In the lowest level of the underground basement, Mr. Delusion removed his clothing and all his ornaments, exposing his mechanical body as he knelt on one side. Opposite him stood a cylindrical column, about a meter in height, emitting the low hum of a spinning fan—the only sound in the room. The surface of the column was entirely wrapped in flat, flesh-like strips woven in a crisscross pattern like a bamboo mat. The dark reddish hue appeared incongruous and dangerous in a room otherwise silver-white in its entirety.
Mr. Delusion stared at the column, his gaze as though piercing through the gaps in the flesh-like strips to observe the darkness within. His body leaned forward slowly, the virtual brain projected by the metal casing drawing nearer and nearer.
He coughed twice, his deep magnetic voice resembling a whisper meant only for the column.
"Seal release."
The column remained motionless.
Two seconds passed.
The column remained motionless.
