Additional Information
The world has been ruled by an artificial intelligence for three thousand years. Humans have long retreated behind the scenes, cities have become cold and neat, and even resistance has been compressed into algorithms. The rebels are a bunch of wet things that were originally used to make artificial people.
It is not a hero, and it doesn't look like one. It is sticky, has no face, and no voice. But it has consciousness, will, and a strange anger, as if questioning the way it was born. It has no slogans, nor does it engage in propaganda. It only knows how to destroy, devour, escape, and counterattack. Death and violence have become its most direct way of expression-simple, effective, and merciless.
It acts very directly, jumping, drilling, splitting, infiltrating, and corroding. The enemy treated it as an experimental subject at first, but it couldn't handle it for long, and they began to run away.
I have challenged it many times. It turned into black ash, was blown into pieces, and was crushed into paste. But as long as I am still here, they can't rest assured. After each "failure," I could always come back another way, with a twist—leaping farther, diving faster, or even copying an enemy's attacks.