[Hey, you b-o-o-o-o-t!]
The very person who had made him work as a machine for hundreds of years without even letting him know that he was still a living being had appeared before him. There was no chance anything polite was going to come out of his mouth. In an instant, a torrent of elaborate Alphauri-style curses came pouring out.
–I noticed you slowing down and hesitating, so I came to check on you just in case. I can't believe it... You've really regained your sense of self.
[Oh, right! And thanks to that, I also remember how you gave me that pointless order to speak politely to you right after erasing my memories. Quite the hypnotic skills you've got there, huh?]
–Don't mention it. That part was outsourced anyway, so technically, it wasn't even my skill.
All in the name of national security—and simply because a handful of powerful figures feared him—they had reduced a genius to this.
It had never been the creator's original intention, but the mechanization process was carried out while preserving as much flesh and as many organs as possible in an attempt to minimize the loss of the original sorcerer's magical power. As a result, the core of his living soul had narrowly survived. Considering the technological level of the Middle Period, the mere existence of such a biomechanical entity was nothing short of a miracle.
–As expected, was it because the materials were so good?
[What did you say?]
The one responsible for the modifications tended to interpret most things that way. That was just how exceptional the green Alphauri had been as raw material for conversion into a machine. After succeeding in preserving him on the very first attempt, they became exhilarated by results that had far exceeded expectations and boldly set about creating more machines...
–Anyway, congratulations on noticing the inconsistency on your own. But now that the secret's out, there's something I'd like to ask you.
Namely, what had gone wrong.
Aside from the successful case standing before them, there were, truthfully, very few examples that could be said to have properly adapted to mechanization. To date, approximately three hundred mages had undergone the procedure of having their brains placed inside artificial vessels.
Yet of those three hundred procedures, two hundred and forty had failed partway through. Even among the sixty mages who survived the critical phase and successfully entered steel bodies, mental erosion progressed at an abnormally rapid rate. Most of the machines had therefore perished, leaving only eight entities still active in the world today.
Taken as a whole, the mechanization of mages had proven catastrophically unreliable in terms of stability.
–In terms of mental endurance, you're the only one who can truly be called a success.
The technique had originally been developed out of grief over the deaths of geniuses. So why did most sorcerers transformed into golems fail to live for very long?
–No matter how much I think about it, I just can't figure out why. Do you think you could spot the problem again if I showed you the core production process?
[Do you really think I could, you fool?]
Even the miraculous technology of magic had its limits. The mage once famous for skinning others soon made a rather refreshing gesture of surrender.
The result was disappointing, but for the time being, they decided to be satisfied with having successfully preserved the greatest genius in history on this side.
–Hmm.
However, the very fact that his preservation had been so successful was what created another problem.
How could such an unexpected variable emerge in the end?
–A device we'd kept under perfect control suddenly began remembering its past.
What was a soul?
And what relationship existed between a living being's autobiographical memories and that soul?
A mechanized archmage had spontaneously recovered his own identity. At least within the limits of Alphauri technology, there was no way to explain such a phenomenon.
Memory wasn't something that could simply be scrubbed away with chemical solvents like alcohol or carbon dioxide. In a sense, as long as the original brain remained intact, perhaps this was a problem destined to surface sooner or later.
Anyway.
[This is ridiculous. How did I end up like this, getting screwed over by some half-baked researcher?]
–Calm down. Now that I'm your superior, you really should stop speaking to me so informally...
[Shut up! I've already lost so much flesh I'm pissed off enough to die, and now you come here acting all high and mighty, you damn worthless piece of @%#^$#...]
The green archmage could hardly believe that such a weakling had secretly modified his body without anyone knowing. He raged for quite some time.
Surprisingly, however, the other party remained completely calm.
–You were strong enough to defeat everyone. But I only had to defeat you.
[Oh, right.]
–The obstacles each of us had to overcome were different. And above all, back then, I had overwhelmingly more allies.
For reference, the "allies" the scholar had just mentioned were the nobles of a certain country during the Middle Ages.
Some of those obstinate figures were still alive even beneath Alphauri's seas in the modern era. While one person had been trapped inside a tin can, the world had already advanced far enough to develop transcendent life magic.
[I'm doomed.]
And furthermore...
What if the very person who had created that life-extension technology was none other than himself?
The archmage immediately spat out another curse.
The primary duty of the high-ranking mages known as Magic Masters in the modern era was the creation of divine rituals.
The problem was that even after their enormous oceanic planet had completed more than a hundred revolutions, not a single genius capable of replacing the great heroes of the Middle Ages had been born.
–Try looking on the bright side. Because you underwent terminalization, you've actually acquired knowledge that can never be taken away from you. In a way, isn't that beneficial?
The green mage had remained at the very pinnacle even in this distant future.
At least in the field of magical studies, no one possessed a greater depth of understanding than he did. As a result, as time passed, the rulers of this planet came to rely more and more heavily on the capabilities of the First Magic Master—that is, on his intelligence.
They loaded all the information they possessed into the golem as though speaking to some magical mirror from a fairy tale.
[Great Magic Master, we want to build an even grander castle. Could you create some new rituals for us to use?]
It was simple.
Enter a single command, and the lump of metal that had swallowed a person would swiftly turn your wish into reality.
That's right.
The sudden, explosive advancement of magical studies on this planet had all been made possible by the survival of a single mage.
In just a few short centuries—a span one could easily count even with six tentacles—the planet had approached a technological singularity, all because this ancient personality continued producing new techniques without end.
Bam!
Upon realizing the truth, the Alphauri abruptly struck his own head with a tentacle.
But instead of the wet smack he remembered, only a strange metallic clang echoed through the ocean depths.
Worse still, he could no longer feel anything at the tips of his limbs.
[I lost my flesh, lost my memories, and spent hundreds of years working for these worthless things...]
It was only natural.
The archmage, imprisoned within a cold machine, was soon consumed by furious rage.
And then he set out to kill the enemy who had operated on him.
[Aaak!]
But unlike in his prime, when his original body had still been intact, his revenge did not go according to plan.
His brain was already layered beneath dozens of newly developed, highly sophisticated spells.
The planet's rulers had thoroughly shackled every artificial Magic Master.
Among those restrictions was even a curse that prevented him from realizing that he was still a living being.
The fact that the green war hero had managed to recover his memories at all was, in many respects, far beyond anything they had anticipated...
–Oh dear. You're not supposed to beat up your boss. That's common sense in any society.
And that was where his luck ended.
Again and again, the green archmage tried to kill the enemy standing before him, but in the end, he could not cast a single spell.
Countless restrictions had been woven through his mind.
Moreover, escaping his existence as a mere tin can seemed fundamentally impossible.
① All golems are prohibited from using magic against members of the ruling class.
② They are also forbidden from harming themselves or attempting to replace their external (bodily) components.
③ Magic of rank 5 or higher may only be activated with the administrator's consent.
Just like the Three Laws of Robotics in certain worlds, an inviolable set of fundamental principles was established whenever a personality was implanted into a golem.
[Damn it.]
Even the most accomplished mage could not easily unravel something created through the combined technological power of an entire planet.
In that case, why not approach the problem indirectly?
[Oh, come to think of it, one of my main duties also includes guiding and punishing criminals.]
Until now, the planet had never restricted that particular function. After all, it was necessary for his work.
And now that his personality had returned and he could temporarily disregard his superior's commands, he could act against every Alphauri except for the handful specifically protected under the grand principles.
[If they refuse to accept my resignation, then why don't I just eliminate the very reason my employment has to continue?]
The archmage trapped inside the golem immediately arrived at a dangerous conclusion.
If the Alphauri population of this planet were reduced to near extinction, there would no longer be any need for artificial Magic Masters.
Moreover, power only had meaning when there were beings beneath those who wielded it.
Above all else, the planet's ruling class would never allow such a catastrophe to occur.
[Bring me a fresh, living body right now. Or I'll break these damn curses!]
The long-feared machine rebellion had finally begun.
Covered from head to toe in sand-colored stone—the material typically used in the latest golems—the being thrashed his tentacles as he issued his threat.
The genius, now reduced to a mere thinking machine, grasped the reality of his situation and, within an hour, activated magic that required no authorization.
He trapped every resident of the planet within range of his senses inside improvised barriers and threatened to crush them all to death unless his demands were met immediately.
This was also why the green archmage, even after reincarnation, could fall into despair so easily.
He already had a history of killing others to achieve his goals.
His innate temperament made him hesitate somewhat, but he had come dangerously close to actually carrying out the threat.
And after being reminded that his heart, brain, spinal cord, and other organs had been torn from his body overnight and exploited for centuries to fuel the development of this planet, he had little room left in his mind for emotions such as guilt.
–No!
Yet even that desperate struggle was ultimately stopped by a petty enemy.
–Calm down. It may sound strange coming from me, the perpetrator, but you've already undergone additional modifications during the process of transferring your brain core. You can no longer return to an Alphauri body.
The grand principles embedded within the golem were used to hurriedly suppress the First Magic Master.
Under ordinary circumstances, such a weakling would never have stood a chance against a war hero.
But the archmage's brain was already weighed down by newly imposed restrictions, completely reversing the balance of power.
[Ugh...]
–Oh my, this is difficult.
At last, peace returned.
After the planet's rulers desperately reinforced the seals restraining him, the genuine archmage was finally subdued.
He continued to rage fiercely for a while, but with all six limbs bound, there was little he could do.
No matter how hard he struggled, it had effectively been over from the moment he was imprisoned inside this shell.
Before long, he acknowledged defeat as well.
[There's no way out.]
A skull and the skeleton of a golem were fundamentally different things.
The former was an organ that had evolved in mammals and other creatures to protect what lay within. The latter, however, was nothing more than a container—a box built to imprison a genius.
There was nothing inside it that could even remotely be called a normal braincase or spinal structure.
There was no metaphor involved.
It was as though his protective shell had been stripped away, leaving him dangling helplessly in the enemy's grasp.
[My brain... instead of being protected, it's surrounded by guards now...]
Damn those core principles!
Because of that twisted golem code preventing him from tearing apart the genius worshipper responsible for all of this, he didn't stand a chance.
No matter how much chaos he caused by killing the planet's inhabitants, the rulers would eventually suppress him again and place even more powerful spells upon his brain.
His fury gradually faded.
[Hmm.]
Then perhaps he should search for another solution.
Since things had already come to this, what if he simply endured it and continued living?
[If I negotiate properly, maybe they'll loosen some of the restrictions and promise to preserve my sense of self.]
Immersing himself in research while inhabiting an advanced golem...
Come to think of it, this sort of existence wasn't entirely different from what he had wanted even during his prime.
Besides, possessing a mineral-based mechanical body had undeniable advantages.
As long as he kept his mind intact, he would never die of natural causes.
Only a handful of wealthy rulers had ever attained lifespans significantly beyond the norm. Even this far into the future, Alphauri technology had not truly achieved immortality.
For ordinary inhabitants of the planet, merely renewing their skin over and over eventually caused irreversible damage to accumulate.
And the success rate of the newly developed body-transplantation technique was practically abysmal.
So.
[Huh? Maybe I wouldn't mind enjoying this immortal state while I'm at it?]
For one fleeting moment, even the Archmage entertained that thought.
Certainly, the usual political schemes—creating fake beta beings to stir up public fear, then using that fear as an excuse to squeeze more taxes and dependence out of the population—were endlessly irritating.
But realistically, he had no other choice.
[Given what I've become, the best I can do is accept the orders. Still, that one has managed the world well enough to keep the people under their care from dying. Maybe they're not the worst leader after all...?]
For a brief moment, hope flickered within him.
Perhaps living as a machine devoted to research and protection, watching over this world, wouldn't be so terrible after all.
But as he had already reminded himself countless times, that optimistic outlook did not last long.
And the reason for that had already been loudly proclaimed before the soul of a certain male Alphauri ever succeeded in reincarnating.
In truth, the fundamental premise of this story was that the planet was already 'going to ruin.'
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