Maximilien was from the Alchemical Nations (열국). In that cursed land, if one couldn’t quickly resolve the relentless problems that arose, they would be left behind.

Fortunately, despite the "minor" inconvenience of having no arms, Maximilien's talent was extraordinary, and he skillfully managed the numerous challenges life threw his way.

Even when the elites of the Alchemical Nations banded together to execute him, he remained rational. With the awakening of his unique alchemy (고유마도), two companies were destroyed beneath the steel wheels of his creation, and Maximilien calmly left his homeland.

Though he had overcome the greatest crisis of his life, Maximilien wasn’t satisfied. A looming issue still hung over him—a problem so vast that even he, the God of Gears, couldn’t discern a solution.

The world he inhabited was imperfect.

To him, the world was a flawed masterpiece—a clunky, malfunctioning construct filled with the discordant noises of imbalance and dysfunction. Some aspects could be improved. Inefficient structures could be optimized; broken mechanisms could be repaired. But humans couldn’t be "fixed."

Humans were irrational, blinded by greed, rejecting advanced innovations like gears, filled with jealousy and envy. They interpret the same things differently, and sometimes attack without reason—like the fools of the Alchemical Nations. Defective, jagged-edged cogs were the biggest problem in this world. Because of their existence, people like Maximilien, the "worthy ones," had to live amid unnecessary friction.

He had to fix it. But how?

He was aware of the problem and had a solution. But he lacked the means. To achieve his ideals, he needed to create a community the size of a country or city, but as a wanderer who fled from his homeland, he had no foundation to accomplish such a feat.

It was around this time that Maximilien’s contemplation deepened.

Then, unexpectedly, the sky opened, and an angel descended. Claiming to have watched him all along, the angel offered Maximilien a proposal: to build a nation.

Maximilien didn’t believe in gods. A god hadn’t given him hands to hold. But the angel before him was no god, merely a weapon of the fallen Temple of the Sacred Crown. Though he didn’t trust gods, he could trust a weapon. Maximilien took the angel's hand.

Chenaeng (천통) was a monarch. Seated, she observed, evaluated, and issued commands. Yeonggwe (영궤) was an executioner, Chenaeng's closest confidante and her blade, ruthlessly pruning the Alchemical Nations as needed. And Gabyeong (과병) was the designer.

The Alchemical Nations’ various facilities, inventions, policies—all stemmed from his mind. From self-operating carriages to large-scale alchemical refining forges, little in the nation had been untouched by his hand. Even the famed Meta Conveyor Belt, hailed as a national masterpiece, was crafted from Maximilien’s concept. The original plan had been to encircle the nation with millions of gears, not relying on the magic of the earth. It may seem unrealistic, but his achievements were highly regarded.

Among the three foreign commanders, none worked as tirelessly as Maximilien—not out of diligence but because he genuinely enjoyed his work. To him, the Alchemical Nations was a vast, intricate toy, an experimental field where he could realize his ideals. Amidst the chaos of a newly founded nation, he boldly enacted his rather extreme policies.

Fueled by hatred for the kingdom, a hatred that sowed hope in scorched earth, and backed by a remarkable leader in Chenaeng and the three he brought along, the Alchemical Nations flourished like a miracle. Some were cast aside, but there were always more gears to slot into place. To Maximilien, it mattered little.

Indeed, Maximilien had succeeded.

Yet, fundamentally, he had failed.

He tried to use humans as components, but those components wouldn’t behave as intended. Even when he pressed them, they would try to spring free, and despite warning them that they’d be discarded if they left, they engaged in absurd behavior. No matter how painstakingly he polished them, defective parts would hide within the machine, causing critical malfunctions. The losses were intolerable to Maximilien. With such losses, the ideal machine he envisioned could never be realized.

Unless he "fixed" humanity.

"Congratulations, Maximilien. You’ve succeeded in finding me splendidly. To think of creating ground within the Abyss and placing the King of Dogs there—what a perfect trap."

Finally, he sees his whole life flashing before his eyes. It took long enough.

Maximilien fell, skewered by Historia's bullet. He was literally on the verge of death. But he was still alive and, with just the flick of a finger, capable of killing me.

I need to go finish him off quickly, but Historia has collapsed from exhaustion. It’s up to me. From the edge of the Steel Beetle, I looked down at the ground below. At four meters tall, the Steel Beetle stood too high to safely jump onto the concrete rubble below.

In top condition, I could have used my items and techniques to land gracefully, but I was a wreck too.

The "ground" is the largest magnet. Using that, I amplified Clover 8’s magnetism. It was powerful enough to alter the course of flying steel, but there was one problem.

While I could pull the steel to me with magnetism, I couldn’t push it away.

In other words, every blade was flying toward the cards I held. Even though my arm was tightly wrapped in the Queen of Cloth, dozens of blades grazed it, leaving my arm and the cloth in tatters. It was lucky that most of them veered off course. If one of those blades had struck directly, I might have needed Maximilien to make me a prosthetic.

It looked like I wouldn’t be able to use my left hand for a while. After tightly binding the Queen of Cloth to stem the bleeding, I carefully descended along the gears that formed a makeshift staircase.

"So it’s a shame, really. Your dream is intense and interesting, but unfortunately, I can’t fulfill it for you. I am the King of Humans, the representative of all mankind… or I was, but now I’m neither powerful nor representative. All I can do is grant the wish of the one person standing before me."

Maximilien blinked, his condition miserable. A gaping wound marred his chest, and within, gears he’d carefully embedded in his flesh turned grotesquely. The gears, still spinning, were battered and bent, digging into his flesh with each turn.

"In contrast, your wish targets all of humanity, doesn’t it? But since you can’t convince every human, you sought to persuade me, the King of Humans. That’s why you needed me, isn’t it?"

No matter how hard he tried to command them, his muscles refused to move. Only the gears embedded throughout his body followed his will. Click. His prosthetic arm forcibly lifted his battered body. Muscles screamed, and blood leaked uncontrollably, but he paid it no mind, moving with brute force.

"It seems you’re more of a king than I am. Why not take the throne in my place?"

Maximilien opened his mouth, coughing up foam-flecked blood before speaking with difficulty.

"If it can be given… I’ll gladly take it."

"Haha, I’m joking. You can’t be a king. Not that I could give it to you anyway; you don’t aspire to be a king. What you’re trying to become is a god—a god who would manipulate the human race to your own design."

"Deception… What you used just now… that was clearly the power of a god. Aren’t you… a god yourself?"

"No. It’s the unique magic of the Earth Goddess Cult. I told you—I can steal and use others' unique abilities."

"Isn’t that what makes… you a god?"

"No, it doesn’t."

I shook my bandaged arm up and down, blood seeping through the cloth with each vigorous motion. It was reckless, considering my injuries, but so what? Even with his mangled state, Maximilien had forced himself to rise. I had to show him some courtesy.

"Certain unique abilities do brush against divinity. People grant reverent names to gods that haven’t existed before, binding them to reality. Named gods watch over this world, and humans bask in their grace. So, it’s unique magic, but also something more—a demonic god. That’s a true god. It brings irreversible change to all of humanity."

In the depths of the Abyss, where not even light or logic could reach, I found the sealed memories of the Great Sage the Sacred Crown had hidden. Before the Great Sage, the Earth Goddess had merely been a branch of folk belief. Afterward, she answered the calls of humans, becoming a deity. The Sacred Crown sealed this secret, and only the followers of the Earth Goddess could use her unique abilities, though they were still of human origin. With this power, human life changed.

"That’s why you’re just ordinary, Maximilien. Your gears cannot change humanity."

But gears?

They were indeed useful. Depending on the design, they could exert several times more force or move with greater precision. They could convert force to rotation and vice versa.

Useful, but that was all.

"Your prosthetic arm substitutes for a human arm, and the Steel Beetle mimics the form of an insect. Your throwing machine launches spears, and the pulley pulls strings. These are functions humanity discovered first. Imitation—this is the essence of your ability."

I mercilessly struck his sore spot.

"Your talent for assembling small gears into something tremendous is remarkable—admirable, even. But you didn’t create gears; they already existed. The principles behind them weren’t new; they’re simply something you handle better than anyone else."

He stood on the shoulders of giants. He was big, strong, able to see further than anyone.

But he would never touch divinity. He knew this better than anyone.

There are times when, even if both parties know the truth, it must be spoken aloud. Now was that time.

"You’re a giant, but you can’t be a god. Know your place, beast."