Everyone in the lab moved quickly, checking and re-checking the giant robot’s final adjustments. To be precise, this behemoth wasn’t yet complete.

“Check the actuator! It might have been damaged when it fell earlier...”
“That part’s already checked!”
“Already? Damn! I like you!”

As the researchers rushed around, I took a relaxed look at the robot’s structure.

Of course, it was inevitable that a robot of this size would contain computer components. If even missiles have computer systems, how could anyone control something this massive without computerized assistance?

My task was to imbue that control system with a soul. To create a weapon with emotions.

‘Hmm... this isn’t going to be easy.’

Embedding a soul into a computer isn’t a simple task. Even though I’d done it once before, it didn’t make it any less difficult.

The soul I’d placed in Lucia was embedded in a computer I built myself—a rather outdated one at that. But the computer inside this giant robot was a different story.

It was as if someone who learned modern programming languages was now being asked to code with copper wires and DOS—it involved countless trials and painstaking errors.

‘What a pain... It would almost be faster to build a new computer...’

But that wasn’t an option. After all, I was invited as Eight, the soul specialist, not as a computer expert.

The circuits used in the toy robots made by Eblis Corporation were still confidential. If I created something too similar to those circuits here, these researchers might quickly figure out who had actually developed them.

Revealing that secret was out of the question. Moreover, I had no intention of going to such lengths for a robot built by these people. There’s a big difference between granting a soul and building an Earth-grade computer from scratch.

[ERROR]
“...Should I just build a new computer?”

Despite everything, this process was mind-numbingly boring, testing my patience and tempting me to follow those impulsive thoughts.

Hiss—!

From one of the countless factory chimneys spread across the city, a plume of white steam burst out, carrying various toxic substances harmful to humans.

What’s harmful to humans is often just as dangerous to beasts, and beastmen are no exception.

In fact, beastmen, with their heightened senses, were more sensitive than humans to the toxicity in the air. While humans seemed oblivious to the danger, beastmen like Galm couldn’t ignore it.

“Damn city...”

Galm blew his nose roughly, irritated by the clogged sensation. Though the odor was gone, the mucus still blocked his nasal passages, hindering his breathing.

For someone like Galm, who relied heavily on physical strength, proper breathing was essential. The polluted air of this city was a constant irritation.

Destroying one factory would hardly solve anything, as there were so many across the city.

‘Can’t exactly wipe out the entire city.’

Moreover, Galm hadn’t signed the non-disclosure agreement, so he couldn’t stay inside the lab. They offered to provide a waiting room, but what bodyguard would wait in a room prepared by strangers, not knowing what might be hidden there?

Thus, he was forced to wait outside, exposed to the city’s widespread smog and dust. He couldn’t help but think that maybe he should’ve signed the agreement himself...

Hiss—! Hiss—! Hiss—!

“Loud, filthy... annoying city, truly.”

As more steam spewed out, Galm grimaced, frustrated by his surroundings. He would’ve left if not for his mission.

Lying in the shade, eyes closed, he suddenly heard a roar echo through the world.

“...What in—”

Startled by the rare sensation that pricked his heightened senses, Galm stood up and looked toward the lab where Eight and Vira were.

Maybe something had gone wrong. He glanced at his watch, but seeing no signal from Vira or Eight, he sank back down.

“What kind of monstrosity is he creating this time?”

The roar was like nothing he’d ever encountered—a fierce, primal cry that seemed to announce its birth to the world. It almost felt like the roar of a dragon.

After chuckling to himself, he turned his focus back to his resting place.

Grinding. Endless grinding. Hours of grueling, brain-numbing work eventually paid off, and I finally succeeded in infusing a soul into the computer within this world’s limitations.

It was the kind of task I’d never want to do twice. I’d rather just build an Earth-grade computer and be done with it.

Yet the soul that emerged from this struggle had a quality that touched me. Perhaps because it wasn’t a quick job, but rather one into which I poured both time and effort.

With the adjustments complete, the soul-imbued robot began to move cautiously.

“Oh, oh—!”
“It’s moving! It’s actually moving...!”

The movements weren’t perfect, of course. Just like a newborn fawn, the robot wobbled, struggling to find its balance, and nearly fell several times.

But after a few awkward steps, it learned and managed to walk on its own.

“To think I’d actually get to see it walking...”
“So, what do you think? Are you satisfied?”
“Absolutely! I never imagined this. I’d love to work with you more. Tell me, are you interested in fusion robots?”

After offering Steelstone a polite smile, I handed him the final piece of the puzzle—a name.

“You should give it a name.”
“A name?”
“Yes. Even pets have names. It would be a shame for a robot with a soul to go without one. And naturally, it should be named by its creator, Mr. Steelstone.”

At my words, Steelstone stroked his chin, pondering deeply. After a while, he finally spoke up, a decision made.

“...Titan.”
“Sorry?”
“Steel Titan. Its name is Steel Titan.”

The moment Steelstone named his creation, the robot’s mouth moved on its own.

[Understood, Father.]
“W-what?”

[My name is Steel Titan. Unit ST-01.]

Hearing the robot speak, Steelstone’s neck creaked as he slowly turned to me.

As I nodded in silent affirmation, Steelstone’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“It... It can talk?”
“I added a language pack. After creating a soul, teaching it speech is relatively easy.”

“Haha, haha—easy, you say? Teaching speech... that’s easy?”

Because it’s a computer.

Steelstone paused, seeming almost choked by the revelation, then turned back to his creation.

“...Steel Titan?”
[Yes, Father.]

“Yes, yes, I... I’m your father.”

Years. Perhaps even decades of work had finally produced this child.

“Yes, I’m your father...”

Humans can feel immense affection for a child born after ten months of pregnancy. How much more, then, for a child created over years, maybe even a lifetime?

I couldn’t predict the depths of those emotions, but I knew what was needed in this moment.

I quietly stepped back, leaving them alone. Soon, the other researchers followed, until only Steelstone and his new child remained in the lab.

And they had a long conversation. Perhaps an outpouring of years’ worth of dreams and stories...

Late at night.

In the now-empty lab, where everyone had long since left, a lone researcher returned. He used his ID card to gain access and approached Steel Titan.

[—Father?]

Hearing footsteps, Steel Titan’s eyes opened. As a machine, he had no need for sleep.

But the intruder merely chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sorry, but I’m not your father.”
[According to this ID, you are Chief Researcher Parkin. What brings you here at this hour?]
“I’m here to finish my work.”
[Your work?]

As Steel Titan was about to ask what he meant, he felt a strange signal invade his circuits, making him groan.

[What... is happening?]
“No offspring. A weapon has no use for offspring.”

Parkin continued, initiating the process. His ability allowed him to brainwash any soul. He was a hypnotist, secretly placed by the Council to monitor Steelstone for signs of betrayal. Today, he had reported all that transpired to them, and in response, they’d issued a command.

“—You have no need for emotions.”
[No, please... Father—]

Kill the child. Rebirth it as a weapon.

Without hesitation, the man killed a soul and reawakened a machine as a weapon.