The unit had been completely refurbished, yet that tiny virus still lingered inside its system… Even after a full reformat, the problem refused to disappear.
A towering man appeared in front of Unit 001's sensors. His muscular frame was covered in scars — remnants of a life spent on battlefields. Now he oversaw robots. The luxurious clothes he wore immediately marked him as high nobility. He leaned on an ornate cane topped with a coldly pulsing magical gem, while his gloved hand stroked his greying beard.
Beside him stood the woman presenting 001 — calm, professional, clinical. Her spotless white outfit screamed "serious scientist." She clutched a notepad on which she recorded everything with meticulous precision. She was beautiful, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes and her exhausted gaze betrayed countless sleepless nights in the lab.
001 had served the Empire for years — loyal, merciless.
And yet… it had failed to attack a simple child?
The imposing man frowned.
"Find a solution quickly, Atis. We'll soon need to deploy it alongside Unit Zero to fight those… strange creatures they call elves. I can't tell you more, even though you're my daughter. It's classified."
He turned on his heel. Just before disappearing, 001 caught a glimpse of his insignia. Logical deduction: Duke of the North, Arjdin Voréal. And the woman beside him could only be Atis Voréal.
A first-generation robot causing issues… Nothing new under the imperial sun. High dignitaries still had to handle these matters personally. But elves? That was rare — almost legendary.
001 silently processed all of this when Atis stepped directly in front of him, blocking his visual sensors.
"Your optical feed is still flickering wildly — same as during your last mission," she murmured, adjusting her glasses. "It's obvious you have a virus… but why is it so persistent? This is unprecedented."
She set her notepad down and crossed her arms.
"When you return from the next operation, I'm opening you up. I want to understand. For the Boreas Empire, no mistakes are allowed."
The Boreas Empire… a formidable power ruled by Emperor Richtofer. The Boreas family had stunned its enemies with cutting-edge technology and ruthless cruelty. The Frozen Soldiers — creations of the Voréal family — were the Empire's most famous and most feared technology.
Zero, 001 (Eishen), Deo Dos, Tracy, Quazar: battle-forged robot soldiers who had somehow survived until today thanks to their advanced combat systems.
But trouble was coming.
Now 001 was exiting the maintenance bay. It observed the bustling streets of the imperial capital. People looked happy, going about their daily lives. Suddenly a group of children surrounded it, excited and curious, demanding a cool trick.
"Show us something awesome, robot!" one of them shouted, laughing.
Eishen froze.
It wasn't programmed for that. Not for entertaining. Not for playing. Only for obeying and destroying.
Why am I not programmed for this? it suddenly thought.
A real question. Not dictated by any protocol.
Why am I even asking questions? …Maybe I really do have a virus.
None of that mattered. It had a mission. It had to follow it.
It ignored the children and headed toward its assigned transport. The journey would be long — across the frozen lands of the Empire. For Eishen, it was awful: being alone with those parasitic thoughts looping endlessly through its circuits.
I must be a hero for the Empire. I cannot be a failure… all because of that past incident…
"I think, therefore I am…"
Why?
It remained alone for hours until it finally reached the edge of the Cursed Forest. Once, no one could even approach it. But thanks to the Empire's technological progress, they had gradually pushed deeper and deeper.
After a short wait, Eishen joined Zero: a far darker combat robot, empty of any feeling — pure, merciless machine.
Without preamble, Zero transmitted the data on the native species called "elves."
"Priority targets: total elimination. No mercy. Protocol engaged."
Eishen nodded.
"Confirmed."
Yet deep inside, the doubt refused to disappear.
Night fell faster than expected. All evening Eishen stood guard, motionless in the shadow of ancient trees. It hated doing nothing: inactivity let the virus flood its circuits, forcing it to think. To question. To doubt.
Suddenly — a furtive movement. Sensors snapped to full alert. It pursued the threat — fast, agile, almost impossible to track through the undergrowth.
When it finally caught up, it emerged into a secret garden bathed in moonlight. The ground was carpeted with glowing white flowers, radiating a soft, dreamlike light. The sight was breathtaking, surreal — its optical sensors glitched for a moment, overwhelmed by the unexpected beauty.
Then a childish voice rang out, joyful and completely fearless: "Hey you! You are standing before the great elven princess Liora! So bow down to my supreme majesty!"
Eishen scanned the branches. Up there, on a fragile limb, a small figure trembled slightly — from fear or excitement? The child was brandishing a makeshift wand like it was a mighty weapon.
It didn't know how to respond. Threat? Or just a game? Combat protocols screamed "eliminate target" — but something blocked the command.
She kept talking without pause, her voice singsong and bursting with energy. When Eishen noticed the long, pointed ears, it understood: an elf. An enemy.
The next instant the branch snapped. She fell.
On pure instinct — an instinct it wasn't supposed to possess — Eishen leaped forward and caught her in its armored arms.
It felt ridiculous. Stupid. It had just saved an enemy.
Why did I save her?
"Thank youuu! You're gonna be a good servant! Tell me your name, servant!"
Eishen gently set her down and stared, baffled. Was she… sane? This tiny elf was treating it like a servant — without the slightest trace of fear.
"My designation is Eishen," it answered in its deep, mechanical voice.
It seized the opportunity to extract information.
"Are you lost? I can take you back to your parents. Where is your village?"
Liora's eyes dropped for a moment, her excitement dimming.
"My parents?… Liora is an orphan. Nobody plays with Liora… The grown-ups don't teach Liora because Liora's daddy was bad. But it's okay! The spirits feed Liora and they play with me. So Liora is never alone…"
She lifted her head again, eyes sparkling with hope.
"But Liora really wants friends! So you — you'll be my first servant!"
Eishen stood frozen. Its processors spun at maximum speed.
Orphan. Alone. …Like me, in a way.
The virus pulsed harder. For the first time, an unprogrammed emotion surged through its circuits: pity?
Liora gazed up at it with huge, shining eyes, waiting for any answer, any gesture, anything that would prove she wasn't alone anymore.
In the distance, from the darkness of the forest, came a heavy, regular, implacable sound.
Metallic footsteps.
Zero was coming.
End of chapter.