A new day in Dornheim's central square started without a hitch. The massive steel behemoth—the defensive Tower—had already reached a colossal height. The workers moved with precision: every clamp, every beam hoist, and every hammer strike landed on the exact second.
"Go ahead, Elyria," Iron said.
Elyria instantly wove a sturdy lifting platform out of tough wooden vines and flexible branches. Shrouded in dense currents of air magic, the structure securely held Iron and his wheelchair, allowing him to ascend smoothly along the Tower's purple framework right up to the working tiers.
Iron hovered near the very top, watching the assembly closely.
"There's a ga—" Iron didn't get to finish before one of the workers cut him off:
"There's a gap on the top support, patch it up, Bertrand, Gaston."
"Copy that," they replied in unison.
A short while later, Iron just opened his mouth to point out a joint angle, but it was immediately corrected without his input.
Iron just blinked in surprise, then let out a tired but satisfied huff, closing his mouth.
"They're used to it..." he muttered quietly to himself, shaking his head.
After five hours of continuous, grueling work at altitude, the final tier was completely finished. The structure had finally reached its designated design mark.
For the final platform, Iron had chosen a semi-open canopy roof. Making the top completely isolated was impossible, but leaving it under the open sky was dangerous. The heavy metal canopy dome now reliably protected the heart of the defense system from direct precipitation, downpours, and icing from the morning dew. At the same time, the absence of solid side walls ensured that the future resonance wave could spread unhindered in all directions, shielding the camp.
Elyria smoothly lowered the vine platform back to the ground. Iron, not wasting a second, wheeled his chair deep into the workshop. There, on the main workbench, he pulled the thick cloth off the frequency modulator capsule. The engineer picked it up, rolled back outside, and gave the spirit a signal.
This time, Elyria didn't waste time on a platform. She enveloped Iron's chair in dense, invisible currents and lifted him directly to the very top of the Tower.
There, on the semi-open upper deck, Noah was already waiting for them under the protective metal canopy. He stood leaning his back against a load-bearing beam with his usual look, but Iron noticed the gleam in his eyes.
The engineer rolled over to the center of the platform, where a technical hatch gaped in the floor.
Iron lowered the capsule into the grooves. The device clicked into place. The engineer's fingers quickly plugged the test cables into the end of the modulator, and Lumon's matrix instantly unfolded before his eyes.
Lumon, initialize the frequency loop, Iron commanded mentally.
The capsule inside the frame let out a quiet, guttural hum. Bright azure streams of energy ran along its smooth sides, weaving into the Tower's network. Iron exhaled, his fingers tweaking the frequency grid settings on the virtual screen.
"Done," he said quietly, closing the interface and turning to Noah and Elyria. "The defense frequency is locked in. The estimated radius of the dome should be about a kilometer, maybe slightly less. Now we just have to wait for nightfall."
Elyria squeaked happily and immediately wrapped Iron's chair in magic, pulling him down to the ground smoothly and unhurriedly.
Noah simply stepped right off the Tower.
A second later, a dull thud echoed across the central square below, making the workers flinch. Noah landed on both feet, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Meanwhile, barely had Elyria's air currents gently touched the wheels of Iron's chair, returning him to the solid ground of the camp, when an anxious Darwin flew over to him. He was practically vibrating with curiosity, and the rest of the workers were already gathering behind him.
"Well? Did it work?" Darwin asked hopefully, peering into the engineer's face.
"Everything is set," Iron replied, while Elyria smoothly dispelled the remnants of the air spell around his chair. "The signal is stable, the loop is locked in. We just have to wait for nightfall. But for now... we need to be a little patient."
After a moment, he added in a calm tone:
"I need to head over to the infirmary to see Albert. Lumon just reported that my legs have fully regenerated. I need to ask him what to do next."
Dead silence instantly fell over the square. Darwin blinked in shock, and then literally roared in amazement:
"What?! Your legs are healed?!"
Elyria, who was just panting heavily after Iron's energy-draining descent, flew up to him and indignantly waved her fists at him:
"Then why did I just carry you all the way to the very top?! You could have walked up there yourself on your own two feet!"
"Just because my legs have healed doesn't mean they're just going to get up and walk right away."
At that moment, Marek walked up to the chair. He smiled, placing a hand on Iron's shoulder:
"Congratulations. This is a real miracle. But still... you've got a hell of a tough rehab ahead of you."
"Yeah, I know," Iron tossed back shortly. "I'm heading out then."
He spun his chair around and rolled down the path toward the infirmary.
As soon as the engineer disappeared around the corner of the nearest building, Darwin scratched the back of his head in puzzlement and turned to the others:
"Hold on a sec... Who the hell is this Lumon he just mentioned?"
Elyria, still pouting unhappily, hovered nearby:
"I don't know, Iron's just a bit cracked in the head."
Marek, looking after Iron, said:
"More than likely, it's just another one of his inventions that he's hiding from us."
Iron rolled his chair down the path, feeling the anticipation building up inside. Reaching the infirmary, he pushed the wooden door open and rolled inside.
The room smelled of herbs, dried bark, and something sharp and medical. At that very moment, one of the workers was stepping away from the cot, limping and carefully supporting a tight bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Albert, not looking up, was quickly jotting something down in a journal.
"Rest, no heavy lifting for three days, or you'll tear the fibers completely," the doctor said quietly, not even looking at the departing patient.
The worker nodded, mumbled a grateful "thanks," and disappeared out the door. Albert sighed heavily, leaned back in his chair with a noise, and rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes.
"Another rough week..." he muttered, staring at the ceiling.
"Hey, Albert," Iron broke the silence.
The doctor flinched, turned around, and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Whoa, Iron? It's not often I see you in here, especially during work hours. What brings you by?"
Iron rolled closer to the doctor's desk and answered shortly:
"Lumon reported that my legs have fully regenerated. I decided to come to you so you could tell me what to do next."
Albert froze, his face stretching in genuine amazement.
"What? Are you serious?" He quickly got up, walked around the desk, and gestured for Iron to come to the cot. "Let's have a look. This sounds miraculous."
The engineer transferred to the cot, and the doctor began a thorough examination. He prodded the muscles, checked reflexes, and peered closely at the condition of the skin.
"Unbelievable," Albert muttered, straightening up. "All the tissues are intact, the muscle tone... well, it's weak, of course, but they're alive. Alright, let's get started."
Albert pulled a small jar of thick, pungent ointment from a cabinet. He began forcefully rubbing it into every muscle in Iron's legs to get the stagnant blood flowing and prep the blood vessels for their first real test. Then he took out thick elastic bandages and started wrapping them tightly around his ankles and feet.
"This is so you don't dislocate your joints on your very first step," he explained, catching the engineer's questioning look.
Albert finished the bandaging and pointed to the parallel rehab bars standing in the corner—a massive structure of polished wood, built from Iron's own personal blueprints.
"Let's try to stand up. I'll help you..."
The doctor readied himself to hoist Iron up by the armpits to shift his weight to the bars, but the engineer shook his head:
"Wait. I think it's better to call Noah."
Albert thought for a second, then nodded:
"Yeah, you're right. I'll go find him."
The doctor stepped outside, quickly asked Elyria as she flew by about the guy's whereabouts, and a couple of minutes later found Noah near the Tower—he was just unloading some leftover construction debris.
"Noah, come with me right now," Albert called out.
"Why?" Noah wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, looking at the doctor.
"Iron is getting ready to stand up on his feet. He needs you for a spotter," the doctor explained shortly.
Noah tossed a piece of a beam aside and, without saying a word, headed after Albert. When they walked into the infirmary, Noah immediately locked eyes on Iron sitting on the cot.
"Well, engineer," he threw out with a barely noticeable smirk, "are we getting up?"
Iron nodded, trying to maintain his composure.
"Yeah. Lift me."
Noah walked over, hooked Iron under the armpits, and with one precise motion, stood him on his feet. Iron grabbed onto the smooth rails of the parallel bars, but in that same instant, the world before his eyes swayed, turning into a spinning vortex. His legs, which had felt sturdy a second ago, suddenly turned to jelly, and they started buckling to the sides.
"Hey, what's wrong with you, Iron?" Noah's voice sounded muffled through the growing ringing in his head. "You alright?"
Albert placed a hand on the engineer's shoulder:
"This is normal. Long time in the chair, a sudden change in position... Just breathe. Focus on the bars."
Iron gritted his teeth, focusing his gaze on his hands, which were turning white from the strain.
"Seems fine, Noah..." he wheezed. "You can loosen your grip a little, I'm holding on."
"Don't even think about it," Albert snapped, cutting them off. "Noah, don't let go. You need to brace his foot so he can shift his weight and take a step. He can't manage it on his own yet."
"Are you serious, Albert?" Iron said.
"Yes."
Damn it... What an embarrassment, flashed through Iron's mind.
"Alright, let's go."
Every millimeter of the way was a battle. Noah acted carefully: he leaned down and braced Iron's foot with his palms, helping him shift his weight properly and keep his ankle from rolling.
Slowly, step by step, they crossed the first stretch along the wooden rails.
"Good, now freeze," Albert commanded, watching every movement closely. "Noah, let him go. Let him try it himself."
Noah obediently pulled his hands away and took a half-step back, staying ready. Iron was left one-on-one with his own body. He gripped the bars convulsively with his fingers, feeling the cold sweat rolling down his back in beads.
The first four steps were behind him. Iron took a deep breath, forced himself to lift his right leg, and move it forward. In that same second, his brain literally exploded with a sharp, piercing pain. His coordination dropped to zero, and his teeth ground together.
And yet, he took that step. The fifth. Then, fighting through the haze before his eyes—the sixth. Seventh... On the eighth step, his body's reserves finally ran completely dry. Iron's legs just buckled, and he collapsed.
Noah reacted instantly—he caught the engineer under the armpits a second before he hit the ground and carefully lowered him back into the seat of his wheelchair.
Iron breathed heavily, hoarsely, staring at the floor. His hands were shaking.
"That's enough for today," Albert nodded with satisfaction, wiping his forehead with a clean towel. "Eight steps total is a great result for the first time!"
The doctor stepped closer, adjusting the bandages on the guy's ankles:
"Now you'll go back to your place and rest. I'll prescribe you this ointment, you need to regularly massage and rub the muscles so the blood flow doesn't drop."
"No..." Iron gritted through his teeth, his fingers clawing at the armrests of his chair. "I can do more. Lift me up, Noah. One more round. We have to keep going."
"Don't play the hero," Noah cut him off harshly.
He stepped closer and clamped his hand down on Iron's shoulder, pinning him to the chair:
"Where did all your genius and logic go? You won't be able to take a single step right now, you'll just tear your ligaments. It's better to hold out until tomorrow and recover slowly."
Iron wanted to argue sharply, but a small voice chimed in his head:
[WARNING: Muscle overexertion indicators are critical. It is recommended to accept Subject Noah's arguments and cease resistance.]
Iron shifted his gaze from Noah to Albert, and then exhaled, leaning back in his chair:
"You too, huh..." he grumbled quietly, addressing the system.
Silence hung in the infirmary. Iron thought the situation over for a long time.
"Fine," Iron agreed reluctantly, taking his hands off the armrests.
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