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    Translated by SkyTL
    Edited by SkyTL


     

    Chapter 3: Beautiful Mechanic Girl

     

    Cannibalism. These were the words that came to mind.

     

    Apparently, the residents of this city eat the flesh of giant humanoid weapons.

     

    —For a moment, I felt nauseous.

     

    In my head, I think I am no longer human, but my body is still human. Because I am human, I can’t help but feel that the people here are uncommonly small.

     

    The nausea disappeared immediately. What is going on with my internal mechanism? Do I even have an opening to throw up in the first place?

     

    Dostoyev was making slow advances with my body.

     

    At the foot of the mountain, a large number of inhabitants were hanging around. All I had to do was trip and all hell would break loose.

     

    I noticed that Dostoyev had taken his hands off the controls.

     

    Apparently, this mental manipulation can be done without control.

     

    The gates of the city walls opened further. I ducked my head and walked through the gate.

     

    In a word, the city was “retro”.

     

    Towering in the center are the five towers that can be seen from the outside. Unlike the ice houses outside the walls, the building materials were made of bricks. Pipes were wrapped around them like ivy, but they were aging and spewing steam in places.

     

    The towers were surrounded by slightly taller buildings, also made of bricks. I wondered if it was some kind of apartment building. On the rooftop, pipes similar to those of the towers were crawling here and there.

     

    There were many layers of fabric roofing between the apartments. The closest image is a shopping street.

     

    My eyes analyzed the “heat” and displayed the result at the beginning of my vision. Apparently, the heat was running at full blast under the cloth roof. The cloth is probably a sensible way to keep the warm air from escaping.

     

    People came out to the roof of the brick apartment buildings.

     

    Everyone, young and old, men and women, clapped their hands and shouted with joy.

     

    Dostoyev responded by raising my hand slightly.

     

    It hurts so bad. When I move my arm, the wound hurts again.

     

    I walked down the cloth-roofed street and entered a large building near the tower. At the entrance of the building was a sign that read “Regeneration Bureau”.

     

    The inside was a kind of hanger.

     

    There were six pool-like bathtubs, five of which were occupied by giants just like me. They were still armored, so I couldn’t see their faces.

     

    The water in the pool is blue-green. There are small bubbles gushing out from the bottom.

     

    Dozens of engineers are gathered around the giants. In front of an empty pool, two guides waved fluorescent sticks.

     

    The radio comes on.

     

    “Thank you for your services! Captain.”

     

    “Oh” Dostoyev put me in the pool with a splash, just like a child would.

     

    The water, or rather the hot water, overflowed like a tsunami and splashed one of the engineers over the head.

     

    I was lying on my back, and my chest armor opened.

     

    Dostoyev comes out.

     

    I caught him with my naked eye.

     

    It is subtly different from how he perceived his own self through his mind.

     

    He has more fat and more wrinkles on his skin than he perceives himself to have.

     

    And his eyes were somewhat less bright.

     

    His clothes, both top and bottom, were black and clung tightly to his skin.

     

    Once Dostoyev was completely out of the cockpit, the sense of unity that I had always felt was gone. Sight and hearing were also cut off.

     

    Dostoyev’s voice was higher-pitched than I had expected.

     

    “You have until tomorrow to recover it.”

     

    “Ah, tomorrow! ?” It was the worker who had just gotten wet. The wet cloth of the tie fits her large breasts well. Her skin was a little darker than the Caucasian Dostoyev .

     

    “Alisha, isn’t that your job?” Dostoyev said, and jumped out of the pool from my chest. All the workers and young women rushed to him at once.

     

    He seems to be the local hero of this city.

     

    All the praise will be on him.

     

    I had a serious injury in my side and couldn’t even move of my own accord.

     

    A girl named Alisha put her hand on my finger, which was sticking out of the pool, and said, “Thank you for your hard work, I’ll fix you in no time!” 

     

    She was dirty, but she was slender, tall, and had a good set of eyes and nose.


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