CHAPTER 3
REVERIES AND THE GOLDEN FAITH
The walk to Elias's refuge was short, but full of detours to avoid the pressure sensors the inventor had scattered among the roots.
When they finally pushed through a curtain of thick vines, the forest gave way to a chaotic clearing. In the center stood a makeshift workshop built inside the carcass of a fallen airship, now covered in moss and copper piping puffing clean, white smoke.
"Elias! Hey, you loose-screw!" — Bituca shouted, banging the butt of his shotgun against the metallic floor at the entrance. — "Get out here, we've got a problem the size of a boiler!"
From inside the hull came a loud crack, a small explosion, and the clatter of tools hitting the floor.
The heavy iron door creaked open. Aluara coughed and waved the smoke away with her hands as she stepped in, Bituca already brandishing his old blunderbuss and Pyros gripping his sacred-flame sword — they expected to find an army of zombies, but what they were about to see was something else entirely.
"Sparks of Valkaria! I told you the magnesium powder ratio was off!" — an energetic, shrill voice echoed, followed by quick footsteps.
The man who emerged from the smoke was eccentricity incarnate. Elias had coal-black hair, completely wild and sticking out in every direction, as if he'd just taken a magical shock.
His mustache was long and pointed, meticulously waxed at the tips, contrasting sharply with the mess on his head.
Over his eyes he wore goggles with vibrant red lenses, bizarrely fixed directly to his skin, with no straps holding them at all.
He wore a flashy mustard-yellow overcoat, adorned with heavy pauldrons of polished copper. Underneath, a light linen shirt under a well-worn dark brown vest.
His pants were a labyrinth of pockets of every size, held by a wide utility belt from which screwdrivers, calipers, and vials of oil dangled. On his feet, sturdy black boots worn over his trousers clacked loudly against the floor.
"Aluara! Bituca! And... a gold-plated paladin!" — Elias stopped abruptly, his red goggles gleaming as he sized up the trio. — "What a magnificent surprise. I was just wondering if the chemical composition of the grove's blue-blackberry juice could be used as clockwork gear lubricant... blackberries are so fascinating, you know? They stain your fingers like purple magic, but they taste formidable in pies. Anyway! What brings you lot here with a bleeding tin-can?"
As he spoke, Elias's left arm — completely mechanical, made of brass plates and bluish runic wiring — began to spin on its own.
With a magical snap, the metal fingers retracted into the wrist, and the whole hand transformed into a perfect pneumatic wrench, only to shift a second later into a pair of precision tweezers.
"Elias, this is serious" — Aluara stepped forward, pointing at Pyros. — "The Great Archivist's drones invaded the grove. And the Rust Stalker was with them. They jumped Pyros to take what's in his pouch."
Elias's expression shifted instantly from wacky to razor-sharp serious. His mechanical arm snapped back into an articulated hand, and he scratched his pointed mustache.
"The Stalker? Kirion... that poor bastard who got turned into scrap in the Archivist's hands" — Elias drifted for a second, eyes fixed on the horizon. — "I wonder if the Archivist uses mineral oil or animal grease to lube his joints... if it's animal grease, it must stink in the summer, which is a terrible design choice for a villain. But back to the point! Yes, I know they're here. My root-seismographs picked up the tremors from the explosion and the advance of heavy metal on the eastern border."
He turned his back, walking toward a table covered in maps and floating gears, gesturing for the group to follow.
"They didn't just send scouts, my dears. The Archivist is moving the Timber-Rippers. Heavy deforestation machines powered by Necrovapor. If they get into the grove... there won't be a leaf left standing on another."
"But to what really matters — those serpents on your armor and that golden color, a Boitatá paladin faithful to the God Aelion... fascinating, simply fascinating!" — Elias exclaimed, his red goggles practically glued to Pyros's chest as he shoved him into a reinforced iron chair. — "Did you know the thermal coating on a Boitatá's scales has a resistance to melting that defies the laws of traditional thermodynamics? I once tried to replicate it using fire-beetle shells and resin varnish, but the mixture exploded and almost melted my eyebrows off. Took three months to grow back! But anyway, your golden armor is crying out for help, my dear fellow."
Before Pyros could protest with his usual stiffness, Elias's mechanical arm shot forward.
With a runic snap, the brass fingers fused together, transforming into an alchemical blowtorch that glowed with a sky-blue flame and sparks of pure creation magic.
Elias began running the magical tool over the damaged plates of Pyros's armor. Wherever the flame touched, the dull gold corroded by Necrovapor melted and instantly restructured itself, sealing cracks and restoring its former heroic sheen.
"Careful with the armor, Elias! You scratch the gold, you lower the tin-can's market value" — Aluara said with a roguish grin, leaning against the table full of gears and tossing a bronze nut in the air, catching it. — "But tell me, mustache man, what else did your stupid sensors pick up about their plans?"
"Ah, the plans! Yes, terrible, brutal, devoid of any industrial aesthetic!" — Elias rambled, not slowing his mechanical arm, which had now shifted into a precision magnetic hammer shaping Pyros's pauldrons. — "They're under the direct command of the Archivist's right hand, General Ironclad. A soulless automaton, pure black-iron efficiency. I hate black iron, you know? So lifeless. I prefer brass, it has a human warmth, a vibration... Have you noticed how brass clocks seem to breathe? Always tick and tock and clack, they move like a warm heart! But back to the point! Ironclad wants the Cosmic Ignition Core you're carrying, paladin. He knows with it he can expand the Soul Rust across the entire realm. The Timber-Rippers are just the vanguard. They'll roll over the grove in less than twelve hours."
Pyros tested his shoulders, impressed to find the armor moving as perfectly as before. He stared at Elias with his severe paladin expression.
"General Ironclad is an abomination known to our order. Where his iron treads pass, the earth dies" — Pyros declared, his deep voice echoing through the mechanical workshop. — "If the Core falls into his hands, Aetherium will fall into industrial darkness. My purifying blade must find that mechanical monster's chest before he orders the advance."
"Oh, of course! The golden hero wants to march alone against an army of giant tractors and zombies" — Bituca barked, crossing his arms and stomping his heel on the workshop floor, visibly irritated. — "Wake up, paladin! If that black tin-can of a Stalker almost broke your shield in the clearing, Ironclad will turn you into a crushed sardine can! I'm out of runic ammo, the forest is weeping smoke, and you want to play martyr?"
"The grump has a point on tactics, Pyros" — Aluara cut in, sliding off the table with a jingle of boots. She adjusted the red goggles on her forehead and looked at Elias's holographic map. — "Going straight for the General is suicide, and there's still a chance it's only the Stalker who shows up. But we're on home turf. The grove is ours. If the Timber-Rippers are coming in from the east border, we know exactly where the terrain bottlenecks."
"Exactly! At the Gorge of Weeping Roots!" — Elias interrupted, his mechanical arm shifting back into a human-like hand as he pointed at the map. — "If we use a high-voltage electrical discharge combined with a barrier of mystic fire... ah, speaking of weeping, did you know swamp onions weep an acidic sap that dissolves leather? I once ruined a brand-new pair of boots gathering seasoning for stew and in the end couldn't even eat it. But focusing on the plan! We can set an ambush there. If we stop the heavy machines in the gorge, Ironclad will be forced to expose himself."
Pyros looked at Aluara, then at the grumpy Kurapi, and finally at the eccentric inventor. The paladin nodded slowly, gripping his serpent helm tightly.
"An ambush in the gorge. May the gods bless our strategy. What do we need to prepare this trap?"
"Gadgets! Yes, of course, gadgets!" — Elias jumped, clapping his hands, which made his strapless red goggles jiggle slightly over his eyes. — "While you were discussing military geopolitics and forest tactics, my left arm went into subconscious multitasking mode. Did you know the human brain spends almost twenty percent of its energy just maintaining bipedal balance? If we had four legs, like centaurs, we might be thirty percent more efficient at advanced mathematics. But that's beside the point! Bituca, hand over that old noisy clunker of yours."
Before the Kurapi could protest, Elias's mechanical arm shot out like a hydraulic pincer, yanked the runic shotgun from Bituca's hands, and tossed it into a rapid-assembly chamber in the wall.
What followed was a blur of blue sparks, gears spinning at full speed, and the sound of metal being forged by creation magic.
A few minutes later, the hatch hissed open with a release of pressure. Elias retrieved the weapon with both hands, presenting it with the pride of a painter showing his masterpiece.
"Behold... the Ether-Fire Arquebus!" — the inventor announced, his pointed mustache perked up.
Even Bituca stepped forward, his red eyes gleaming as he stared at the new weapon. It still kept the ruggedness of a hunting gun, but its magical and mechanical nature was now undeniable.
The Barrels: The old double barrel had been replaced by five runic bronze barrels arranged in a circle, like a deadly carousel. Each one bore deep evocation runes that pulsed faintly in orange and blue.
The Drum and Pressure Gauge: At the breech, where the powder mechanism used to be, there was now a spinning copper drum linked by small pipes and exposed gears. A small glass pressure gauge displayed the internal pressure, but instead of common steam, the needle wavered as it measured mana as a bright bluish mist.
The Crystal Receptacle: Where black powder would have gone, Elias had installed a reinforced glass chamber protected by a gleaming brass grate.
The Stock: The dark balsa wood had been reinforced with metal plates and a thick leather pad at the end to cushion recoil.
"What did you do to my blunderbuss, you crazy man?!" — Bituca grumbled, though he was already reaching out with calloused hands to take the weapon, testing its perfect weight. — "Where the hell do I put the lead and powder in this thing?"
"Nowhere, my dear grumpy friend!" — Elias began to explain, gesturing with his mechanical arm now mimicking a piston. — "Black powder is so... last century. Dirty, smelly, clogs the barrels. The Arquebus completely replaces lead with Pure Mana and Primal Matter Crystals! Let me explain the science:"
The Charge: You insert a Mana Crystal into that glass receptacle — or, if you're in the middle of chaos, you spend your own Mana by touching the runic trigger. That energy is instantly sucked into the internal boiler, where it's "boiled" and converted into high-pressure arcane steam.
The Shot: When you pull the trigger, a valve opens. The mana steam is channeled into one of the five barrels. The runes etched in the bronze shape that raw energy, firing a translucent, highly destructive kinetic-magic projectile.
The Carousel (The 5 Shots): With each shot, the gear mechanism automatically rotates the drum with a satisfying click, lining up the next cooled barrel ready to fire. You can shoot up to 5 times before the mana steam needs to be replenished or stabilized.
Bituca cocked the hammer. The barrel carousel spun with a perfect metallic sound, and the ether gauge flared in response to the Kurapi's own energy. A rare, frightening smile crossed the guardian's face.
"Not bad... not bad at all" — Bituca admitted, aiming at an imaginary target on the wall.
"But listen closely, because here's a tip" — Elias raised his index finger, his red goggles gleaming seriously. — "I installed a device I call Aesthetic Instability, or, for the less refined, Burst Mode. Flip this red lever, you overclock the gears and vent all the pressure at once, firing all 5 barrels simultaneously. It'll cause damage worthy of a Wynna dragon! However... it leaves the weapon completely Overheated, preventing it from being reloaded or fired until it cools down. So only use it if the Tin General or his pet zombie are right in your face, understood?"
Aluara crossed her arms, letting out a relaxed laugh as she watched her partner so fascinated.
"Careful you don't burn your own fingers with the new toy, Bituca."
"Shut it, kid!" — Bituca shot back, unable to stop admiring the Ether-Fire Arquebus. — "Now the lead... I mean, the mana is really going to bite."
Elias rubbed his hands together, turning to Aluara and Pyros with his black hair even more disheveled from excitement.
"Very well! Now that we've sorted out our grumpy friend's firepower..." — Elias started, turning toward a workbench full of coils and wires for Aluara's upgrade. — "Let's focus on what I planned for your gauntlet, kid. Did you know if we change the frequency of the crystals..."
"Wait, inventor" — Pyros's deep voice interrupted, echoing solemnly through the workshop.
The paladin wasn't looking at Elias, or at the maps. His glowing eyes were fixed on a dark corner of the workshop, where a pile of rusted scrap, old iron plates, and broken gears lay like forgotten rubble.
In the middle of that industrial trash pile, something had caught his attention. A warm glow, almost imperceptible to common eyes, but clear as day to a devotee of the Sun God.
Pyros walked to the pile and, with his gold-gloved hand, moved aside two old bronze pipes. Lying beneath was a shield.
"Ah, that?" — Elias shrugged, barely looking back as he cleaned his pointed mustache. — "Just a piece of old bronze I found buried near the border of the Wastes of Perdition. I thought about melting it down to make buckles or support screws for the legs of mechanical boars... mechanical boars are a fantastic idea, don't you think? But the metal is too rustic, too dull, doesn't hold alchemical solder well. Leave it there, it's junk."
"This is not junk, Elias" — Pyros said, his voice heavy with deep reverence.
He lifted the item with both hands. The shield was heavy, made of a rustic, matte bronze, visibly worn by the sands of time. It had an elongated oval shape, like the silhouette of a drop of sun. At its center was an engraved stylized sun, from which rays spread like simple flames to the edges, in a classic, imposing design reminiscent of ancient civilizations' armor. In its initial structure, there was room for only two catalytic jewels.
"As a great devotee of Aelion, I recognize this metal" — Pyros continued, wiping dust from its surface with the heat of his palm. — "There is a possibility this is a very peculiar item. The legends of the desert camps speak of it. This is the Desert Buckler."
"A buckler?" — Aluara tilted her head, curious, stepping closer softly. — "It looks kind of... dull for a golden paladin like you."
"Because it begins its journey humbly, Aluara" — Pyros explained. — "Legend says this shield was the first attempt by a sacred blacksmith from the Wastes of Perdition to replicate Aelion's own shield. Without access to divine metal, he used the purest bronze he could find and blessed the item with a prayer: 'May this metal be as strong as the faith of the one who wields it.'"
The paladin closed his eyes for a second, feeling the hidden vibration in the piece.
"It was used by a young warrior who perished defending a caravan of devotees against a horde of rust creatures. Before dying, the warrior planted the shield in the sand. The desert heat and Aelion's approval fused the hero's determination into the metal. Since then, it has waited for a new paladin whose willpower is worthy of awakening its true potential. This shield possesses a unique spiritual property: it resonates with the bearer's soul. As my faith proves unshakable and our willpower grows, the bronze will absorb that energy, polishing itself, manifesting new adornments — including the lion's face — and awakening the dormant power of the other jewels until it transforms into the legendary Splendor of Aelion."
"Well, look at that... a shield that cleans itself!" — Bituca grumbled, though he looked at the item with respect. — "Way better than the junk Elias hoards. At least this one has a real history."
Pyros strapped the heavy bronze shield to his left arm. It weighed about 15 pounds, offering remarkable magical protection. Being a manageable shield, it still allowed Pyros to use his left hand to hold light items, like a holy symbol, keeping his right hand free for his flaming sword.
At the top and bottom of the engraved sun, two opaque rubies began to pulse with a faint glow, responding to the paladin's touch.
"It's waking up..." — Aluara whispered. — "What do those two jewels do?"
"They hold fractions of the sun's initial power" — Pyros said, feeling mana flow into the bronze. — "I can channel my energy through them. The Ruby of Timid Dawn allows me to amplify my healing prayers; when I use Lay on Hands, the light heals more intensely and makes the target glow with a soft light, illuminating the surroundings."
He touched the lower ruby, which sparked like an ember.
"And the Midday Spark. When I strike to Smite Evil, the shield projects a focused beam of light that extends the reach of my attack. Increasing the holy light and blinding my opponents."
Elias adjusted his red goggles, staring at the shield with his jaw dropped and mustache trembling.
"Incredible... a divine-based psychoreactive metallic alloy! Sacred nuts and bolts! Imagine the mechanical efficiency of a thread blessed by the Sun God, free of any friction or oxidation for three thousand years!" — Elias rambled loudly, his coal-black hair seeming to float even more as he walked in circles, gesturing frantically with his brass arm. — "I could have revolutionized the boars' suspension system... But anyway! The sun shines for believers and electricity roars for those in a hurry." Aluara gave Pyros a pat on the shoulder, making the coils on her gloves crackle lightly.
"Looks elegant, tin-can. Now that you found your ancestral toy in Elias's trash, what does mustache man have for me? I'm dying to fry some Timber-Rippers!"
"Aluara, kid, hand over those leather gloves and your pair of daggers. The other day I was watching a storm crack over Gale Peak and I had a wonderful epiphany. Did you know lightning has an aesthetic preference for tall trees because of the lower resistance of ionized air? Fascinating, isn't it?! But back to focus: give me your weapons, now!"
Aluara let out a relaxed laugh, sliding the gloves off their bronze buckles and drawing her two dull-bladed daggers. She handed the set to the inventor with a dramatically exaggerated curtsy.
"All yours, doc. Just try not to turn my daggers into soup spoons or my gloves into snuff pouches. I kinda need them in one piece if we want the golden tin-can over there to live to see sunrise" — she teased in her usual sarcastic tone, winking at Pyros, who remained stoic and severe beside Bituca.
Elias didn't answer. He snatched the items with his mechanical pincer and dove into a workbench covered in lightning-quartz crystals and pure silver wires. The lab became a blur of high Transmutation and Evocation magic. The mad scientist worked while humming a disjointed tune about motor oil density, soldering coils with surgical precision.
When he turned around, his strapless red goggles reflected bluish sparks. In his hands, he carried the upgraded set: the Storm Gauntlets & The Lightning-Rod Fangs.
"A supreme masterpiece of magical engineering and alchemy!" — Elias exclaimed, handing them back to Aluara.
The long-cuff gloves now blended high-quality matte black and dark brown leather. On the back of each hand, an intricate mechanism of polished copper coils and lightning-quartz crystals pulsed with energy. The daggers had grips wrapped in the same leather, but now sported a heavy pommel of pure iron, designed specifically to ground and attract energy, and the blades had engraved runes that served as arcane amplification for electrical discharges.
"Gorgeous. They match my stockings" — Aluara smiled, putting them on and feeling the leather fit perfectly around her forearms. — "And how do I fry the Timber-Rippers with these, Elias?"
"They work as a catalyst purely coupled to your Mana, my dear! They have no charge of their own; they drain your own vital and magical energy through the conductive silver. That's why you might feel a bit of fatigue, good to have some elixirs on hand. Let me explain the three fundamental modes before I forget how to tie a sailor's knot... ah, sailor's knots are so useful for tying high-voltage cables... Anyway! Pay attention:"
1. Energy Blast (Active Coils): Your hands will spark with bluish electricity. Your unarmed attacks or dagger strikes will fry anyone who tries to get close to you. And if you want range, you can fire an electric arc at a target up to 30 feet away! The poor bastard who takes that spark won't be too happy.
2. The Lightning-Rod Dagger Combo: This is where the storm magic happens. You can throw one or both daggers at an enemy or stab them into the ground.
The Lightning Rod: If you fire your bolt at a target within 10 feet of a planted dagger, they'll take a massive shock, because the magnetism pulls the electricity straight into them!
Conductor Arc: If you plant the two daggers in different targets (up to 20 feet apart), you can fire a bolt at one of them. The energy will instantly jump to the other dagger, creating a line of pure electricity! Any zombie in between will take a good dose of lightning, though since it's split, the damage will be lower. Perfect for clearing rows of zombies without hitting Bituca or the paladin!
3. Magnetic Power (Attraction and Repulsion): You manipulate magnetic field lines.
Repel: Good defense against metal weapons, deflecting blows. And you can use it to disarm them.
Attract: Works like the Mage Hand spell for metal, and you can pull the daggers back into your hands.
Aluara flexed her fingers. Bituca's arquebus barrel carousel clicked, and Pyros's bronze shield glowed warmly, but Aluara's gauntlets answered with a violent crack of blue static that lit up the entire workshop.
"Ah, Elias... you know me so well" — Aluara hissed, her amber eyes gleaming with playful malice. — "I can do some beautiful damage with these. Imagine planting one of these daggers right in the middle of the Stalker's armor and using it as a ground? He'll turn into a toaster."
"A very big toaster!" — Elias finished, laughing like a mad scientist, before turning back to look at the map of the Gorge of Weeping Roots. — "Now that you're all properly upgraded and armed... time is running out. The Timber-Rippers are almost at the bottleneck."
Bituca slung the Ether-Fire Arquebus over his shoulder, Pyros raised the Desert Buckler, and Aluara spun the daggers on her fingers before they vanished into their sheaths. The party was ready.