Chapter 102: The Seed of Law

The severed limbs and rusted boiler plates rained down across the Processing Grid like a macabre hailstorm.

Black machine oil sprayed across the white surgical lights as the massive Level 40 amalgamation finally collapsed into a smoking heap.

Rolf leaned heavily on his battleaxe, wiping a thick smear of grease from his silver snout. He glared across the factory floor.

"You literally just showed up to steal the final hit, Nyssa," the werewolf grumbled, panting heavily.

Nyssa stood calmly near the smoking remains of the boss’s central node.

She pulled a silk cloth from her pocket and meticulously wiped a speck of oil off her silver rimmed glasses.

"An Architect arrives precisely when the structure is about to fail, Rolf," Nyssa replied smoothly.

"Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to manage Grik’s localized kinetic output down here while simultaneously calculating Anise’s gravity compression loops on the surface? My schedule is incredibly packed."

"Of course, but speak without using those exhausting words. It just fries my brain whenever I hear them." said Rolf.

Kaelith materialized from the shadows, flicking the dark blood from her twin daggers. She let out a dry, amused chuckle.

"You are treating this dungeon run like a part time job, bookworm," the assassin mocked gently.

"You are a complete stress addict. We still have enough time to complete those suits. Take a break."

"Her time management is flawless," I noted, stepping forward and shaking the residual heat from my brass Vanguard Arm.

"Look at the metrics. We all hit Level 37 evenly. She maximized our efficiency. Our flawless teamwork has made us what we are today. We move as one and we kill as one."

At the far end of the facility, the massive steel doors leading out of the Processing Grid slowly cranked open.

The dark, ominous tunnel ahead pulsed with an incredibly dense, terrifying magical pressure. That was The Warden’s Sanctum.

My primal instincts urged me to press forward, but my logical mind immediately slammed the brakes.

"We stop here," I commanded, turning my back on the open doors.

"My rule remains absolute. We do not even look at the Floor Boss until we hit Level 50. We are retreating."

I raised my organic hand, focusing on the glowing Eye of the Architect burned into my palm.

"Warp Node activated. Take us back to the surface. It is time to see what our crafters have built."

A brilliant flash of blue light swallowed the five of us, pulling us out of the suffocating heat of the Catacombs and hurtling us back to the upper world.

---

We materialized directly inside the heavily shielded underground testing foundry of the Iron Estate. The cool, smoggy air of the capital was a massive relief.

Master Brakka and Anise were standing in the center of the room.

They were surrounded by four heavy, cylindrical metal pods.

The grumpy Gear Goblin looked absolutely exhausted, covered head to toe in grease and soot, but his organic eye gleamed with a fanatic, maniacal pride.

"You are just in time," Anise smiled, wiping her hands on a heavy leather blacksmith’s apron. "We finished the prototypes."

"Suit up," Brakka grunted, pulling a lever on the main console.

The heavy metal pods hissed violently.

Thick white steam poured out as the doors slid open, revealing the raw, unrefined Ironclad chassis.

We stepped into our respective pods.

The internal mechanisms whirred to life, and the heavy, interlocking plates shifted and wrapped around our bodies.

They magnetically sealed shut with a series of loud, satisfying clacks.

I stepped out first.

The crimson and gold armor felt incredibly heavy, but the localized gravity compression unit humming in the chest plate negated the burden.

I raised my left hand, aiming the newly hollowed out palm directly at a reinforced steel target dummy at the far end of the foundry.

"Let us see what this focal lens can do," I murmured.

I channeled a surge of mana directly from my core into the brass palm.

A blinding white light gathered in the center of my hand.

VWOOOM!

A concentrated kinetic beam erupted from the lens.

It slammed into the steel dummy, completely obliterating the upper half.

But the recoil was absolute chaos.

The sheer kinetic backlash hit me like a runaway train. My boots lifted entirely off the floor.

I flew backward through the air and slammed violently into the reinforced brick wall of the foundry.

CRASH!

I slid down the wall to the floor, groaning in pain.

The brass barrel built into my palm was glowing a dangerous, cherry red.

It hissed aggressively, completely overheating from a single shot.

"Well," I wheezed, rubbing the back of my helmet. "That packs a punch."

Across the room, Rolf activated his Warlord’s Suppression to test his expanding scales. His muscle mass instantly doubled.

CRACK. GRIND.

The dark gunmetal scales shifted outward, but the raw prototype mechanisms immediately jammed.

The sliding metal plates violently pinched his thick silver fur, locking his arms tightly to his sides.

"Arrgh!" Rolf yelled, struggling against his own armor.

"I am completely stuck! It is crushing my ribs!"

Kaelith ignored the commotion and activated her stealth mode.

The matte black vibranium weave engaged, and the glowing purple sound suppressors on her joints flared to life.

She took three perfectly silent steps across the room.

Then, she dropped to one knee, gasping heavily for air. The purple runes sputtered and died.

"My core," Kaelith panted, gripping her chest.

"It is almost completely empty. The suppression runes drank a week’s worth of mana in five seconds."

Lysandra tried to extend her aerodynamic wing guards, but the heavy metal hinges caught on her delicate maroon feathers, forcing her to wince in pain and fold them back immediately.

The testing grounds fell quiet, save for the sound of Rolf trying to pry his jammed chest plate open.

The reality of our situation settled heavily over the room.

The suits were incredibly powerful, but they were fatally flawed.

They were raw, unrefined, and completely dangerous to the wearer.

"We have exactly forty eight days left," I said quietly, pulling myself off the floor.

"We are thirteen levels away from our goal, and our armor is killing us faster than the dungeon monsters. We are not ready."

Anise stepped into the center of the foundry. The playful mechanic completely vanished.

Her expression turned deadly serious. She radiated the heavy, undeniable aura of a Level 100 Hero.

"You are missing the point, Grik," Anise stated firmly.

"You think hitting Level 50 is a magical finish line. It is not."

The squad stopped struggling with their broken armor and looked at her.

"Levels one through forty nine are simply about building the vessel," Anise explained, pacing slowly in front of us.

"You are just expanding your core and making your physical biology durable enough to handle what comes next. Level 50 just means your body will not explode when a Law takes root."

She stopped and looked me directly in the glowing red eyes of my visor.

"To actually wield the Power of Law, you need a Law Seed. You have to comprehend a fundamental concept of reality. Gravity. Retribution. Silence. Domination. You have to understand that concept on a cosmic, absolute level and plant that seed directly inside your core."

A cold knot formed in my stomach as the true scale of the power system finally clicked into place.

"Valerius Thorne is not just a rich Incubus with a high level," Anise warned, her hazel eyes completely unyielding.

"He is on the absolute verge of making his Law Seed bloom. If he achieves the Power of Law before the Continental Summit, your physical stats and your fancy iron suits will not save you. A Law rewrites reality itself. He will erase you."

The threat was heavy and loomed quite heavily on their minds. But Anise sighed and continued.

"And that is actually impossible unless you have a Hero level Talent like me. And I have heard he has been trying for a few years only. For a normal guy, he will need at least a decade more to awaken the Law. So you do not need to hurry. Unless...."

"Unless what...?" Nyssa asked.

"Unless he uses Forbidden Magic and be casted as a Cultist by the World. Sometimes, men do stupid things for power." said Anise as she smirked looking at an empty space.

"So, what do you think our priority shall be? We have reached Level 37. We can get stronger by Leveling up till Level 50, but there is now way to attain the power of Law in a short time span. We need to accumulate this power as you say over time slowly through our own experiences. In the Continental Summit, we need to prove the involvement of the High Elven Purists with the Cult. What do you suggest we should do right now?" I asked.

"Nothing more, nothing less. Constant leveling up is the only way. In the mean time, I will help Master Brakka and Nyssa prepare your suits. What we lack is information. The information about what is going on in the world or at least the Continent. With better information at your hands, it will be easier to formulate a plan for the future. I may be the Paragon of Light, but I do not see the Future. What we are doing is just getting stronger, but brute force alone is not enough to defeat our enemies. We need Information network that we can trust. Because in times of war, the one who can handle the information and transmit it the fastest has the Advantage." Anise dropped a bomb of reality on our heads.

Silence.

Absolute Silence.

We all started thinking for the first time in a while. We were just moving around killing beasts and getting stronger, but none of us had the real experience in Information Warfare.

"You are right! The assassination attack must have been one of the things that should have helped me realize this travesty, but I completely missed it as I was overconfident. We shall visit the Dungeon once in a while to get stronger. I will speak with the King about these things. I will move right now. Keep up with your work." I said as I moved to the door.

I looked back at Rolf and said, "You are coming with me Rolf!"

"Aye! Aye! Captain!" he replied.