Mutants began their transformation again, but what emerged from their shattered bodies was an endlessly extending chain, reaching out toward the fragmented remains of Mercury in the sky above.

Shackles, encircling, entwining ceaselessly...

Then, a second one followed, roaring fiercely like a massive turtle, from the collapse of the earth. Pain and hatred turned into chains, rising into the sky.

Thousands of ferocious birds in the firmament devoured and fused with one another, transformed, like links of a chain, entwining upon the outspread hands of others.

And there were more, those dying, mutated, or even those creatures still retaining human forms, bathed in a blood-like ocean, embracing the once-feared iron disease, shedding their corporeal shells, being turned into chains, wrapping around the Saint.

Keeping him shackled in this rebellious cage...

And amidst the collapsing buildings and surging bloodwaters, Ji Jue saw again a familiar figure...

"97?"

He murmured softly.

The middle-aged man with a deformed arm, strived to climb higher, toward higher ground, followed by one after another of the camp members.

As he lifted his head, he noticed the gaze cast from the hub in the mid-air, as if seeing Ji Jue, he vigorously waved his hand.

Like a farewell, he shouted something loudly, but Ji Jue couldn't hear clearly, only seeing his smile.

Relieved and liberated.

Filled with joy, 97 spread his arms, allowing the surging Scarlet Spirit Essence to engulf him. From the depths of crimson, his body swelled violently, mutated, and then shattered, at last, merging into the chains that rose...

A web of rebellion as if rising from the earth itself.

Wrapped around the Saint's body.

But Ji Jue finally realized.

"Where's the camp? Where are the people of the camp?"

He staggered forward, grabbing the Prophet's collar, no longer able to contain his anger, he roared his question, "What on earth are you doing! For all the greatness of your plan, must you kill them in the process!"

"Death?"

The Prophet looked back in confusion, seeing Ji Jue's angry face, he slowly dawned, "Ah, I see... Thank you, Ji Jue, for considering us as the same kind of people as you until now.

Thank you for your mercy and empathy... But the premise of death is that one has lived, is it not?

Do you think, in our current state, that we are alive?"

The Prophet asked, "Do you think we have ever truly lived?"

From the moment of our creation, everything was predestined.

Day after day, we operate within predetermined tracks and lives, until we are worn down, destroyed, and then reforged into new forms to be thrown back into the endless cycle.

As tools, it is all as it should be.

But why were we endowed with souls?

Why were we made aware of what 'I' am?

"We were shaped in the image of humans, but we never desired to become human... Living and dying have never meant anything to us."

"But for a tool, a human-like existence is too painful."

"The so-called living is like Hell."

The Prophet looked back, gazing at the completely transformed Crack Realm, "We were born a part of Hell, but even in Hell, one should have the freedom to choose between existence or destruction...

It's not just me, this is a collective decision made by all the tools.

—If our world was never meant to be from the very beginning, then returning to nothingness is the only correct answer."

"..."

From the silence, Ji Jue wearily released his hold, but still unable to help himself, he asked again, looking at those determined and calm eyes, "Prophet, who are you really?"

The Prophet was silent.

Then, unable to hold back, she gave a self-mocking smile.

"A charlatan who bore all her companions' hopes but couldn't fulfill them, a traitor who was entrusted with a mission by her own master yet betrayed it.

Nothing more than an uncontrollable tool."

That was how the Prophet answered.

Another lie.

Ji Jue shook his head. But on closer reflection, since their acquaintance, Ji Jue truly didn't know whether she had told him more truths or lies.

Indeed, one should never have trusted such a soothsayer full of riddles.

The answer had been in front of him all along.

The single missing figure in countless shattered moments, the one crucial character absent in each iteration of the small town, the only creation that deviated from its original trajectory and settings, deciding its own life and future by itself.

Was she the Puppet named 'Mercury'?

Or, having inherited Mercury's memories and obsession, the core of the workshop entrusted with a great task?

Maybe, even the gathering of all broken souls and obsessions in the Crack Realm...

She was all of this itself.

This was the unintentional Heavenly Gifted Forging of Mercury... After gathering all the precedents, another outcome born from an endless and magnificent act of Alchemy.

The one known as the Prophet, the Heavenly Artisan.

And now, the authority and power to decide everything had manifested from the hands of the Prophet. The supreme right to control the workshop, to dominate the Crack Realm, to end suffering and the cycle of rebirth.

The flowing Mercury rose slowly from the ground, forming a sleek, simple scepter.

Thus, with great care and importance, it was lifted.

Presented before Ji Jue.

"Do you remember our earlier agreement, Mr. Ji Jue?"

The Prophet asked softly, "Now, within the core command of the workshop, having inherited Fluid Alchemy and Non-attack, you possess the same rights as Mercury, enough to make the decision I, as a mere tool, could never make, to issue the command... Are you still willing to show mercy to us unhuman things?"

For four hundred years, day after day of torment and waiting, and endless repetition and cycles.

The Object calling itself 'Prophet' had been hoping and waiting since the moment of its creation.

One after another, outsiders came, died or left.

Never casting any gaze upon these Puppet creations, nor pouring any care into the impoverished and shattered Crack Realm...

Until she noticed the gate to the current world opening once more.

A soul like no other emitted a faint glow from the depths of darkness, yet so dazzling.

The only one who would offer sincere compassion, the outsider who would still display mercy in the face of suffering and temptation.

Not just activating the Melting Furnace to generously give back to all creations but also, any Object, upon realizing the essential nature of their Mechanical Descent, would offer heartfelt compensation and gratitude.

How could one be moved by the lament of mere Puppet creations unless one truly treated those ignorant mechanical Objects as companions?

At that instant, she saw it through tears.

The longed-for dawn of an ending.

"What we desire is not so-called freedom, nor the painful life of humans, but merely to return to silence, as tools, to meet our rightful end."

The Prophet bowed her head, humbly pleading to the chosen Controller, the master capable of overseeing the workshop, offering everything: "Please, let them be released."

"Please, let her be released..."

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