The carcass of the Sentinel Golem lay smoking on the workshop floor. Arthur was already dismantling it, prying loose the Atherian Focusing Lens (the sapphire eye) with a crowbar.
Julian sat on a stool, shaking. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the crushing reality of what just happened.
"We just fought a war machine," Julian whispered. "Inside the school. Arthur, this... this has gone too far."
Julian stood up, his face pale but determined. "I am going to the Headmaster. Now. My father is the Arch-Mage. He needs to know that ancient golems are waking up. He needs to bring the Royal Guard."
"Sit down, Julian," Arthur said, not looking up from his work.
"No!" Julian shouted. "We are fourteen years old! We are building bombs in a basement while the world ends! This is madness! My father can stop this. The King can stop this!"
Vivian stepped forward. She looked torn. "Arthur... he's right. My father (the king) has the Imperial Army. If we tell them about the Mana Pressure, they can evacuate the Capital. They can help."
Arthur stopped prying. He sighed, wiping grease onto his forehead. He dropped the heavy crowbar. CLANG.
"Zack," Arthur said quietly. "Bring me the Comm-Crystal."
Zack ran to a shelf and grabbed a standard, communication-grade crystal orb—the kind used by the nobility to send messages.
Arthur placed the orb on the table in front of Julian.
"This is the frequency your father uses," Arthur said. "The Royal Channel."
Julian reached for the orb. "Good. I'll call him right now."
"Wait," Arthur grabbed Julian's wrist. "Before you call... I want to show you why I haven't."
Arthur turned to the massive wall of ancient machinery. "Alice. Display the Outgoing Warning Log."
The spirit construct materialized. "Accessing. Displaying communication attempts."
A holographic list scrolled in the air.
> WARNING SENT: YEAR 990. RECIPIENT: ROYAL PALACE. > STATUS: REJECTED.
> WARNING SENT: YEAR 995. RECIPIENT: ARCH-MAGE TOWER. > STATUS: BLOCKED (SIGIL OF SILENCE).
> WARNING SENT: YEAR 1000. RECIPIENT: KING ROLAND. > STATUS: PURGED AS DARK MAGIC.
"The System hasn't been silent, Julian," Arthur said softly. "It has been screaming for ten years. It has been sending error reports to every major magical tower in the Kingdom."
"Then why didn't they answer?" Vivian asked, horrified.
"Alice," Arthur commanded. "Simulate a warning transmission to this crystal."
"Acknowledged," Alice said.
The ancient machine hummed. A beam of blue light hit the standard Comm-Crystal on the table.
Normally, a message would appear as a voice or a face. But the Ancient Tech didn't use voice. It used raw data.
SCREEEEEEEEECH!
The crystal on the table shrieked. It flashed violent, strobe-light red. Static noise filled the room—a terrifying, chaotic sound like a thousand scratching knives.
> ERROR: 0x84492. MANA OVERFLOW. SECTOR 7.
The text that flashed inside the crystal was in Atherian Runes—angular, complex, and glowing with an eerie light.
Julian recoiled, covering his ears. "Stop it! Turn it off!"
Arthur cut the connection. The shrieking stopped.
"That," Arthur pointed to the smoking crystal, "is what your father hears. He doesn't hear, 'The pressure is high.' He hears a demon screaming in a dead language."
Arthur looked at Julian, then at Vivian.
"If you go to your father now, Julian, and tell him we have a slate that speaks this language... he won't thank us. He will think we are being corrupted by the same 'Dark Spirits' that have been tormenting his comm-channel for a decade."
Arthur stepped closer, his voice grim.
"They will confiscate the iScrolls. They will lock us in a dungeon 'for our own safety' to perform exorcisms. And while they are splashing holy water on us, the pressure will hit 100%, and they will all burn."
Julian stared at the dead crystal. He imagined his stern, traditionalist father. He imagined trying to explain "data logs" to a man who burned books he considered heretical.
"He... he wouldn't listen," Julian realized, sinking back onto the stool. "He would call it Necromancy. He would lock the basement and throw away the key."
"Exactly," Arthur picked up the crowbar again. "We are the only ones who can read the warnings. That makes us the only ones who can fix the leak."
Arthur turned back to the Golem's eye.
"Now, are we done with the politics? Because I need to turn this eyeball into a rifle."
....
The mood in the workshop shifted. The hope of rescue was gone. They were truly alone.
"What are we building?" Vivian asked, trying to shake off the dread.
Arthur held up the Sapphire Lens.
"The Golem used this to focus mana into a disintegration beam," Arthur explained. "It's a focusing array. If we mount this onto a stock and feed it from a high-density capacitor..."
He pulled out a schematic on his iScroll.
[Project: The Sun-Lance.] [Type: Directed Energy Weapon.]
"Julian," Arthur said. "Your wand is efficient for shaping fire, but it's slow. You have to chant. You have to visualize."
Arthur placed a long, wooden stock (carved from a desk) on the table. He began fitting copper rails along the barrel. He slotted the Sapphire Lens into the muzzle.
"This weapon removes the 'Human Element'," Arthur said, tightening a screw. "You pour raw mana into the chamber. The capacitor stores it. The lens focuses it. You pull the trigger, and it releases a coherent beam of light in 0.01 seconds."
"A gun," Julian said, looking at the device. "Like the dwarven muskets, but... cleaner."
"Better," Arthur corrected. "No gunpowder. No explosion. Just light and heat."
He handed the heavy, prototype rifle to Julian.
"It has no recoil," Arthur warned. "But it generates massive heat. Do not touch the barrel after firing, or you will lose your fingerprints."
Julian held the weapon. It felt heavy, alien. But as he wrapped his hand around the grip, he felt the copper circuits hum against his skin. It felt... powerful.
"We need to test it," Julian said, aiming at a scrap metal plate on the far wall.
"Wait!" Arthur put on his goggles. "Safety squints!"
Julian channeled mana into the stock. The sapphire lens glowed bright blue. He didn't chant. He just willed it.
Click-HISS.
A beam of red light—thin as a needle—shot across the room.
It hit the metal plate. There was no bang. The plate simply turned orange, then white. A perfect, coin-sized hole appeared in the steel.
"Instantaneous," Julian whispered, lowering the smoking gun. "No travel time. No dodging."
"That is the difference between Magic and Engineering," Arthur said, taking off his goggles. "Magic is an art. This is a tool."
Arthur looked at the countdown on the wall.
[Time Remaining: 98 Days.]
"We have the weapons," Arthur said. "Now, we need the vehicle. Tomorrow, we start stripping the armor off the Golem. We're going to need it for the car."
End of Chapter 33