The hall of the Crimson Church was dim but alive. Cables hissed, brass arms swung from ceiling rigs, and a scent of oil, copper, and something more arcane filled the air. At the center of the raised platform stood a towering humanoid figure—its body a grotesque blend of industrial bulk and unnatural grace.
Its armor was matte iron, shaped not for beauty but for function. Wide shoulders. Reinforced joints. Exposed pistons flexed along its limbs.
Luthar stood before it with a tablet in one hand, entering code sigils and adjusting the servos manually. The servitor's head was oval, eyeless, save for a single vertical slit of red light. It watched nothing. It obeyed everything.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
"What is that?" Hestia's voice cracked through the soundscape. She had stepped past the threshold, hair tangled from restless sleep, expression twisted in shock.
"New servitor," Luthar answered without looking up. "You could call it a walking assistant or a new security guard."
Her eyes were locked on the unfinished chest. Inside was a mess of crystal conduits, pulsing with heat and light, fused into wire clusters that wrapped around a heart.
"That's not a tool," she said, her voice quiet. "It's a corpse you forced to move."
"This isn't creation, Luthar. It's desecration."
"Don't overreact," he replied softly, still keying commands. "I still remember, Last time somebody was thinking if they could cook, it would be great."
Turning his face to her, he said with a joking tone, "do you want me to put some recipes there should be no problem, and teaching him how to cook.
Hestia stepped back slowly, with confusion and disgust, but as soon as her eyes fell on metal skulls floating around, her mind finally started to work, shaking her head.
"They are different I don't feel anything dirty about them."
Now, Luthar raised his head.
"Of course not," he said, almost fondly. "They served me while alive—each one loyal, each one trusted. Extremely Brave. No stain. Even in death."
He turned his eyes back to the servitor.
"This one… is just a flash. Full violence. No loyalty. No meaning. It's a tool I plan to use, nothing more."
As he was about to say something more The heavy inner door hissed as it opened, and Liliruca stepped in, now dressed in a clean apron over a short tunic, her face flushed not with embarrassment but with pride.
"You already finished?" she asked, her voice bright with curiosity. Her eyes wandered to the towering servitor—and lit up with something between wonder and satisfaction.
Hestia glanced at her, stunned. "Did you already know what he is doing?"
Lily only blinked. "of course He asked for a body. Fresh enough and structurally intact. I just did the hard part."
Luthar finally lowered his tablet, regarding her with calm precision. "And who was it?"
Liliruca hesitated. A shadow passed behind her usually sharp eyes.
"No one important," she said with a shrug. "Just some violent drunk I ran into while sweeping near the Guild's south quarter."
He tilted his head. "Lily."
She sighed. "Fine. He is Soma Familia, a captain."
Hestia gasped faintly.
Liliruca's gaze sharpened. "He liked hurting people weaker than him. Always take away my money and let other members beat me up," she added quickly, though her tone carried no guilt. " don't worry; he is not a good person."
Luthar looked back at the servitor, expression unreadable. "So you chose him because you hated him."
"I chose him," she said, "because I thought it would be a good revenge."
A long pause hung in the air as the servitor's crystal heart pulsed like some sleeping predator. Then Luthar nodded.
Hestia stood in silence as the echoes of their are conversation The servitor stood as a tombstone. The coppery scent clung to her skin—so thick it felt like blood.
She wanted to scream. Her gaze drifted to the floating skulls again. She swallowed, throat tight.
Liliruca didn't flinch. She watch the transformation of the person with smile Not innocence, but conviction. As if revenge had become a rite of passage.
Hestia's heart ached.
This cold vengeance? This distortion of what's sacred?
She turned, slowly, her footsteps light but purposeful as she began to leave the Church.
Her thoughts churned, uneasy. Logic warred with faith. She couldn't stop him. Not with words. Not with sentiment. But maybe—Hephaestus could put an end to this madness. Or at least slow it. Reground it.
She trusted her; i need to talk to her. Before this... before this becomes something none of us can contain.
Hestia walked faster.
Liliruca watched Hestia's retreating figure, then turned back to Luthar. The servitor loomed behind them like an accusation neither of them seemed willing to voice aloud.
Her voice came low, uncertain—but not without challenge.
"Do you still have a conscience, Luthar?"
He paused, gloved fingers brushing along the tablet's edge. His eyes, dimly lit by the servitor's crystal core, remained on the thing he had made.
" maybe maybe not," Luthar replies, clearly not interested in figuring it out.
Liliruca said nothing.
The air shifted again, perfumed this time. Silken footsteps crossed the hall. Freya appeared from the corridor, robes trailing behind her like a storm cloud.
"You made a vehicle with Hephaestus
," she said, "while completely forgetting about me."
As she watched himk, she said, You never even looked at me when I entered."
"You're not the subject of today's experiment," he replied.
"And this thing is?" Her voice was calm, but laced with offense. "This corpse stitched to iron? You care more for this abomination than for me?"
Luthar finally raised his head. The red glow of the servitor reflected in his lenses like twin eclipses.
"And why," he said coldly, "should I care for someone who's only thinking of how best to use me?"
Freya tilted her head, lips curling in a slow, dangerous smile. "You assume I only wish to use you."
She stepped closer. Now just beyond arm's reach. Liliruca stiffened but did not interfere.
Freya's voice dropped to a purr. "Actually, I've been wondering… what could you do with my blood? Just a drop."
Luthar's eyes narrowed. He studied her—not with hunger or hatred—but with the same surgical precision he gave to all unknown variables.
"That's just for study," he said at last. "I'm researching enhancement methods—ways to push a mortal's limits without divine blessing."
"No Falna," Freya murmured, circling slightly, her fingers trailing across the cold brass of the nearby terminal.
She leaned in, whispering close to his ear.
" instead of a drop, imagine how much more useful a living god would be."
Luthar didn't flinch. But neither did he retreat. "I don't need temptation," he said. "I need data. Consistent results. Viable substrates."
Freya's smile did not fade. " there is no temptation; give me what I want."
She touched the servitor's shoulder lightly, almost tenderly. "as for this... this is not a miracle. It's grief dressed in armor," she whispered, " with the soul which wants to escape this body."
Liliruca stepped forward then, voice sharp. " you don't have to tell us what is this thing is."
Freya turned, amused by the outburst.
"Oh? The little assistant speak"s.
"I'm not little," Lily said, deadpan. "And I know a predator's smile when I see one."
Luthar moved again, quiet as machinery winding down. He looked to Freya.
"I have a better offer: you work for me while I can study you. don't worry, I just need some body scans."
Freya raised a brow, intrigued.
"No bargains," he clarified. "few body scans, Just few drops For test, then would let you join me."
Freya's smile deepened, dangerous and delighted.
"Careful, Luthar. Even gods have limits."
He turned away, fingers dancing over the controls.
"Then we'll test those too."
This was only the beginning, the second piece of his puzzle.