Cytortia hardly believed where they were. No. Her brain had lost track of the development. Hell, the question should be how did they arrive at this direction. She remembered walking in the room, a voice from a speaker and Rem getting those chairs. So how did it end like this?

Rem sat across a cylindrical tube of specialized fluid holding a glowing orange orb at the center. The tea table covered in decent table cloth separated the two. Rem even found a recliner. He took the room’s eerie orange lighting with gusto. He was chilling with their host — a mysterious orb suspend inside fluid with wires and cables like he was visiting an old friend.

“Interesting.” Rem raised a magazine with cute girls in maid clothing. “Truly cultured. I love how they color themed the costume. I don’t know Phantasia has this fashion.”

“It is a niche back when father was still young. Sadly, it never penetrates beyond Balperia. The nobles in Aurorin deem it a disgrace to their etiquette and the populace doesn’t really have the income to spend on this merchandize. It is quite sad. To think few appreciate the delight of being served by color-coordinate maids… what a shame...”

The orb’s voice — enabled by electronic speaker — explicitly conveyed sadness despite being an assortment of transducer.

Life faded from Cytortia’s eyes. The conversation seemed to drill into the realm beyond her understanding.

“Truly a heartbreaking missed opportunity.” Rem shed tears of regret. “Maid is one of the divine genres of among men. But the costume can be improve: lower cutline, shorter skirt and thigh-high stocking. Imagine it, comrade — revealing enough to rouse your internal fire but hidden enough to rouse your imagination.”

The orb took time to crunch the numbers — literally.

“Indeed,” the artificial intelligence agreed. “My simulation shows a true divinity. You are truly a man of wisdom.”

Rem shook his head.

“As much as I want to claim the idea, gentleman code dictates I must honor the genius preceding me. No, this theme originates from the old French comedy featuring an extremely flirty maid. Then the geniuses from the great Nippon tuned the Moe factor to the beyond. Essentially, an extremely huggable and endearing young woman who is well-behave, able to cook and maintain the house because we sure as hell cannot — the Manic Pixie Dream Girl with reserve and comforting subbing the chaos.”

“Fascinating” The orb would nod if it got a neck. “What a wonderful appeal. Do you have any source material? I may need to research further on this subject. You sound like an expert in this field.”

“No, I am not.” Rem admitted. “I am simply a fan. Hell, I never visit Japan. I heard Akihabara is particularly a well-spring of inspiration for us, fellow men of high culture.”

“Japan? Well, I certainly need to visit that place. Maybe they will even help me with my dream.”

“May I know what is that sacred goal of your?”

The electronic voice became proud.

“My dream!? It is to bring salvation upon Phantasia! The creation of a perfect robot maid! It is the only solution! In my youth, Father often bemoaned the untrustworthiness of a woman! The horrific divorce that bankrupted his colleague and the expense of housekeeping! I refuse to let my fellow man suffer any longer! We must manufacture the perfect android to comfort the brow-beaten, hard-working men who labor day after day only come back to an empty home — or worse — betrayal. Technology has propelled sentient life to prosperity and now it shall rescue society from despair.”

“Bravo. Screw the 3D biocunt. You, sir, are a true visionary.”

Cytortia lost it.

“Your visions is a nightmare. I am a woman here!”

“Cy, you have no sex appeal.”

“Indeed. She lacks battle power.”

“$)@($**))”

…

“Okay, let us shelve the future for now.” Rem briefly adjusted his collar. Cytortia’s [Benevolence Core] made a permanent harm impossible and temporary harm ineffective, but she could still do a mean strangle. “It is the present that concern us.”

“Yes!” Cytortia pointed at the orange orb. “What is that thing, and how does it talk? What is going on?”

“Cy, he is not a thing. He is a man of culture.”

“Allow me to explain,” the electronic voice echoed from the room’s speaker. “My name is Ehto Shaxter. I am the artificial consciousness created from the SHAXTER Procedure perform on the subject Z-2 using Alcra Shaxter’s brainwaves pattern.”

“I don’t get a single word it said,” Cytortia guffawed.

“Cy, he is Alcra’s son.” Rem’s short words betrayed the impact it contained.

“…” The Artificial responded in silence to Rem’s firm statement.

“Ehto, I am — no exaggeration here — Phantasia’s greatest master of [Clairvoyance]. I know what happened in this room. You are Alcra’s greatest creation. You saw to his final moment and sent him to the pyre, as any hire should. You said it yourself; you were born from Alcra Shaxter’s brainwave — his mental DNA. That makes you the closest thing to his child. I don’t know the context of that day, but I am sure no one could stop it. I am here to help, but I want the information of what is happening in this facility.”

“Okay, anyone mind helping me catch up to the situation.”

Rem sighed, but Alcra cut him to the explanation.

“Father — Professor Shaxter — dreaded the imminent collapsed of Phantasia. Err… just to be clear. Have Phantasia fallen apart yet?”

“Not yet, but it is going to fall to pieces soon. The gods lost their grip. Venistalis got kaboomed. And everyone about to duke it out for the throne.”

“Oh drat,” Ehto’s electronic voice sank. “Begin running all emergency protocols. I need to go over all the back-up—”

“Guys! Prioritize! Beginning! Middle! End! Come on! Stop side-tracking”

The former goddess complaints were noted, and the story kicked back to the rail.

“To combat the potential scenario that is blooming in this era, father retreated to this facility and developed the SHAXTER Procedure to create artificial-life-form in secrecy. He called us the Cybertium life-form — the creation of Mana and jewel. I — Z-2 — are one of the two successful results of this operation, and that is where it all went wrong.”

“Let me guess, the other artificial intelligence — Z-1 — went bananas.”

“Yes.” Ehto’s voice was dangerously low. “It doesn’t happen right away. As the report details, I obtained sentience much later than he did. When I was born, Z-1 was already crucial in running this facility. Father had a very high expectation of him. He was given the name of father’s project — PALISADE.”

…

“Hello, Z-2.”

Inside the clean testing laboratory, a kindly elderly man in a white lab-coat with a wrinkled face leaned over the orange gem hooked to several crystalline calculation machines and a speaker with wires. The old-man was beaming with pride.

“Hello. Are you Professor Shaxter?”

“Yes, Z-2,” Professor winked. “PALISADE. Say hi to your little brother.”

“Greeting, Brother,” the disembody voice said.

“Hello, older Brother.”

…

“PALISADE is everything our father hoped he would be. His processing power and planning ability are without question. Me? Father doesn’t expect me to contribute much with PALISADE’s spec outshining me. Compare to him, I feel like a disappointment, but Father never abandoned me. This base is a lonely place, and he always kept me company.”

Cytortia joined on the table. She was reading the file Ehto opened to help brief the situation.

“No,” Cytortia butted into the conversation, pointing at the message Alcra wrote on the computer. “I believe it is another way around. Look at this message and imagine yourself in Alcra’s shoes. Everyone around him is going nut and he couldn’t stop it. He must feel as lonely as you did.”

“Let me guess. PALISADE didn’t like that.”

“Truth is I don’t know. What I know is that father moved me to this underground chamber one-day without telling me why. He visited me often for a talk, but whenever I ask about PALISADE, he always changed the subject.”

…

“Look here, Z-2.” Alcra showed the orange orb a maid magazine. “The curve. The costume. The thigh. This is the height of art. Damn! if the elves and those classists moron in Aurorin aren’t such a prude we will probably achieve peak civilization by now.”

“Indeed, Professor Shaxter,” the electronic voice agreed. “The beauty of the sexes never cease to amaze.”

The duo admired the painting of the woman in maid costume. The orb was suspended inside the newly built observation cylinder. The room was brightly lit with computer equipment and screen detailing complicate research notes. The surrounding shelves were the combination of maid magazine and experimental incomplete artificial intelligence.

It was then that Z-2 pried his attention from his mediaeval weeb's dream.

“Professor, where is brother? I don't heard from him for quite a while.”

Alcra Shaxter’s expression warped from a smile to a sobered, thoughtful expression of the man lost inside an impossible equation.

“Z-2, I will tell you when it is ready,” the good Professor said gloomily. “You know, I wish PALISADE could be more like you. Anyway, I have a new project I want to tell you about.”

…

“Ouch, now I understand why PALISADE went rogue,” Rem stated the obvious. “But I want to know the detail. When did your older brother go Skynet?”

“Yeah, that is the question we want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Ehto replied.

Rem and Cytortia glanced at each other.

“Ehto, you are living inside this base the entire time,” Cytortia spoke.

“Yes, you are the only living entity who know PALISADE better than anyone,” Rem said. “Shaxter must have left you a clue.”

Ehto sighed and recounted the day everything change.

…

Ehto was hanging inside that tube. He was enjoying his purpose. The project the Professor had given him was coming along nicely. He already deployed the construction drone after the Professor approved and sent the material. The only problem was the energy source, but he already had an idea. The problem was the material and the mechanism for the Mana reactor. He already simulated five models which failed spectacularly. Maybe Professor could help him design a working prototype.

Sadly, Alcra never got the chance to look at the model.

The teleporter connected to the room activated, and a bloodied man stumbled out.

Alcra Shaxter’s lab coat was specked with bloody crimson. Several burns marked his body, masking the fatal, carbonized wounds riddling him. The white hair and beard were dirtied with blood. The old man wheezed, barely had the strength to crawl.

“Professor!” Z-2 was outrage. “Who did this to you!?”

“PALISADE… went insane…”

“Brother? He did this? Why?”

“There… is no time,” the old man tried and failed to make a self-mocking smile. “I… should have known. PALISADE… already has... a blueprint. That would explain…” He coughed and chuckled. “The smartest man in the world… done in by a soul… How fitting… for an arrogant… buffoon…”

“Professor!” The electronics’ voice yelled.

“Hey, Z-2, do you…” He coughed. “… know you inherited my brainwaves… my soul?”

“Professor! You need immediate medical attention!”

“Nothing can change that now.” The Professor dragged himself into a sitting position. “I will die… That is certain… but I need to give you something first… a name. Z-2. You… are the son I never have. My only family…”

“Professor, you are delirious from losing blood! There are medical kit in—”

“I know… about that kit. It is useless,” the professor wheezed. “It’s time… we stop the pretense… my son. With PALISADE turn against us… you are the only one… who can stop him.”

“But he is stronger than me.”

“Yes, but… you have one thing he never has. You share my love for… this world. I can… remember how excited you were when… I told you about Open Sky.”

“It was like a dream come true,” the electronic voice whispered. “I want to go there with you.”

“Sorry… I am a fool,” said the dying smartest man in the world. “Yes, Z-2, your name is Ehto — Ehto Shaxter. Listen… Protect Open Sky until someone worthy enough to inherit it appear… with PALISADE going rogue… that burden also fell to you. I am sorry to… bring you so much pain.”

“Yes, Pro—”

“Father, call me Father.”

“Yes… Father”

The red pool of blood gathered on the floor, marking the end of the tale of the old man who dedicated his life to the betterment of everything around him.

“As...for my body... a cremation... would... do," Alcra managed a smile. "When I am... gone. You… must… hide. Wait for an… opportunity. PALISADE will… make a mistake. I made this room isolate… from PALISADE’s gaze for this… possibility. Take care of… Phantasia… for...”

And then, with those last words, Alcra peacefully closed his eye for the last time.

…

“Father knew that something is wrong with PALISADE when he moved me to this room.”

“Soul? Alcra said he didn’t account for Palisade soul,” another hunch bloomed in Rem’s mind. “Wait, what is Palisade’s blueprint again?”

Cytortia scrolled through the report Ehto handed to them.

“A gall-stone dated back to the era of the ancient.”

“And Ehto here is a high-quality gem, formed and dug from the earth,” Rem stated. “So, a gall-stone from a million years-old monster went rogue and the gem from the planet turned out the way Alcra expected. And you said PALISADE had a higher spec than you?”

“Yes,” Ehto answered.

“So, he has a soul.” Rem’s eyes widened. “No wonder that things turned against Alcra.”

“Wait, you already worked it out?”

“It is pretty obvious when you think about it.” Rem suppressed a chuckle. “The question is whether PALISADE work it out, because if he didn’t realize what he is, it will be plain cathartic to break it to him.”

“So, what is he?”

“Yes, I also want to know your answer.”

“I will tell you, but we should focus on what PALISADE is after. Ehto, you must be observing PALISADE all of this time. Do you have any idea what he wants by gathering a bunch of stupid kids here?”

“I can answer that question,” Ehto said. “But I believe showing it will do a better job. These are the preparation and the document PALISADE withdrew from the facilities’ database in these last few years. I want to get more data point, but it is pretty difficult to spy on him and cover my track with the entire network under his control. ”

The screen around the room blinked with several documents and files

“I have utterly no idea what you are showing me,” Rem said.

Cytortia had a different reaction. She hurried to the computer and absorbed the reality clobbering them. These documents explained everything.

“Cloning technology, Historical Record of Super-solider project, Thesis on Inherited Skill and Gene Engineering of magical creatures, Neurotic Parasite, History of X-cution project and Advance Theory of Chimeras. Incredible. You actually made the list of equipment he created?”

“It is hard,” Ehto said. “But not impossible. I still hold a secret observation system in the laboratory and storage, cataloging the material withdrawn and tracing what he tried to build is pretty doable. Although intensely difficult and risky, PALISADE often let his guard down against what he considered unthreatening.”

“Cy, what is PALISADE after?”

Cytortia glanced at Rem.

“Rem, all of this document toward someone trying to create a blend of magical creatures and cybernetics.”

“He is trying to create a shock troop?”

“No, it is worst,” Ehto corrected Rem. “The equipment he created was for analyzing DNA and Mana's signature. Combines everything that is happening with how long he had been working on his cybernetic remote-control fluid. I believe PALISADE is trying to mass produce an ultimate organism, combining several Inherited Skills and genetic engineering to create an ultimate, magic-capable bio-drone. It would fix his inability to perform spell-casting because of his artificial origin. With his spec, the lack of necessary organ is the only thing stopping him from unleashing everything in advance spell-casting textbooks.”

“This is bad.” Cytortia’s brain hit the track to doom town. “Rem, PALISADE’s robot are suckers because they lack the Core and Dantain to use Mana, but if he could create those bio-drones…”

“Then his army won’t be mere soldiers, but a magic-wands strap to army of the Predator” Rem imagined the scenario. A mass produce creature, armed with inherited skills and stats that made an average man an ant — all puppeteer by a high-spec mind of a supercomputer with a doctorate on every Spell-casting school.

It would be hopeless. If PALISADE got that army, it would be GG. Orwell nearly toppled Grand Empire with the army of Amalgam. But Palisade army wasn’t a dumb program, everyone of them will be PALISADE itself with all its power and experience. An S-rank threat becoming a colony. Yep, that was XK-class end of the world scenario.

“We need to pull its plug,” Rem declared. Their boss was spot-on to send them here. “Assemble the Horizon Dawn. We will counter-attack before the apocalypse even got on Beta.”