To Iron, the room's ceiling looked like a complex schematic of overlapping realities until his vision finally locked onto a crack in the plaster. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity, trying to figure out why the image lacked its usual digital tags and stress vector calculations.
What happened? he thought.
[WARNING: CRITICAL OVERHEAT OF NEURAL CONNECTIONS]
[STATUS: EMERGENCY SYSTEM RECOVERY 12% COMPLETE]
[CAUSE: LUMON SKILL OVERLOAD THRESHOLD EXCEEDED. COGNITIVE RESONANCE AT 340% OF DESIGNATED MAXIMUM]
Iron tried to swallow, but his throat was bone-dry.
I calculated the output... he thought sluggishly. The resonance was supposed to bleed into the Boar's hull, not into me.
[ANALYSIS: SYSTEM COMPUTATION CAPACITY UTILIZED IN DISREGARD OF BIOLOGICAL LIMITATIONS. MAGICAL CHANNELS HAVE NOT RECOVERED FROM PRIMARY TRAUMA. CHANNELING RESONANT FREQUENCIES THROUGH DAMAGED "WIRING" HAS CAUSED THERMAL DAMAGE TO THE NEURAL NETWORK. TOTAL COGNITIVE REST REQUIRED FOR 144 HOURS]
"Rest..." he wheezed aloud.
"He's awake!"
A stool went clattering to the floor. Darwin stumbled into Iron's line of sight. Albert followed, wheezing heavily.
"Easy, easy, kid, don't move," Albert said, gently pressing Iron's shoulder to keep him pinned to the pillows. "You nearly gave us a heart attack. You've been out for three whole days."
"Three days?" Iron frowned.
"Three days, five hours, and twelve minutes," Darwin specified, sniffling. He pulled a warped, misshapen gear from his pocket and shoved it under Iron's nose. "Look! I turned it myself. Without your help. It... wobbles a bit when it spins, and I think I overheated the teeth during tempering, but it works!"
Iron looked at the crooked piece of work.
"It’s... magnificently hideous. Well done."
Darwin choked back a sob and turned away, wiping his face with a greasy sleeve. Meanwhile, Albert checked Iron's pulse and peered into his eyes.
"Alright, the ash is fading," the doctor muttered.
"Water... give me water," Iron rasped.
After draining nearly an entire pitcher, he felt the world regain its solidity. Memories came back in fragments: the clanking of treads, the screams of mages, the blinding flash of the gravitational needle...
"The city..." Iron pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring Albert. "What about Dornheim? Cassian?"
"The city's standing," Darwin answered, helping Iron sit up higher. "But the Southwest Quarter... it's just a crater now. If it weren't for Noah and Elyria, the whole place would have caved in on us."
Half an hour later, when Albert finally permitted a brief visit, the door to the room was practically kicked off its hinges.
"Oh, the Iron Man is awake!" Elyria flitted into the room.
Noah followed her, carrying a tray of food.
"Your apprentice nearly burned down the shop," Noah reported, setting the tray on Iron's lap. "And that tin can of yours out in the field is still smoking. Elyria refuses to go near it. Says it's 'screaming in pain'."
"Iron, if you don't get up in the next couple of days, I'm just going to push that 'horse' of yours into the crater. It's getting in the way of my training." Elyria floated over to Iron and pressed a cool palm to his forehead. "You smell like old copper," she said sadly. "But the grey mist is almost gone from your eyes. You felt so… bland while you slept. Just like a stone."
"Thanks, Elyria. Good to see you too." Iron looked down at the flower she had placed on the blanket. It was a strange, bell-shaped bloom, its petals shimmering with a soft light. "Where did this come from?"
"From the crater," she sighed. "The earth there was dead, but I asked it very, very nicely. It's a memory of a home that's gone."
"Don't," Noah said, leaning against the doorframe as if reading his mind. "Don't play the martyr. If it weren't for you, Cassian would have butchered this town one by one. As it stands, we have prisoners, a retreating enemy, and fear. And right now, fear is the only thing protecting Dornheim."
"Cassian is alive?" Iron asked.
"Sitting in the cellar," Noah nodded. "The Count goes down to have 'breakfast' with him every day."
Closer to evening, after Noah and Elyria left to continue construction—which really meant Noah hauling stones while Elyria mocked him—Wayland entered the room. Even after three days of clearing rubble, his doublet was immaculate, his beard trimmed.
"Master Iron," Wayland said, sitting on the edge of the armchair Albert had recently dozed in. "Good to see you awake."
"Your Excellency," Iron tried to nod. "I'm sorry the city took damage."
Wayland raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Drop it. We both knew the price. The College of Mages has always considered these lands theirs. But frankly, I am thrilled."
The Count leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"Right now, I am playing a dangerous game with the capital. I sent a report naming you the 'Grand Alchemist-Destructor.' I hinted that your 'Iron Boar' is merely a prototype, and that we have dozens more of these machines parked in Dornheim's cellars. As long as they buy the bluff, they won't send an army."
"That's too risky," Iron noted.
"As long as it works, it's hard to complain," Wayland said. "We need a deterrent. While you recover, my men are reinforcing the walls. But we need something that makes them fear the mere thought of coming back. Think about it once you can hold a drafting pencil again."
Wayland stood and headed for the exit, but paused at the door.
"By the way, I don't know why, but Cassian insists you are a 'Mechanical Demon'." And yes, you're invited to dinner tomorrow. In my private dining hall."
Once the door clicked shut, Iron was left in silence.
"Dinner?" he muttered to the empty room, his brow furrowing. "Something's not right here..."
Iron closed his eyes, but the nickname kept running through his mind.
"Mechanical Demon," huh... What a garbage title, he sighed to himself.
Through the window came the sounds of ringing hammers and creaking wagons. Somewhere below, Noah was probably grumbling at Elyria, while Darwin was back in the shop, trying to break in another piece of iron.
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