Free Web NovelAuthor’s Note: Warning: this chapter contains a very unfortunate lesson about having a physical body. Nothing explicit, just deeply embarrassing.
Several hours had passed.
Clank!
The voice set down a small metal piece on the workbench.
Then stared at it.
The piece rolled a little and stopped.
She did too.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she slowly raised her gaze to the three weapons in front of her.
The bow-spear.
The light gun.
The heavy gun.
All three were on the stone bench, surrounded by tools, fragments of red crystal, black dust, threads of crystallized blood, and small metal pieces she didn't even know the name of.
Her fingers were stained with dried blood.
Her nails had forge dust under them.
Her arms hurt.
Her back hurt.
Her head too.
But the weapons…
The weapons were repaired.
Not perfect.
Not like new.
But repaired.
The light gun no longer vibrated as if it were about to break from just breathing near it. The internal cracks had been sealed with thin threads of crystallized blood, guided with a precision the voice had only managed because Matt told her every step.
The heavy gun had been worse.
Much worse.
The voice looked at it with suspicion.
"I'm sure that thing hates me."
Matt responded from somewhere in her head:
"That thing doesn't hate you."
"It vibrated three times like it was going to explode."
"Because you touched it wrong three times."
The voice gritted her teeth.
"You're not helping."
"I'm helping quite a lot."
"You only give orders and make fun of me."
"That's how I help."
The voice looked down at the heavy gun.
The barrel had a dark red line running across the area where the crack had been. The core was no longer pulsing unevenly, though it still gave off an uncomfortable heat.
She didn't trust that weapon, not one bit, but at least it no longer looked like suicidal garbage. That was progress.
Then she looked at the bow-spear.
The weapon was resting on two stone supports. The shaft had been reinforced with crystallized blood and small fragments of dark metal. The burn marks were still there, but no longer looked like open wounds.
The bow-spear vibrated softly when she touched it.
The voice pulled her hand back slightly.
"Did I hurt it?"
Matt sighed. ƒreewebɳovel.com
"No. It's reacting."
"Is that good?"
"Depends."
The voice looked at the weapon. Then looked down.
"But it looked like it was in pain…"
Matt was quiet for a second. Then answered in a less mocking tone:
"Don't worry, that usually doesn't hurt them."
The voice didn't know what to say.
She ran her fingers more carefully along the shaft.
The bow-spear vibrated again.
Softer.
Almost calm.
She swallowed.
"That's it then."
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
The voice stared at the three weapons.
After so many hours, after so many corrections, after burning her fingers on hot metal, cutting her skin to use blood, getting the internal channels of the guns wrong, and nearly breaking a tool Matt had yelled at her not to touch…
She had finished.
The voice let out a long sigh.
Then dropped to sit on the floor beside the workbench.
"I'm exhausted…"
"Good."
"Good?"
"That means you did something."
The voice closed her eyes.
"Your way of encouraging people is terrible."
For a while, neither of them said anything.
The forge was still lit, though low. The runes beneath the red stone glowed with a slow pulse. All around were tools of every kind: hammers, tongs, chisels, thin blades, metal needles, containers with black dust, and bars of dark metal.
The voice didn't understand half of it.
And that was what worried her most.
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She opened her eyes and looked at her hands.
They were still trembling a little.
Not from fear this time, from exhaustion.
"Matt."
"What?"
"I don't think I can do this alone."
"You don't have to do it perfectly."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"No."
The voice frowned.
"I mean it. I don't really understand how those guns work."
"I know."
"I don't even know if I actually repaired the important parts or just did what you told me."
"For now, the latter."
The voice lowered her shoulders.
"That worries me."
"It should."
"Matt!"
"What? It's true."
She looked at the light gun.
"If something breaks and you don't tell me what to do, I'll fail."
"Maybe."
"That doesn't help."
"You want me to lie?"
"I want you to be less horrible to me."
"No."
The voice covered her face with both hands.
"You're impossible."
Matt was quiet for a few seconds.
Then spoke calmly:
"Ego weapons, once they're properly awake, rarely need manual maintenance."
The voice slowly lowered her hands.
"What?"
"They repair themselves."
The voice went completely still.
The sound of the forge seemed to grow louder.
Then she looked at the weapons one by one.
The light gun.
The heavy gun.
The bow-spear.
Then at her cut fingers, the blood stains, the red crystal residue, the tools, the workbench, and the several hours of accumulated suffering.
"They repair themselves?"
"Yes, over time."
The voice didn't respond.
"With mana," Matt added. "With blood, if they have a bond. Depends on the damage and the weapon, but yes. In general you won't have to do this all the time."
The voice got up very slowly.
Too slowly.
"So…"
Matt said nothing.
"So…"
The voice clenched her fists.
"Why did you make me repair them?"
"Because you have to know how it's done."
"But you just said they repair themselves!"
"Not always."
"Matt!"
"And because if the queen asks, you have to be able to answer."
The voice went quiet.
That sentence put out part of her rage.
Not all of it.
But quite a bit.
Matt continued:
"If you're going to pass yourself off as me, you can't stand there staring at my weapons like they're incomprehensible magic objects."
"They are incomprehensible magic objects."
"To you."
"Exactly!"
"That's why you're learning."
The voice ground her teeth.
She felt like throwing a tool at the wall.
She didn't.
Mainly because she didn't know if the tool might explode.
Or scream.
Or bite.
In this cave, anything was possible.
"You made me work for hours on something I might not even have to do in the future."
"I made you practice something you might need so you don't die."
The voice went still.
The queen.
Just thinking about her made her chest tighten.
The voice swallowed.
Matt spoke in a drier tone:
"If that woman looks you in the eyes and asks you something about the weapons, you can't hesitate too long."
"I know that."
"No. You don't know it enough."
The voice looked down.
She didn't want to admit it.
But he was right.
Again.
That was the most irritating thing about Matt.
He could be cruel.
He could be insufferable.
He could make fun of her at the worst moment.
But he was right a lot of the time.
The voice breathed slowly.
"Fine."
"Good."
"But I hate you."
"That changes nothing."
"It makes me feel better."
"Then go ahead."
The voice huffed. Then tried to take a step toward the bench to organize the tools.
But she stopped and frowned.
There was something.
A strange sensation.
It wasn't coming from her wounds.
It wasn't coming from exhaustion.
It wasn't in her arms or her back.
It was lower.
An uncomfortable pressure.
Strange.
Persistent.
The voice brought a hand to her stomach.
Matt noticed.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't answer right away, tried to move a little.
The sensation didn't go away.
In fact, it seemed to become more obvious.
"I don't know."
"That doesn't sound good."
The voice touched the lower part of her stomach, confused.
"There's something strange."
"Pain?"
"No."
"Burning?"
"No."
"Sharp?"
"No."
"Hunger?"
"No."
"Nausea?"
"No."
"Then be more specific."
The voice pressed her lips together.
"It's not exactly pain…"
"Then?"
"It's like… a discomfort."
"That still tells me nothing."
The voice looked down at her stomach.
"Like something is full."
There was silence.
A long one.
Too long.
The voice looked up.
"Matt?"
Matt didn't respond.
"Matt, what's wrong?"
Then she heard it.
A laugh.
First quiet.
Almost muffled.
Then a little clearer.
The voice opened her eyes.
"What's so funny?"
Matt tried to speak.
He failed.
He laughed again.
"Matt."
"Ah…"
"What?"
"It can't be."
"What can't be?"
"It really can't be."
"Stop laughing and tell me!"
Matt breathed slowly.
It was obvious he was trying to hold it together.
He wasn't succeeding.
"Since you've spent nearly your entire existence in the mental world spying on my memories while resting comfortably, I think you overlooked some basic details."
The voice tensed.
"What details?"
"Physical needs."
"Like needing to drink?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Matt paused.
The voice gritted her teeth.
"Stop going quiet."
"I'm trying to find the least humiliating way to explain it."
That alarmed her more.
"Humiliating?"
"Very."
"Matt."
"You've been drinking a lot of water from the fountain."
"Because I was thirsty."
"Also because you were hungry."
"Because that thing works for both."
"Yes."
"And?"
Matt spoke with a too-simple calm:
"Everything that goes into the body eventually has to come out."
The voice went completely still.
She blinked once.
Then again.
"Come out?"
"Yes."
"Come out how?"
Matt laughed again.
The voice felt her face getting warm.
"Don't laugh!"
"I'm trying not to."
"It doesn't seem like it."
"No, it really doesn't."
The voice looked down at her stomach.
The pressure was still there.
Clearer.
More uncomfortable.
"You mean expelling liquid?"
"Yes."
"Ah."
The voice stood there thinking.
Tried to remember.
She had seen Matt's memories. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
Many.
Some clear.
Others blurry.
His human life.
The castle.
The training.
The cave.
The rest rooms.
And yes.
There were memories of physical needs.
But she had never paid attention to them.
Why would she?
They were things the body did automatically.
Like breathing.
Blinking.
Moving fingers.
Going to out-of-the-way spots.
Closing doors.
Waiting.
Coming back.
For her, until now, all of that had been noise.
Unimportant details.
But now she had a body.
And the body wasn't asking.
It was demanding.
The voice swallowed.
Then, with complete seriousness, she lowered the edge of her pants and underwear just slightly, enough to look.
She went still.
She frowned.
She looked more carefully.
Matt went quiet too.
A dangerous quiet.
Very dangerous.
The voice spoke with genuine confusion:
"It's not there."
Matt took a moment to respond.
"What isn't?"
The voice kept looking, increasingly concerned.
"The… thing."
"What thing?"
"The one you used to expel liquid."
Silence.
The voice tried to find the word.
It wouldn't come.
So she used the most logical comparison she had.
"The hose."
The silence became absolute.
For a second, even the forge seemed to stop.
Then Matt completely lost his composure.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The voice pulled her clothes back up immediately.
Her face went red.
"Don't laugh!"
"The hose!"
"That's what I remembered!"
"Don't call it that!"
"Then tell me what it's called!"
"No!"
"Matt!"
Matt kept laughing.
Really laughing.
Not a dry mockery.
Not a small chuckle.
A full, clear, disbelieving laugh.
Like the situation had gotten away from him.
"This isn't funny."
"It's the most surreal thing that's happened to me in this cave."
"A mechanical skeleton with eight arms almost killed us!"
"And yet this competes."
"Matt!"
"Sorry, sorry."
"You're not sorry."
"No, but I wanted to sound polite."
The voice covered her face with both hands.
"I want to disappear."
"You've just discovered another basic body function."
"I don't want to discover more basic functions!"
"There are several more."
"Matt!"
"Alright, alright. I'll be quiet."
"Actually be quiet!"
Matt went silent.
Or tried to.
The voice heard a low laugh from somewhere in the back of her head.
"I can hear you."
"Sorry."
"You're not sorry."
The embarrassment was so great that for a moment she forgot to be tense.
And right then…
Pssssss…
The voice froze.
The sound was soft.
Steady.
Too clear.
Her eyes opened slowly.
"Ah."
Matt spoke from a distance, in a quieter voice, as if this time he was actually trying not to make things worse:
"That's it."
"Don't say that!"
"I only said—"
"Don't say anything!"
The pressure started to ease.
Little by little.
And with it came a feeling of relief so intense it almost made things more embarrassing.
The voice closed her eyes.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her breathing loosened.
The body stopped demanding.
Stopped pressing.
Stopped complaining.
It was a simple sensation.
Basic.
Human.
And for exactly that reason, it felt unbearably strange.
"This…" she murmured.
"Yes."
"Is…"
"Yes."
"So embarrassing."
"Also."
"Matt!"
"I didn't say anything bad."
"You thought it."
"Quite a lot."
"Matt!"
"But I didn't say it."
"That doesn't help…"
"It was the most I could offer."
The voice gritted her teeth.
The sound tapered off slowly.
Psss…
pss…
…
Silence.
The pressure was gone.
The relief remained.
So did the embarrassment.
An enormous amount.
The voice sat there for a few more seconds, not knowing what to do with her own existence.
She gritted her teeth.
"This never happened…"
"By the way."
The voice tensed.
"What?"
"Mentally prepare yourself."
"For what?"
"For when it's time for number two."
The voice blinked.
"Number two?"
Matt didn't respond.
She waited.
One second.
Two.
Three.
"Matt."
Silence.
"What's number two?"
