Chapter 40 The End of the Transcendent

Robin found his own train of thought quite amusing; perhaps it was the actual truth of history.

It was much like Black Myth: Wukong—immortality was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated scheme, sustained entirely by the endless absorption of spiritual essence.

Yet, what if one day that spiritual essence suddenly vanished, or its quality declined? Would immortality still exist?

Although true believers were scarce nowadays, and those who gathered in various sects did so merely for the promised benefits and perks, there could not be many people in the world like Robin, who didn't take the gods seriously in the slightest.

Even if others harbored such thoughts, they would never dare to commit them to writing.

In short, the power of supernatural beings had gradually withered away as time marched on. What Robin had stepped into was the Dharma-ending age for the extraordinary.

In fact, five hundred years ago, during the second decline in the quality and concentration of magic, the extraordinary had not yet been reduced to the status of lowlifes. That humiliation only began when technology started to flourish!

People discovered that supernatural beings were just as vulnerable to bullets, which significantly lowered the standing of the extraordinary.

Even so, making ordinary people and supernatural beings completely equal with identical status remained an absolute impossibility.

Leaving aside this world, even in modern times, geniuses and ordinary people were never treated the same way.

Supernaturals were merely the physical embodiment of genius.

"Take Wade, whom we encountered today. Although he is a powerful extraordinary who can dodge our bullets, he probably wouldn't stand a chance against a dense web of gunfire," Robin mused to himself. "Against such high-agility individual targets, incendiary bombs could also be employed..."

Robin cast a final glance at the rating system for supernatural abilities.

A thousand years ago, a supernatural being's attributes could reach a maximum of A+.

The figure who supposedly attained godhood in the unofficial histories had likely surpassed this tier, though it remained unconfirmed.

Five hundred years ago, the peak attributes of an extraordinary being could reach B+.

Coming down to the present day... theoretically, a supernatural being's attributes could reach no higher than C+.

Anyone whose attributes could hit B- was considered a top-tier extraordinary.

Furthermore, no one nowadays possessed two attributes at the B- level.

"D-tier attributes are stronger than those of an ordinary person, but not to an outrageous degree." Robin tapped his fingers lightly against the documents before him. "An ordinary person theoretically sits at E. Fragile college students and the like fall under E-, while the exceptionally fit are E+. Some people with innate physical gifts, even without supernatural traits, can enter the D tier. To make a comparison, well..."

It was akin to Usain Bolt's speed, which likely reached the D tier.

Or certain strongmen whose physical strength surpassed anything an ordinary person could achieve through training—they too reached the D tier.

Therefore, D-tier attributes were superior to those of ordinary people, yet not outlandish enough to be truly supernatural.

In other words, what made supernatural beings formidable were their bizarre, otherworldly abilities, not their raw attributes.

Only when their attributes reached the C tier did they truly transcend the scope of ordinary humanity.

"The C tier represents a qualitative leap, much like Vincent. Yet that level of power is comparable only to formidable beasts, like a tiger..."

"And B-... there can't be many people of that caliber, right?"

Seeing that the system itself classified B- as top-tier extraordinary, Robin knew just from the description that this was by no means a large group.

"So, this is an era of dreadnoughts and heavy artillery." Robin covered his face with a book. "Supernatural traits are useful, but one cannot excessively rely on them."

"Take the Beast-Taming branch, for instance. In ancient times, it was immensely powerful, capable of commanding countless birds and beasts. But transposed to the present day... that's basically delivering takeout to the enemy."

"At present, the most useful creatures for the Beast-Taming branch seem to be rats. Those pests can squeeze through any crack—perhaps they could be used to gather intelligence?"

"No, that won't work either."

"Beast-tamers can converse with animals, convey their intentions, and make pets follow their commands, but they cannot enhance an animal's intelligence; they can only rely on conventional training methods. An animal's intelligence is inherently limited... If you want something capable of surveillance, you'd have to raise Border Collies or German Shepherds."

"Hmph, I wonder if those bigwigs avoid raising clever pets precisely to guard against this?"

Robin did not read for much longer. After a brief while, he closed his eyes and began to meditate.

Before long, those mechanical voices re-emerged within the sea of his mind.

As time went on, the machinery deep underground was growing harder to reach.

From books and the oral accounts of others, Robin knew that his ability was undeniably unique.

Psychokinetics could communicate with objects, but Robin was the first and only person capable of conversing with precision machinery.

The simpler the object, the easier the communication.

Their intelligence was not high—roughly equivalent to a child under five—and they could only express simple emotions.

Only intricate machinery could approach the intellectual level of an adult.

Using simple objects as eyes and ears was infinitely more difficult than Robin's method with machinery; only a handful of people could accomplish it. Moreover, they required extensive training, unlike Robin, who could master it instantly.

As for conversing with machines, there was zero documentation in any book; he had to figure everything out entirely on his own.

...

"Everyone, unless you have exceptionally vital intelligence, please refrain from contacting me."

Robin found that these machines were all chatterboxes. It seemed they had been lonely for far too long, and they particularly enjoyed seeking him out to talk.

He had already stressed that they shouldn't bother him unless it was urgent, but in the eyes of these machines, everything was urgent.

Trying to train them was completely unrealistic.

Robin couldn't rely on these machines forever, especially the bulky ones. Who knew if he might leave in a couple of days and never see them again?

At this thought, Robin was struck by a peculiar sensation.

He felt rather like a scoundrel who pulled up his pants and refused to take responsibility...

"Oh, I have a particularly important matter here."

"An outsider has entered the basement. He's creeping around, and no one has noticed him."

Robin's pupils contracted slightly.

An intruder? Who entered without a sound? And managed to bypass that assassin?

"Where is he?"

"Right here with me... He's moving so fast. He just tossed a pellet into the assassin's room..."

"The pellet burst." The phonograph in the assassin's room chimed in. "Grey mist."

"Now he's come to me." The small loom in Genesis's room spoke up. "Grey mist as well."

Robin had used all the machinery in this café; they were all his eyes.

He wanted to know who the intruder was, but his intelligence network wasn't one of those hyper-convenient game interfaces where all team members were marked on a map while outsiders were automatically displayed.

Information gathered by others would simply be logged into the database, rather than granting Robin immediate partial insight into a target upon a single glance, as his own observation did.

To track down information on the intruder, he still needed to know the person's name and search through other keywords.

Without a single clue, trying to dig up information on this person was undoubtedly like searching for a needle in a haystack!

Robin's expression turned grim.

In the span of just two sentences, this intruder had effectively taken down everyone in the basement!

According to the system's display, they were not dead yet.

The next target...

Would likely be coming for him!

Just who could it be—someone from the Roland Art Studio, or from Marquis Hyde?