I write an Isekai about communist revolution until an anime is made out of it

A Turn in the Glade

When we had approached the city, I saw that it was built in the shape of a doughnut around a single, forested hill. I had first assumed that it was a park or something, but it definitely looked like where the beacon came from. My best guess was that there was some massive underground complex buried beneath that hill, which actually produced the beacon. In any case, I couldn't stand to leave it be.

I shivered with excitement as I packed up everything I had brought with me; better to have too much than not enough. It felt like I was back in elementary school, getting ready for a field trip, and like an elementary school field trip, I sat jittering in my room for what felt like days while I waited for everyone to go to sleep so that I could leave in peace. It took every ounce of self-control I had to carefully creep out of the inn and down the street with something like 50 pounds on my back, as opposed to sprinting the whole way. In a few minutes, I made it to the border of the hill, marked by a "fence" of lavishly-decorated totem poles just far enough apart that I could slip between them after throwing my pack in ahead of me.

The interior was untouched woodland, probably distinguishable from everywhere else in a way I didn't know enough about this world's biology to recognize, and apparently oblivious to the mysteries which surely lie beneath it. I trudged through the underbrush for all of five minutes before reaching what looked like the center, containing nothing unusual except a pair of blast doors protruding from the side of the hilltop like the entrance to an underground bunker. Why "like"? It is the entrance to an underground bunker. The instant I caught sight of the doors, I forced through the last of the thicket underneath me to stand in front of them.

Great, I (probably) found what I was looking for, now what? The dull green blast doors looked as if they had been ripped from the Statue of Liberty: about as out-of place here as the column of light that had just shone above them, and more importantly, completely flat. No keyhole, no locking mechanisms, not even any rivets or anything that would distinguish them from inert pieces of sheet metal. Knocking on them gave the low thud of metal thick enough to shrug off artillery shells, let alone anything I had with me. Could I even be sure these were actually doors at all?

I had barely turned around to begin searching the area for an easier way in when I heard what sounded like the jarring rumble of construction equipment something like a hundred meters in front of me. This drove the small animals which called this place their home absolutely apeshit, and it wasn't until some nondescript rodent darted between my legs that it occurred to me that they might be freaking out for a good reason. Sure enough, in another few seconds I caught sight of a figure, glistening under the moonlight. It was roughly the size and shape of a person, and seemingly made entirely out of blades; it could pass off as a piece of modern art if it wasn't charging straight towards me.

Thanks to my "genius foresight", I already had the tommy-gun up to my shoulder, and the moment that "thing" revealed itself, I was overridden by some mental subroutine that might have originally served to fight off sabertooth tigers. In any case, I can personally confirm that your perception of time does, in fact, slow down when under great stress; I counted exactly twenty-four rounds fired at the thing before it seized up and keeled over, followed by a moment of silence as my conscious train of thought caught up with what I had just done.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Was that a fucking robot? Did this Amlenian guy also invent robots?

My mind demanded a closer look at what I had just "killed", and I was obliged to obey. After approaching to within a few meters of it, and unloading another few rounds into the "body" for good measure, I squatted above the wreckage. The first thing that caught my eye was the bullet holes; the metal blades that made up the thing's "skin" were dented, but not pierced. It looked like I had only destroyed it because at least a couple of shots had landed in the openings between individual blades, and wrecked the "robot's" complex inner workings. About that, a dense mess of mechanical components lie underneath all those blades - stuff that looked sort of like pistons and hinge joints, and plenty of parts which I couldn't recognize at all.

Well I'll be damned, this guy actually did make a full-fledged robot to guard his tomb. That's wonderful, but I still need to get inside. Maybe I can go through whatever this climbed out of?

I scarcely had time to check that the blast doors were still shut before I heard another rustling in the underbrush. After that first warm welcome, I swung the gun immediately to face it, and there, standing in my crosshairs, was Sylia. I lowered the gun to more clearly see the abject horror on her face.

"You're completely mad! I was sure not even you would be idiotic enough to break into Amlenian's glade. What are you gawking at me for, what you've just done is punishable by death! Get out of here, now! If the keepers get here I'll have to kill you myself."

"Seriously? A simple 'no trespassing' sign would have done you wonders."

"Are you trying to talk your way out of this? Go! I don't want to have to do this to you so get away from here, now!"

I could feel the pressure welling up in my chest as the clamor of distant shouting echoed around me, in that terrible crushing sensation when you know something awful has happened and it feels like your lungs are collapsing in on themselves as you suffocate.

Now you fucked up.

Now you've really fucked up.

You just had to satisfy your curiosity, didn't you.

And now you're fucked.

Self-loathing won't save you now, fucking run for it!