When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"What's your name?"

"Chuck."

"And what's your name?"

"...I don't know."

"How about you?"

"..."

On the slope from the underground cave to the surface, Salvation Army soldiers came to protect Horn. Anyone who could breathe was asked their name by Hilov.

Some answered, some were unwilling to respond, and some even gave cold stares.

Hilov wasn't annoyed; whether they answered or not, she simply asked and then quietly sat wagging her tail.

"Did you make that brass claw on Ah Fu's wrist?"

"Yeah, I designed and polished it myself, but I can only make modifications, not forge it myself.

The parts and iron ingots left by the artisan are getting scarce, and Ah Fu's blacksmithing skills are lacking. Creating new dolls is becoming increasingly difficult."

From the underground cave to the first floor of the palace, there's a dedicated slope. It seems that Blood Slave Ah Fu usually pushes Hilov this way to the first floor.

Horn and others pushed Hilov forward, arriving at the first-floor hall. The colorful light through the mosaic stained glass shone onto Hilov, but she didn't show any reaction.

"By the way, how's Ah Fu? You didn't really kill him, did you?" Hilov asked, looking around the hall marked with signs of battle, her tail occasionally sweeping past Horn's knee.

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

"Great, as long as he's not dead." Hilov nodded, "Usually, Ah Fu takes care of me, but his cooking is awful. Can you cook?"

"I can deliver food." Before Hilov could hear clearly, Horn changed the topic, "Is the mechanical stage in the hall built by you?"

"No, I just made improvements." Hilov turned her head to look at the stage in the corner of the hall, but her tail hung limply, "Originally, this was a birthday gift from the residents outside, but before it could be completed, Mama left, and the residents were all killed, so I had to finish the gift myself."

"Why?" Horn asked casually.

"Before Mama didn't let me go out, every evening when I woke up, I could only sit on the balcony upstairs and watch the little town over there.

Later, Mama left, they all died, and I didn't want to see the streets full of corpses, but I couldn't change my habit.

So I reset the dolls, replaced the prince knight and princess with villagers outside the town, so I could still see them every day."

Hilov gazed at the mechanical stage before her, her expression unchanged.

Horn even suspected whether she had never seen living people, only dolls, so her facial expressions were mimicking the dolls.

Seeing Hilov's ears droop, Horn realized and quickly changed the topic to what he was most concerned about.

"So, what powers this stage?"

"A crank, of course," Hilov said naturally.

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

Hilov's tail curled up, as if forming a raised question mark, "I don't understand, the stage's power source is the crank."

"Are you kidding?" Horn stretched his neck over her shoulder, looking at her face, but he couldn't detect any fluctuations in emotion.

Many parts are crafted with copper and iron, inside are cork and components, not to mention the driving iron wheels and gears possibly weighing several tons, hand-cranked?

"Don't believe me? I'll demonstrate. Horn, push me to the stage." With Hilov suddenly issuing commands, Horn hesitated, then understood she probably commanded the blood slave like this normally.

Nevertheless, Horn pushed her to the stage's edge, indicated for Horn to let go, and Hilov turned her wooden wheelchair to the stage's rear.

"Go to the front and watch, it'll look nice." Hilov picked up lubricant from the ground, curiously pausing at the edge of bloodstains.

Horn stood not far from her but didn't move, partly afraid she'd use some trick to escape, mostly wanting to see where the power source was located, just watching from the front meant only entertainment value.

"It's okay, I'll stand here; I like seeing how it operates."

"Okay then." Unable to persuade Horn, Hilov grasped the crank, "Watch closely."

As Hilov turned the crank, a series of soft metal clinking sounds ensued, followed by the clatter of chains sliding.

No way? Horn's mouth gradually opened wide.

Gears wider than a basin indeed started turning!

Melodious music flowed from the musician doll's trumpet, not knowing what mechanism, its fingers danced with the gears and threads, playing a graceful court dance tune.

Impossible, utterly impossible!

Horn stepped forward two paces to examine the gears bigger than a basin, they indeed turned with Hilov's arm.

Pulled by chains and gears, a white cloud rose from a corner of the stage, a swan dancer both spinning and orbiting a small tree on the stage.

Beside heavy cloud-painted wooden boards, the joints and bones of the swan dancer were mostly metal.

Dozens of large dolls, nearly a hundred small dolls, outrageously complex stage props and chain tracks...

How could Hilov's feeble arm drive all this?

"This defies the laws of physics."

Horn's hair turned to a mess after inspecting the entire stage, still unable to find a power source.

He thought the clatter was a magical tool on Hilov, she'd pull out some mystical clock or miraculous engine and attach it to the stage to power the theater.

Yet everything before him told Horn she indeed powered the stage simply with her arm...

Could she be a fleshly Witch, purely using strength to drive it?

"Can I try?" To verify, Horn directly snatched control of the crank after getting a positive answer.

Retracting the wheelchair, Hilov's ears stood upright, like a girl showing off a toy watching Horn, the ignorant country bumpkin.

Effortlessly rocking the crank, Horn watched the stage blankly.

It continued operating, as if he kept holding on, this miniature town would run forever.

Could this be some trick? Was an engine hidden somewhere? Or were zombies beneath running a hamster wheel?

"Is this reasonable?" Releasing the crank, Horn slowly stepped back, music faded, and dolls on stage stopped moving.

"What's happening? What's happening?" In Horn's existential crisis, Jeanne dashed in from the door, waving the battle flag.

"Brother, what happened—" Seeing Hilov wagging her tail madly in the wheelchair, Jeanne stepped before Horn, her face wrinkled, "Who is she?"

"Oh, she's the vampire's ward, Wolf Woman..."

"Let me say, let me say, I'm Hilov, Wolf Woman Hilov." Quickly interrupting Horn, Hilov answered first, tentatively asking, "Are you really a woman?"

With Jeanne's aura rising in the red warmth, her stature increased.

"That's not what she meant, she hasn't talked to normal people before." Horn blocked with his hands at Jeanne's chest, hastily stopping her.

With Jeanne still in the red warmth state, Horn could only recount Hilov's background to calm the near-frenzied Jeanne.

Hearing about Hilov's past from Horn, Jeanne's expression gradually shifted from dissatisfaction to sympathy.

Especially seeing Hilov's empty legs, Jeanne's face showed a hint of guilt and regret.

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

"It's nothing, you're the first living woman I've seen, not understanding... ah, I understand, you feel your female secondary traits are inferior to mine and perceived my question as mocking?" Hilov suddenly realized, "From a linguistic perspective, there's indeed potential for misunderstanding."

Horn saw for the first time Jeanne's expression worse than eating mud.

"Alright, alright, regardless of size it's normal, sisters have good foundations, there's room for greater development."

After comforting Jeanne, Horn turned back to Hilov; Jeanne and others' interruption almost made him forget about the mechanical theater.

Clearing his throat, he asked Hilov, "I still don't understand, the gears on that mechanical theater are so heavy, it's hard to lift them, how did you turn them with a single hand?"

"Because it's star-forged gears," Hilov answered perplexed by Horn's question, "Star-forged gears, aren't they just like this?"