The air on the 18th floor was warm, quiet, and gentle in a way the upper Dungeon never allowed. A breeze drifted through the moss, rustling the leaves like the whisper of a lullaby. For a moment, there was no war, no ambition—only stillness.
Luthar moved steadily across the moss-carpeted clearing, his servo-skull drifting lazily above, its optical lens pulsing softly. Freya trailed behind him, silent and serene, letting the peace of the place speak for itself.
That's when he saw her.
Ais Wallenstein stood near the edge of the camp, just past a grove of softly glowing trees. The chain sword—his chain sword—rested awkwardly in her arms, clearly too large for her slim frame but held with a kind of reverent fascination. She turned it this way and that, frowning slightly as she poked the activation stud with a gloved finger. The blade remained inert.
When she noticed him, her eyes lit up.
Without a word, she made her way over, light on her feet, almost skipping. She stopped in front of him, held out the weapon with both hands, and then gestured at it with a small frown. Her brows drew together in a confused, mildly frustrated expression—like a child presenting a toy that wouldn't work.
Luthar blinked once. Then, somehow understanding, he murmured, "...It's not broken."
Ais tilted her head, clearly not convinced.
He took the hilt gently and pressed a recessed rune near the grip. The chainsword coughed once, then roared to life—the teeth spinning with a deep vrrrrrk, its sacred machine spirit awakened by a practiced hand.
Ais's eyes went wide with wonder.
Without waiting, she reached forward, took it back with care, and nodded with almost comical seriousness—like a student finally understanding a lesson. Then, wordlessly, she turned and marched toward a tree.
With the solemnity of a knight about to slay a dragon, she raised the chainsword and swung.
The weapon tore through the bark in a high-pitched shriek, shredding the trunk with a spiral of sparks and sawdust. She giggled—quietly at first, then again, as if delighted by the sheer power of it.
Freya, arms folded, glanced at Luthar. "So… are we just going to lose all the trees on this floor?"
"only if nobody stops her," he replied flatly.
"Mm," Freya smirked. "I haven't seen you treat someone so gently before. Are you in love or something?"
Luthar said nothing.
He didn't quite know why he'd reacted that way. He certainly hadn't entertained any strange ideas about winning her over with advanced weapons or telling her he could help her slay a Black Dragon to earn her admiration. No—absolutely not.
Maybe… maybe it was just an adjustment. One month wasn't enough to make him normal—but perhaps it was enough for his emotions to begin aligning with this new world, enough to appreciate the people in it.
Especially those who were strong.
And beautiful.
And, at times, adorably curious.
Freya watched him for another moment, then looked back toward Ais, who was now examining another tree with gleeful determination.
"I think she likes it," Freya said with a chuckle.
Luthar simply nodded. "That would be sad as a plan to take back after some time."
They appreciate the destruction of the trees by a cute girl who made a particularly enthusiastic swing, sending bark and splinters scattering like petals in the wind.
Before they could talk about another topic, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the calm.
Two figures emerged from the camp path—quick, focused, and immediately drawn to the chaos unfolding.
Finn Deimne's sharp eyes took in the scene in a single glance. Beside him, Gareth growled something under his breath before rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Ah," Finn muttered with a sigh. "We were gone for five minutes."
He gave Gareth a subtle nod. The dwarf groaned, then broke into a jog toward Ais.
Luthar watched as Gareth approached the girl with all the care of someone trying to disarm a laughing landmine. He spoke gently, coaxing her to lower the chainsword, which she did only after a few more vrrrrrk noises of protest and a longing glance at the nearest tree.
Meanwhile, Finn made his way to Luthar.
Despite the commanding presence he carried as captain of the Loki Familia, there was no confrontation in his approach—only calm curiosity. His posture was relaxed, his smile mild, but his eyes were keen and assessing.
"Luthar Cogbane, I presume?" Finn asked, his voice even and respectful.
Luthar inclined his head. "That's correct."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard... a great deal."
"Hopefully not all from the guild."
Finn chuckled. "I try to get my intelligence from more reliable sources."
His gaze briefly shifted to the chainsword, now held reluctantly at Gareth's side. "Quite the weapon. I imagine that's not something we'll be seeing in the local smithies anytime soon."
"No," Luthar said simply. "It's... unique. Made for a different kind of war."
Finn's expression grew thoughtful. "I don't think so. It's clearly a weapon made for monsters; of course, I assume it might not be suitable for careless people."
There was no judgment in his tone. If anything, there was understanding. Perhaps even appreciation.
"You're wrong, actually," Luthar replied, stepping slowly toward Ais, now being gently scolded by Gareth. "This weapon is better against intelligent people. Its very sound is enough to unnerve the unprepared. And when limbs are torn, blood sprayed, and bodies dismantled"
He glanced back.
"—the spectacle alone is often enough to break the enemy. Especially in war."
Finn nodded slowly. "That really doesn't sound nice."
A brief pause passed before Finn smiled again. "Then again, who am I to judge? and if you decide to sell one day, make sure to send me a reminder; I would be the first one to purchase it."
Luthar looked toward Ais, now watching Gareth with innocent eyes as if she'd done nothing wrong.
"Yes, I would do that once I can make sure it's impossible to replicate," he said quietly. " it would take time, as I am already busy with lots of work."
Finn studied him for a moment longer, then gave a quiet hum of approval. Then he asks, out of curiosity, "So, is there a reason for The Mask? Currently, you look like a person who is up to no good."
"It's for protection against a sudden poison attack or maybe some charm," Luthar said. While looking behind where Freya was standing, "Then again, it might be just a habit, as my colleagues never liked my face, and they think I should replace it with metal and probably a few other things."
At that, Finn let out a quiet laugh. "Quite the interesting colleagues you've had."
"Indeed," Luthar said, his thoughts drifting back In the rigid dogma of the Cult Mechanicus, he had always been an anomaly—reviled by many Tech-Priests for refusing to surrender his flesh in pursuit of the Omnissiah's ideal. Had it not been for his father's influence, they might have declared him a heretic long ago. It was this very protection, this unspoken act of mercy, that prevented Luthar from ever truly hating the man who had shaped his fate.
As he looked around, It decided to get a
tent. it's would good to have a separate tent.
Luthar cast one last glance at this place. As Gareth began walking off with the chainsword in hand, Luthar stepped forward.
"Wait," he said calmly.
The dwarf paused, raising a brow.
Luthar extended a hand. "It belongs to me."
Ais, standing just behind Gareth, tilted her head in quiet disappointment. She didn't protest, but the reluctance in her posture spoke volumes.
Luthar took the weapon slowly, brushing a bit of wood dust from its teeth with a cloth from his belt. Then, unexpectedly, he turned it in his hands and offered it back—but hilt-first.
"You can hold onto it," he said. "For now."
Ais's eyes lit up again.
"But," he added, voice dry, "be careful."
She nodded—seriously, solemnly—as if she had just been entrusted with an artifact of power rather than a glorified rotary saw.
Gareth sighed, rubbing his face again.
Luthar smirked faintly, then turned away.
"Now," he murmured to himself, "I need to find a place where I won't be woken up by the next log she decides to decapitate."
Author's confused. Note, which you can ignore if you want:
My trip was quite painful, but as I arrived at the temple, there was nothing to worry about just absolute silence and had a feeling like somebody was going to lift me up only to be knocked back to reality by mom I say this was the first time when my brain actually stopped thinking and I did not have a monologue in my mind, but after coming back to reality the pain and troubles are just on the next level.
Now let's talk about the story. I have only returned three chapters this week. I've got plenty of ideas lined up. But before continuing with the chapters 88, I want to take some time to think carefully about the plot. Right now, I'm with the idea of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the Mutant (X-Men) timeline, or even DC. Marvel is honestly the easiest to handle. If I start from Iron Man or even jump straight into the Avengers, the action kicks in fast and the world structure is clean—making it easier to write around. Now, with mutants… things get a little more complicated. Especially if you can catch them. I mean—recruit them. For research. Or maybe combat purposes. You know how it goes. DC is tempting, but let's be real—it's a mess. To make it work, I'd probably have to blend parts of the animated universe with the better pieces of the movie timeline to craft a version I can actually manage. Anyway, feel free to drop your thoughts. I'm not rushing this time—I don't want to mess it up again.