Iron handed Marek a stack of thick sheets, covered in blueprints and calculation tables.
"Here is everything," he said dryly, tapping the papers. "Layouts for the minefields approaching the forest, detonator blueprints, firing angle calculations for the turrets, and specifications for the remaining two anti-air towers. Any questions?"
Marek quickly flipped through several pages, peering at the lines and symbols.
"We'll figure it out. The blueprints are detailed, and the boys have already gotten the hang of it on the first two towers. The main issue is materials."
"Materials are prepped. I'll be in the workshop. Do not disturb me unless the village is under assault." Iron turned around and headed for the workshop.
He closed the door behind him and threw the deadbolt. Iron walked to the far corner, sat down on a crate, and crossed his legs.
He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and focused on his internal senses, gradually tuning out the external world.
Meanwhile, outside, Dornheim continued to work. Anvils rang out in the square—craftsmen were casting new turret parts using precise molds. Carpenters worked in sync, hauling logs to reinforce the outer palisade. Every resident knew exactly their place and their task.
The metal beams meant for the tower frames were too heavy for ordinary people, so Noah and Elyria were assigned to the most difficult sections.
Noah was hauling a massive I-beam on his shoulder. Beside him, glowing faintly, Elyria floated. She was suspending three more identical beams in the air, guiding them precisely to the assembly point.
A little further away, right at the edge of the forest, Gaston and Adrian were working. Spread out before them was a map with crisp red markings made by Iron.
"Alright, the depth here needs to be at least half a meter," Gaston checked the schematic and pointed at a freshly dug hole. "Otherwise the 'Celestial' sensor will trigger on wild animals instead of infantry."
Adrian carefully pulled an assembled charge from the crate. The mine was a flat metal disk:
Inside was an unstable 'Chaos' core serving as the explosive.
The 'Omega' casing was meant to direct the blast wave strictly upward.
Fixed to the top was a thin plate of 'Celestial'—a proximity sensor tuned to changes in spatial density above the trap.
Adrian lowered the mine into the ground, covered it with dirt, and carefully camouflaged it with dry leaves.
"Done. Another point locked down," he exhaled.
Toward noon, Marek approached an exhausted Noah. He had just finished securing another corner support for a tower.
"Wrap up the physical labor for today. You'd better go train and refine your technique."
Noah nodded silently and reached for his sword, which was leaning against a crate.
Marek turned to the spirit hovering nearby:
"Elyria, go with him. Help him however you can."
"Alright, I'll keep an eye on him," she replied, flying off after the departing Noah.
Soon, Runa's shout rang out—the signal for the lunch break. The workers dropped their tools and gravitated toward the communal fire.
Clara scooped a portion into a bowl, grabbed a spoon, and headed for Iron's workshop. She opened the door slightly and peeked inside.
Deep inside the room sat Iron. His eyes were closed, his breathing remaining even and deep.
Clara stood on the threshold for a few seconds. Realizing it wasn't a good time to distract him, she quietly closed the door and returned to the fire to eat with everyone else.
By evening, work resumed with renewed vigor. Through a joint effort, the people finished assembling two more towers. On their upper platforms, gleaming with fresh grease, stood the completed automated anti-air turrets.
At that time, Iron slowly opened his eyes. The internal hum of energy in his body had quieted down, replaced by a smooth, stable flow.
Through the workshop's small window, he noticed that it was already sunset outside.
Iron stood up, exited the workshop, and headed deep into the forest. He walked swiftly and confidently until the sounds of construction and the pounding of Dornheim's hammers completely faded behind him. Finding a small, secluded clearing surrounded by trees, the engineer stopped.
His goal was simple—to master flight. To achieve this, he had developed an algorithm consisting of three consecutive steps:
Iron focused on the molecular structure of his own body. He gave a mental command, forcing his atoms to temporarily cease interacting with the planet's gravitational field. In that very second, his weight dropped to zero. He lifted off the ground and hovered in the air at a height of half a meter.
Just hanging in one place was useless. To fly forward, Iron mentally created an artificial point with a powerful gravitational field two meters in front of himself. The space ahead of him warped, and his weightless body physically began to "fall" toward that point. Since the point shifted following his gaze and thoughts, this falling turned into fully controlled flight.
To stop or descend, Iron returned his body's actual weight. To kill his momentum during rapid movement, he projected the point of attraction behind him for a fraction of a second, using it as a dynamic brake.
Iron took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and attempted to turn off his mass.
Attempt one.
His body jerked, lifting a couple of centimeters, but his left leg shot up sharply, throwing off his balance. Iron lost his concentration and crashed back down onto his soles.
"Sensitivity is too high," he muttered, steadying his breathing.
Attempt two.
This time he acted more gently. His weight slipped away smoothly, and Iron hovered evenly in the air. Controlling his body's position, he tried to create a gravitational point a couple of meters ahead. The space distorted almost imperceptibly; the engineer was yanked forward sharply, but he couldn't correct his movement vector in time. The attraction point shifted too low, and Iron crashed into the grass.
"Rushing again." He stood up and brushed the leaves off his knees.
After a hundred failed attempts and bruises, Iron finally caught the right rhythm.
He lifted off the ground smoothly. The space in front of him obediently compressed. The engineer glided forward gently, flew between two oak trees, banked a sharp turn around a pine, and braked abruptly, creating a compensating field behind himself. Restoring his mass, he landed softly on his feet.
By this time, it had grown completely dark in the forest. Iron walked back to the village. As he walked, he analyzed the test he had just conducted.
"Lumon. I have a theoretical question. If the situation spirals out of control and I order you to teleport all the residents of Dornheim to a safe location... could you do it?"
The pause before the answer lasted for a barely noticeable fraction of a second.
"Request processed," the voice in his head replied evenly. "Teleportation of living organisms is possible. However, the capacity for the spatial transfer of biological objects is limited. The limit for simultaneous displacement is no more than six individual units. A full evacuation of the village's population in a single cycle is technically impossible."
"I see," Iron narrowed his eyes slightly. "So, we reserve that option for extreme emergencies only."
He took a few more steps, stepping over a fallen tree trunk, and added in a harsher tone:
"And second. In case things go completely to hell in the upcoming battle. At the moment of a critical threat to my life, I am giving you permission to take full control of my body. But! None of that bullshit you pulled during the fight with Wayland. Otherwise, you know exactly what will happen."
Only a low hum resonated inside Iron in response.
Iron nodded to himself in satisfaction. Up ahead, the orange reflections of Dornheim's campfires were already beginning to show.
Iron stepped out into the clearing near his workshop.
Sitting around the fire were Marek, Albert, Darwin, and Clara. They were conversing quietly, discussing the final touches of their work. Clara was the first to notice the approaching engineer.
"Oh, Iron!" she exclaimed with a smile.
Everyone turned to him, greeting their leader with short nods and tired but satisfied smiles. Clara stood up from her log right away and hurried off toward the kitchen.
"Well, Commander, inspect the work," Marek nodded proudly at the towers. "We've finished the installation. The last two towers are in place, the turrets are secured, and the cooling system is fueled."
Iron stepped closer to the fire.
"Excellent work," he replied evenly. "My test was also a success. Watch."
He took a normal step forward, but instead of putting his foot down on the ground, he simply continued his smooth movement upward.
Marek froze with his mouth open, Albert rubbed his eyes in surprise, and Darwin nearly dropped the tool he had been twirling in his hands.
"Holy crap..." Darwin exhaled, staring wide-eyed at the floating engineer. "You... you can fly just like Elyria now? Awesome!"
"Almost," Iron smiled slightly and smoothly lowered himself back onto his soles.
At that moment, Clara returned. In her hands, she carefully carried a steaming bowl and a wooden spoon.
"Iron, you haven't eaten a thing all day today. Here, finally get some food in you."
"Thank you." Iron accepted the hot bowl and sat down on a vacant crate by the fire, tucking into his dinner, listening to the quiet crackle of the burning logs.
Iron silently ate the hot porridge, listening to the quiet crackle of the branches burning in the fire. The others also quieted down, enjoying the moments of peace.
Marek stared at the fire for a long time, poking the coals with a long branch. Finally, he couldn't hold back and asked quietly:
"Iron... Does this mean there's going to be a war soon?"
The engineer slowly lowered his spoon and looked at him.
Silence instantly fell over the campfire. Albert, Clara, and Darwin, who had gone quiet at the edge of his log, stared expectantly at Iron. Everyone subconsciously understood the same thing, but Marek was the first to voice their shared anxiety aloud.
"There is no absolute certainty," he replied. "But judging by the kings' behavior and the general balance of power, there really will be a war. Then again, I could be wrong."
"I see..." Marek exhaled quietly.
Suddenly, behind Darwin, near one of the assembly workbenches under the canopy, a loud shower of sparks erupted. A sharp electrical crackle rang out.
Everyone immediately turned toward the sound. Darwin jumped up from his seat.
"Ah, damn it, the contacts on the distributor shorted out again," he grumbled. "I'll be right back, I'm going to run and check on it before anything burns out over there."
"Go on," Marek waved a hand.
Darwin had already taken a couple of steps into the darkness when Iron quietly called after him:
"Darwin. Just try not to win the award named after yourself."
He stopped and turned around in bewilderment:
"An award?"
Iron gave a barely noticeable smirk, looking at his confused face:
"Ah, forget it. Just... thinking out loud."
Darwin shrugged and disappeared into the darkness of the canopy.
Iron quickly finished the rest of his porridge and handed the empty dish back to Clara.
"Thanks again. It was delicious."
"Glad you liked it," Clara took the bowl and spoon from him.
"Alright. Good night, everyone."
"Good night, Iron," Marek replied.
The engineer turned and walked to the workshop. On the way, he raised his left hand in front of him and slowly clenched his palm into a fist, then uncurled his fingers again.
"I need to get used to it," he said quietly, opening the workshop door.
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