Ch.236The Seventh Entanglement – Variations on a Blind Revolution (6)

For angels, bodies were nothing more than equipment that could be resupplied. Even if they lost one, they could simply receive a new body and return to duty after about a week.

Any beings with enough intelligence to weigh the options between reassuring the Industrial Spirit King and incurring the wrath of the God-President wouldn’t have tried to merge with an angel’s mind. This too was just a puppet made from a corpse.

If it was made from a corpse, and since such modifications couldn’t be applied overnight, meaning they had merely prevented decay while making modifications, then this mechanized angel might be weaker than expected.

At the very least, he could tell that whoever was connected through the Hive Mind was quite human. They were acting like an artist proudly showing off their masterpiece, positioning the mechanized angel in front of the two of them.

The angel deliberately exaggerated its movements, swinging its steel prosthetic fist. It swung in a way that could be easily avoided. The sound of wind was threatening, but the punch itself wasn’t particularly intimidating.

It was just a punch, after all. The detective took a large step back and readied his gun. True to its angelic nature, its reaction speed was quite good. As soon as it saw the detective dodge, it raised its golden wings to shield itself.

“If you’re not even going to use those steel wings properly, why bother attaching them? Did you think painting your colors on the God-President’s creation would make you look like something special?”

Those driven by a sense of mission and purpose cannot tolerate insults. Dreaming of walking toward a noble purpose, they scream and rage when dragged down to the reality of the gutter.

When one cannot tolerate insults, their thought process becomes simplified. Rather than considering how to handle a situation methodically, they focus on destroying the insulter to restore their pride.

Even now, the mechanized angel shielded itself with golden wings out of habit. A foolish decision. Even angels with only one wing could briefly take flight and glide.

The same could not be done with crude steel wings. The detective, who had also signaled to the Hive Mind, pulled the trigger. Even an angel’s golden wings couldn’t stop rifle bullets at this distance.

The Hive Mind’s aim was terribly shaky, but the target wasn’t a needle—it was an angel, so it hardly mattered. One wing was severed, and the only remaining useful wing shattered.

Gold belongs to God, and steel belongs to humans. This wasn’t about superiority. It was simply ridiculous to see steel trying to imitate what should be done with gold.

Even the Hive Mind could tell that after just two or three hits, the wings were crumbling and tearing away. The mechanized angel prepared to charge with its steel wings spread. So that’s why his side had been aching.

The Hive Mind was also using a Blingkerton detective as a terminal, and since he was quite experienced, he could use blink magic, so there was nothing to worry about. The angel began charging forward with its tattered wings leading the way.

Even in its current state, this angel’s body was physically superior to Sol Invictus who had lost his divinity. It could have overwhelmed him. But it lacked the fleetingly beautiful technique that Sol Invictus had demonstrated.

The angel spread its steel wings wide but couldn’t fly. Naturally. It approached, destroying the well-paved factory district road meant for trucks, but the reason it wasn’t threatening was precisely that.

The Hive Mind had already retreated using blink magic and was pulling the trigger, aiming for the neck to sever the connection between the mechanized angel and the new Hive Mind, but still struggled to control the recoil.

Having fired eight shots, there should be about twelve left. The angel that had run up to the detective spread its wings that had been shielding its body and lunged forward, lowering its posture to tackle him.

He stepped back twice. He planted a .30 caliber rifle bullet deep in the angel’s forehead, where even the spark in its eyes had gone out, but it apparently hadn’t properly destroyed the brain. The angel kept moving.

The angel raised its steel wings—useless for flying—like blades and extended them toward the detective. It was pointless. The detective simply stood still and twisted his body to let the blade graze past him.

The edge of the wing was razor-sharp, but Sol Invictus’s gladius would have been more threatening. While moving its wings, both arms remained in a guard position without moving.

It seemed to be trying to slice with its wings using centrifugal force from the outside, but when the inside of the wing was caught, it could only push the detective’s body slightly. The detective sneered again.

“I don’t know how many of you are attached to this body, but if at least one person is handling the wings, couldn’t another handle the arms? I’d believe this was a large human terminal rather than an angel.”

As if understanding those words, a fist flew at him, but the punch from the angel—over a foot taller than an average person—was too high.

The detective ducked lightly and fired six of his remaining twelve shots into both of the angel’s knees.

There was something that needed to be demonstrated to those trying to overwhelm with size and strength. Neutralizing the crude and unnecessarily complex steel wings with the remaining six shots wouldn’t be difficult either.

He kicked the chest of the kneeling angel where the engine was embedded, making it fall backward. When the angel extended its steel prosthetic hand to grab the detective, he struck it with his fist, separating and detaching it.

Now it tried to grab the detective with the hand made by the God-President’s power, but it had only one. The detective grabbed the extending hand with both of his.

He stomped on the shoulder and applied his weight to force the elbow to move in a direction it couldn’t. It would have been difficult to face an angel with strength alone, but with an angel degraded to this state, something could be done.

The angel tried to struggle somehow, but with both hands unable to move above the forearm, only its eyes, full of the Hive Mind’s vitality, glared at the detective. Still not breaking the connection?

It didn’t matter either way. Looking up with eyes full of defiance while lying down was enough from an Iris prostitute, so it wasn’t necessary. The detective lightly raised his metal-plated heel and stomped down.

After repeating this five or six times, the mechanized angel that had been trying to resist somehow went limp. I suppose that’s one way to ensure the angel inside can’t even recycle its body. That had been the detective’s only concern.

The Hive Mind, who hadn’t been able to pull the trigger for fear of hitting the detective after he had burrowed into the mechanized angel’s embrace, saw the detective walking away from the angel with its face smashed in and spoke in disbelief.

Originally it had been a mechanical voice with barely any inflection, but not this time. The scene was enough to make one forget their immediate purpose.

“Impossible… Could angels be defeated in combat like that? If so, there might be more reason to hire…”

Though the Hive Mind had received considerable goodwill from angels since entering the Blingkerton terminal, hatred still outweighed it. Hatred was something that disappeared easily yet also didn’t disappear easily.

He removed the magazine, inserted one of the two remaining magazines, and completed reloading. He clicked his tongue at the Hive Mind’s words.

“Even I would struggle against an angel with both arms and wings properly attached and a body that isn’t rotting. Besides, angels pay better than you Hive Mind reds.”

Still about money. Truly just a worker who makes a living through killing. The Hive Mind now knew it would be better to prepare more money than competitors to hire the detective rather than hate him.

But the detective pushed the safety on his loaded gun and slung it over his back. His attitude suggested there would be no more fighting. The Hive Mind could understand why without asking.

Terminals were pouring out from the surrounding factories and buildings. The new Hive Mind, panicking after seeing even an angel terminal get utterly destroyed, was flooding the area with terminals.

This might have been the better approach. Even with the detective’s gun, it only held twenty bullets. The terminals were making bizarre sounds that couldn’t quite form human language.

The detective didn’t bother fighting them. He immediately jumped up, climbed over the wall of an adjacent factory, and began running through the factory grounds. His speed was too fast for a human.

The Blingkerton terminal could barely keep up by using blink magic repeatedly. The terminals that had poured into the streets trampled over each other as they climbed the factory fence, but they were all made from workers.

By the time the terminals flooded into the factory that the detective had first entered, he had already moved on to the next one. The Hive Mind was beginning to understand how he had been able to suppress strikes single-handedly.

The new Hive Mind faced an unexpected situation. It was something it didn’t and couldn’t understand. It sent terminals to the factories the detective had entered, but he was nowhere to be found.

Where did he go? The concrete temple in the middle of the factory district was already guarded by Industrial Spirits, so they would have known if he had gone there, but he hadn’t.

It sent another angel terminal to watch from the sky, and only then could it see. Whether they had climbed up using The Idealists’ magic or not, they were on the sloped roof of a factory.

But the direction they were looking seemed strange. They were looking at the building opposite the concrete temple where the Industrial Spirit King resided. It was where the contractors had gathered.

The new Hive Mind had anticipated they might go to the Spirit Management Department office and had filled it with terminals, but it hadn’t expected them to discover where the actual contractors were… it couldn’t understand how.

It immediately sent an angel terminal to try to subdue them, but they disappeared again with the blink magic used by the Blingkerton terminal. Since replacing one wing with machinery, it could barely glide once, let alone fly properly.

As the new Hive Mind tried to locate them again by sending the mechanized angel that had barely landed on a factory roof, The Idealists’ telepathic communication connected. Connecting to someone who could use magic was also a foolish act.

Even if it was magic, it was merely a technique using mana as a medium. At this rate, they could even determine where the magic was being used… The Idealists sneered.

“You must have realized that a spider can read a spider’s web. You are a strong but immature Hive Mind. You might find it amusing that we’re weaker, having started with just ten ordinary people merged together. Let me give you some advice. Don’t focus on the terminals. You are a Hive Mind. Terminals are tools. Focus on your mind. No, you still have a body, don’t you?”

Only then did the new Hive Mind hurriedly transfer its consciousness to its body. It was a warehouse building common in the factory district that no one would suspect. Inside the dusty interior, nine people sat gathered.

But to The Idealists, it looked exactly like the rear end of a spider. Even its method of managing terminals was incredibly crude, connecting directly to all terminals with mana, appearing like a spider web.

“Is taking care of these all we need to do?” the detective asked. One of the nine contractors barely managed to rise and tried to use magic, but the detective didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Eight remained. The rest hadn’t even properly regained their senses yet.

“Restoring the connection might be difficult, but we could manage somehow. If we restore the connection, the situation might improve somewhat. And the false accusations…”

The detective sneered at The Idealists too. He pushed the selector switch to full auto again. He sneered at The Idealists who believed that everything would end at once like in a fairy tale. He pulled the trigger.

For a moment, the gunfire echoing off the walls of the enclosed building was loud enough to nearly deafen them. As the gunpowder smoke cleared, the detective spoke.

“Do you think the accusations will be cleared? When this disaster happened using The Idealists’ magic and Idealist terminals, do you think people will leave you alone? Besides, this city is already full of people tired of having things like you around. The truth doesn’t matter. What matters more is justification.”

The air was acrid with the smell of gunpowder and blood. A contractor who had barely regained consciousness tried to use magic, but only a piece of concrete torn from the wall fell to the floor and crumbled.

The Idealist Hive Mind knew enough to be careful with its words now. Restoring the connection would take time, and that gun had held more than nine bullets.

There was no way the detective wouldn’t find the hidden terminals. Violent uprising wasn’t what The Idealists dreamed of anyway. It wasn’t the Blingkerton terminal’s voice that was heard, but The Idealists’.

“We can understand some degree of oppression and insult. Even if our terminals are taken away, it would be acceptable if the person is trustworthy. And above all… if everyone cannot dance together, it is not a revolution. We have never dreamed of this and never will. We are ideological beings. And this action is reactionary. Is this guarantee enough?”

Just an idealist at the level of a journalist. The detective didn’t feel the need to finish off The Idealists right now. He pushed the selector switch to safety and slung the gun over his back.

The angels’ plan had also been disrupted. They had wanted all The Idealists to die, but the detective had intervened before that. Pure consciousness was extracted from the Blingkerton terminal.

It was an imperfect and human Hive Mind that hated oppressors but also pressed down on others to make them into terminals. It was a single self created by the mixing of the minds of thousands of people.

Souls that had abandoned individuality began to connect other terminals, using the Blingkerton terminal before them as a starting point. Too many terminals had already died. They would all have died from the new Hive Mind recklessly pushing them.

Terminals that could connect to the Hive Mind connected. After first connecting to terminals that could use magic, it reconnected the Hive Mind to surrounding ordinary terminals from those terminals.

It was a much cleaner method than what the new Hive Mind used. The Idealist Hive Mind felt an unbearable sense of stability. It was now numerous. There was no need to worry about the mind.

As the detective said, these terminals would eventually be taken away, but it decided to enjoy this stability for a brief moment. However, one connection-use terminal that could use magic was in a strange place. A dark place.

A place filled with the sound of machinery. The Idealist Hive Mind looked around while connected to the terminal. The ceiling was endlessly high. There was a massive mechanical wall. The machine of the age was right before it.

Telepathic communication echoed in the Idealist Hive Mind’s thoughts. Fortunately, the content was reassuring.

“It seems the rightful owner has reclaimed the bodies. Those controlling that terminal until now were not you. They pretended to be you, but they were clumsy. Isn’t that right, Idealist? You can rest assured.”

“Did they infiltrate this far? They…”

Lights began to come on in the massive machine wall. All sorts of machinery began to move, creating a harmonious mechanical sound. The Idealist Hive Mind felt an inexplicable anxiety.

“They proclaimed that the end was near. They told me to look outside. They tried to exploit my anxiety. But I didn’t fall for it. I don’t fall for such deceptions. Still, they were desperate. Perhaps… they were those who had contracted with me. I no longer feel the binding, after all. Isn’t that right?”

For an Industrial Spirit King who had been crying that the world would end, he was remarkably calm. Seeing this, the Idealist Hive Mind could extend its brief reassurance a little longer.