After listening to everything Estee Lauder said, Aslan could only twitch his lips. In the distant past, why hadn't the White Giant God repaired the minds of these deities? No—when he attacked the core processors of these beings, why didn't he simply kill them outright? Day after day, their processors remained half-crippled.
Now, Attila—born under the influence of the White Giant God—was in an area where the barrier of light was relatively weak. That meant he was still protected by the East, while the poor Westerners remained under the control of the gods.
However, not every human wandering near the East could enter freely. Without special talent, one could only linger outside for life. Countless lackeys of the gods were stationed there as well, watching for escapees. After all, those who fled the hands of the gods always carried some desperate hope that the East might offer them shelter, even if only for a short while.
Most, however, were refused entry. The gods' lackeys would seize the opportunity to capture the fugitives and drag them back. As for their fate afterward—there was no need to say more.
It could only be said that Estee Lauder was fortunate. She had been raised by elves from the time she first became conscious. After leaving the forest, she had the luck to join a band of human survivors. From there, she drifted from group to group. Though life was harsh, she still clung to her long-cherished wish of saving humanity.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Her seemingly carefree personality, her appearance of not caring about anything, had been forged in such an environment. Without it, the crushing pressure in her heart would have driven her mad, or else left her broken and astray.
Her journey had been anything but peaceful, yet she had grown up strong and healthy.
What a cruel, malicious world! Of course, that judgment applied only to the people of the Western Continent. To the gods, this was nothing more than a playground. How could such a world endure for so many years? Perhaps it was only because the East had not strayed from the proper rhythm of the world that existence itself still staggered forward, half-dead.
If so, then these fools of the West truly owed the East their thanks.
At that moment, Estee Lauder heard the sound of something flying overhead—magic-driven, exactly like the noise made by the so-called messengers of the Greek gods. She quickly wrapped herself in a cloak and hid on the ground. What she had not expected was for someone to leap directly out of the massive mecha. He was not one of those messengers, but something wholly different, powered by a technology unlike that of the gods.
Estee Lauder sprang up in excitement. This was precisely the kind of technology she had always dreamed of—something outside the realm of divine creation. Though she had already succeeded in building small mechas, the difference between those stick-figure contraptions and colossal machines like the Supreme Masterpiece was beyond comparison.
With her current skill, she could not even construct a single arm of the red mecha, let alone an entire masterpiece. Completing such a work required not only mastery of advanced forging techniques but also the transformation technology created by Aslan—a field Estee Lauder had not yet explored.
This was not to say she was inferior to Aslan, but their environments had been worlds apart. Aslan, aside from a handful of battles tied to King Arthur, had spent the rest of his time in solitude, honing his craft deep in the forest. Goblins had been by his side, along with a magic teacher.
Estee Lauder, by contrast, had been running from the gods' pursuit for as long as she could remember. Her skills amounted to a unique forging method and fairy script, with little chance to develop a deep understanding of magic. Compared with him, the girl was truly pitiable.
"Where are you going next?"
At the moment, Aslan was still unfamiliar with this world. He had decided to follow Estee Lauder to see its true state for himself. Though he had studied many records concerning the Mecha Gods in his own world, this was the first time he had confronted them directly. And even damaged as they were, they would not be easy to defeat.
If I had known I'd be sent to a world like this, I should have sneaked into Atlas Academy beforehand, studied the structure of that legendary Black Lance, and forged a replica for my masterpiece!
Yes! Once I return to my own world, I'll head into the desert and build a copy of the mecha-killer Black Lance!
Estee Lauder stretched and quickly packed all her small mechas into her mystic code. If an investigator from the gods—a so-called mechanical messenger—appeared, she would be forced to abandon many of her puppets. The losses would be impossible to recover in a day or two.
First, not all the elves could be counted on to return safely. Second, the rare metals she used could not be gathered again quickly. And most importantly, forging required a stable, quiet environment—something almost impossible to find while the gods patrolled ceaselessly.
As she packed away her creations, Estee Lauder recalled how she had once hidden in a cave, enduring hunger and heat, laboring day by day to craft each small mecha. Tears welled in her eyes.
The mechas looked like stick figures partly because of her lack of skill, but also because their simplicity conserved scarce materials and saved precious time.
Though she longed to repair the damage they had sustained, another task came first. Estee Lauder reached into her collar and pulled out a small identification card—the mark of a messenger. If all went well, she would send an urgent communication to another hidden human settlement.
The sky had never belonged to humankind. Anyone who flew too long would inevitably cross paths with patrolling gods. And since humans lived scattered in hidden enclaves, only special messengers could locate these settlements. Taming birds to serve as couriers was out of the question.
-End Chapter-
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