To the Imperfect World, I Offer Doraemon

Darkness. Weakness.

Roy's consciousness was adrift, floating in a sea of shadows. In the depths of this void, a black, formless entity seemed to glance at him with an unspeakable presence.

In that moment, trembling in his very soul, Roy instinctively began to pray.

"Emperor… Four-Armed God… Lord of Hosts… please protect your people…"

Even now, at the brink of death, his prayers weren't for himself. As a devout believer, his only thought was to dedicate his life, his strength, and his faith to the Emperor.

Suddenly, he felt something warm and sweet trickling into his mouth. This warmth spread through his body like a flame, igniting his fading life force and filling his veins with vitality.

But amidst this life-giving warmth was an inexplicable sense of emptiness—a strange, hollow sensation gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Roy's eyes snapped open.

---

The room was unnaturally bright, its sterile cleanliness a stark contrast to the grim and grimy reality of the Lower Hive. For someone accustomed to filth and darkness, the pristine surroundings made Roy uneasy.

When his gaze finally adjusted, his eyes widened in shock as they locked onto the figure before him.

It was the iron man.

"You… why are you here?" Roy croaked, his voice hoarse and trembling. He instinctively reached for his weapon but stopped, bewildered by his lack of hostility.

For some reason, Roy couldn't muster the slightest aggression toward this strange, blue creature.

"Phew," Doraemon sighed in relief, tucking the Friendship Controller back into his pocket. Hands on his hips, he declared, "Honestly, why were you even fighting? I saved you, didn't I?"

"Hmph. War is the only way to purge heresy," Roy retorted, gritting his teeth. He shifted his gaze to his comrades, his heart heavy with worry. But as he turned, a chilling sight stopped him cold.

Standing before him were grotesque, distorted figures—creatures with extra limbs, warped skin, and horrifyingly alien features.

"P-pu… Putana?" Roy stammered, staring at one of the monstrous figures.

"What happened to you?"

No. Something was wrong. A deep sense of unease crept into Roy's heart. These people… weren't they always like this?

The warped, misshapen figures—those with unnaturally colored skin, extra limbs, and grotesque faces—looked so familiar. Memories surged to the forefront of Roy's mind: the relic-keepers preserving their leader's "sacred" bodily fluids, the priests conducting rites of infection, and the commanders issuing orders with inhuman precision.

No, something was very wrong.

Roy clenched his fists, his voice trembling with fury. "What did you do to us, iron man?"

"What? I didn't do anything!" Doraemon shouted back, crossing his stubby arms. "I only healed your injuries!"

The blue robot was clearly exasperated. This wasn't the first time he had faced such accusations.

At that moment, Roy's comrades began to awaken, one after another.

The room erupted into chaos.

"My hands! My body! What's happening to me?"

"Four-Armed Emperor above… wait, no. Emperor? Four arms? Why does that sound… wrong?"

"I-I'm a monster!"

Roy struggled to calm the hysteria spreading through the group. He couldn't ignore the unsettling changes in their appearances or the overwhelming sense of unease that accompanied them.

---

Meanwhile, Doraemon stood aside, scratching his head in confusion.

Could the Doctor's Kit be malfunctioning?

In theory, the gadget was foolproof. However, the simultaneous transformations of everyone he had healed seemed too consistent to be coincidental.

"No! I swear I didn't do anything strange!" Doraemon exclaimed. "I only treated your illness!"

Roy, breathing heavily, narrowed his eyes at the robot. "Fine. Let us go. We need to report everything… to our leader."

The image of their leader—the towering, carapace-armored being known as the Four-Armed Emperor—flashed in Roy's mind. He clung to his faith, convinced that the Emperor would provide clarity.

Doraemon hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Alright. I'll help you."

He retrieved his Anywhere Door, opening a portal that led directly to the group's hideout.

"Just be careful," Doraemon said. "You might need another check-up later!"

Stepping through the pink door, Roy and his comrades returned to their territory. However, what they saw upon arrival sent shivers down their spines.

A massive statue stood at the heart of their community. It depicted a grotesque figure with four muscular arms outstretched, a symbol of reverence and power.

At the base of the statue, a little girl was kneeling in prayer.

"Isha!" Roy called out, his voice shaking.

The girl turned, her face lighting up. "Roy! You're back!"

"Isha…" Roy hesitated, his voice faltering. He pointed at the statue. "Tell me—has it always been like this?"

"Huh?" Isha blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"This statue… has it always looked like that? With four arms?"

Isha tilted her head, puzzled by the question. "Of course it has! The Emperor always has four arms, doesn't He?"

"No… no, that's not right." Roy staggered backward, his mind racing. Something was deeply wrong.

Without another word, he broke into a run, heading straight for the heart of their community. He needed answers, and he knew exactly where to find them.