"Such adaptability—humanity in this world has evolved to this extent." Muria marveled as he walked unsteadily, having adjusted to his young body in a matter of days.
Typically, a human infant takes about a year to walk. But this body—barely ten days old—was already capable of walking. It even had teeth.
"This means I don't need nutrient fluids anymore. I can eat meat." Muria grinned at his reflection in the polished metal walls of his quarters, revealing two rows of pristine, white teeth.
"Seems I'm not an exception." Reflecting on the astonishing growth rate he'd displayed over the past few days—unimaginable for a normal infant—Muria spoke softly to himself.
No one around him expressed surprise at his rapid development, as if his feats were entirely normal. This starkly illustrated the extent to which humanity had been forced to adapt in this world.
Infants capable of standing, walking, and even eating meat soon after birth were traits typically associated with animals living in harsh, predator-filled environments. These traits ensured survival in wild, perilous conditions.
Civilized humans had long lost such traits—until now. Humanity in this world had regressed biologically to these survival-based adaptations.
The principle of "survival of the fittest" had never been clearer. In this hostile environment, those who couldn't adapt perished. The invasion of the heretic god had pushed humanity to its limits. Those unable to evolve died, and those who couldn't evolve as a group faced extinction.
As time passed, Muria chose not to act immediately. He wanted to observe firsthand the world's last bastion against the heretic god: the weapon known as the "God Machine."
Thus, Muria quietly lived out his infancy in Radiance Base City, growing at a pace far surpassing that of a normal human child.
"Fenrir, are you nervous?"
On a sky-high corridor over 100 meters off the ground, a young girl about 1.5 meters tall twirled her hair as she spoke to the boy walking beside her.
"No," Muria replied curtly.
"You're about to pick your God Machine. If you fail, you'll be devoured by it, you know?"
"I won't fail," Muria said, staring through the glass window beside him. He gazed down at the crowded base city below, then beyond the encircling steel walls to the endless wilderness outside.
Radiance Base City, despite its name, was less a city and more a military fortress. It brimmed with weapons and energy facilities, while living spaces were minimal.
The city housed just over 100,000 residents—a number laughable for an advanced civilization. But in this apocalyptic world, a population of that size made it a veritable metropolis. Everyone here had a role; there was no room for idlers or the weak.
"Confident, huh?" The girl chuckled at the boy's matter-of-fact tone. "You don't think that just having the aptitude means you'll automatically control a God Machine, do you?"
"What else is there to it?" Muria asked without much interest.
"You need an unwavering will, a fearless resolve, and the courage to face anything. Only with these can you truly control a God Machine without being consumed by it."
"Sounds like fluff," Muria remarked dismissively.
"Fenrir, your willpower doesn't seem very strong. Want to come to my room tonight? I can help train your resolve," the girl teased, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Not interested." Muria immediately turned and left, leaving the girl—who seemed to be entering her "springtime"—behind.
"Tch, what an ungrateful little brat." The girl stomped her foot in frustration at Muria's lack of response.
"Hey, Fenrir, why are you back so soon? I thought I saw you go out with Lux earlier."
Back in the base's training room, a teenager practicing combat skills called out to Muria, his tone tinged with surprise.
"I was with her, but she started talking about pointless things, so I left," Muria replied nonchalantly.
"You rejected her? Respect," the teenager said, his expression turning slightly strange. He could guess why Lux had invited Muria out.
"Honestly, rejecting her was probably the best choice. Lux isn't exactly the most decent girl," chimed in a slightly older youth entering the training room. He glanced at Muria with a peculiar expression.
"Fenrir, if I'm not mistaken, you've never been involved with any girls, right? Still a virgin, huh?"
"…" Ignoring the teasing, Muria turned to resume his training.
"Figures. Good choice rejecting Lux. You deserve someone better."
The older youth rubbed his chin, nodding sagely as he continued, "Since you're still, uh, 'pure,' you should pair up with someone who's also untouched. But, uh… don't think there are many like that in this base."
"Seriously? Finding someone untouched in this world is like finding a unicorn. People here live fast and wild—they don't hold back."
"True, but there must be someone out there like Fenrir. Someone pure and virtuous."
"Well, good luck with that. Everyone here lives like there's no tomorrow. Who has time for purity?"
"Enough." Muria finally spoke up, his annoyance barely concealed. "I'm not interested in women right now. I'm only interested in God Machines."
"Alright, alright," the youth relented. "No need to get upset, Mr. Steel-Willed Fenrir."
Though Muria appeared irritated, he knew these interactions were their way of distracting him and easing any tension. They couldn't know he felt no pressure at all.
Night fell, shrouding the world in darkness.
Standing in his quarters, Muria faced the officer who had come to fetch him.
"Fenrir, are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Follow me, then. Let's hope you succeed tonight."
Without further words, the officer led Muria through multiple gates and checkpoints, descending nearly 300 meters underground. They arrived at an expansive, flat chamber—the base's most secret and sacred space.
The officer escorted Muria to the center before quickly departing. Alone now, Muria scanned his surroundings, taking in the massive chamber's scale.
From an observation window nearly 50 meters above, a voice echoed, "Fenrir, correct?"
"Yes."
Suddenly, mechanical whirring filled the air as the walls split open. Dozens of laser cannons emerged, all trained on Muria.
"Don't be alarmed," the voice continued. "This is standard procedure for all candidates. Standing here, you face two outcomes: either you synchronize with your God Machine and become humanity's savior, or you fail and are consumed by it, becoming a monster to be destroyed."
"Where's my God Machine?" Muria asked, his voice calm as his gaze shifted to the dark glass window above. His words reverberated through the chamber.
"Interesting. You're the most composed candidate I've ever seen. Let's hope you succeed."
The floor beneath Muria rumbled, and he felt a faint vibration. The ground before him split apart, revealing a rising metallic platform.
At its center stood a weapon of extraordinary design, emanating an aura of greed and malice.
"So this is a God Machine?" Muria muttered, his brow arching slightly as he observed the weapon. Its presence felt more like that of a ravenous beast than an inanimate object.
"Correct. This is your God Machine. Claim it—or be consumed by it."
"I'd love to meet the lunatic who designed this thing," Muria said, stepping onto the platform.
He grasped the weapon—a sword-like machine with a deep blue core—and felt a surge of cold, violent, and ravenous energy assault his mind…
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