When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#193 - Are you a perpetual motion machine?

"What's your name?"

"Chuck."

"And what's your name?"

"...I don't know."

"What about you?"

"..."

From the underground cave to the slope leading to the surface, soldiers of the Savior's Army, guarding Horn, ran over, and Silov had asked every breathing one of them for their names.

However, some answered, some were unwilling to answer, and some even gave her cold stares.

Silov wasn't annoyed; whether they answered or not, she simply wagged her tail and sat quietly after asking.

"Did you make the brass claws on that Abu's wrist?"

"Yes, I designed them myself and polished them, but I can only modify them, not create them from scratch.

The parts and iron ingots left by the original craftsmen are dwindling, and Abu's blacksmithing skills aren't up to par, so it's becoming increasingly difficult to create new puppets."

From the underground cave to the first floor of the palace, there's a dedicated slope; it seems that blood slave Abu usually pushes Silov to the first floor this way.

Pushing Silov slowly forward, Horn and the others arrived at the first floor's hall. Passing through the mosaic stained-glass windows, colorful light shone on Silov, but she showed no signs of discomfort.

"Speaking of which, how's Abu? You didn't really kill him, did you?" Silov asked, looking at the hall, which clearly showed signs of a battle. Her tail peeked out from behind the wheelchair, occasionally brushing against Horn's knee.

Horn coughed. "No, he's just asleep, sleeping soundly."

"That's great, as long as he's not dead." Silov nodded. "Abu usually takes care of me, but his cooking is terrible. Can you cook?"

"I can deliver food." Before Silov could hear clearly, Horn changed the subject. "Did you build that mechanical stage in the hall yourself?"

"No, I just made improvements." Silov tilted her head, looking at the stage in the corner of the hall, her tail drooping. "This was originally a birthday gift from the residents outside, but before it could be completed, Mom passed away, and the residents were all killed, so I had to finish the gift myself."

"Why?" Horn asked casually.

"Before, Mom wouldn't let me go out. When I woke up every evening, I could only sit on the balcony on the second floor and look at the town over there.

Later, Mom passed away, and they all died. I didn't want to see corpses all over the streets, but I couldn't break my habit.

So, I reset all those puppets, replacing the original princes, knights, and princesses with the villagers from outside the town, so I could still see them every day."

Silov stared at the mechanical stage in front of her, her expression still unchanging.

Horn even suspected that she had never seen a living person, only puppets, so her facial expressions were just imitating them.

Seeing Silov's ears droop, Horn realized and quickly changed the subject to the question he was most concerned about.

"What powers this stage?"

"A crank," Silov said matter-of-factly.

"I'm asking about the power source of the stage, not how to start it."

Silov's tail curled up, like an upright question mark. "I don't understand. The power source of the stage is the crank."

"Are you kidding me?" Horn leaned his head over her shoulder, looking at her face, but he couldn't see any emotional fluctuations on it.

Many of those are made of pure copper-clad iron, with cork and parts inside, not to mention that the iron wheels and gears that drive them probably weigh several tons. Powered by hand?

"If you don't believe me, I'll demonstrate it for you, Horn. Push me to the stage."

Hearing Silov's sudden commanding tone, Horn was stunned at first, then realized that she probably used to order the blood slave around like this.

However, Horn still pushed her to the side of the stage. Signaling Horn to let go, Silov turned the wooden-shell wheelchair to the back of the stage.

"Go to the front and watch. It'll be very beautiful in the front." Silov picked up some lubricating oil from the ground, her gaze pausing curiously on the bloodstains on the edge.

Horn stood not far from her but didn't move. One, he was afraid she would suddenly run away with some trick; two, he originally wanted to see where the power source was. Waiting in the front would only let him see the performance.

"It's okay, I'll just stand here. I like to see how it works."

"Okay, fine." Silov couldn't persuade Horn, so she reached out and grabbed the crank. "Watch carefully."

As Silov turned the crank, a series of subtle metallic sounds rang out, followed by the sound of chains sliding.

No way? Horn's mouth gradually widened.

Gears bigger than washbasins were actually turning!

Pleasant music sounded from the musician puppet's trumpet. He moved his fingers with the gears and thin wires through some unknown means, playing a melodious court dance.

Impossible, absolutely impossible!

Horn took two steps forward, carefully examining the gears that were bigger than washbasins. They were actually turning with Silov's arm.

Under the pull of the chains and gears, a white cloud rose from one corner of the stage along a track. The swan dancer rotated while orbiting the small tree on the stage.

Not to mention the white clouds painted on the heavy wooden boards, the swan dancer's joints and bones were basically made of metal.

Dozens of large puppets, nearly a hundred small puppets, extremely complex stage props and chain tracks...

How could all of this be driven by Silov's thin arm?

"This doesn't conform to the laws of physics."

Horn, who had looked at the entire stage, ruffled his hair into a bird's nest, unable to find the power source.

He thought the clicking sound was from Silov's magical props, that she would pull out some mysterious clock or magical engine and then install it on the stage to drive the theater.

But everything in front of him told Horn that she actually drove the stage with her arm...

Or is she a flesh-type witch, purely driven by strength?

"Can I try?" To verify this, after receiving an affirmative answer, Horn went up and almost snatched the control of the crank.

Turning the wheelchair back, Silov's ears perked up, like a little girl showing off her toy, looking at Horn, this ignorant country bumpkin.

Easily turning the crank, Horn stared blankly at the stage in front of him.

It was still running, as if as long as he didn't let go, this miniature town could keep running.

Is this some kind of magic? Or is there an engine hidden somewhere? Or are there a group of zombie spirits running a hamster wheel underneath?

"Is this reasonable?" Releasing the crank, Horn slowly retreated. The music gradually stopped, and the puppets on the stage stopped moving together.

"What happened? What happened?" Just as Horn was doubting his life, Jeanne ran in from the door, carrying the battle flag.

"Brother, what happened--" Looking at Silov sitting in the wheelchair, her tail wagging wildly, Jeanne stood in front of Horn, her face wrinkled. "Who is she?"

"Oh, she's the vampire's adopted daughter, the wolf girl..."

"Let me say it, let me say it. I'm Silov, the wolf girl Silov." Hastily interrupting Horn, Silov answered quickly, tentatively asking, "Are you really a woman?"

In the red haze, Jeanne's aura rose steadily.

"She didn't mean that. She hasn't talked to normal people before." Horn quickly stopped her, holding his hand in front of Jeanne's chest.

Seeing that Jeanne was still in a red haze, Horn had no choice but to explain Silov's background, which finally appeased Jeanne, who was on the verge of freaking out.

After hearing Silov's background from Horn, the expression on Jeanne's face gradually changed from dissatisfaction to sympathy.

Especially after seeing Silov's empty legs, a hint of guilt and regret appeared on Jeanne's face.

"I'm sorry, Sister Silov. I didn't know about your past. I thought..."

"It's nothing. It's the first time I've seen a living woman. I don't understand... Ah, I understand. Is it because your secondary sexual characteristics are not as good as mine that you took my question as mockery?" Silov suddenly realized. "From a linguistic point of view, it could indeed be misunderstood."

For the first time, Horn saw an expression on Jeanne's face that was more uncomfortable than eating shit.

"Okay, okay, both sizes are normal. Sister's foundation is good, and there's still a lot of room for development."

After comforting Jeanne, Horn looked at Silov again. Interrupted by Jeanne and the others, he almost forgot about the mechanical theater.

Clearing his throat, he asked Silov, "I still don't understand. The gears on that mechanical theater are so heavy that it's difficult to lift them up. How do you turn them with one hand?"

"Because they are star-forged gears." Silov was confused by Horn's question. "Star-forged gears, aren't they like this?"