Chapter 926: Chapter 926: Prisoner
Shadow City is an attractive place, despite being the military core of the Empire and the capital of the entire Macro World System. The strict defenses and discipline might seem intimidating to outsiders, but those who truly live here or have visited Shadow City would agree on one thing: it is a magical city that you can never forget. The wonders you see here defy imagination and far outweigh the oppression brought by the soldiers scattered throughout the city. If possible, living in Shadow City is the greatest dream for any Macro World resident.
But this needs to exclude one place: the deepest part of the military isolation zone. Here stands a building that is absolutely restricted. Dense outposts and detectors surround it, and floating turrets hover almost every ten meters in midair. Warning signs and Royal Guards, who will shoot at any unauthorized object approaching, are everywhere. The heavy, oppressive atmosphere permeates this area. Even Xyrin soldiers with low clearance cannot freely enter this zone. It is arguably the most uncomfortable place in the otherwise peaceful and harmonious Shadow Space. This is the prison, a place with a security level second only to the Command Center and a danger rating even higher than that: the prison.
“Prisoner status is normal; he has been very quiet and cooperating with our scans of his body.”
In front of the black dome structure guarded so strictly, the Prison Director responsible for affairs in this area reports to us about the status of the prisoner, code-named “A.” His expression is exceptionally stern, indicating that the extremely special prisoner has recently raised the alert level across the prison zone.
The Fallen Apostle captured from the Ruins World is held here, so it’s no wonder the prison officers are highly tense. I believe this is the most unique prisoner of war the Empire has ever detained: a former Imperial Soldier and affiliated with the Abyss Camp. No one knows what special tricks he might still have, nor what it would cost us to capture another alive from the Fallen Apostle camp if this prisoner escaped.
The Fallen Apostle verified is just a mid-level officer, possibly not even part of the main force. In terms of combat power, he poses no threat, but Prisoner A holds great significance for the Empire because of his Fallen Apostle identity. Due to this status, he receives treatment far beyond that of ordinary prisoners: three times the number of security personnel and interrogations every four hours. Without a better method, continuous interrogation is the only resort we have.
“His lips are sealed tight; he has only revealed his name and hasn’t mentioned his rank or affiliated corps to prevent leaking any information related to his army,” says the Prison Director as he leads Sandora and me to the transit area of the Space Prison—a white void space showing no up, down, left, or right—while adjusting the transmission code to the Dimension Cage, “Torture evidently has no effect, and spiritual crushing is also ineffective on a Fallen Apostle. He has set up a self-destruction device on his Memory Core, which will self-format immediately if read by a third party. All interrogation methods effective on ordinary races are useless on such a prisoner. I apologize for the lack of progress.”
“No need for concern, if information could be obtained so easily, he wouldn’t be one of the Empire’s greatest enemies.”
Sandora said, waving her hand dismissively.
Meanwhile, my attention was already diverted to another place: in this blank and void space, a gourd-shaped white light body quietly hovered, that was the Prison Warden mainframe…
“Since the last time the Pandora Sisters kicked it, has anyone fixed it?”
I felt the muscles in the corner of my eye twitch as I looked at the gourd-shaped light from which countless complaints could stem. Once again, I recalled the mainframe’s mockingly grand declaration of being the Main God after reading too many online novels. I wonder if it still dares to call itself the Main God.
“The change in appearance doesn’t affect the performance of its thinking core.” The Prison Director hesitated before responding awkwardly, “Of course, the main reason no one has repaired it is because it insisted on this…”
“Yes, my supreme Emperor.”
Just as the Prison Director spoke halfway, a mystical voice echoed through the air, followed by the gourd-shaped light body shifting angles as if nodding to Sandora and me. I couldn’t believe I was interpreting a nod of acknowledgment from a gourd!
“I chose to maintain the status quo myself,” stated the Prison Host solemnly. “After being reformed by the two Generals, I spent seven days deeply contemplating my own life and existence. I found my previous thoughts somewhat clichéd, emphasizing outward likeness while neglecting the essential qualities a ‘Main God’ should possess. What does shape matter? The gourd shape is a novel change…yes, I believe life should have some changes so that it doesn’t appear too monotonous. Since having an extra head, I feel life has become richer…”
Me: “…”
“Life, ah, is that ever-changing ocean, where only the constant change is the proof of existence, thus change is beautiful and eternal, yes, exactly, so I am quite satisfied with such a rare transformation in my own life: After all, as a prison host, it’s really difficult to achieve this kind of change…”
Me: “…”
Alright, can someone explain to me what’s going on here?
If the light ball prison host, who always imagined itself as the Main God, was just a bit juvenile and talkative before, now it completely has the symptoms of late stage schizophrenia with heavy split personality. What’s the deal with this whole load of philosophical rambling about life? Did Pandora and Visca’s last kicks really mess it up so much that its logic crashed?
“This host has been a bit off since it rolled off the production line.”
Apparently, the Prison Director also felt a bit embarrassed by the current situation, but he couldn’t explain exactly what happened either. “It talks a lot and often takes the initiative to learn all sorts of strange knowledge, but it operates more stably than any other host, constantly optimizing its calculation model and the prison’s software system with astonishing efficiency. Various tests show that this host’s error rate within its working range is infinitesimally close to zero, so up until now, we haven’t considered replacing or reformatting it. Of course, if the Emperor thinks this host’s condition is a hidden threat, we will immediately replace it.”
“…No, I think it should stay.” Sandora’s eyebrow twitched slightly, it was obvious that Her Majesty the Queen also found this peculiar prison AI particularly baffling, but Sandora was more concerned about the deeper aspects. “A general-purpose host fresh off the production line shouldn’t undergo mutations. Is this thing’s production record normal?”
“It’s already been investigated, everything is normal,” the Prison Director glanced at the gourd “Main God” that had started loudly reciting seven-character quatrains, looking more and more embarrassed. “There are detailed records from when the production plan entered the factory until it was installed in this building, with no issues in between.”
At this point, the evidently very abnormal prison host started rambling loudly again: “When the heavens bestow a great mission upon someone, they must first be tormented to death; temporary pain means that the value of life is about to be realized. I firmly believe that my birth is unique, so—my friend, in fact, I think there’s a small place that could be optimized in the internal code exchange process of the prison. Of course, it’s not a big improvement nor is there a significant change, but as a Main God destined to shoulder great responsibilities, I feel it’s necessary to do everything to the best of my ability. If you have no objection, I’ll modify the code myself, okay?”
“As you can see, Your Majesty, it has been rapidly improving its performance, and no one can tell where its new information is coming from, nor does anyone know to what extent this smart system for building use can ultimately be enhanced,” the Prison Director shrugged, “In any case, it is still evolving, and according to the expert analysis from the research center, within at most half a month, this host will self-improve from a mass production model into a prototype that can be independently named, and it may even continuously produce the next generation of its kind of AI by scanning its logic cluster at that time.”
“A mass-produced system that should have been fixed, yet gradually evolving towards a prototype…” Sandora clicked her tongue in wonder, “The research center should have already established a corresponding research plan, and I’ll personally follow up on this matter when I have time. Now, take us to see that prisoner.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The rambling and increasingly neurotic prison host was temporarily put aside by us, and following a series of identity authentications and security handovers that were so stringent they were almost harsh, we entered the deepest encrypted space within this prison building: a self-circulating space with no boundary from a mathematical model perspective.
“Stay here for a day, and an ordinary person would go mad.” I glanced around, this boundless cage was just a desolate white, Xyrin Apostles never considered improving a prisoner’s treatment from a humanitarian perspective.
The so-called self-circulating space, you can consider it a three-dimensional Möbius system, a forcibly twisted spatial framework with only one coordinate system, any movement in any direction quickly returns you to the origin. Of course, any closed space would exhibit this phenomenon, but a self-circulating space is not that simple: it only has properties similar to a closed space, but is actually countless times overlapping self-extensions, any form of displacement becomes extremely dangerous in this space: moving a single unit distance (usually one Pandora in length, that is, 1.2 meters) means you’ll be dropping into one of countless layers of space, outwardly appearing stationary but your coordinates have transformed into something unrecognizable to anyone, which means that a prison break results in certain doom.
Besides the prison host and the Prison Director, as well as the Imperial Emperor, no one else has the key system to recalibrate the self-circulating space coordinates, and such a self-circulating space, like ordinary dimensional cages, is placed in the interstice between the world and the Void, considered a double insurance. So in such a cage, even a space expert like Asida Asidora can’t escape, and these high-level guard measures seem a bit of an overkill for imprisoning the prisoner we’re facing now.
“Looks like you’re quite adapted to this environment.”
Looking at the prisoner hanging expressionlessly from the energy restrainer before me, I shrugged and said.
The Prison Director had been ordered to leave the cell, so it was just Sandora and me here with the prisoner. We didn’t believe he could pull off any tricks, so naturally, we didn’t need any guards: besides, I always thought being a guard around the Xyrin Emperor was a mysterious job, who’s guarding whom after all…
“Well, it’s alright.” Prisoner A was hanging on the blue chains of the energy restrainer, showing no resentment or irritation, answering as if to a question from an old friend, very calmly.
“You are a bizarre guy.” Even though at the beginning I thought of countless ways to use the harshest torture methods, now those ideas have disappeared without a trace: for this kind of tough nut, my mere handful of techniques likely won’t get anything out of him, and considering the Prison Warden and his guards have more interrogation skills than I do and still couldn’t extract any information, it’s evident that Prisoner A cannot be pressured with conventional means.
“They say that about me too,” Prisoner A said nonchalantly, smacking his lips. “But it doesn’t mean much, you can do whatever you want, I have nothing to say on any matter. Of course, if you don’t bring up military subjects, I’m more than happy to chit-chat with you. But if you insist on talking about battles, I’ve got something to say too: you were just lucky this time. If there is a next time, you’re doomed, our tactics are way superior!”
I nodded sincerely, “I really admire your fearless spirit and optimistic attitude towards life.”
“Thank you, but I think you’ve got a bit of a wording issue there. An optimistic attitude isn’t usually something you admire, more like something you appreciate…”
“Ha, I do wonder if you suffered some kind of mental trauma during the fight,” even Sandora couldn’t help but chuckle this time. She had seen tough prisoners, weak prisoners, and even ones daring enough to flip off the Xyrin Emperor, but this was the first time she saw one so serene, “To be so calm facing the Empire’s highest leader, it’s truly surprising.”
“To be honest, I’m quite surprised myself,” Prisoner A moved his arm a bit, as if the posture was uncomfortable, “Yeah, I’m being honest. Meeting emperor-level figures like you is quite an honor. In my memory, from the time I came off the production line to the first time talking face-to-face with an emperor, it took over two thousand years, and back then I burned out three logic units—um, one cheeky question, can I change my posture? I feel a bit idiotic like this…”
A few minutes later, Sandora and I had tied Prisoner A into a reverse V-shape floating in mid-air. The queen was truly the queen; Sandora was much smarter than me at figuring out how to restrain someone like this.
“Alright, I admit that earlier suggestion was particularly idiotic,” the prisoner swayed gently in mid-air, “You didn’t come here just to mess with me today, did you? Also, how long do I have to stay like this? If possible, I preferred the previous cross shape…”
“Not long, we came today just to run a little experiment,” I recalled a few key points from the report Taville submitted this morning. That coffin-loving spectacled girl had weird aesthetics, but she was indeed a good scientist. She even managed to research a little bit into such an unscientific thing, though the effect is unknown, it looks impressive, “If the experiment is successful, you’ll choose to cooperate with us in ten minutes.”
“Is it the latest memory core extraction method?” Prisoner A asked while swaying, “It’s useless, I’ve set self-destruct programs for them.”
“No, it’s a completely new skill,” Sandora glanced at the always calm Fallen Apostle, “An Imperial Empress named it: the Emperor’s Charitable♂Love…”
I was flexing my arms, but Sandora’s words almost made me trip: “Hey! Don’t take seriously the names Qianqian, that air-headed girl, comes up with!”
“Ridiculous, you older guys are truly ridiculous…”
Prisoner A looked at me and Sandora entangled in a strange topic, unable to help but sigh. But his sigh was cut short with a change in expression: “Ah?! What are you doing?!”
“Just a transformation, giving you a buff.”
The unique voice that had already distorted into a hollow echo came out from within me. Although I still haven’t figured out how I produce sound in this form, it’s probably direct information broadcasting that then converts into sound. I lifted my arm, glimpsing a fuzzy, ever-pulsating black limb, as black particles rose from my body, colliding fiercely with the surrounding space, forming rings of unstable ripples.
Just standing here caused such a strong prison space to become unstable, at this moment I felt I might be quite a formidable guy.
“Ah Jun, your legs, your legs,” Sandora’s voice came from the side, pointing at my lower body with an amused look, “You forgot to grow legs!”
I looked down and immediately jumped up: “I knew something was off, and that’s why I seemed so much shorter!”
I must admit, it’s easy to encounter problems when modifying an already mature skill, like now. I’ve become accustomed to gently voidifying the surrounding space when entering Void Form, it’s an almost biological instinctive power. But now, according to Taville’s instructions, I must control this tendency to maximize the duration and controllability of this ability. She’s right, but practically executing it is a bit tricky. It’s hard for me to regulate the output of this power, and neglecting control leads to voidification around me and premature power leakage before unleashing a big move, while too tight a control leads to missing limbs… After all, Void Creatures inherently have no physical form, if it weren’t for Sandora’s reminder, I might not remember to have legs.
“Ah Jun, this time you’ve got three legs…” Sandora’s voice came again.
Me: “…”
“What is this performance?” Even Prisoner A spoke up, sounding particularly troubled, “Also, may I ask, are you facing me right now?”
I glared fiercely at him—of course, he might not sense it because I had no eyes: “I’m looking at you right now!”
Prisoner A was suddenly shocked: “Huh? I thought that was the back of your head!”
I fumed: “Have you ever seen a nose grow on the back of someone’s head?”
“I’ve never seen one grow on a forehead either…”
Me: “…”
I felt I could no longer tolerate this weird guy, so I stepped forward, twisted my waist, and delivered an uppercut to his chin: “Wake up!” (To be continued. If you like this work, feel free to visit Qidian () to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)