Grey suddenly sat up, his eyes darting around. What just happened? What was going on?
He pressed a hand to his head, his mind feeling like it was sloshing around in his skull even separate from his brain. It was such a disembodying sort of feeling, almost like his soul had been ripped free from him and was just barely connected to his body by just the smallest of tethers.
’What the hell...’
Grey’s vision took a moment to clear and he looked around to find that he was still in the cabin. Nearby, Esmeralda sat on a chair, rocking back and forth. Amunet stood like an obedient servant, serving her tea.
At least Grey thought it was Amunet.
The Amunet he knew was shrouded in shadows, covered so thoroughly from head to toe that he couldn’t even quite see her figure properly.
This Amunet, though... she was very different. Deep, rich amber skin and eyes, hair that seemed mutated in some sort of odd way with a sparkling dark gold, and she seemed dressed in a cross between an ancient Egyptian noble and an assassin.
Grey had never seen an assassin wear a skirt before, but that was surely the best way to describe her.
He couldn’t quite see her ass from here, but judging by those hips...
’I guess she wasn’t lying.’
Amunet didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, though. Instead, she was as stiff as a board. She met Grey’s gaze, but she didn’t have much to communicate. Her situation was obvious enough.
The both of them were prisoners here and she was doing whatever it took to survive.
"What happened to me?" Grey asked, still confused. One moment he was blitzing through his creation of the Prosthetic Mech, and in the next moment he was passed right out.
Esmeralda only now seemed to finally register that Grey was awake. She looked up, carefully putting her tea cup down and onto the table.
Without missing a beat, Amunet stepped forward and topped her up before stepping back. Judging by the practiced movements, she had probably waitressed somewhere before the world went to shit.
"You are quite the peculiar crafter, descendant of the Mechanical Jaw. Your movements seem both practiced and yet unpracticed. You can decipher the true blueprints from the false ones, and yet you can’t sense when your own Neural Frame is being Overloaded.
"You are either a talent without guidance or a great con man. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to find out. With your current abilities, you will never finish the Prosthetic Mech for me. You may very well have the talent, but I do not have the patience to wait."
Esmeralda dabbed her lips and Amunet leaned forward to carefully wipe them. Every fiber of Grey had to be held back from making a quippy reply, but in the end he thought better of it. Making fun of Amunet right now wasn’t exactly going to get him into anyone’s good graces, and honestly he felt bad about everything.
It wasn’t his fault that Amunet was in this situation. In fact, she had definitely lived longer than she would have otherwise because of them.
But that didn’t stop him from feeling bad that he couldn’t quite seem to find a way to get them out of this.
"Why can you not wait? If you believe I might have the talent, just let me prove it." Grey finally decided on saying this.
Esmeralda smiled and then shook her head.
"Unfortunately, young descendant of the Mechanical Jaw, the world is neither so flexible nor so kind. I think it may be best if I just kill you and be rid of it. It would be a shame if the legacy of the Mechanical Jaw landed in the hands of the Dark Kin, no?"
Despite half her face being so marred, her smile was truly like that of a spring breeze. If only it wasn’t underlying her intention to kill him.
’Is this why she keeps killing me? No, that isn’t the real problem here. She’s saying this, but maybe she’s hoping that she can find the legacy on me herself. If she can do that, then she might think that she’d be good enough to make her own Prosthetic Mech.
’She already lied about the fact she couldn’t sort through the blueprints herself, so would it really be a surprise if she’s lying about this?’
What was obvious to Grey was that the witch was, well... a witch. She lived up to the stereotypes well and she was playing the role of two-faced bitch even better.
Grey’s thoughts spun. He didn’t quite understand what she meant by his Neural Frame Overloading, but he got the gist of it.
"No, I don’t want my legacy to land in their hands. But just having the legacy isn’t the same as having the talent, and it’s not like I have the tome with me anyway. It’s in a safe place. I can’t exactly lug it around freely."
Esmeralda’s eyes flickered and then she smiled.
"Your words are clever."
She could feel that Grey was subtly telling her that even if she took the legacy, that didn’t mean she would be able to understand or make use of it.
But at the same time, he was also telling her that he didn’t have it to take in the first place.
"Unfortunately, the Dark Kin will probably not believe you. They will pry open your Cyber Space from your corpse first."
’Fuck me.’ Grey cursed inwardly. ’I swear to god the moment I get a chance I’m sticking a pole through her mouth and making her shit it out.’
Despite his thoughts, Grey only smiled. Not that it mattered with this mask covering his face anyway.
This bitch thought he was hiding the tome in his Cyber Space. Could he do that? As far as he could tell the only objects he could put in there were ones bound to his Neural Frame.
"Listen—."
Grey would have never guessed that he wouldn’t even be allowed to finish his sentence. Even more surprisingly, that wasn’t because Esmeralda killed him.
Instead, it was because something else did.
—
[You have missed a Canon Event. The Genesis Spirit has deemed you unfit.]
—
A shock of electricity ran through Grey’s body and he began to scream. Every inch of his Neural Frame fried itself like an overloaded circuit. His skin went black, the scent of burning flesh hanging in the air.
And then the shock ran through his very brain itself.
—
[You have died. Better luck next time. Oh wait, there won’t be a next time. Toodle-oo.]