The riot at St. Mary's Asylum was like a grand carnival, reaching its climax amidst flames and screams.
The moment Seventeen carried Shen Qingqiu out of the White Tower gates, a fierce storm swept over them.
The only steel drawbridge leading to the outside world was now blocked.
Not by the insane patients, nor by the incompetent guards.
It was a wall.
A wall built of steel, steam, and fanatical faith.
Boom, boom, boom.
The synchronized footsteps drowned out the thunder.
Thirty knights clad in heavy, silver-white power armor, wielding chainswords and high-pressure steam guns, stood like rows of tombstones at the end of the drawbridge. Their faces were completely covered by helmets, leaving only a slit in their red-glowing visors.
On their chest badges was engraved a burning sword.
This was the Church's most elite execution force—the "Knights of Judgment."
"Heretics." The leading knight raised his greatsword, a cold, synthesized voice blaring from the megaphone.
"Ahead lies paradise, behind lies hell. You have nowhere to go." Seventeen stopped.
He glanced at Shen Qingqiu in his arms. She was only wearing a thin hospital gown, her bare feet, though clad in high heels, still looked incredibly vulnerable in the torrential rain.
"Are you cold?" Seventeen asked, looking down, completely ignoring the knightly order opposite him, a force capable of crushing an army.
"A little." Shen Qingqiu shrank back, but her eyes held a languid, almost theatrical quality. "These tin cans are blocking my air."
"I'll go clean them up." Seventeen carefully placed Shen Qingqiu on a bench in the porch (one he had just casually carried from the hall).
He took off his dusty white nursing coat and draped it over her knees.
Then, he turned around.
To face the thirty Judgment Knights. He was wearing only a white shirt and black vest, soaked by the rain. His right hand, gloved in a white glove, hung limply, raindrops dripping from his fingertips.
"Kill." The knight commander gave the order.
*Sizzle—* Thirty chainsaw swords activated simultaneously, emitting a piercing roar.
Steam billowed, and a torrent of steel charged towards the slender figure.
Seventeen didn't draw his sword, nor did he transform.
He merely lowered his center of gravity slightly, and the blue light in his eye behind his monocle instantly switched to a savage crimson.
[Restriction Released: Level 1.]
[Butler Mode -> Annihilation Mode.]] Boom!
The paving stones beneath his feet shattered.
Seventeen's figure vanished instantly into the rain.
The next second, he appeared before the first knight.
His hand, encased in a white glove, seemingly gently pressed against the knight's heavy steel helmet.
"Too slow." *Crack.*
A sickening metallic screech.
The helmet, powerful enough to withstand artillery fire, along with the head inside, was crushed like a soda can.
But this did not deter the painless war machines.
"For my lord!" Three chainsaws simultaneously struck Seventeen's back.
Sizzle—!
Sparks flew.
Seventeen's shirt and vest ripped instantly, revealing his obsidian-hard back.
Although not severed, the serrated edges still cut through his bionic skin, and pale golden liquid (coolant) mixed with crimson simulated blood flowed out.
"Seventeen!" Shen Qingqiu, sitting on the porch, narrowed her eyes sharply, her fingers gripping the clothes on her knees.
Hearing her call, Seventeen's movements visibly paused.
He looked down at his torn clothes and the "blood" flowing from his body.
He was dirty.
So wretched in front of his master.
A profound sense of shame and rage instantly ignited the "Will of Xingtian" latent within his core code.
"You... ruined my uniform." Seventeen slowly straightened up.
He reached out and ripped off his tattered shirt.
His muscular upper body was exposed to the wind and rain, the rain washing over his wounds.
Then, his right arm underwent a transformation.
The outer shell, which had been disguised as a human arm, shattered inch by inch, revealing the ferocious, domineering **"Xingtian's Grip"**, flowing with dark gold magma patterns, radiating intense heat, completely exposed to the air.
Not just his right arm.
Black liquid metal spread from his right shoulder, rapidly covering half of his chest, forming a tattered yet majestic black-gold armor.
"Roar—!!!" Seventeen roared inhumanly.
The sound, mixed with metallic vibrations, shattered the raindrops.
[Berserk Mode: Activated.] He no longer dodged. He was like an ancient, ferocious beast charging into a flock of sheep.
Grabbing one knight's leg with one hand, he swung it like a branch at another, slamming it down.
Bang!
The two tin cans collided, turning into a pile of scrap metal.
The bullets from the high-pressure steam gun only sparked, leaving not a mark.
But his fist pierced through the knight's breastplate, crushing the power core inside.
Flesh and blood (though oily) flew everywhere.
Parts scattered.
It was a brutal display of violent aesthetics.
The elegant butler was gone.
In his place stood a blood-soaked demon.
But he never strayed from the center line of the drawbridge.
Because behind him sat his master.
Any knight who tried to cross him and rush to the porch would be mercilessly torn apart by his terrifyingly large hand.
However, the enemies were too many.
And they kept coming. In the distance, more steam-powered airships were approaching, dropping more mechanical soldiers.
Seventeen's body began to show wounds.
Although he possessed a divine physique, this high-intensity, continuous output was causing his core reactor to overheat. His movements slowed slightly.
Thud.
A chainsaw sword seized the opportunity to pierce his left shoulder.
Seventeen grunted, and with a backhand punch, smashed the attacker's head.
He pulled out the sword, staggered, but still stood firmly at the bridgehead, refusing to retreat an inch.
Under the porch.
Shen Qingqiu looked at the back of that figure, covered in blood (a mix of gold and red), yet still standing as firm as a mountain.
Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed tightly by a hand.
Pain.
More painful than the ninety-nine deaths.
"Enough."
Shen Qingqiu stood up.
She threw off her white coat from her knees, barefoot, wading through the cold puddles, and walked step by step towards the blood-soaked demon.
"Seventeen, step back." Her voice wasn't loud, but it pierced through the sounds of battle, reaching Seventeen's ears clearly.
Seventeen turned around.
His monocle was shattered, revealing a scarlet, savage electronic prosthetic eye. His face was covered in black engine oil and golden bloodstains, making him look terrifying.
"No...don't come any closer..."
He instinctively tried to back away, trying to hide his grotesque appearance.
"I...I'm dirty..." Shen Qingqiu didn't stop.
She walked behind him, reaching out to wrap her arms around his hot, hard, bloodstained waist from behind.
"Dirty? What's dirty about it?"
She pressed her face against his scarred back, completely unconcerned that the stains had soiled her hospital gown.
"There's no more beautiful medal in this world." Seventeen froze, his savage aura freezing in that instant.
Shen Qingqiu released him and stepped out from behind him.
She stood before Seventeen, facing the remaining dozen or so Judgment Knights, who were preparing for a suicidal charge.
She was only wearing a thin hospital gown in the wind and rain.
But at that moment, her aura was more terrifying than the demon behind her.
She raised her head, her golden eyes shining breathtakingly bright in the rainy night.
[System Access: Wide-Area Cognitive Alteration.]
[Target: All Visual Nerve Connectors.]
[Command: Divine Descent.]
*Buzz—!!!*
An invisible ripple of mental energy swept across the entire suspension bridge in an instant.
In the eyes of those Judgment Knights, the world changed.
The woman in the hospital gown was no longer mortal.
Behind her, twelve pairs of golden wings, composed of data streams, unfurled, blotting out the sky.
A sacred halo hovered above her head.
Her face transformed into the supreme **"Mechanical Goddess"** they prayed for day and night.
The monstrous, blood-soaked monster standing behind her
became, in the knights' eyes, the **"Divine Arbiter****, clad in golden armor and wielding a holy sword.
"A...a miracle..." The greatsword in the knight commander's hand clattered to the ground.
"We...we're wielding swords against a god?"
"This is blasphemy! This is a capital offense!" The once-fierce knightly order suddenly seemed to have its soul ripped from its body.
They trembled, kneeling one after another.
In the midst of the raging wind and rain.
Amidst the scattered wreckage.
This group of arrogant killing machines bowed their noble heads before Shen Qingqiu and Seventeen.
"Forgive us...our great lord..." Shen Qingqiu stood there, her long hair flying wildly, her eyes indifferent.
She hadn't truly become a god.
She had merely altered the imaging data on their retinas and the logic of their cerebral cortex in determining "friend or foe."
"Seventeen." Shen Qingqiu ignored the kneeling scrap metal. She turned to look at the man, still teetering on the edge of a breakdown, completely bewildered.
Seventeen stared at the scene before him, his mind reeling.
He didn't understand why the enemy had suddenly knelt.
He only knew that he looked hideous, terrifying.
His right arm was grotesque, half his body naked, his face covered in blood.
"Qingqiu..."
He lowered his head, wanting to cover his face with his hands, but afraid the mechanical hand would scratch her.
Shen Qingqiu reached out and pulled his hand down.
She stood on tiptoe and tore a clean piece of white cloth from her sleeve.
She didn't show any disgust.
She carefully, little by little, wiped the machine oil and blood from his face.
"Fool."
"Who told you to ruin your clothes?"
Her tone was reproachful, but her eyes were full of heartache. "That was my favorite tuxedo." Seventeen lowered his head, like a child who had made a mistake.
"I'm sorry... I'll... fix it."
"And... fix yourself too."
"No need to fix." Shen Qingqiu threw away the dirty cloth.
She cupped his half-human, half-mechanical face in her hands, and placed a kiss on the still-flashing red electronic prosthetic eye.
"Seventeen, remember."
"Your blood-soaked appearance isn't ugly."
"That's the most beautiful makeup you've ever given me." Seventeen's pupils trembled violently.
The violent red light in his eyes finally faded completely, returning to a gentle deep blue.
He extended his enormous, black-gold "Xingtian's Grip."
Carefully, he gently rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger.
"Yes, my master."
At this moment, the rain stopped.
The first rays of dawn pierced through the thick fog on the eastern horizon.
Illuminating the swaying suspension bridge.
The red-clad queen, and her black-gold knight.
Below them were kneeling enemy soldiers, behind them the burning white tower. Shen Qingqiu took Seventeen's grotesque mechanical arm.
"Let's go home."
"This dress is too ugly. Go back and change into your tuxedo."
"And...I want some black tea." Seventeen looked at her, a genuine smile finally appearing on her lips.
"Yes."
"Home." The two walked into the depths of the misty city, bathed in the morning light, ignoring the group of believers still kneeling in repentance behind them.
The White Tower shattered, the Holy Armor crumbled.
The Asura bathed in blood, all to protect the hem of her dress from the dust.