Chapter 21: Is This Even a Way to Communicate?

Matthew looked expectant; at a time like this, every additional awakened individual meant a glimmer more of hope.

Robin deliberated. He could not expose the existence of the System to anyone. If it were discovered, it wouldn't just be his own safety at stake; even Grand Duke Benito could become a target for the entire world. After all, the ability to obtain comprehensive intelligence on anyone through simple contact was far too heaven-defying. This was still while he lacked any official position or territory; he could only imagine how powerful the System’s functions might become if he possessed those.

From Matthew’s words, he gathered that before awakening, one usually experienced faint flickers of intuition regarding the nature of their ability. Many were unsure of the full extent of their supernatural traits upon first awakening and had to explore them bit by bit. Even Matthew’s mental link likely had many untapped functions he had yet to discover.

"I have a strange affinity for firearms," Robin said. "Like yesterday, before I pulled the trigger, I felt a certainty that I would hit my mark—it was as if the gun were an extension of my own flesh. After firing so many shots, that sensation faded."

"It sounds like the Object-Manipulation school," Matthew remarked, suddenly enlightened. "So, you’re a natural-born sharpshooter."

It had to be said, such a trait was incredibly practical on the battlefield. Someone like Vincent, whose supernatural trait was only useful for running errands, would never be given a chance to get close enough to wreak havoc. Even Matthew’s mental abilities were of limited use in combat; his range couldn't cover enemy lines, and by the time he got close enough to use mind control, it would be far more efficient to simply gun the enemy down from mid-range. Then there was the young nurse, whose affinity for scalpels was fine for a doctor, but on the battlefield… a throwing knife was no match for a bullet. Many supernaturals were simply unsuited for war, better off in other professions.

"But I have the intuition, yet I don't know how to actually proceed, how to trigger the awakening," Robin said.

"That’s simple enough. I have some spare magic crystals you could use to guide the process. Of course, you could also attempt self-awakening through meditation," Matthew replied. "If there are no signs, then you have to rely on the crystals."

"Are magic crystals harmful to the body? Are there any side effects?"

"Hmm," Matthew mused, "none detected so far. There are two schools of thought on this: one advocates pushing magic crystals to their limit, while the other rejects external aid. Since you already have symptoms, there's really no need for crystals; they're quite expensive." Matthew himself had been so convinced of his status as a "chosen one" back in the day that he had eschewed the use of crystals for his own awakening.

"If time is of the essence and I need to use my power soon, I’ll use a crystal. If there’s no great rush, I’d like to attempt self-awakening."

Robin made his choice.

"It’s not urgent. I’ll teach you how to meditate."

Matthew noted that leaving Volcini City clearly had nothing to do with Robin’s supernatural trait—it wasn't as if they could just fight their way out. No matter how good Robin’s aim was, could he snipe an entire company? Yesterday, they had sacrificed a good vehicle and lost a driver just to survive by the skin of their teeth. In a normal skirmish, regardless of Robin's accuracy, if he fired one shot and the enemy fired a hundred back, he would be finished if even two of theirs hit.

***

For an ordinary person, meditation is a difficult task. Achieving a state of emptiness and stillness is not easily done. Human minds are naturally chaotic; sitting still, one’s mind is flooded with trivial thoughts—bills, mortgages, finding a partner, or fantasies of performing miracles or transforming into a hero.

However, for those showing signs of awakening, meditation is not so difficult. During the process, the supernatural trait acts as an anchor, naturally drawing the practitioner’s focus toward it. As Robin began to meditate, he felt as though he were standing in the middle of a vast, empty Volcini City.

"Is this my mental world?" Robin whispered, sitting atop the ambulance from the day before.

"Hey, buddy, that’s not cool," a voice rumbled from beneath him—a thick, middle-aged tone. "You ran off after using me yesterday, and now a bunch of annoying people are painting over me."

"What the hell!" Robin jumped, startled.

"What do you mean 'what the hell'? I’m your uncle—I’m a car, not a ghost!" The vehicle shook slightly. "Oh, that feels good… like a scrub-down."

"You can talk, too?" Robin asked, astonished.

"Duh, why wouldn't I be able to talk?" the car replied. "Though we haven't spent much time together, so I can't say much… Oh, they’re saying I’m sturdy, and that once they scrape off that wretched white paint, they can sell me for a good price. By the God of Machines, I’m going to have to change owners again."

"You mean you can relay what they’re saying to me?" Robin’s eyes widened.

"Of course. By the God of Machines, I can hear and see, so why wouldn't I be able to tell you? Even if I don't like you, you’re the only human who can talk to me."

Robin was stunned. This was too heaven-defying, wasn't it? Could he use any machine he had touched to spy on others? A "Mechanical Heart"—was he truly in sync with machines? The System only said he could communicate with machines, not like this!

"Ugh, we’ve been in contact for too short a time. The connection is breaking." Before Robin could process this, the vehicle beneath him slowly faded away.

*Thud.*

Robin’s feet hit the ground. Suddenly, two guns appeared in his hands.

"Heehee, brother, how did I do last night?" The steam rifle spoke in a haughty, feminine voice. "You have to keep using me! I don't want to stay in the storage locker. Waaah, that nasty guy is wiping me with a dirty rag again! I don't want to be cleaned with such a filthy rag!"

"Brother, was I cool last night? Even though I only have six rounds, my power is huge!" The revolver in Robin’s other hand had the voice of a young boy.

Both weapons were the ones Robin had used the previous night, currently being cleaned by Matthew while he waited for news. Before Robin could reply, a third gun appeared before him.

"Move aside, you tacky hussies! I am the most cutting-edge steam rifle of this era, with a twenty-round capacity and an effective range of 1,500 meters!"

It was the gun from Robin’s dream.

"My dear partner, the Grand Duke’s speech was so thrilling! We’ll be reunited soon, very soon! Remember, come back for me—I am your finest companion!"