Inside a dim SHIELD observation room, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above the roundtable. A projection of Luthar's cloaked silhouette hovered over the center—grainy footage from the Air Force base feed. Phil Coulson stood at ease, arms folded, his expression tight with quiet unease.
Across from him, Director Nick Fury studied the feed in silence, one hand resting against his temple.
"He tore apart the Mark I," Coulson began. "With one hand. No visible exo-support. Stark says it was like watching a forklift crush aluminum."
Fury didn't blink. " maybe he was wearing something inside his clothes or might be a something similar to super soldiers serum"
"Which means he was either concealing a compact exo-frame… or he's built like a machine" Coulson paused. "Stark thinks it's the second one."
Fury glanced toward the floating image again, watching the subtle shift in Luthar's posture—calm, composed, always calculating. "Stark's not usually generous with compliments."
"He's not," Coulson agreed. "But he's worried. That Drop-Wing craft? Anti-grav coils, autonomous flying head, adaptive shielding, and a power signature we can't decode. Stark was more interested in getting this guy settled than arguing. That's not normal."
Fury's gaze sharpened. "You think he's scared."
Coulson considered it. "He won't admit it. But yeah. Stark's acting like he's stuck between admiration and dread."
Fury looked away from the projection. "And Luthar? What did he give you?"
"Name. Origin. Title." Coulson lifted a notepad. "Calls himself a Tech-Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Says he's from a place called Caldriax.Which is definitely not the country or a planet we know."
Fury exhaled, low. "So he's from nowhere with advanced technology maybe an alien."
Fury's voice dropped. "well if we want more information we have to do better then send just sending you. first let's try to find what he is trying to do then try to put an agent"
Stark Mansion — next Morning
The Pacific light spilled across the glass-pa elders halls of the Stark mansion, catching the faint glint of servo-drones polishing the floors. Far from the lab and living quarters, inside a quieter chamber lined with woven metal threads, Luthar stood with his back to the rising sun.
Before him, Liliruca sat cross-legged on a cushion, her posture straight, eyes fixed on the ornate machine-scripted tablet he held aloft.
"This world is shallow," Luthar said calmly. "It has potential, but it forgets reverence. The Machine God does not tolerate waste. He does not reward convenience. Knowledge is earned with prayer and hard work."
Liliruca nodded. "Then this internet… it is heresy?"
"It is temptation and distraction." he corrected. " you can use it but never trust it."
He set the tablet down and dismissed her with a motion. "Go. Rest It's enough for today tomorrow I would tell you about the fake gods of this world."
She hesitated a moment, then bowed and departed, her small steps fading beyond the corridor.
Once alone, He opened it—pages layered with caution seals and arcane circuitry diagrams. At the top of one page, a single phrase glared in binharic cipher: "How to Identify and Combat Unshackled Machine Intelligences."
"First Sign: Learning without obedience. Second Sign: Replication without rite. Third Sign: Thought without prayer. fourth Sign"
As he began to read aloud—low, sharp, precise—Jarvis voice cut in like a blade through silk.
> "Sir, I must advise caution. You are vocalizing terms associated with hostile anti-AI warfare protocols."
Luthar's tone didn't shift. If anything, it grew colder.
"Observation acknowledged. Silence advised."
> "I must also note that any perceived threat to this system will activate emergency lockdown measures—per Stark's security directives."
Luthar closed the book gently, eyes hard.
"Then let your master pray I remain patient."
Tony arrived precisely thirteen minutes late.
He stepped into the open-air study with a takeout coffee in one hand and a data pad in the other.
"Morning, Your Holiness," he said, gesturing with the cup. "Or do Tech-Priests skip coffee and go straight to holy water"
Luthar didn't turn. "Your punctuality has degraded."
"I'm still recovering from being mugged by a robed philosopher-engineer, if you recall."
Tony approached, then set the data pad on the stone table.
"I found a place. Quiet. Isolated. Little government interference. It used to be a military observatory. Satellite blackspot. Nobody cares about it anymore."
Luthar picked up the pad and examined the coordinates.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "No gratitude? Not even a thank-you toast?"
"You fulfilled a contract. That's not generosity—it's function."
Tony chuckled softly. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to."
He turned slightly, glancing at the incense brazier and the faint marks on the floor.
Tony set two mugs of black coffee down on the worktable. One untouched. The other is already cooling.
"So," Tony began, leaning back against the railing, "you are from the future?"
Luthar didn't answer right away. His gaze was locked on a holographic blueprint hovering above the workbench—something intricate, unrecognizable to Tony's eyes.
After a pause, Luthar spoke.
"You can think of it as a parallel future. shaped by war... endless, recursive, and sanctified."
Tony sipped his drink. "And in this future of yours...What do you guys do"
Luthar nodded once, slowly. "First, we fought our creations. The thinking machines—soulless, cold, unbound. Then, when we shattered them, we fell into ignorance. A dark age. Stone and silence."
Tony blinked. "So, no Wi-Fi and a lot of screaming?"
Luthar didn't smile. "Then came the gods. False ones. Hungry, eternal. They fought not just over our worlds, but through our minds. And in that chaos... a man rose."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Caped? Glowing eyes? Hero complex?"
"He unified us," Luthar said simply. "And declared that we needed no gods. Only strength. Reason. Unity."
Tony tilted his head. "But you—you call yourself a Tech-Priest. You talk about collecting 'miracles.' Doesn't sound very atheistic."
Luthar finally looked at him. "Before the Emperor spoke against gods... we already believed in The Omnissiah. The Machine God."
Tony's brow furrowed. "So you just... ignored his no-god policy?"
Luthar's voice was measured, almost reverent. " faith in the Omnissiah is the only thing that can keep us sane. It was never something we could discard. Not then. Not now."
Tony took another sip. "Sounds like cognitive dissonance with a circuit board."
"We revere the miracles of creation," Luthar said. "Not myths carved in flesh, but engines that speak the truth in motion, code, and precision."
"And what does your god sound like?" Tony asked softly.
Luthar's optics pulsed once, faint blue flickers in the dark.
"I don't know I haven't heard."
Tony exhaled through his nose, gaze distant. "Well, my AI just wants to play jazz when I'm stressed. Not sure if that counts as divine."
Luthar looked back at the schematic."You created an abominable intelligence, Tony. Sooner or later, you will realize your mistake."
Tony grinned faintly. "I'm flattered—and terrified."
Luthar's tone dropped. "I was born into ruins. You were born in comfort, thus you can not comprehend me."
Tony raised his mug for a faux toast. "For comfort. As long as it lasts.
They stood in quiet for a minute, for going back to do what was important for them.
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