In hindsight, this was probably not the best way to open things up with two androids I barely knew. A small, rational part of me, buried beneath the excitement and craziness of all this, was already yelling that I'd made a terrible mistake. That same part was practically begging me to stick to silence, to keep my mouth shut, and not out myself as a dimensionally displaced human with superpowers to the first people I'd met in this world.
And look, I've never claimed to be the most socially competent guy, but even I could recognize the looming disaster. The problem was that, deep down, I just didn't care enough to stop myself.
Trying to dance around the truth—that I was a displaced human who landed here with a list of powers and absolutely no clue how this world worked—felt like the kind of thing that might work for a few hours, tops. I wasn't one of those smooth-ass isekai protagonists who somehow manage to fake their way through new worlds while conveniently forgetting their past and powers until it's plot-relevant. I knew myself well enough to admit that I'd slip eventually, say the wrong thing, something. So if I was gonna screw it all up anyway, better to just get it out of the way while the stakes were low.
It's not like I was emotionally attached to the twins anyway. We weren't exactly close. I hadn't known them long enough for this to count as some deep betrayal moment. And honestly, there was a decent chance they'd just call bullshit and move on.
Devola leaned forward slightly, posture sharpening as her expression turned serious. "Issac, can you clarify what you mean by 'human body' and 'perks'?"
Okay. They were taking this seriously. That could be good… or extremely bad.
Ah, hell. Was this the part where I got stabbed?
I cleared my throat and tried not to sound like a lunatic. "So basically, there was this homeless dude. I gave him some McDonald's—don't ask me why, I just did—and apparently that counted as some kind of cosmic good deed or universal karma, because he handed me this thing called a Choose Your Own Adventure."
My hands moved instinctively, gesturing wildly as I talked, half to make it sound more grounded and half because if I didn't do something, I was pretty sure I'd melt into the dirt out of sheer secondhand cringe.
"It was a list. Like, an actual pick-your-powers deal. Superpowers, perks, skills, all that insane stuff. And he gave me a pre-filled one. I didn't even get to choose. He just handed it over, waved his hands, and—bam—I'm here. Dumped straight into the middle of this desert. So yeah… that's the gist of it."
I looked back and forth between them, scanning their faces for any signs of... anything, really. Understanding, disbelief, fury, confusion. I'd dropped the whole cosmic isekai origin story on them in one breath, and now I had no idea how it was landing.
Honestly, I didn't even know what counted as "normal" in this world. If gods were walking around or dragons ran the economy, maybe my story wouldn't be as halfway crazy sounding. Devola had mentioned spells earlier, which gave me some hope this wasn't too far off the deep end. But judging by their expressions—Popola locked in a hard frown and Devola looking at me like I'd grown another head—this probably wasn't the case.
I flicked a glance at my arm to check my internal energy reserve. Still sitting at three-quarters. Good. If things went sideways, at least I had enough juice to defend myself… probably. God, I really hoped this didn't turn into a fight, because I was like ninety percent sure I'd get my ass kicked.
Devola was still staring at me, though now it was more of a quiet concern. Not disbelief. Not anger. Just... pity. Honestly, that might've been worse. Meanwhile, Popola's expression hadn't budged, stuck in this intense frown that I couldn't even begin to interpret.
"So you're really claiming to be human?" Popola asked finally, her voice low, tinged with something I couldn't read—suspicion, maybe, or something more complicated.
"Yes?" The word came out more like a question, and I winced even as I said it. That's what they were hung up on? Not the part where I got booted across universes by a McDonald's-fueled hobo wizard? Did humans have some kind of villainous reputation here? Galactic overlords, maybe? I knew the basics—humans made the androids, sure—but my knowledge beyond that was... well, spotty at best. My Nier lore was bare-bones at best.
Popola looked like she was about to press the issue, but Devola reached out and gently grabbed her arm. The two of them locked eyes, and for a long, loaded moment, neither said a word. Even without any social instincts, I could tell they were communicating—maybe silently, maybe just reading each other like a book—but something passed between them, and it made me wonder if androids had some kind of built-in telepathy.
Eventually, Devola looked back at me, her face unreadable. "Can you tell us about the perks? Something in them disrupted our diagnostics."
A bit of an awkward pivot, but I wasn't about to point it out.
"Uh, yeah. They're basically passive benefits. Side effects that are always running in the background. I think the ones messing with you are two specific ones. The first is called Blank. I don't remember the exact wording, but it's supposed to protect me from scans or anything that tries to analyze me. The second is Manton Protected, which hardens my internals against foreign influence. I think your spell might've triggered that but I'm not sure."
"I see…" Devola murmured, and then everything went quiet again.
Neither of them said anything after that. And I was stuck standing there, with no idea what I was supposed to do next. Why did no one ever talk about this part of the isekai? The awkward-as-hell silence after dropping multiversal truth bombs on people. Probably because it was so goddamn painful to live through.
Why couldn't I have gotten the fantasy package deal with a friendly dragon companion or a lifelong best friend who conveniently found me in the woods? No, of course not. I had to actually interact like a real person and have meaningful social conversations with androids who might still think I'm insane.
"So... we cool?"
"Yes. We're cool," Devola replied evenly, though she shot another warning glare at Popola, who visibly bristled but held her tongue.
Devola didn't give her a chance to speak. "Although, if you don't mind—once we're done with this mission, we'd like to return to camp and sort some things out."
"Yeah, no problem. That's fine. So—this mission?" I jumped on the topic shift like it was a lifeline.
Popola finally spoke, her tone clipped and irritated, mostly directed at her sister. "It's a relatively standard machine nest clearing. But we were dispatched because of some strange reports. Supposedly, machines were spotted with... faces. We're meant to investigate and clear the area."
"Alright," I said, maybe a little too fast.
The silence that followed wasn't exactly comfortable, but honestly? Compared to the rest of this mess, it felt like the best outcome I could hope for.
—
The walk to the so-called machine nest was smothered in silence—thick, unspoken, and pressing in from all sides like a weight I couldn't shake. At first, I'd felt awkward, the kind of discomfort that comes from being the center of a very confusing social situation. But all of that vanished the moment we saw the site.
It looked like a massacre. The ground stretched out in every direction, littered with machine corpses—or what was left of them. Twisted limbs, broken torsos, and shattered heads were scattered in chaotic piles, the sand beneath them stained with oil and burnt residue. Hundreds of ruined forms lay discarded in a brutal sprawl, like someone had torn through the nest with overwhelming force and zero hesitation.
And yet, somehow, that wasn't the part that caught my eye the most.
What really caught my attention were the spheres.
Dozens of them dotted the area like silent sentinels. They were large, metallic, and eerily smooth, each one resting half-sunken in the sand. Their color—milky white, almost pale ash—stood out sharply against the rusted wreckage and dry, brown terrain around them.
"This is the nest you were supposed to clear?" I asked, trying for casual as I nudged one of the shattered machines with my foot. It cracked apart immediately, the pieces breaking like glass under my heel.
Devola didn't respond right away. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, eyes narrowed as if searching for something just out of sight. Popola had already moved ahead, scanning the immediate area with quiet intensity, her posture stiff and alert.
"There's a lot of magic in the air," Popola muttered under her breath, her tone clipped, almost cautious.
Devola gave a brief nod, voice calm but tight. "Yeah. This is the place. Give me a second."
They both began to move through the debris with more focus, checking corpses, inspecting damage, looking for clues in the wreckage that I probably wouldn't have noticed even if I'd been trying.
I let myself drift a few steps away, drawn by the spheres. Their design was so alien compared to the jagged, utilitarian look of the usual machines—too smooth, too seamless. Like someone had taken an idea from high-concept sci-fi and dropped it into a post-apocalyptic war zone. They weren't just there. They were wrong.
Then I saw one that was mostly buried beneath the sand, only a hint of its curved surface showing through. Something about the shape stopped me cold. I stepped forward, kicked some of the dirt away, and uncovered what looked like an ordinary metal shell—until I found the face.
It was grinning.
A wide, unnatural smile stretched across its featureless surface, filled with uniform metal teeth. Above it, two perfectly circular, soulless eyes stared straight ahead—blank and wrong in every conceivable way.
"What the actual fu—"
The thing moved.
Nope. Absolutely not. I was not doing horror movie bullshit today.
I reacted on instinct, calling up an arrow of light and firing it straight into the smiling face without hesitation.
And that's when the act ended.
The sphere rose from the ground as if weightless, its grin unchanged, and let out a noise that didn't sound even remotely mechanical.
"DIE!"
The scream was raw—like something alive, furious, and unhinged. It wasn't the neutral synth-voice I'd come to associate with machines; it was emotional, violent, laced with hatred so visceral it made my skin crawl.
It launched at me with terrifying speed.
I didn't even have time to cast a second shot before a blade came down from the side and cleaved into it mid-charge.
Spinning, I turned to the twins, heart still hammering against my ribs. "What the hell was that? Is that normal?"
Devola looked shaken, her brows furrowed, mouth partway open like she didn't have the words yet. "No. We've never seen—"
"It wasn't that bad," Popola cut in, brushing her hair back with a stiff huff, like she was trying to hold onto control. "Just a weird-looking machine. Should be easy."
The second she said it, my brain caught up with what my eyes had already seen.
All those spheres. All those other pale-white shells, scattered across the entire goddamn battlefield.
Dozens of them.
Exactly the same shape. Exactly the same color.
Fucking Murphy's Law.
Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed both their hands.
"We need to go."
"What are you—"
I didn't hear the rest.
Because that's when the voice came.
"Eternity… is PAIN!"
The ground exploded just a few feet away, sand blasting into the air as something massive and writhing surged out from beneath—an insectoid horror, cobbled together from heads. Dozens of them, maybe more, all fused and twitching, screaming in overlapping voices as they clawed free from the earth.
And around us—all around us—the spheres turned.
Each one had a face.
Each one was looking directly at us.
"RUN!"