Chapter 1836: Seventeen. Big Red Dragon (4)

The moment the blade of fluid metal hits the Type II shell, Marseille launched the final secret strategy.
At the same time as it emits a current that exceeds the limit, the last quantum sensor component hidden inside the body emits a dazzling light.
The thunderbolt of the clear sky shook the atmosphere, and the intense flash of light engulfed all colors.
The light faded quickly. The fluid enveloping Type III metallized into silver-gray dust and fell apart.
The true face of fluid metal is a group of tens of millions of nanomachines solidified by a specific pulse signal. Conversely, as long as pulse signals of the same wavelength are output, they can cancel each other out, causing the nanomechanical group to fall into a "crazy" state.
The theory is not complicated. Anyone who understands basic physics and mechanical principles can come up with this strategy. However, I have never heard of a successful case so far, and I have not heard of anyone doing research in this direction.
The reason is simple, because it is impossible in reality.
It's already difficult to dodge the attack of the fluid metal. If you want to contact with it during the high-intensity battle of breathing hundreds of rounds in one breath, find the correct band through observation, trial and error, and comparison, and grab the other party. It is a hit before changing the pulse signal band-this is not an area where humans can step on.
Humans cannot step on foot, but what about Type II and Marseille, who are also good at using fluid metals? Injecting current into the brain and standing in the world at the same speed as the regional tactical calculation network, Marseille will completely crush the type III nanomechanical enchantment.
That's a strategy that can never be achieved if you don't break through the distance of hundreds of meters as if forever, if you don't break through the seamless coordinated attack, if you can't touch the other party's fluid metal armor at zero distance.
Just one hit.
After breaking through all the defense lines and breaking down the last countermeasures, as long as one blow, as long as the last blow is made, the situation in front of you can be reversed.
But so far.
Both Type II and Marseille can no longer support it.
Current overload has caused all internal mechanisms and more than 90% of the fluid machinery of the artificial intelligence module to be burned out, and the last blow released by the appropriate is to make the remaining 10% of the fluid machinery almost completely reimbursed. Marseille's body also began to emit a burnt smell.
After discharging all the current that could be discharged, the body of the bee was completely cut off.
Directly hit by a fatal blow, the ghost bee was "dead" completely. Dragging the flames and thick smoke, the body of the bee that was miserably cut fell to the sea. Its compound eyes have lost its light, and its wings that have gleamed with golden light have also disappeared, falling into an iron block that cannot speak.
Perception went wrong and destroyed. Unable to fight. The front was dark, and all power was dissipated with the final blow. "Death" wrapped around the body,
Even so, it does not stop.
This is not a battle for death.
Not because of mission, not because of hatred.
Just, want to win. This thought became everything, and the will inspired the last heat.
Then, a teenager jumped out of the tattered body holding the sensory board assembly and jumped to the unprepared Type III.
This scene is completely out of the scope of science.
Even an adult man in the best state has a very high inertial kinetic energy blessing. He must leap in the height of the storm and the thin air, and accurately land on a certain target to launch a fatal attack on the core components of a war machine. This is also an impossible task. At this moment, the whole body was burned by the arc, the eyes were red, and Marseille, who had severe muscle spasms, was doubtful whether he could kill an ant. How did he complete that action?
Was his spirit overriding the flesh and creating a miracle that science could not explain? Or is it the incredible power held by the colorful phosphorescence overflowing from the brain quantum wave induction framework that injects its own ideas? Neither the post-event investigation nor the parties’ post-event memories can give an accurate answer. There is only one thing people can be sure of.
The last sting of the steel bee actually captured the "enemy".
The board that poured everything hit the chest cavity accurately, colorful phosphorescent light poured in all along the rift, and the steel giant worm spewed red and black flames, sending out a scream.
Not only this one.
All the bodies that had been killed by the sharp blade froze together, and the silent screams sounded at the same time, and the mechanical undead who was frozen at the end of his life once again issued a silent wailing with a residual temperature.
--help me.
--Let me go.
—I don’t want to die.
I still have people I want to see and things I want to do.
"……enough."
I don’t know if my voice can be communicated to the other party. The teenager with red tears whispered in a voice almost crying.
"It's over, even if you stay in this world, there is nowhere to return, and it won't help."
The dead represent the past.
The living cannot change this fact, nor can it communicate with the dead in any way, only
The torrent of time continues to face the future.
and so.
"...I don't have to stay here anymore."
Are you the same?
The howling of the undead gathers together and turns into a female acquaintance.
With a trace of anger, a trace of attachment, a trace of reluctance and a trace of tenderness and distress, the female voice said.
Like us, nothing.
Marseille felt a hole in his heart, and the despair of sourness came out.
After leaving the empire, I have seen various countries, various people and things, but you are still worthless except for being an accessory of a combat machine. If you don't have the status of a crew member and you don't have that talent, no one needs you.
The words were extremely harsh, and the indifferent tone without maliciousness made Marseille feel stinging.
That is the real reality.
He knew that he could not maintain the "present state" all the time, and Marseille was not sure whether he could bring her happiness.
He prayed that she could stand in a world outside of killing, and allow her to laugh, grow, and live like an ordinary person. This is Marseille's biggest wish today.
But what should that world look like? For her, what is happiness?
Marseille did not know that he cannot yet conceive the specific forms of wishes and ideals. He only knows the direction, but he cannot describe the specific forms.
Not like this.
This kind of self can't bring her happiness, just to do it, it will only become unilateral goodwill, which is no different from maliciousness.
Changes must be made, and no change will not work.
As for what to become and how to change.
What the future self will look like and what she should be by her side.
Marseille is clueless.
He quietly pressed his restlessness and confusion into his heart, and even put aside all his misunderstandings with the limits of life and death when fighting. Now the spirit is highly synchronized, and all the secrets can't be covered. The opponent's words poked the deepest pain in Marseille's heart.
Up to now, he still has nothing and is at a loss.
With resentment on everything, the undead sent out words full of poison and despair to those who really wanted it.
That's right.
You have nothing.
There is no guardian or destination.
There are no needs, no goals, and no people or things worth trusting.
There is no reason for survival.
The voice of the undead has incredible magic, which makes people feel extremely peaceful and relaxed, and can't help but want to stay away from everything and indulge in it forever, even if it is just dead.
You who no one wants, you who have no place in this world.
Isn't there no reason to live.
Why are you still alive?
Perhaps the consciousness is highly synchronized with the undead, or it may be that the physical injury is too serious. In short, at the moment, Marseille visualized the face of a little girl.
The face was vaguely acquainted.
Childishness, maturity, innocence, charm, carefreeness, and old-fashioned accidents-various contradictory elements are unified on that face in a form of no conflict. And there are several parts of the facial features that are inexplicably similar to Anrietta.
It is really very similar, enough for Marseille to overlap the two figures again and again.
Is this really--
The green eyes of the same lake as Anrietta gave a mean smile.
You think it's over if you knock me down.
You think this is really the end.
But ah.
As a result, you are still the only one.
In the end, it was miserable to die alone.
Flames began to spray everywhere, and the arc erupted from the gap. The final moment of the Type III was about to come. Marseille was about to become a martyr for the mechanical undead.
The cries of the undead echoed. That was the voice that had long since died. It's exactly the same as the voice of his own who is about to die alone in the corner of the battlefield until he finally can't find his way.
That is really an irresistible temptation.
But Marseille knew that it was not the hand of the undead that he should hold.
"...Sorry, there are people waiting for me to go back."
Somehow, Marseille took out his handgun and pressed it against the cracked tempered glass hatch.
Even at this moment, he still didn't know how he wanted to become, and he didn't know what the future and happiness should be.
Even so.
He still wanted to see Anrietta's smile.
If possible, he also wanted to laugh with her.
"Farewell, I hope you can have happiness in the afterlife."
Marseille pulled the trigger.
At the same time, the hand of the fluid metal, the female hand, stretched out of the cracked armor.
From pulling the trigger to hitting ~EbookFREE.me~ didn't take a second at all. But in this seemingly elongated time, the hand kept moving forward. The hand stretched out from the slightly exposed gap, as if craving something, touched Marseille's cheek.
Marseille had no strength to avoid or wave that hand, he just looked at it calmly.
Even if it was just the residue of the soul when it died. He still wanted to remember that at the end of the final, the opponent's emotions faced him.
Even if it was abomination and killing intention. Even though I have no plans to bear it, I want to brand it in my mind.
Fingers wrapped around the exposed neck above the scarf. I thought that I still want to strangle my hand, but with a trace of sadness, I gently stroked the deep scars I had left.
"...Sorry, sister, and lieutenant colonel, please."
Marseille's eyes widened in surprise, when time suddenly returned to flow.
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