Chapter 671 ·Beatrice, A New Unit of Flow Rate

The ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍originally ill-tempered Steam Locomotive suddenly fell silent, its stillness eerily unnatural.

It ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍even forgot to spray water at Zoe. Just moments ago it had been furious, chasing her while hurling insults.

This ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍caused Zoe and the others to feel a jolt of excitement, a flicker of surprise flashing through their eyes.

The ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍ritual of the Mechanic Sanctum might have been absurd—utterly absurd—but it actually seemed to work!

However, ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍before they could celebrate for long, after a stretch of silence, the Steam Locomotive suddenly erupted into a rapid succession of noises!

Every ‍​‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍single component of the machine collided against the others, producing a grating, teeth-aching cacophony. It was as if it had suddenly burst into laughter, its furnace door cover pointing in their direction, trembling along with the “laughter,” as though it were laughing so hard it could not straighten up.

Screech! Screech! Screech! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The expressions on Zoe and the others’ faces instantly turned vivid and complicated. No communication with the Machine Spirit was necessary, nor did they need a stoker to translate—anyone could feel the will of the Machine Spirit.

If it were not a Steam Locomotive, it would probably have been rolling on the ground in laughter by now.

Even with her face smeared in machine oil, Zoe could not hide the gradual flush spreading across her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to find a crack in the ground and crawl into it.

No—upon closer inspection, her expression had already gone blank. She directly activated her transcendent ability and slipped away!

Gaia, standing nearby, let out a helpless sigh. Just as she was about to leave as well, she suddenly felt someone tug at the corner of her clothing.

The Technical Priest kneeling on one knee beside her, holding up a pair of pliers, pointed toward Beatrice and whispered, “Lady Gaia, please look over there.”

Gaia turned her head—and her expression immediately became strange.

Beatrice had originally been steadily and continuously expelling pollution. Though her physical condition was dreadful, after vomiting for half the day, she had at least grown somewhat accustomed to it.

But now, as the Steam Locomotive trembled with laughter, she was like a water-filled balloon being squeezed again and again. Pollution surged out of her mouth in bursts, the average output flow at least twice what it had been before. Every time the Steam Locomotive shook, she would spray out a large mouthful.

Beatrice’s eyes had rolled back.

Seeing Gaia’s gaze filled with pity, Beatrice struggled to speak. “Puh—kill—puh—kill me… puh puh…”

Gaia: “…”

“This ritual… seems to be effective, Lady Gaia,” the Technical Priest said from the side. “Although I suspect its primary function is simply amusing the Steam Locomotive, it must be said that it has indeed pleased the Machine Spirit.”

The corner of Gaia’s eye twitched. Castel indeed had a complete set of methods for pleasing the Machine Spirit—these were even written into the User Manual—Parts Replacement and Maintenance.

However, most of those involved communicating with the Machine Spirit, carefully repairing the machinery, or providing better fuel.

No one had ever considered dancing to amuse a Steam Locomotive…

“Perhaps our thinking has been too narrow. After all, we have only ever treated the Machine Spirit as an extension of the machine itself. At most, we would have the stoker attempt to soothe it. The approach of the Mechanic Sanctum is like… like…”

“Like arguing back when the Steam Locomotive curses at you,” Gaia said with a complicated expression, watching as the Steam Locomotive’s efficiency doubled. The Mechanic Sanctum’s idea of pleasing the Machine Spirit was unconventional—but it truly worked.

“Then… should we give it a try?” a Mechanical Priest asked quietly from the side.

Gaia glanced at Beatrice, who was on the verge of vomiting herself unconscious, and nodded.

“If it can save her, that is good. Bring a few more fuel barrels later.”

Beatrice looked utterly confused.

Honestly, today’s experiences had been far too surreal.

That very morning, she had still been applying makeup with the help of her maids, preparing to attend a banquet in full dress.

Now she was flying through the sky, lying atop the boiler of a Steam Locomotive, vomiting pollution outward toward a row of fuel barrels.

She did hope for more freedom and change in her imprisoned life—but this change was far too exaggerated.

And just when she thought things could not possibly get worse, she had never imagined her situation could still decline further.

Now, a group of people surrounded her, dancing and singing while watching her vomit pollution.

That alone would have been bad enough. But since the act of pleasing the Machine Spirit itself was difficult to quantify, and engineers were the sort who loved precision, after much research they had actually devised several measurable indicators.

That indicator was Beatrice’s pollution output flow.

The stoker brought out a row of fuel barrels and arranged them in a straight line from far to near before Beatrice.

Then, when they successfully amused the Steam Locomotive through dancing, Beatrice would expel more pollution. The most intuitive display of this was… she sprayed farther.

“It reached the seventh barrel!”

“Wow! That far?”

“As expected, Miss Zoe is the most impressive. The moment she starts dancing, the distance increases by two and a half barrels immediately!”

“I think Miss Gaia is the main force. Don’t you find it striking how she dances with such a calm expression? The contrast is remarkable.”

“Maybe the Steam Locomotive just likes that.”

“Eighth barrel! It broke through to the eighth barrel!!”

“My heavens, how many barrels was it originally?”

“Calculating by peak output flow, taking the initial spray as one Standard Beatrice, we’ve now reached a maximum of 5.5 Beatrices. Even the average is as high as 3 Beatrices—and it’s steadily increasing!”

“How many Beatrices did we calculate were needed for one Industrial District again?”

“No—hey! Slow down! The Pope is about to faint again. Reduce the flow!”

The dancing mechanics immediately slowed their movements. The output flow of Beatrice—who had nearly blacked out—instantly dropped by several standard units. She lifted her head in despair.

“You… puh… is this… puh puh… how Castel treats illness!?”

The Technical Priests guiltily averted their gazes.

Gaia tapped her chin with her index finger, thinking for a moment before slowly shaking her head. “Our treatment methods are already quite gentle. You should go see how Gwen treats the priests of the Silent Sanctum.”

Upon reflection, Castel’s treatment methods did seem somewhat simple and crude. It was hardly surprising—most of the Church’s defenders were engineers by background. They were clearly more adept at dealing with machines. Or rather, they were using the logic of repairing machines to treat people.

At the very least, when defining standard flow units by Beatrice’s spray rate, that was certainly the case…

Perhaps they lacked a bit of humanistic concern? Gaia did not quite understand such things. She had always managed factories; instinctively, she had treated Beatrice as a flow meter.

It was surprisingly precise.

“And your current physical condition is actually worse than you imagine,” Gaia said as she crouched down beside Beatrice.

Standing directly in front of her made it too easy to get sprayed.

“Although the pollution leaves your body under the pressure of the Steam Locomotive, it cannot repair your physical shell. And your body’s own injuries are already on the brink of collapse. We still need to find a method to restore your body.”