Percy Vox Machina の小説・ストーリー

It had taken us six chapters to figure out how to scratch its paint. My father froze, staring up at the machine he had helped design. "It's online... Oh god, it's online." The Titan’s mono-eye flashed red. Its cannon spun up with a terrifying whine. "Target Acquired," the synthesized voice boomed. "Threat Level: Extremis." Dax didn't slow down. He didn't take cover. He kept walking toward the twelve-foot death machine like he was approaching a vending machine that had eaten his dollar. "Mia," Dax said calmly. "Left knee. Vent 4."

The sex, the dirt, the grease, the orders, it’s all just the medium. She ended it with “My machine.” Not “my man.” My machine. Because a man could leave. A machine, if you’ve built it right, if you’ve broken it in perfectly, if you understand every torque spec and stress point… it runs for you. It purrs for you. It exists for you. And part of me, the part I don’t show anyone, thinks… what would it be like to be Violet? To have that kind of creative, destructive, absolute power?

she stammers. "Knife and Dagger, All types of guns, Rifles, I've used a sword once, ooooh a crossbow, basically anything though. I don't discriminate." "O...O...Okay, that's all I need to know. Welcome to RBMS, Miss Collins." "Oh please, call me Ava, oh and might I recommend a job change; You're not cut out for this," I state before I'm dragged by the hancuffs on my wrists and taken out of the room by the guards.

he sneered and activated the machine. The air cackled with energy. Camila’s arched her back, a scream ripping from hr throat. Vivid blue light pulsed from her body, drawn into the machine like a moth to flame. Her screams grew weaker and turned into whimpers…finally ragged gasps for breath.

My voice sounded different—heavy, echoing with a power that made the air vibrate. "Or what?" Malrec laughed, his thumb pressing down. "You’ll read me a book? You’re nothing but a vial of medicine with legs." I closed my eyes. I didn't reach for my gun. I reached for the air. I reached for the microscopic machines floating in Malrec’s own lungs—the same "virus" he’d used to kill a generation. Freeze.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 The world was upside down. Smoke curled from the van’s engine, smelling of burnt rubber and ozone. Maya’s ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that competed with the rhythmic pulse of the progress bar flickering at the edge of her vision.

While Alex, Nathan and my mother help Vicky and Tamara. ‘I’ll kill them! Let me kill them!’ I scream. I may have punched my Dad and kicked him along with my brothers. I was so angry and upset that Micah was gone. All I could see were those red eyes in my mind. I wanted the vampires dead, all of them. Kayla is kneeling beside me and pouring a small concoction into my mouth while I’m held down. It tastes terrible, like rotten fish. I try to spit it out, but darkness quickly consumes me.

"You think... Arthur is the danger? You think I am the one... He is afraid of?" Vesper pointed toward the back of the ship. A third door opened slowly. A tall thin figure walked out. It was not a man. It was not an alien. It was a machine made of bone and gold wires. It held a clipboard made of glass. "Patient 81 " the machine said. Its voice was a copy of June’s own voice. "It is time for your exam." The machine raised a hand. The violet light from Vesper and the purple light from June were suddenly sucked toward the machine.

Stephanos slipped inside, keeping low, a mouse that knew the hawks by name. To the left, soldiers stripped and cleaned rifles, stacked ammunition in patient towers. A corporal cursed a jam in clipped Saxon syllables; a private answered with a joke that didn’t quite land. Tin cups steamed beside a drum of bitter coffee that had forgotten the word bean. At the chamber’s centre—raised on a crate like an altar—sat the machine. APG MARK I.

" Cattleya looked at the gears, then at the pulsating veins of the machine. She saw the truth of the world they had built: a closed-circuit loop where life was merely a fuel source for their own immortality. "Then let it be a graveyard," she said. She didn't jump down to him. She simply willed the silver filaments in her blood to extend. They erupted from her pores like a cloud of needles, filling the chamber, lacing through the air like a web of frozen light. They didn't just pierce the machinery; they fused with it. She became the machine”s new nervous system. The sound was apocalyptic”a screech of grinding metal, the hiss of pressurized steam, and the wet, tearing sound of the machine”s "