakdown.

Or perhaps I should go straight for the main control processor?

Then again,” he tapped a finger against his chin, “removing those two cumbersome legs first might be more efficient…”

“N-no!

Don’t!”

A violent shudder wracked Clara’s tiny frame.

The sobs caught in her throat, strangled by sheer terror as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She bit her lower lip, hard, forcing back the sounds that threatened to escape.

All she could do was stare, her eyes wide and glistening, pleading with the terrifying woman before her.

Her little head shook back and forth in a frantic, silent “no.”

She was utterly terrified.

The aura this person projected—this casual, almost bored threat of total, methodical annihilation—was a thousand times more frightening than any simple act of violence.

She had no doubt in her mind that this woman could, and would, dismantle her protector with the clean, efficient precision of a surgeon.

Seeing the girl trembling on the verge of breaking, holding back her cries out of pure fear, Chen knew he had her exactly where he wanted her.

The timing was perfect.

He maintained his cold expression but allowed a sliver of negotiation into his voice, throwing the question back at her.

“You don’t want me to dismantle it?”

He gestured with his chin towards the broken machine.

“Fine.

Then you will answer my questions.

Properly.”

“First: Where is Svarog?

And is this ‘Sister Svarog’ of yours…

this thing?”

Clara’s tear-filled eyes darted to the mecha’s wreckage for a split second before snapping back to Chen, terrified he might look away from her.

She shook her head vigorously, a fresh wave of sobs threatening to break through her forced silence.

“N-no…

This is Uncle Fortress,” she explained, her voice small and thick with tears.

“It—it was Sister Svarog who helped me modify him.

So that when someone breaks in…

I can drive him out to scare them…”

‘Just as I thought,’ Chen mused.

So there was a real Svarog, likely hidden deeper inside this settlement.

“Second,” he pressed, his tone softening by a barest, almost imperceptible fraction.

“Why are you here?

Piloting this big fellow and even imitating its voice?” He even threw in a quick, mocking imitation of the robotic tone from before.

Clara’s head drooped.

Her small hands unconsciously twisted the hem of her worn dress, her voice shrinking to a guilt-ridden whisper, heavy with grievance and lingering fear.

“I…

I wanted to help Sister Svarog…

Sister has been having problems lately.

She’s been self-repairing…

People are always trying to break in from the outside, or cause trouble like those uncles just now…

Uncle Fortress has a loud voice and looks fierce, and the words he said before were all pre-recorded.

They usually run away when they see him…

I—I didn’t know you were so powerful…”

By the end, her voice cracked, and it sounded like she was about to start crying all over again.

But remembering the terrifying threat from before, she forced herself to endure it, her small shoulders just twitching slightly with the effort.

Chen looked at the little girl, who was trying so hard to take responsibility and protect her family, but clearly lacked the power and had nearly caused a disaster.

For the first time, he felt a genuine pang of guilt for bullying a child.

He let the deliberately feigned ferocity melt away.

“Alright, stop sobbing,” he said, his voice returning to a more neutral, if still flat, tone.

“Since you…

have at least some sense of responsibility, I won’t be dismantling your Uncle Fortress.

For now.”

Hearing this, Clara’s head shot up.

A disbelieving, brilliant light ignited in her tear-filled eyes.

“However,” Chen’s tone shifted, sharpening once more as he pointed a decisive finger toward a gate deeper within the settlement.

“Lead the way.

I want to see Svarog—the real one.

I have serious business with her.”

[Elysian’s Note:

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