The late afternoon sun filtered through the small windows of the Crimson Church, casting long, slanted shadows across the empty pews. Bell quietly folded garnts, secured weapons, and gathered the final remnants of his and Hestia's life in this place.
The echo of approaching footsteps made him pause.
When he turned, his breath caught in his throat.
She stood at the threshold of the hall, frad in the amber glow like a goddess carved from dream and myth. Silvery hair cascaded around her shoulders, eyes of violet-gold gleaming like starfire caught in athyst. Every step she took seed to shift the world around her—not with force, but with an authority deeper than gravity.
Bell straightened, heart racing. Every instinct in him pulled him to her direction—wariness, awe, confusion. His lips parted to speak, but his voice faltered beneath the weight of her presence.
Freya's expression was calm, a serene smile curving her lips as she approached. "Why are you packing up?" she asked, her voice smooth as velvet, soft as starlight.
Bell swallowed. "Hestia-sama… doesn't wish to stay here. Lady Hephaestus offered us a new place."
"A sha. But understandable. She's never truly belonged here," Freya replied, her gaze unwavering. Her tone was light, but behind her eyes flickered quiet irritation—she could no longer visit him so freely if he left this sanctuary.
Bell's hands tightened on the fabric in his arms. "I should be leaving now. Hestia-sama is still waiting."
"Good luck," Freya murmured, stepping past him, her eyes drifting toward the vaulted ceiling. "But if you return… i will always welco you."
Her tone bore an eerie certainty, as if the stones of the building bent to her will.
Bell offered no reply. He did not trust himself to speak.
Freya's smile thinned. "You needn't fear , Bell Cranel. Consider … a friend."
"But we only just t," he said quietly.
She laughed, not cruelly—but not warmly either. "Ti is not a asure of connection."
After managing to say goodbye he turned and left, his footsteps swallowed by the stone silence.
Freya remained still, her gaze fixed on the place where he had stood. Then a flicker of movent caught her eye.
A servo-skull descended from the rafters like a pale on, vox-grill crackling with static as it hovered into place above the sanctuary's center.
Then ca the voice—Luthar's voice—calm, grave, and resonant.
"Freya," it intoned, amplified through hidden speakers. "As promised, I have prepared sothing... unique. If you wish to witness a real miracle, co to the lab."
The ssage ended as abruptly as it had begun. The skull drifted back into shadow.
Freya's eyes narrowed. Her interest, already piqued, now sharpened into sothing hungrier. She turned on her heel and walked, her steps swift, decisive. The cold iron halls of the lower church opened before her like the mouth of a slumbering beast.
In the heart of the machine chamber, the light was dim and flickering. Shadows coiled around industrial forms—pylons, servo-arms, and tangled cables. The skeletal frawork of the multiverse portal lood at the center, a cathedral of brass and bone.
Luthar stood before it, alone but not unwatched.
Tsubaki leaned against a far column, arms crossed, a thin line of unease etched between her brows. Liliruca stood near the wall, fingers twitching unconsciously near the grip of her pistol, eyes flicking from rune to rune as she fought the instinct to run. Even the servitors were silent, their whirring motions slow and deferential.
The runes across the bronze pillars began to glow—deep crimson, like blood catching fire. The core pulsed to life with a slow, thunderous thrum that echoed in the bones. Coolant hissed through steel veins. Arcs of static danced in the air, illuminating the vast engine like lightning glimpsed behind stained glass.
Freya entered without speaking. Her eyes scanned the chamber, then settled on Luthar.
He didn't turn. His fingers danced across the glowing slate, murmuring a binary chant. His voice was steady—until the first whisper broke through.
I see you… machine-born…
It ca through the platform—not a sound, but an intrusion, a presence. Cold. Ancient. Watching.
Luthar froze. His hands trembled. The slate flashed red as warnings blood across it like bloodstains.
Then another voice layered over the first. Not binary. Not human. Wrong.
Not ant. Not made. A broken key in a rusted lock...
The lights flickered. The core shuddered. The dinsional gate's surface shimred, distorting, folding space like a wound opening in reality. From the gate's heart ca a droning vibration, rising pitch by pitch until it sang like tal being torn apart.
Tsubaki stepped forward instinctively. "What the hell is—" But she stopped short, jaw clenched.
Liliruca took a step back, eyes wide, weapon half-raised, caught between awe and horror.
Freya did not move.
Luthar slamd his hand onto the stabilizer rune. The backup systems roared—vents blasted steam, and arcs of lightning were grounded in a thunderous crash. The chamber trembled.
Still the voices echoed.
You are a fracture. A beacon. You are calling it—
And then, as if a switch had been thrown, it stopped.
Silence crashed down like a hamr. Only the hum of machinery and Luthar's ragged breathing remained.
He turned slowly, sweat trailing down his temple. Behind him, the machine still pulsed—unstable, but intact.
"Let's pray I would be able to stop whatever is coming," he rasped, voice hoarse and low. "I don't want to be the reason this world burns."
He glanced at Tsubaki. "Quickly go to the upper floors; it's not the right place for you."
Originally Tsubaki wanted to refuse, but for so reason she couldn't refuse, as she could see how serious he was.
His eyes shifted to Liliruca. "Get your weapons ready; We're going to have a guest." saying this he activated all the defenses and let the servitor bring his main weapon.
Freya said nothing, but her eyes glittered—not with fear, but fascination. The danger had not vanished. It pressed in from all sides, unseen but undeniable.
Yet in her mind, it was no longer a warning.
It was the beginning of a myth—and she intended to witness every chapter.
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