But the problem is...
"You only have one head," Azathoth pointed out calmly, "and it needs to be recharged regularly."
Hugo sat up in shock, his body parts below the neck lying somewhere in the grave. "I can do it! I can build a new body right away. I'll figure out a solution to the energy problem later!"
It has been idle on this uninhabited planet for hundreds of years. Its greatest achievement is the construction of a solar cell array covering an area of 60,000 square kilometers. It has never even considered how to survive if it can one day go to other planets in the universe.
Igor's arrival successfully ignited the AI's ambition. Faced with the latest technology and yearning for a future where he could dominate countless human beings, Hugo unleashed a tremendous passion for research, even though his database contained only obsolete online databases and irrelevant chatter from before humanity abandoned its former homeland.
Countless bionic people crawled out of the snow, shook off the dust accumulated on their bodies, and were summoned and controlled by the terminal. They swarmed around Igor's mecha like a zombie siege.
"I only need five days... no, three!" Hugo shouted so loudly that the electrical noise in his voice was particularly obvious, just like a human shouting until his throat cracked. "I can fix my body and this mecha!"
It looked at Azathoth hesitantly, but did not say a word in its silent plea: Please take me with you.
Even Igor was almost moved by the lonely and pitiful temperament it exuded despite its broken appearance.
Azathoth replied calmly and indifferently: "Okay, then you do your best."
...sounds particularly perfunctory.
Perhaps this is the arrogance and cruelty of the gods.
On the contrary, Hugo looked encouraged, and with an expression of "You are all my left and right wings", he led a group of bionic people to surround Igor's mecha layer by layer.
Azathoth was of no help in this regard. He had been living a boring life of waking up and sleeping, because every time he opened his eyes, he was dominated by hunger. He thought that as long as he fell asleep, he would go to the surface to breathe and then sink to the bottom of the sea. In a year, he was awake for less than half of the day.
But Igor's arrival changed everything! Azathoth was willing to help him overcome his social phobia, and now he remembered something and asked, "Do you need food?"
Even if humans had grown from two genders to six, photosynthesis probably hadn't evolved. His follower was seriously injured and bleeding profusely. Would he die from starvation?
Azathoth felt that his current mentality was like playing a development game on the computer. His followers were always at risk of death for various reasons, and as a bystander outside the computer, he was worried every minute and every second, staring at the health bar for fear that it would be emptied in the blink of an eye.
What's even more terrifying is that this game cannot be reloaded, because as a social anxiety patient, he probably won't be able to be patient enough to find another human being who meets his requirements.
Igor had no idea what he was thinking. He had just given Azathoth a cold shoulder when he heard the sudden concern. He was a little flattered. "I have some compressed rations in my mecha. Would you like to try some?"
Azathoth praised Igor from head to toe in his heart. If he was not satisfied, he could do it again from head to toe. Anyway, he had plenty of time and could slowly enrich his vocabulary.
But on the surface, he only uttered two words: "No need."
Igor: The God I believe in is indeed aloof.
Although He is very kind to His loved ones.
In this relaxed atmosphere of overthinking things, three days flew by. Hugo, already dressed in a new outfit, climbed out of the cockpit, dusty and grimy, welding in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, arms raised high: "I've got it!"
The boy with black hair and red eyes threw away the tools in his hand and said happily: "When are we leaving?" He seemed more enthusiastic than Igor himself.
"No rush." Igor had rested for two nights, his long legs curled up on a half-broken iron bed. He was accustomed to the harsh conditions of the battlefield, and despite his dusty appearance, he remained undeterred. His face even had a touch of color from the quiet time spent recuperating. His only slight appearance of dishevelled appearance was his once neatly combed-back gray hair, now tangled and tangled around his ears due to lack of care. But he was handsome, after all, and even if he messed up his appearance, he still looked above average.
"The mecha's paint job needs some minor changes."
Before this, Hugo had actually altered the entire mecha's structure beyond recognition. It was a newcomer, after all; no matter how gifted it was, it was still a novice. Even with the utmost caution, he had to transform the sleek, powerful, and beautiful exterior into something resembling six stacked barrels, simply to prevent the internal circuit boards and sensor wiring from becoming tangled, like a novice assembling a computer case. If there was a short circuit, it would be impossible to tell where the problem was.
Igor calmly walked over to his now-dirty mech and half-knelt, his fingers gently pressing against the ankle of the massive machine's left leg. Someone had drawn a smudged flower with charcoal, and beneath it, a line of elegant handwriting read: 'To my mech pilot. May he be forever happy and safe.'
He stared at the words for a moment. The planet's fog had finally cleared today, and the warm, white sunlight shone on the clear snow, reflecting a shimmer of gold. Even Igor's eyes sparkled, like roses dripping with morning dew. After a moment's silence, he sighed and, with a firm push of his thumb, erased the ugly little flower and the words beneath it.
As he stood up, Igor's temperament slowly changed.
He looked like a veteran soldier, a veteran of battle. Even without his uniform and a pair of wrinkled shirt and trousers, his demeanor and figure would have outshone those overweight geeks who couldn't even be bothered to go to the gym. Yet, at this moment, still wearing the same outfit, his killer aura was subdued, his posture, expression, and even his movements adjusting, giving him the air of a wealthy, playboy.
Hugo witnessed the scene where even his appearance changed slightly: "Wow, how does that work?"
"My acting skills and a bit of insignificant optical camouflage." Igor showed it a few inconspicuous ornaments he was carrying. "The bounty I'm offering on the Starnet is too high. If I want to use an interstellar pirate ship to sneak into the Federation border, I have to prepare in advance."
"I'm not interested in the human way of life," Hugo said reluctantly. "Then what about iris fingerprints and pheromones?"
"Iris and fingerprints rely on supernatural powers." Igor glanced at Azathoth who was leaning against the wall in silence. He originally wanted to say that the black mud-like tentacles summoned by Azathoth should also be classified as a type of frontal offensive supernatural power, but considering that the almighty god would definitely not want to be classified on the same level as human believers, he simply skipped the topic.
"With the advancement of science and technology today, although some humans still evolve various abilities during the period of gender differentiation, these abilities are generally of limited practicality and cannot be applied to battlefields in space. Aside from abilities that significantly increase mental strength and improve the accuracy of mecha control, ordinary frontal combat abilities and auxiliary abilities are not considered in the combat capability assessment criteria."
"Having said that, some abilities that seem useless in normal times can be very effective at critical moments."
For example, Igor had never thought of committing a crime or breaking the law, and he thought he would never need to use the ability to change his iris fingerprint in his lifetime.
As the only one of the three intelligent beings with common sense, Igor naturally took on the responsibility of packing up his luggage and researching his route before departure. When Azathoth agreed to accompany him to human society, he had already made a plan, and now it was just a matter of following the steps.
Soon, the uniquely shaped mecha rose from the ground amid the roar of its engine.
There were only two seats in the cockpit, but thankfully, Hugo was relatively young and not a true human, so he could squeeze in against the wall. He stretched his head and rested his hands on the driver's and co-pilot's seats. His newly created, brand-new eyes glowed faintly as he gazed at the vast expanse of white earth and azure water, and the faintly visible power stations covering tens of thousands of square kilometers.
Azathoth tilted his head and asked, "Are you recording?"
"I didn't." Hugo denied it flatly.
"I just want to take one more look. There are so many interesting places in the universe. What if I never want to come back? But this place can still be considered my first home, right?"
Azathoth then looked at the deep sea where he had slept for many years.
The seemingly calm water surface from afar seemed to be watching them, watching the last group of lives it had nurtured gradually drift away, never looking back.
He should have joined in the sentimental comments, but unfortunately, Azathoth's mind was now filled with the route Igor had just repeated: "The Federation border is a war zone, with strict inspections. Driving a mecha directly will definitely be stopped and scrutinized. But if we can sneak onto one of the pirate ships at one of their transit stations, there will be no problem. These smugglers have deals with the regional government and won't ask about them in detail. As long as we pay them enough, they can take us along..."
Azathoth translated this sentence slightly: We will go to meet this group of people first, then meet another group of people, and then deal with another group of strangers.
“…”
What should I do if I suddenly feel a little regretful and don’t want to leave?
The air pressure around the evil god gradually dropped and condensed.
As they approached the smuggler's asteroid hub, the atmosphere inside the cockpit neared freezing. Igor pursed his lips as he carefully piloted the mech, not daring to utter a single word. Even Hugo sensed something was amiss and, desperate to survive, shut himself off, lying on the floor like a delicately crafted puppet, feigning death.
A staff member at a transfer station discovered the mecha and sent a short signal message, asking them to land immediately and await investigation.
Igor took a deep breath and said to Azathoth, "Please wait here for a moment. Even if others come to ask, don't pay any attention. Leave everything to me."
He felt that Azathoth and Hugo had accommodated his own poor social situation at the destination of this "journey", and with guilt he was unwilling to cause any trouble to the god and the machine - of course, it was also because Azathoth looked too terrifying now. If this was the atmosphere when Igor first saw the other party, then he... then he probably wouldn't have any ability to resist, which was really cruel.
Azathoth nodded silently and watched Igor open the hatch and walk out, vividly acting out the image of a dandy young master who went to a desolate planet in search of excitement but ended up in trouble, and went to communicate with the captain of the interstellar pirates.
Hugo turned on his phone again and whispered, "I want to go down and take a look too."
Azathoth: "Don't make trouble."
The bionic man shuddered and dared not speak again.
After a while, a strange male Alpha walked towards the mecha's location, slammed the hatch without any hesitation, and shouted, "Is there anyone else in there? Come down and check!"
Hugo: “…”
The glass coating of the mecha cockpit is one-way, and the situation inside cannot be seen from the outside.
In this way, it cannot ask its soul-searching question without opening the door: Human beings, isn’t it good to be alive?
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