While Lily's world shifted from Earth to Mars, inside the forge lab, it was silent—save for the rhythmic pulse of the containment vats. Each tank glowed faintly green, filled with a nutrient-rich suspension where pale forms floated: neural clusters, embryonic minds no larger than a clenched fist. Tubes coiled through the air like translucent serpents, feeding energy and fluid in carefully measured intervals.
Luthar moved between the rows, hands clasped behind his back, mechadendrites unfolding from his armour to inspect each cluster. Data streamed across his visor in neat, pulsing lines.
"Cognitive response within expected variance," he murmured. "Two percent deviation in node fourteen. Acceptable."
A soft hiss followed as he disconnected the vat, the small brain inside drifting forward before being sealed within a containment capsule. One by one, he collected the matured units, the low hum of machinery underscoring every movement.
Hephaestus waited in the adjoining chamber, her forge burning bright even amid the sterile light. The goddess's red hair caught the glow of enchantments as she adjusted the assembly frame. Rows of unfinished scarabs lay across the bench—sleek, mechanical shells of dark alloy, each engraved with runes that shimmered faintly beneath her touch.
Without looking up, she asked, "I didn't think you'd add enchantments to your creations."
"Didn't have much of a choice," Luthar replied, setting the capsule onto the table. "Pure machinery falters against magic-born entities. If my constructs are to face sorcerers, they'll need more than logic circuits and steel."
Hephaestus tapped the metallic shell of one scarab, watching the reflected glow ripple across its surface. "Using magic swords would have been more cost-effective. Creating scarabs is far too time-consuming."
"They're not as cost-effective as you think," he said evenly. "I've already tested earlier prototypes—the scarabs perform better than enchanted weapons in sustained combat."
The goddess smiled faintly. "Let's hope you're right, Luthar." She unscrewed a panel, exposing the intricate inner lattice. The scent of molten metal mingled with something faintly organic as she fitted the scarab into the assembly frame.
Luthar opened a capsule, extracting the small neural cluster within. With deliberate precision, he began implanting it into the scarab's core.
The forge's hum deepened as the integration sequence began. Machinery shifted into motion, servitors adjusting clamps and calibrating the stabilisers.
Luthar linked the neural conduits, mechadendrites securing each connection in place. Streams of code and biological feedback scrolled across his visor, tracking the degree of completion.
As the scarab's optical sensors lit up, he monitored the readings for several seconds searching for any anomaly. Only after confirming stability did he give a curt nod. "Integration stable."
Hephaestus stepped forward, her hand tracing a glowing sigil across the frame. A flare of molten light sealed the final rune. "It's complete," she said evenly.
"Now we just have ninety-nine more to finish," Luthar replied dryly.
Hours passed in exacting rhythm—implant, calibrate, seal, record. The chamber pulsed with controlled energy, every motion measured and efficient.
When the last one was completed, Hephaestus powered down the main conduits, dimming the forge light to a low, steady glow. Rows of finished scarabs rested in perfect formation, each radiating a faint red line of internal activity.
Luthar reviewed the diagnostics one final time before stepping back. "Now we can think about the next generation," he said quietly. "Maybe we could include some Asgard enchantment in future scarabs, maybe we could make something like that destroyer in the shape of scarabs.
Hephaestus allowed herself a small nod. "That's a good idea, but if you really want to make multiple of them, you should learn about enchantment," she advised. "I don't mind forging for days—but I don't want to spend my time on forging something again and again."
"Don't worry," Luthar replied. "We only need to make it in limited quantity. As for learning enchantment—that's impossible for now, as my body does not have magic."
Hephaestus leaned back from the workbench, wiping a streak of metallic dust from her fingers. "You know," she said at last, her tone somewhere between amusement and reproach, "the only reason you don't have magic is because you refuse to accept a divine blessing."
Luthar didn't look up from the diagnostics. "I have my reasons."
She folded her arms, one brow arching. "Reasons, or stubborn pride?" Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before softening slightly. "If you'd just take a blessing and kill a few monsters, you'd gain enough magic to make enchanted weapons." She gestured toward the mechanical scarabs. "Just imagine making all of these by your own hand instead of getting my help; isn't this wonderful?"
Luthar's hands paused over the control panel. For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the cooling forge.
Finally, he said quietly, "I'm already working on a solution. If that fails…" He straightened, meeting her eyes through the faint shimmer of his visor. "Then I'll consider the blessings."
Hephaestus studied him for a moment, then smirked faintly. "You could at least say, 'I'll accept the blessing if I fail.' It would make you sound less impossible."
Luthar gave a quiet exhale that might have been a sigh—or the closest thing he allowed to amusement. "Fine," he said, reaching for one of the scarabs and inspecting its polished shell. "If I fail to acquire magic through my own means, I'll accept the blessing."
Hephaestus crossed her arms, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips. "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Luthar turned toward the exit, the scarab held lightly in one hand. "Definitely easier than eating an ice cream," he said dryly.
As he left, Hephaestus shook her head with a low chuckle, watching the workshop's doors slide shut behind him. "Not even a thanks for working an entire day," she murmured. As a goddess spending a long time forging in fine detail, as she didn't feel any exhaustion, but it was mentally tiring to make these things.
Picking one of them, she thought about releasing them back in the dungeon. These things have decent fighting skills. As she prepared to leave the workshop, she found a paper filled with new instructions about forging other things.
Authors note: ice cream joke was real for both novel and also for me because when writing I was trying to eat ice cream but for some reason it was on the ground and still can't able to remember what happen the best guess is a must been stupid so my mind has remove that memory if you are thinking why I am eating ice cream when I have a cold main answer would be its not like it's going to go away if I don't eat it still have a cold after so many months currently even eating one.
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