My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World-Chapter 60: The Emergency Council

The rhythmic bubbling of the water within the coolant tank in the far corner of The Grotto of Infinite Gears suddenly shifted its cadence. What had been a slow, steady simmer of escaping heat turned into a rapid, frantic churn as air bubbles raced to the surface, shattering the heavy silence of King Ironbeard’s private workshop. Dayat, who was still slumped in his oaken chair, nursing the dull, throbbing remnants of a migraine, snapped his head toward the tank.

Deep within the clear, blue-tinted liquid, two brilliant, electric-blue eyes snapped open.

"System rebooting... Data synchronization complete. Physical integrity status: 98%. Core temperature: Nominal," Dola’s voice echoed internally in Dayat’s mind, followed instantly by her physical voice as the heavy copper lid of the tank slid open with a pressurized hiss.

Dola stepped out of the tank with a fluid grace that seemed even more refined than before. The translucent coolant flowed down her synthetic skin, which now possessed a radiant, healthy luster that hadn’t been there before the crash. Lunethra, who had been standing a mere breath away from Dayat, instinctively recoiled a step, her emerald eyes narrowing as she made room for the synthetic assistant.

Dola did not immediately look at Dayat. Her glowing eyes performed a rapid, high-intensity sweep of the entire workshop, lingering for a fraction of a second on Lunethra before fixing entirely on Dayat.

"Good afternoon, Dayat. Or should I say, good afternoon for the indulgence of your emotional variables?" Dola stepped closer, the water on her clothes evaporating instantly from her internal heat. "Biometric scanning indicates that your dopamine and oxytocin levels have increased by 12.4% over the last thirty minutes. Your heart rate also displays a rhythm inconsistent with strenuous physical activity. Based on the previous spatial coordinates of your head relative to the surrounding environment, I have concluded that you were engaging in non-technical physical contact with the biological Elven unit beside you."

Dayat let out a sharp, choked cough, his face turning a vivid shade of crimson. "Dola, you literally just woke up. Don’t start fabricating these weird scenarios."

"I am merely reporting the data, Dayat," Dola replied flatly, yet there was a needle-thin edge to her voice that felt different than before—something sharper, almost mimicking the bite of human sarcasm. "Given that I was inactive, I assume you sought an alternative source of comfort. It appears your efficiency in resisting ’scandalous interference’ has dropped drastically without my active supervision."

Lunethra stood frozen, a bewildered expression on her face as she sensed a strange, aggressive tension emanating from the machine-girl. Dayat felt his headache recede slightly from the sheer shock of Dola’s "reboot," but before he could formulate a logical rebuttal, the atmosphere within the workshop shifted violently.

It wasn’t Dola’s jealousy that cut the debate short; it was a sudden, bone-chilling sensation that pierced through the humid heat of the foundry. Lunethra stood rigid, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. As an Elf, her magical senses were far more attuned to the fabric of reality than anyone else in the room.

"This Mana..." Lunethra whispered, her face draining of color. "It’s foul. Like a carcass forced back into a mockery of life."

Dayat stood up, his hand instinctively gripping the pistol grip of the HK416 resting on the table, while his left hand ensured the Silver Thorn—the Adamantite blade—was still secured to his back. "You feel it too, Lun?"

"It’s dense, Dayat. This is not the mana of this world. It’s... hungry," Lunethra answered, her voice trembling slightly.

At that exact moment, the heavy, iron-bound door of the workshop was hammered from the outside. It wasn’t a formal knock; it was a desperate, panicked pounding. The door burst open, and Kancil came sprinting in, his face as pale as parchment. Tears were streaming down his soot-stained cheeks, and his breath came in ragged, wet gasps.

"Big Bro Dayat! Your Majesty!" Kancil screamed, collapsing at the feet of King Ironbeard, who had been observing Dola’s awakening with a mix of awe and suspicion. "Down below... in the steam-vent tunnels of Sector Three... something came through!"

King Ironbeard’s brow furrowed into a deep, jagged line. Behind him, Baruk-Ahn immediately gripped his massive greataxe with enough force to turn his knuckles white. "Calm yourself, lad! Speak clearly. What came through? More of those oversized rats?"

"No!" Kancil shook his head violently. "Black monsters! They’re crawling out of the ventilation shafts. The guards down there... they... they couldn’t hold them! Their shields... they just melted!"

Ironbeard’s expression hardened into a mask of regal fury. He turned to Baruk-Ahn. "Sound the steam-bells. Summon the entire Council of Stone Guardians to the Basalt Throne Hall. Now!"

The Basalt Throne Hall: A Gathering of Pride

Ten minutes later, the Basalt Throne Hall was packed with the highest authorities of Terragard. The tension was thick enough to choke a dragon. The ministers, including the rigid Borkum Steel-Eye, stood around a massive circular table of polished obsidian. In the center, a three-dimensional projection of the Deep Steam Vents flickered to life through a large Mana-crystal.

Elder Balthor, the blind leader of the council, stood with his ancient stone staff. Though his eyes were milky-white and sightless, he seemed to look directly into Dayat and Dola’s souls as they stood beside the King.

"The rift has torn open," Balthor’s voice trembled with a heavy, ominous weight. "I feel the distortion of the world’s breath. This is no mere incursion of wild beasts, Your Majesty. This is The Breach. The light of Aethera is being consumed by the absolute darkness of the Void."

Borkum Steel-Eye slammed his fist onto the stone table. "And so? We have three battalions of Earth-Shielders on standby at every key sector! Their Enchanted-Gold plate armor can withstand a direct hit from a steam-cannon! We simply need to seal the sector and crush whatever crawls out of that hole!"

Borkum’s arrogance was met with nods of approval from several other ministers. To the Dwarves, Terragard was an impregnable fortress. Thousands of years of history proved that this mountain had never fallen, and their pride was as solid as the rock itself.

"Borkum is correct," Ironbeard interjected, his voice booming with a confidence that echoed off the basalt pillars. "Terragard will not fall to a handful of black shadows. I order a total mobilization for war! Activate the Ancient Golems in the vanguard and send the heavy shield units to form a permanent blockade at the mouth of the Deep Steam Vents."

Dayat stepped forward, his voice cutting through the thick layer of Dwarven arrogance. "Your Majesty, listen to me carefully. I’ve seen those things below. They don’t attack your armor physically. They corrupt the Mana within it. No matter how strong your shields are, they will crumble the moment the energy inside is consumed by the Void."

Ironbeard looked down at Dayat with a gaze of friendly condescension. "Lord Dayat, you are a master of precision tools and explosive iron. But in the art of war beneath the earth, leave it to the Dwarves. Our shield-walls have been invincible for millennia. We will crush these monsters like pebbles under our boots."

"Master," Dola whispered beside Dayat, her eyes flashing with a rapid data-stream. "Probability analysis of a static Dwarven formation against corrosive Abyssal entities is only 24.7%. They will be slaughtered in less than an hour if they adhere to traditional defensive tactics."

Dayat let out a long, frustrated sigh. He knew that arguing with a Dwarf blinded by pride was a futile endeavor. "I will not interfere with your royal commands, King Ironbeard. But my team and I will move independently. I have unfinished business with that gate."

Ironbeard let out a short, appreciative laugh. "Bold as ever! Very well, if that is your wish. Baruk-Ahn will ensure your path is clear, but do not expect the main army’s support if you are trapped. All our strength will be focused on the primary blockade."

"A single squad of Dwarves is enough to die in vain," Dayat muttered under his breath. He looked at Dola, Lunethra, and Kancil, who was hiding behind him. "We move as a team of four. Dola, activate long-range tactical scanning. Lun, I need your magic to detect their mana signatures before they emerge. Kancil, stay close to me, and don’t stray."

"Status: Activating thermal radar and mana-anomaly detection," Dola reported. Her eyes glowed with a brighter, more focused intensity. "Additional note: Dayat, I suggest you focus your cognitive attention on the battlefield, rather than on the Elven unit to your right. Your concentration is the key variable to our survival."

Dayat could only shake his head at Dola’s robotic jealousy, which felt more real with every passing second. Outside the hall, the massive steam-bells began to toll—a deep, resonant sound that signaled the start of total war. Thousands of Earth-Shielders, their golden shields gleaming, began to march into the darkness, completely unaware that they were walking toward a massacre beyond their darkest imaginings.

Amidst the clamor of clashing steel and hissing steam, Dayat checked the action on his HK416. He knew that the precision he had taught the Dwarves wouldn’t be enough to win this war. He needed something more... something that burned hotter than logic.

"Let’s go," Dayat whispered. "It’s time to show the Abyss what Earth’s ’Logic’ looks like when it’s angry."