All My Summons Become Divine Girls

The Foundry Quarter’s compulsory pattern stopped pretending to be a militia and started being a machine.

Occupied bodies climbed into the housing block’s load frames, the great scaffolds once built for raising engine parts into the sky.

Their hands knew the ropes, because the pattern had deliberately chosen workers who knew them. From inside them, the pattern began dismantling the block to build a weapon it understood.

Three hundred unwilling citizens became three hundred hands on three hundred ropes, and the housing block above them, home to six hundred more, began to lift on the shared count.

"The pattern is going to drop the whole block on the school street."

Aria’s projection drew the falling arc in red across every sight.

"A mass weapon with a civilian payload, so any strike against it kills the occupants."

The compulsory layer had learned from the baker’s street exactly what this family would not do, and it had built its next move entirely out of that knowledge.

The block rose a full story on the coordinated pull of the unwilling, and the chat went silent at the arithmetic.

[ ShadowMage44: ] it built a hostage building, bro. it turned their houses into the weapon

[ NewViewer_02: ] the people pulling the ropes are hostages too. every layer of this is people

Hajin was still one man with one lock, holding the school street’s aftermath, and the Foundry Quarter needed two miracles at once.

The two miracles were in motion before he finished speaking, because Juna and Loccy had stopped waiting for orders around the fourth siege of their lives.

"I take the rhythm."

Juna’s four Wings caught the afternoon light above the foundry roofs.

"A shared attack runs on a shared beat, so I am going to cut the beat."

"I take the building."

Loccy rolled both broad shoulders beneath her own three open Wings.

"Somebody has to hold six hundred people’s house, and this will not be the first time."

"You cannot Burdenfall an entire housing block."

Eirwen’s roots were already busy binding the block’s sinking foundation.

"The store alone would bury you under the whole district."

"Then I will not store anything."

Loccy set her feet wide on the cracked foundry stone.

"I will just carry it for a while."

Juna went in first at the peak of the pull, because rhythm always dies from inside.

She crossed the shared count at the peak of its pull, when every rope hand was committed, and cut the beat with one Wing stroke through the pattern’s central timing.

Solar light flooded every rope frame at once, and three hundred unwilling hands suddenly had no shared count left to pull on.

The housing block’s entire rise stopped dead on the ropes. Three hundred people stumbled out of unison, dropped their ropes, and the shared attack rhythm collapsed into its separate, confused human parts.

The compulsory layer understood building weapons, and it understood shared counts perfectly. It had never once faced a solar vanguard who could cut a metronome in half.

The block, released from its coordinated lift, began to come down.

Six hundred people’s home, four full stories of engine-cured stone, dropped toward three hundred freed rope hands who could not possibly outrun its shadow.

The shadow crossed the school street, the rope frames, plus every evacuation route at once, and for one second the whole city watched a building fall on its own residents.

Loccy caught the entire falling block with her whole body.

Not the elegant catch of the quarry road, all technique plus stored force. This was a woman putting her back under a falling district, four Wings spread beneath the block’s keel like load-bearing architecture that had learned love.

The impact drove her boots through the foundry floor to the ankle, and the stone screamed along every floor.

"Nobody at home gets hurt in this."

Her voice came out of the settling dust, absolutely level, calm as a plumb line.

"I have it, so evacuate the ground floors."

Eirwen’s roots wrapped the block’s sinking corners while Ferra’s wedges found the load paths, splitting them away from the occupant frames.

Vella’s gold moved through the upper floors, sealing cracks before they could become collapses.

Through all of it, Loccy stood under a building, carrying six hundred people’s entire lives on four Wings plus one refusal.

[ JunaFanClub: ] hammer girl is holding a whole apartment building right now, I cannot type properly

[ CringeSlayer91: ] she said I will just carry it for a while. A WHILE

The evacuation took nine full minutes, and she held the block for all nine of them without one visible tremor. The people inside were climbing down the very stairs she was holding still.

Viewers counted every one of the minutes along with the relay. Nine minutes is a very long time to watch someone carry a district, and not one viewer left the stream.

The last family out was a foundry crew of eleven with a grandmother on a handcart. They stopped in the open street to look up at what had carried them to safety.

Loccy set the housing block down with more care than most people set down teacups.

The block settled onto Ferra’s reinforced foundation line, cracked, listing, and entirely upright. Every single one of its six hundred residents stood alive.

The compulsory pattern’s third weapon had spent three hundred hostages plus one housing block. For all of that spending, it had purchased exactly nothing.

The freed rope hands were already sprinting for the canal bridges with their ropes dropped behind them on the foundry stones below. The block’s residents stood in the open street counting each other out loud, on no count but their own, which was the whole point of the day.

The pattern drew all its remaining force inward at that point. Every willing fragment of divine core across the Foundry Quarter condensed toward a single point, and Aria named the destination before the move finished.

"It is consolidating toward the First Speaker’s position."

Aria’s live projection drew the drain line in white across the map.

"The willing cores are being pulled to the primary vessel. Everything the god still holds by willing consent is going home."

Which was the whole strategy, seen from the far side. Every fight this day had been a filter, forcing the occupied free, until the only thing left inside One Voice was the things that had said yes.

"Let them go."

Hajin’s voice came through every relay in the city at once.

"Do not pursue a single willing core. The Speaker is collecting every part of the god that chose it, and I want that whole collection standing in one place."

[ LurkerNoMore: ] they spent the whole day cutting hostages loose so the only thing left to kill is the thing that volunteered

[ NewViewer_02: ] the boss room is assembling itself and they built the door

The Foundry Quarter went quiet as the last white line drained out of it, and the district began the strange work of being separate people again.

Juna landed beside Loccy in the settling dust, looked up at the cracked and standing block, then across at the woman who had held it.

"You carried a building."

"Nine minutes."

Loccy’s arms hung at her sides, dead again, and her grin arrived anyway.

"Next time you get the building, and I will cut the metronome."

The sun sat low over the Last City with thirty-eight days of sky left above it. Every district the network had tried to weaponize had come through the day with its people alive.

Somewhere near the engine’s center, a very old man stood alone in a room full of everything that had ever agreed with him. He waited there for the one man who would not.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!