Chapter 168

While I was working on creating Harvesting Systems after school…

Bern City eventually turned into a battleground.

At first.

A crowd gathered in front of city hall where the mayor works, holding up signs and protesting. Since some people had already died, they had their reasons. They threw stones and bottles as part of their protest.

It was an extremely peaceful demonstration.

In the world of Faded Memories, you might call this a violent protest, but that’s weird. Normal protests aren’t all that different from riots.

Humans don’t change without shedding blood, so it’s actually weirder when things stay peaceful.

But one member of the protest demanded answers.

Not just about why the accident happened in Bern City, but why no action was taken despite warnings about issues with the Mechanical Devices in the city for the past ten years.

As more people asking questions started dying, the survivors continued questioning in public spaces.

Their questions were answered with fire.

The police massacred the protesters.

Not just the men and women participating, but bystanders—even children—were caught in the crossfire and killed.

When heads started rolling and people fled in terror, they began fighting back.

And the protesters had plenty of Harvesting Systems.

There were those who could manipulate water like Victoria, others who controlled fire, and even individuals capable of superhuman strength impossible for regular humans.

Armed with Mechanical Devices, the police initially had the upper hand thanks to their powerful gear. But most people educated in this world can use Magic.

While the police did have strong Wizards, the protesters outnumbered them. Plus, they had Psychic Abilities.

So, the balance of power tilted toward the protesters.

As the angry mob pushed forward, the police retreated into city hall.

Then things got worse.

Not the police’s Machines, but the industrial Mechanical Devices keeping the city running started killing people.

As if obeying commands, Machines across Bern City began targeting and killing people. This wasn’t like last time when they malfunctioned—it was deliberate. Intelligent Machines like the cabs from Cogni Transport Company singled out specific houses, crashing into them before exploding, leaving carnage behind.

They moved with clear purpose.

Again, knowledge you try to suppress only spreads wider.

This is what they wanted to hide.

The power units used in current Mechanical Devices have flaws. They convert 100 units of Magic Power into 80 usable units, venting the remaining 20. The problem? That leftover 20 units, though detectable as Magic Power, cannot be reused by either Machines or humans.

Even if you gather it and try to reintegrate it, the Machines won’t work. It’s called “non-homogeneous Magic Power.”

If left alone, it eventually reverts to normal Magic Power, but in a place like Bern City, with countless power units, it accumulates faster than it dissipates.

That’s how we hit the critical point.

According to data from the Harvesting System’s records, that’s what happened.

There’s something similar in Faded Memories—the London Great Smog. Both were man-made disasters.

After checking the Harvesting System’s memories, it seems this is the first such incident, making Bern City the inaugural case.

The most advanced city, Bern, had too many power units for nature to handle, and disaster struck. Through the Harvesting System, I vaguely understood why the Machines were attacking people.

Mechanical Devices spread convenience worldwide, generating massive wealth. Their core power unit, nearly irreplaceable, dominates the market.

Like the oil companies in Faded Memories that denied climate change to protect their profits.

It’s the same here.

To safeguard their foundation, money talks—and buys influence.

So Bern City burned again.

The first disaster brought people together to help each other; the second turned into mutual slaughter.

Meanwhile, the Harvesting Systems exploited their abilities, snuffing out lives, drawing warmth into them.

Chaos feels good.

What’s strange is that no one’s talking about Bern City. Even with controlled media, it feels excessive. Either the Royal Family’s involved, or the communications companies are tied to the Mechanical Device industry—or both.

While observing this country through someone else’s eyes, I once again ventured out with my guard to hunt for the Witch.

Wandering down unfamiliar streets, mapping the area, I approached a crying person near a Harvesting System and transformed them.

Today, I turned a man whose jaw and chest were torn apart in an accident into a Harvesting System.

When will the Witch appear?

I hope she’s as knowledgeable as Yasule while walking along.

But I couldn’t return to my Accommodation.

The roads felt off.

Late afternoon.

The sun began setting. Despite tomorrow being a holiday, the streets were eerily empty. Streetlights flickered to life.

With no one around, the road I’d been walking suddenly changed. Merriweather, who had been beside me moments ago, vanished.

The buildings didn’t match my memory. Their entrances and windows were boarded up, making entry difficult.

Inside, everything was a mess—cobwebs, dust, shattered furniture. It looked long abandoned.

Looking up, the sky was filled with ominous dark clouds. This wasn’t normal.

Earlier, there hadn’t been so many clouds.

If I’m unsure, maybe I should complete the map.

With that thought, I kept walking.

Then, ahead, I saw a human-shaped shadow. But it wasn’t human. It wasn’t alive at all.

Its eyes lacked light.

Yet it approached me, half its head adorned with random clocks and brass parts, its veins wriggling between them. Dressed in outdated gentleman’s attire, according to Kanna’s memory, it was at least eighty years out of fashion.

Its partially severed eyeball moved to look down at me.

I stared back.

The sliced surface was covered in glass, with clock hands ticking inside. A yellow lump of fat wriggled atop a metal rod extending from its elongated neck, piercing through its hat twice.

Since it wasn’t alive, nothing seemed odd.

“Too late. Too late. TOO LATEEEE.”

It spoke, the final word stretching into an unpleasant screech.

It pointed somewhere with an outstretched hand.

“Find it. Faster. Hop hop hop.”

Spouting bizarre phrases like a broken translation machine, it immediately turned and leaped forward.

Its legs weren’t flesh—they acted like compressed springs, launching it far away.

BOING BOING.

With exaggerated cartoonish sounds, it vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind screws and gears along its path.

Curious space.

I followed where it gestured.

BOOM!

Well, I tried.

But the ground collapsed beneath me. The scattered bricks were intact, revealing brass drainage pipes and parched soil underneath. It looked like the hole had always been there.

Because soil usually stays moist when dug up.

And I fell.

Down. Down. Down.

Surprisingly, the walls transformed into bookshelves filled with countless books—some intact, others eaten by insects, wet, or burned.

THUD.

I landed surprisingly lightly on sandy ground.

When I leapt across the surface of the Thousand Horse Faith, my lower body shattered. But here, I’m fine. Like I’m in a dream.

It’s strange.

Since becoming a monster, I haven’t slept. My body might rest, but my mind stays awake.

I don’t know if this is a dream, reality, or an illusion.

Maybe I can’t tell the difference.

I looked up. The hole I fell through was visible above, surrounded by rocks. Below stretched a dark cave. Further down, I spotted a dried-up rat corpse.

BOING!

That sound came from above again.

Shifting my gaze from the rat, I looked up to see something with a clock embedded diagonally into its head land nearby. It held a child in its hand, which hadn’t been there before.

A shattered bottle stuck out of its head, on fire. Its limbs hung limply. Between them, I noticed distinctive features.

Pale skin. Purple hair.

It was the child I revived earlier—the one who died today.

Dying wasn’t unusual. Unfortunately, the child, newly able to walk, enthusiastically ran around and collided with a dresser. Worse, a jar of jam perched atop it fell directly onto the child’s head.

The home where the child lived never learned how dangerous a mobile child could be.

Now, the clock-headed creature held the child, whose skull was filled with jam instead of brains. The child waved at me. Before I could speak to it, the clock head extended its spring-like legs again, emitting a goofy sound as it bounded away.

Hmm.

Since I can’t perceive through the child’s eyes, this isn’t a Harvesting System.

I can’t replicate that.

Anyway, since this seems to be the only way out of this world, I followed where the clock-headed thing went.

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