Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

"I—disagree—!!"

The voice was squeezed from a throat scorched by electric current, hoarse and broken, yet carrying a stubbornness bordering on the brink of collapse, almost like that of a wild beast. Every word sounded as if it were being rubbed together with broken bones. Baijiu's body trembled violently under the restraints of the shackles, his muscles spasming uncontrollably from the continuous electric stimulation, sweat soaking through the fibers beneath him, mixed with the metallic smell of blood that might have seeped out from excessive biting.

However, in response to his weak resistance, there was another wave of precisely tuned, enhanced electrical pulses that pierced the central nervous system!

"Ugh—hoah—!" This time, even the cry of pain was compressed into a gasp like a ruptured trachea. His vision was completely filled with distorted colors and darkness, and his consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind.

That cold, inhuman, mechanical female voice seemed to be pressed against his eardrums, even whispering directly between his nerve synapses, its tone even lower and hoarser than before, carrying an absolute, despairing sense of insight:

Here, you have no secrets.

The moment the words left his mouth, the electricity paused, but another form of attack followed immediately!

"call--!!"

It's not real airflow, but a simulated torrent of intense information that directly affects the visual and auditory nerves! Millions of high-resolution images, at a speed exceeding the limits of human visual processing, flash, overlap, and rotate wildly within the baijiu mask's field of vision!

Amidst this dazzling stream of images, an aged, arrogant male voice with a typical Russian accent (or a specific intonation characteristic derived from AI-simulated translation) breaks through with unusual clarity, like a ghostly recording:

"...Horseshoe, cross-shaped key, my masterpiece...Once the algorithm in the flash memory is paired with the 'Intelligent Body' source code...it will activate the virus flash memory as you requested..."

The sound was intermittent, with a subtle background noise characteristic of a laboratory. Each word was like a cold key, attempting to unlock a safe, sealed deep within the memory of baijiu.

"Ugh—!" Bai Jiu shook his head violently, trying to break free from the intrusion of the sound and images, but then a more targeted nerve interference current shattered the last bit of resistance he had just mustered! He twitched futilely between the shackles like a fish out of water, then collapsed, leaving only his chest heaving violently like a broken bellows, each breath carrying the burning pain and the taste of blood.

The whispers of the intelligent being followed him closely, this time directly revealing his intentions and even exposing his deepest fears:

[You plan to find the 'Sevastopol,' retrieve the 'Horseshoe,' and then destroy the intelligent entity.] The voice stated calmly, as if reading a pre-written report. [You are afraid. Afraid of failure, afraid of loss, afraid... of facing the irreversible consequences caused by you.]

Intelligent beings can perceive countless possibilities.

"No...you can't see..." Baijiu squeezed out a few words through his teeth, but they were too weak to be convincing.

As if to prove its own words, the intelligent entity once again manipulated the senses of the liquor.

The frantically flashing images before my eyes suddenly stopped, then were replaced by an endless expanse of darkness that swallowed all light—the seabed of a ten-thousand-meter abyss. Absolute silence, absolute cold, and an absolute sense of oppression were transmitted directly through my visual nerves, suffocating me.

Then, the intelligent being lowered its voice even further, carrying a cruel prophecy that was almost "sympathetic":

Retrieving the horseshoe...you're taking a desperate gamble.

Before the words were even finished, the pitch-black seabed was suddenly ripped apart by a blinding fireball! A submarine, its outline blurred, twisted and broke apart in the silent explosion, its fragments slowly sinking into the deeper darkness. Leaking fuel and electrical sparks struggled briefly in the frigid seawater before extinguishing. Absolute destruction, absolute silence returned.

Before the images of destruction had completely faded, the scene before us changed drastically once again!

An endless, desolate white ice field. The polar winds seemed to penetrate the mask. And in the heart of the ice field, a familiar figure stood alone—it was Vermouth.

Her long golden hair appeared dull in the pale light of the day, and as she gazed into the distance, her figure seemed lonely and insignificant.

Then--

"Crack...Boom!!!"

Centered on her feet, the solid ice suddenly and without warning cracked open with countless bottomless black fissures, spreading like a giant spider web to the horizon! Then, an indescribable chain reaction of explosions erupted from the depths of each crack! Not flames, but thick snow and ice dust, hundreds of meters high, like a nuclear explosion, instantly engulfed Vermouth's figure! A white curtain of death swept everything away, the scene blurring and fading amidst the violent tremors…

[You saw it. This is one possibility. One of the most likely outcomes.]

Your persistence, your secrets, your plans... all crumble before the face of countless variables.

[Give up resistance and hand over the whereabouts of the real 'key'. The intelligent entity can help you avoid these outcomes.]

Otherwise... you will witness firsthand how all of this will gradually become a reality.

Inside the cabin, the dark blue light continued to flow coldly. The shackles binding his limbs conveyed a constant, despairing sense of confinement. Behind the mask, Baijiu's panting gradually weakened, but each breath seemed exceptionally heavy. Sweat, blood, and a deeper weariness—the exhaustion of a repeatedly tormented spirit—almost dragged him into darkness.

Those forced visions of the future—the explosion at the bottom of the sea, the collapse of the ice field, Vermouth's swallowed figure—were like the most vicious curses, deeply imprinted on his consciousness, which was repeatedly washed by electric currents and pain.

The intelligent entity stopped speaking, remaining silent, exerting continuous psychological pressure through its omnipresent dark blue light and the low hum within the cabin. It waited, waiting for this last stubborn "variable" to finally succumb to the onslaught of fear and pain.

Bai Jiu closed his eyes, his body trembling slightly. He was fighting against the devastating images in his mind, against the excruciating pain and numbness emanating from his limbs, and even more so against the abyss-like fear of the "possibilities" displayed by his intelligent body that was almost swallowing his rationality.

A few seconds, or a few minutes, felt incredibly long in the torment of absolute silence.

Then, his blood-stained, chapped lips moved almost imperceptibly.

The voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, yet it carried a strange, faint flame, as if rekindled from the ashes of a soul:

"...What you've shown...is merely...the future you've 'calculated'..."

He paused, gathering his last bit of strength, and his voice became slightly clearer, though still hoarse and broken:

"...But the future...is never...calculated..."