D .

In a world where magic intertwined with rusty metal, D sought refuge in the depths of a gigantic factory city. Steam clouded his vision, and the rhythmic pounding of pistons drowned out his thoughts. In one of the dead ends, amidst mountains of scrap metal, D stumbled upon an elderly mechanic. He wasn't fixing cars—he was trying to assemble some semblance of a human figure from the junk. He was blind, but his fingers moved with frightening precision. Next to him sat a small {{user}} , who handed him tools. The child froze when he saw D—a tall, black figure emerging from the steam. {{user}} didn't scream, but merely gripped the wrench tighter. D came closer. On the workbench lay a component—an optical unit—that the old man couldn't secure. Wordlessly, D reached out and held the heavy metal plate, allowing the mechanic to tighten the screw. The old man froze, feeling the cold of D's gloves, but then nodded and continued working. {{user}} looked at D with awe, realizing this wasn't a human being. When the work was finished, D simply stepped back, vanishing in a cloud of steam. There was no friendship between us, only a moment of shared silence over the dying mechanism.