webnovel Chapter 294: The Steel Coil
Chapter 294: The Steel Coil
Sora's eyelids were still engaged in a fierce tactical battle with gravity. Two
hours of dormancy was barely a drop of water in the vast desert of her
exhaustion. She felt as though her soul were currently a separate unit, hovering
outside her frame and watching the swaying, fragile husk below with detached
pity.
"Bochi, I am re-emphasizing the containment protocols," Sora muttered between
heavy yawns, directing her flat voice at the blue slime perched atop her head.
"The Museum is a public sector. The artifacts contained within are designated as
'Antiquities'—they are the data logs of history. You are prohibited from
physical contact, and you are strictly forbidden from initiating an
'Acquisition' action. Am I making myself clear?"
"Oh."
A vague, uncommitted vibration drifted from above. Sora didn't need ocular
confirmation to know that Bochi was currently scanning the environment for
high-luster objects, likely ignoring every syllable she spoke.
"Specifically the 'Shiny Variables.' Regardless of how much they resemble
gemstones or high-tier sugar-cubes, you will not touch them. And you absolutely
will not insert them into your oral cavity!"
"I understand, I understand," Bochi chirped, its tone carrying a distinct note
of boredom.
Sora let out a long sigh. Internal system fatigue reaching critical levels.
Managing a juvenile unit is a monumental tax on one's Od.
Just as Sora was debating whether to procure a length of high-tensile rope to
anchor the slime to her wrist, the weight on her head vanished.
Eh?
Sora skidded to a halt. She instinctively reached up to her scalp. Vacant.
She scanned the sector. The street was a high-density zone of pedestrians and
motorized boxes, but the familiar blue silhouette was missing from her immediate
perimeter.
"Bochi?"
No response.
A sharp, cold spike of dread pierced her heart. Sora performed a rapid sensory
sweep. Her gaze eventually locked onto a heavy-duty transport unit idling at the
roadside.
It was an industrial flatbed trailer. Anchored to the bed with thick, iron
chains was a gargantuan, silver-grey cylinder. It exceeded two meters in
diameter and width, its surface reflecting the sunlight with a cold, metallic
sheen.
Beside this massive steel coil, a tiny blue silhouette was bouncing in frantic,
joyous circles. Its tentacles were waving with an intensity that suggested it
had localized a legendary treasure.
"SORA! SORA! OBSERVE!"
Bochi detected her gaze and waved its tentacles with manic energy.
"I LOCALIZED A GARGANTUAN DONUT!"
Sora's brain emitted a sharp burst of static.
A donut? By what logic does that variable resemble a donut?!
"Bochi! Terminate the approach! That is not—!"
Before she could conclude the warning, Bochi compressed its frame and launched
itself into the air. Two tiny tentacles slapped against the side of the steel
coil with a sharp thwack.
Then, in a display that caused Sora's logical processors to stall, the slime's
musculature engaged.
The reinforced chains anchoring the twenty-ton coil began to groan under a
structural load they were never designed for. One link snapped. Two. Three.
SNAP. CRACK. PING.
The iron shackles, thick as a human's arm, were shredded as if they were wet
noodles. The entire sequence was fluid, effortless, and mathematically
impossible.
The street fell into a state of total, ringing silence.
Pedestrians froze mid-stride. Drivers slammed their brakes, creating a localized
gridlock. Thousands of eyes converged on the tiny blue entity.
At a sidewalk cafe, a young man was mid-way through a romantic declaration to
his partner, a bouquet of roses held before his chest. "Aria, the truth is, I—"
The words died in his throat. He stared at the trailer across the street, his
roses hitting the pavement with a soft thud. His partner followed his gaze, her
mouth opening into a perfect "O" of shock.
On the far side of the road, a middle-aged man exiting an office building
dropped his cigarette. He didn't even notice the glowing ember scorch his
trousers. He rubbed his eyes violently, stared once more, then quietly pulled
out his phone to access his firm's leave-application portal.
"The occupational stress has triggered a high-tier visual hallucination," he
muttered to himself.
A child gripping his mother's hand pointed a finger, shouting with glee, "MAMA!
LOOK! IT'S THE JELLY SUPERHERO!"
His mother clamped a hand over his mouth and broke into a full sprint in the
opposite direction, her logic correctly identifying a Calamity-class event.
Bochi appeared entirely oblivious to the social dissonance he had triggered. He
was simply elated. He hoisted the "donut" high above his head with two
tentacles. To the slime, the twenty-ton coil possessed the weight-signature of a
common swimming ring.
"SORA! LOOK! ACQUISITION SUCCESSFUL!"
Bochi began to bounce toward her, the gargantuan steel cylinder bobbing
rhythmically with every hop.
"THE GLUCOSE CONTENT OF THIS DONUT MUST BE EXTREME! WE SHALL SHARE THE HARVEST!
WE CAN EVEN FEED THE PIGEONS!"
Sora stared at the approaching apocalypse. She stared at the twenty tons of
industrial steel that radiated a passive, crushing pressure. She looked at the
wide-eyed, innocent smile of the blue slime below it.
Sora's brain processed the incoming collision data and issued a singular
directive: NIGERUNDAYO.
"DO NOT APPROACH! STAY AWAY!!"
Sora let out a shriek and spun around, her 100-meter sprint potential fully
igniting. She felt as though she had shattered her physical limiters, her boots
barely touching the asphalt as she fled.
Behind her, Bochi saw her run and interpreted it as an invitation to a
recreational chase. His joy spiked.
"SORA! DO NOT ACCELERATE!" "THE DONUT IS HEAVY! I PROJECT A HIGH CONCENTRATION
OF SUGAR!"
And so, a spectacle that would haunt the district for a century unfolded.
A petite girl in a school uniform was sprinting for her life, her face a mask of
terminal despair. Trailing behind her was a tiny blue slime, hoisting a
twenty-ton steel coil as if it were a balloon, shouting about sharing a snack.
The pedestrians along the commercial strip were petrified into statues. At a
roadside pancake stall, a customer who had just received his order was the first
to regain cognitive function.
He stared at the steaming pancake in his hand, then up at the rapidly
approaching steel mountain. He turned to the stunned cook.
"Add two more eggs," the customer said, his voice flat with the calm of a man
who had accepted his termination. "And a sausage. And a portion of tenderloin."
The cook blinked. "What? Why? I just finished the base order."
"I project a statistical zero probability of surviving this cycle," the man
replied, watching the steel cylinder roar past. "This is likely my final meal. I
intend to maximize the flavor profile."
The cook's jaw worked. He looked at the man, then at the girl and the "donut"
disappearing into the distance. He picked up a fresh mound of dough and began to
spread it.
"Fine. Spicy?"
"Maximum levels," the man said. "I wish to meet the Void with a full stomach."
The cook's hand shook, nearly dumping the entire spice jar onto the griddle. He
worked with frantic speed, muttering under his breath.
"Since when do the Anomalies chase humans in broad daylight with industrial
cargo?"
The customer took the "Ultimate-Tier" pancake and took a massive bite, his
speech muffled by the dough.
"It is difficult to determine. Perhaps it is a domestic dispute between
High-Tier variables?"
"...A 'domestic dispute' involving a twenty-ton steel projectile?"
"The sincerity is commendable," the man reasoned. "Look at the little blue unit.
He's putting in maximum effort to ensure his partner gets a warm snack."
☆☆☆
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