After the so-called team-building meeting, they talk about other things, especially things related to Luthar's previous world.
Listening to his adventures in the previous world, Their eyes started to shine. Freya, ever the one to press into silence, finally spoke again.
"You told us about your world and the threats it contains, but not about how you made up your mind to leave your world."
He remained quiet for a moment, gaze settled on the table's polished grain as if searching for an anchor in its pattern.
"I only ever fought one war with my own hands," he said at last, his voice constant. "After the victory, It was supposed to be a recovery mission. A world ravaged by a strange plague—unpredictable, mutating. I decide to provide aid, bring order, and rebuild."
He clasped his hands, metal fingers folding slowly. "And I did. I stabilized their infrastructure, secured power, distributed clean water, and synthesized vaccines. The people were clinging to the life they had, hoping again.
He looked up, meeting each of their eyes.
"Then the Inquisition arrived."
And detected anomalies—claimed signs of Warp corruption. No proof. No investigation. Just... accusations. Enough for them to declare exterminatus."
Hephaestus's eye narrowed. "What is that exterminatus?"
"In simple terms, it means to destroy the planet and all life," Luthar said flatly. "Because my mind doesn't allow me to remember anything related to Chaos—I thought they were just normal people. So I refused. I locked weapons on their cruiser and told them to back down."
Freya tilted her head slightly. "Then you guys had a fight."
His fingers tightened slightly on the table.
"But someone on my side intervened. They knew a fight
between a Mechanicus and an Inquisitorial fleet would spiral beyond control. So... they knocked me out. Tranquilized. Disabled. When I woke up, the planet was gone. Glassed. Erased."
Luthar continued quietly. "My father came to see me afterwards. Told me I was too emotional. That my judgment had been compromised He said, I needed to be fixed."
A faint tremor touched his voice, like a memory trying to surface.
"He helped suppress my emotional centers. After that, I didn't feel anything. Just a calculating machine."
Liliruca looked down at her hands.
"And yet," Freya said softly, "you're here."
"I couldn't stay in that state; it was not a good feeling, so that time, I made up my mind and started to build a dimensional gate—unstable, risky, but functional. And that brought me here," he replied.
He stood then, slowly, his posture heavy with exhaustion.
He looked around once more.
Hephaestus gestured toward the hall with a flick of her hand. "Go sleep, Cogbane. You've been up for seven days."
Luthar gave the nod and turned toward the corridor. His footsteps echoed behind him, quieter than the machinery he usually walked beside.
He returned to his quarters, removed the soot-stained gloves from his hands, and lay back without a word. The light above him dimmed. For the first time, a mechanic shut his eyes—and let himself rest.
The morning came silently. Sunlight filtered weakly through the reinforced windows of the Crimson Church. Luthar awoke precisely, not from habit, but from need. Rest had restored clarity.
He moved to his workbench and activated a private console. A single line blinked at the top: > TASK LOG INITIALIZATION
Below it, Luthar began typing:
Pay accumulated wages. Investigate local potion crafting. Prepare one light combat suit for Liliruca. foundational knowledge package for Goddess of the Forge. Study Freya's blood
Luthar closed the interface, then he stood, exited his room, and stepped into the central chamber. No footsteps echoed down the hall, and no conversation even the auxiliary systems confirmed what his senses did not detect:
After finding nobody was at the church, he decided to first visit the shop, exiting through the side corridor. The doors sealed behind him with a hiss.
Outside, the afternoon sun hung high, casting geometric shadows across the path. The air was warmer than usual; he arrived at his store.
The door slid open with a soft hiss. Inside, the main counter was tidy, and shelves were neatly arranged and recently restocked. Behind the counter, Elna was seated at a small desk, engrossed in sorting through ledgers and inventory lists, her brow furrowed in concentration.
The soft hum of the shop's semi-autonomous systems filled the quiet space.
Luthar stepped inside, his footsteps muted on the worn floor. Elna looked up briefly, surprised but composed.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Luthar," she greeted, her voice calm and professional. He offered a small nod, moving straight to the rear console near the counter.
Activating the screen, Luthar cycled through logs, inventory changes, and transaction history. After verifying that everything was in order, he closed the interface and turned toward her.
"Looks like I forgot to pay your salary this week," he said plainly.
Elna blinked, then offered a polite shake of her head. "It's alright. I heard from Miss Liliruca how busy you've been lately."
He regarded her for a moment, thoughtful. There was nothing performative in her words—just quiet acceptance. Simple, direct.
"A simple one," he murmured, mostly to himself.
Then, deciding, he spoke up again.
"I've adjusted the terminal. From now on, you can withdraw your salary directly from the shop's cash box. The authorization is logged under your ID."
Elna's eyes widened a bit. "I—I see. That's very convenient, thank you."
He raised a hand before she could turn back to her work. "For this week, take double the usual amount."
She froze. "Double?" No, that's not necessary. My current salary is already good." "You should take it," Luthar interrupted, not unkindly. "You've been working consistently..."
Elna opened her mouth to protest again, then stopped. Her fingers fidgeted slightly on the edge of the desk.
"I don't want to take advantage," she said quietly.
"You're not," Luthar replied simply. "You're being compensated for your labor. That's not a gift—it's correction."
A moment passed in silence. Then, slowly, Elna gave a nod—still hesitant, but grateful. "Understood, sir. Thank you."
Luthar gave no further response and simply came out from the shop.
Elna looked down at her ledger, the corners of her mouth lifting in the faintest smile, before returning to her work with renewed focus.
Outside, Luthor looked at Miach's stop. Like always, it was looking run-down. After thinking a little, he thought Miach might be a good option to acquire knowledge about potions, plus he had several ways to convince him to write down all the knowledge.
[ /Silvervir?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator ]