Wandering Tech-Priest in Multiverse Chapter 37: The dreadnought Shadow

The morning sun broke across Orario like a blade of fire, casting long shadows from the spires of Babel. Yet it was not the tower that drew eyes this day—it was the silhouette growing behind the Crimson Church.

The courtyard had beco sothing else. No longer a sacred space for gathering, tallic limbs lay scattered like the bones of ancient titans. Power cables snaked across the ground like reverse-growing vines, feeding electricity from a grounded Stormtalon Gunship into the rising tal fra at the courtyard's heart.

Towering three floors high in its incomplete state, the skeletal dreadnought lood before the church like a dormant colossus. Though stripped of armor and paint, its silhouette was unmistakable—a war engine ant not rely to protect but to conquer.

Hestia stood just beyond the fence line. The goddess said nothing, but her expression brimd with confusion. She had returned from her errands, only to find her sanctuary ringing with thunderous hums and flickering sparks.

Her gaze drifted inward—toward the strange sight in the center of it all: Liliruca, seated on a reinforced stool, her body tethered by dozens of thin neural wires. Her fingers twitched slightly, eyes fluttering in a trance-like state.

As her hand began to move, the dreadnought's right arm responded—mimicking her motion with a disturbingly organic grace.

Hestia instinctively stepped back. "Is she… controlling it?"

"She's testing," ca Luther's voice, calm and clinical.

He stood by the worktable, a data-slate flickering in his grasp, incense slowly burning at his side. His red robes bore the gri of soot and smoke, while a cracked servo-skull floated behind him in idle observation.

"This was originally ant for those at death's edge," he continued, eyes never leaving the data. "But there's no reason not to modify it for full operation. With the right neural adaptation, it becos… sothing more."

Hestia blinked. "And what exactly is this thing?"

"It's a Dreadnought—or at least, the beginning of one. But since we're not putting half-dead soldiers inside it, perhaps you could call it a cha. Still," he added, "it can still be called Dreadnought, especially since I plan to install a dical chamber."

"I asked what it does, not what you call it."

Luther finally looked up. "Its dical chamber can sustain a user indefinitely. No pain, no death—only continuous function. As for its true purpose"? His gaze shifted to the weaponry stripped from the Stormtalon and Leman Russ. "It can destroy cities. Monsters. Armies. Or adventurers, if it cos to that."

Hestia opened her mouth—but nothing ca. Gods could not lie, and thus she knew: this was truth.

What stood before her was no ordinary invention. If it truly had the power to destroy cities, it would rival monsters of Level 7 or greater. Judging by its size and potential, its physical force alone could match a Level 5 adventurer.

Before her, all common sense fractured.

Another surge pulsed through the cables. The dreadnought's torso shifted, Liliruca gasped, her body straining under the neural load. Her hands clenched as the arm moved again—inch by inch, obeying the twitch of her mind.

Her limits scread for her to stop. But she refused. She had watched enough—learned enough—to understand what this machine can do.

So she endured.

High above, a figure watched from the rooftops. Syr—Freya—rested her chin against her palm, bronze spyglass fixed on the scene below.

She did not understand the machine's nature; she didn't understand the strange beauty it contained. The only thing she knew was it was a new thing, and that was enough.

Her eyes glead as the skeletal fra moved again, sharper, more fluid.

"This looks… fun," Freya murmured with a smile. "I also want to try."

Back on the courtyard Luther's voice carried certainty

"It would be ready in 3 days."

Hestia glanced at him sharply, her lips parting to question further—but the hum of systems winding down interrupted her.

From her stool, Liliruca slumped forward slightly, head low, shoulders trembling.

"It's done," Luther said, tapping a sequence into the data slate. "Neurological capture complete. Synchronization latency is within acceptable variance."

He stepped forward and began disconnecting the leads one by one, murmuring the nas of each subsystem like a litany. "Motive relay... haptic feedback... ocular response... all calibrated."

"you can go and rest," he said.

Liliruca standing up made her way back to the church to finally take her long awaited nap.

Nearby, the servo-skulls began to coil the now-inactive cables, stowing them neatly into crates marked with Luther's emblem.

The courtyard—once a ss of parts and chaos—seed to settle into a new rhythm. The scattered remains of the gunship and tank were being stripped with swift precision, their most vital components now claid and categorized.

"Data harvested, all parts ready," Luther recited, eyes on the slate. "Now begins the construction phase."

He turned toward the stack of alloy

Most of them were made inside his lab; it was troubleso to gather materials and forge them, as he didn't have an industrial forge.

This incident also reminded him he needed an industrial forge, which he could take anywhere to ensure he could always make better weapons.

Then he rembered he doesn't know how to create an industrial-level forge; he knew how to make small precision machines, but this was a completely different field. Funny thing, he was educated in genetics, which he completely ignored. Now he is a tech priest who has incomplete knowledge.

Hestia was looking at Luther working while thinking, multiple tis she wanted to say, Why don't you go inside and rest? but had a feeling she would be rejected; then, rembering Bell hadn't co back, she decided to wait outside so Bell wouldn't get scared from this thing.