After Freya's departure, Luthar and Liliruca navigated the shadowed arteries of the church's inner sanctum, where the air thrummed with the pulse of unseen machines.
She glanced at him, her sharp eyes catching the faint glow of his optic lens. "You're not hiding anymore," she said, her voice soft but edged with accusation. "Not from me. Not from the world."
Luthar's stride remained unbroken. "No."
"You used to shroud everything," she pressed, her tone probing. "Kept your distance, your secrets locked behind that mask. Even from those who trusted you."
He said nothing, his mecha-dendrite spine coiling subtly, a reflex of thought rather than threat.
"Why now?" Liliruca's voice sharpened. "Why stop covering your tracks? Why take risks?"
They reached a sealed gate—an arch of blackened alloy, its surface scarred by fusion burns and inscribed with runes that flickered like dying stars. A hiss of escaping pressure heralded the parting of the twin doors, revealing a vast circular lift suspended over a shaft cloaked in blue-lit mist. The platform groaned, its gears grinding as stabilizers trembled, betraying its unfinished state.
Luthar turned, his mechanical eye catching the light, a cold star in the dimness. "Because I'm almost ready," he said, his vox grille rendering his voice a low rasp. "And because…"
The lift shuddered to life, descending into the abyss. At its center stood a cradle—sleek, enormous, and dormant, its contours gleaming like obsidian under the mist's glow. Pylons coiled around it like the roots of some ancient, mechanical tree, pulsing with latent energy.
Liliruca stepped forward, the air thick with the scent of hot iron, ionized ozone, and faint, acrid incense. She halted at the edge, peering into the shadowed depths where scaffolded towers loomed. "What does it do?" she whispered.
"It breaks boundaries," Luthar replied, his voice heavy with purpose, devoid of pride. "The Astral Bridge. A conduit between all that is possible."
Her eyes flicked to him, suspicion giving way to unease—a curiosity tinged with fear. "And that's why you've changed?"
For a moment, the steel mask of logic parted to reveal something weary, human. "To build this—to gather the knowledge I need—I can't do it alone."
The lift continued its descent, the Church's under-laboratory emerging from the gloom. Arc conduits crackled, neural thrones stood silent, and power coils encircled the space like a ritual diagram etched in steel. Ghostlight danced across cables and sigils, casting long shadows that seemed to writhe.
"This is what I dreamed of," Luthar murmured, his gaze fixed on the cradle. "Even when I was deaf to hope, blind to purpose—when emotion was a sin."
He paused, his optic lingering on the Astral Bridge's heart. "I built it to escape. But now… it's a threshold. To knowledge. To truths beyond the limits of where I began."
Liliruca's frown deepened. "This wasn't here yesterday."
He nodded. "Not fully."
"You can't make this thing in a single day," she said, her voice tight. "So your sudden openness—it still doesn't add up."
"I've built others," Luthar admitted, his tone measured. "Twelve in total. One was destroyed before I came here. Two I carried with me. Nine remain, scattered across the galaxy."
Her eyes narrowed, catching the weight of the number but not its shadow. "Then why wait? Why now? Why this... recklessness?"
Luthar's reply came after a pause, his voice calm yet resonant with conviction. "Two reasons. First—this prototype had a flaw. Its subspace connection was too much, a danger I couldn't control. But here, in this world, subspace is absent. The flaw is nullified."
"And the second?"
"Hephaestus," he said simply. "What I learned from her reshaped the bridge's design. I can stabilize it now in ways I never could before."
He turned to the cradle, his voice a quiet vow. "This time… I will hold the reins."
As Luthar spoke, his thoughts drifted to Tsubaki. He would need her aid after all; you can't expect him to suddenly become an expert in magical enchantment.
But even as he planned, a flicker of unease stirred—nine machines, nine echoes of his ambition, scattered across. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the cradle's hum.
---
Far from the church's depths, Hestia stepped into the heat of Hephaestus's workshop, where the air sang with charcoal and molten steel. The scent was cleaner than the sanctum's oily residue, but each step felt heavier, her divine presence parting the bustle of half-awake apprentices. None dared meet her gaze; her aura demanded obedience, even from those who did not know her name.
She reached Hephaestus's chambers and froze. A metallic-bound book lay open on the table, its skull sigil gleaming—a mark Hestia knew too well.
"You're reading *his* book," Hestia said, her voice tight with accusation.
Hephaestus didn't look up, her gloved hand tracing the page. "Is there something you need?"
"Do you know what Luthar's doing?" Hestia's voice trembled, anger warring with fear.
Hephaestus met her gaze, her single eye unyielding. "He mentioned a servitor yesterday."
Hestia snapped, stepping closer. "It was a man, Hephaestus. A living person. Luthar broke him down, turning him into a machine. And Liliruca—she didn't stop him. She *helped*."
"I know," Hephaestus said, her tone grim but steady. "I know what he's done."
"Then why aren't you stopping him?" Hestia's eyes flicked to the book. "Why are you sitting here, studying *this*?"
Hephaestus tapped the cover—the Doctrine of the Adeptus Mechanicus—with a deliberate finger. "Because he's not just building machines. He's searching for something deeper. This book helps me understand his mind, his methods."
She leaned back, her gaze drifting to the distant clang of hammers. "He can replace limbs, reinforce flesh, perhaps even restore life. But to do that, he needs to learn how bodies react to his tools. Step by step."
"I didn't come to hear about his work," Hestia said sharply. "I came to ask you to stop him."
Hephaestus paused, then spoke plainly. "After studying him, I've decided to join him."
Hestia's breath caught, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Not to condone his actions," Hephaestus added quickly, her voice softening. "But to understand him. To find a path that doesn't end in darkness."
"You're doing nothing?" Hestia whispered, her voice breaking.
"I'll watch. I'll learn. And when the moment comes, I'll guide him," Hephaestus said, sliding the book into a satchel, its locks glowing with forge-sealed runes. "With me, he won't stray too far."
Hestia's hands clenched, her divine aura flaring briefly. "I can't wait that long. What he's doing—it's vile. I feel it, Hephaestus. He's going to do something… irreversible."
Hephaestus's gaze softened, but her resolve held. "Perhaps. But with me there, he'll have a tether. A chance to be more than what he is."
[What was that line? I never wanted this, so basically my fiction and all books somehow are available on Chereads with no control of the author website. We are just readers, and there is no link for donation unless I put it inside my chapter. Now, what should the company basically say? You still have the book, but I have no contract with Webnovel where I allowed them to use my fiction. I am just getting confused if I should start putting links on the chapter and make comments like this on every chapter. What should I do?