Hao Chi led Lin Qingyue and the other three, walking past the tense, hurrying staff officers, and headed straight for the center of Command.
Along the way, officers of various races—Pandaren, Yaungol, Simian Race...—all cast curious glances.
These four unfamiliar faces were too conspicuous, completely out of place in the atmosphere of fierce fighting here.
But the battle was urgent, and no one had the leisure to ask a single question.
"Commander 055."
Hao Chi stood before the robot, his posture respectful.
"Hao Chi, Captain of Heavenly Craft Squad, requests an interview."
"I encountered an outside squad in the armory. They possess critical intelligence that could change the course of the battle, and I hope you..."
"Hao Chi. Yuheng University. Heavenly Craft Squad. Technical Support Personnel. Number T-07."
The robot spoke.
It was an electronically synthesized voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation, each word spaced with millisecond precision, reminiscent of an automated announcement system.
"Your current repair task completion rate is 43%."
"Below expected progress."
"Please explain the reason."
Hao Chi's face visibly stiffened.
"Reporting to the Commander, I was ambushed by High-Rank Insect Guards on my way back."
"Recorded. The delay in repair progress will cause Ballista Position No. 3 to lose fire support in 7 hours and 12 minutes. It is advised that you improve your efficiency immediately."
"...Yes."
Hao Chi held his breath and quickly glanced at Lin Qingyue.
That look seemed to scream silently: See? This is the kind of thing I deal with every day!
An AI, cold, impersonal, and only recognizing data.
He forcibly suppressed the frustration in his heart and continued his mission.
"Additionally, these individuals are students from Tianshu University. They have proposed a bold counterattack plan and hope to—"
"Tianshu University. Unregistered personnel. Not in the Allied Forces cooperation sequence. Judgment: No relevant authority."
No. 055's optical lens swept over Lin Qingyue and the other three. The steady blue light carried no human curiosity or scrutiny, but was purely data collection.
"It is advised to assign them to the logistics support echelon."
"Priest profession, assigned to the Field Hospital."
"Defensive profession, join the Third Battalion frontline rotation."
"Mage and Ranger, assigned to the Long-Range Fire Support Group—"
"Wait," Hao Chi said urgently, "They aren't here to be soldiers! Their plan really might..."
"Unnecessary."
No. 055's electronic voice interrupted him decisively, cold and efficient.
"Current defense line maintenance rate: 67.3%. Existing ammunition reserves can support combat for 41 hours."
"The optimal solution has been calculated: Maintain the current defensive posture, hold out for reinforcements, and wait. Once Lord Celestial God kills the Broodmother, the Insect Tide will collapse on its own."
"Any proactive offensive plan has a risk-reward ratio lower than the acceptable threshold."
Hao Chi's face turned grim.
It wasn't a sudden burst of anger, but a numbness and despair from having an old wound repeatedly sliced open with a dull knife.
He was all too familiar with this kind of conversation.
"Commander, I understand your calculations, but the battlefield changes in an instant! What if Lord Celestial God fails to kill the Broodmother within 41 hours? His Divine Power consumption is also steadily increasing..."
"The Celestial God combat power decay model has been incorporated into the computational matrix."
"Even using the most pessimistic data for estimation, Lord Celestial God can still maintain a high-intensity combat state for more than 72 hours."
"During this period, maintaining the defense remains the optimal solution."
"But the casualties..."
"Casualties are within the acceptable range."
This sentence was spoken without the slightest ripple of emotion.
But in the command room, the charcoal pencil in the hand of a Pandaren Staff Officer, who was writing furiously, snapped with a crisp "crack."
Acceptable range.
To a machine, everything can be quantified, weighed, and put into a formula for calculation.
And on the other side of the formula were the lives bleeding out one by one on the city walls.
Hao Chi wanted to argue further, but the Robot Commander completely shut him down.
"Technical Support Personnel Hao Chi, your core duty is the enchanted structural maintenance of the ballistae, not participating in the formulation of war zone strategy."
"Please return to your post immediately."
Hao Chi's lips pressed into a thin line.
He took one last look at Lin Qingyue, his eyes filled with the helplessness and apology of "I tried my best."
Lin Qingyue watched the entire exchange, her expression remaining unchanged.
She simply took a step forward.
This single step drew the gaze of everyone around them.
Several hot-tempered Yaungol Guards, their muscles bulging, already had their hands resting on the battle-axes at their waists.
In a state of war, an unidentified person approaching the Supreme Commander without authorization was a grave offense punishable by immediate execution.
But Lin Qingyue did not speak.
Her gaze was fixed on the area below the square-shaped core engraved with a serial number on the robot's chest.
There, a relief pattern, worn and blurred by the fires of war, was visible.
Gears, hammers, wrenches, and runes were intertwined.
The Divine Emblem of the God of Machinery and Creation.
The corners of Lin Qingyue's mouth curved slightly.
"Commander No. 055."
The robot's blue optical lens turned toward this new source of sound.
Scanning.
Identifying.
"Newcomer brought by maintenance personnel Hao Chi. Race: Human. Class determination: Spellcaster. Threat level assessment in progress... Assessment complete: Low."
"Please leave the Central Command Area immediately. Unauthorized personnel may not—"
Lin Qingyue didn't let it finish.
She simply reached into her Storage Space and pulled out an object.
A gear-shaped medal shimmering with a gentle blue light.
On the front of the medal was the exact same Divine Emblem carved as on No. 055's chest.
On the back was an ancient blessing personally inscribed by the High Priestess.
The [Medal of the God of Machinery and Creation]!
The token bestowed by High Priestess Elena of the God of Machinery and Creation upon their parting in the previous Dungeon!
The instant the medal appeared, all the mechanical terminals in the command room simultaneously emitted a sharp "BEEP—".
VROOOM!!!
The blue light patterns all over Commander No. 055's body suddenly erupted, their brightness surging to more than three times its previous intensity!
The two blue light strips serving as its eyes began to flicker violently at an unprecedented frequency, their internal data streams cascading like a waterfall, scrolling so fast they blurred into a solid blue display!
"WARNING! WARNING! High-priority command source detected!"
"Core module overload! Recalibrating!"
The Divine Emblem relief on its chest now burst forth with a dazzling light, resonating with the medal in Lin Qingyue's hand. An invisible energy link faintly connected the two.
The staff officers in the entire Command Headquarters all stood up in shock, staring dumbfounded at this terrifying scene.
"W... What's going on?" Hao Chi took a step back.
A Simian Race staff officer even jumped up: "C... Commander?! What happened?!"
"Scanning—"
No. 055's cold, standard electronic synthetic voice, for the first time ever, suffered from stutters and static.
Immediately after, the voice changed.
The pitch, the speed, and even the output frequency of every single byte underwent a subversive transformation, as if an invisible hand were forcibly modifying its underlying code.
If a machine could show "excitement," this would probably be its state right now.
"Permission... key... retrieval complete."
"Match successful."
"Token authentication: personally bestowed by 'High Priestess of the God of Machinery and Creation'... matching 'Creator' series... highest level... God-Blessed Credential."
"Permission... verification passed."
"Priority determination—"
At this moment, all the blue light circuits on No. 055's body simultaneously flashed to an extreme incandescent white!
Then, a word processed through layers of harmonics and tremolo, as if imbued with supreme awe, was forced out with difficulty from its voice unit.
"Highest."