The days that followed were a blur of steam, sparks, muttered calculations, and soot-smudged clothing. Luke had settled into an odd rhythm: mornings spent at the cathedral with Ilyrana, soaking in the last of the quiet moments Nateron had to offer, and afternoons plunging back into Archimedes' hidden laboratory to fine-tune the Mage Robe 3.
It became almost comedic how predictable his days were — wake up, eat, check on whatever the children were doing, sneak into the corridor, pull the torch, and descend into the inventor's lair. By the second day, Luke barely noticed the groaning stone wall anymore. By the fifth, the corridor had become as familiar to him as the walk from his old apartment to the nearest convenience store.
Archimedes, unsurprisingly, had not slept.
