> "Alright, stop what you're working on. Today's task is to clean up the Creation Hall. Stop fussing over your prosthetic."
Nayre walked up beside Dr. Amira, his gaze falling on the intricate mechanical parts she was working on.
The most eye-catching thing about Dr. Amira was her left arm. Earlier, it had been hidden behind her black lab coat, so it wasn't visible.
But now, standing beside her, it was clear—her entire left arm was missing.
And what she had been tinkering with was none other than a fully mechanical left prosthetic arm.
It was a highly complex and sophisticated piece of machinery.
This was already her third prosthetic arm. Amira had a tendency to overuse them, often forgetting to maintain them properly due to her obsessive work habits. As a result, two previous versions had already been damaged beyond repair.
This current model — a sleek black arm with a steely sheen — had been handcrafted by Nayre himself.
He picked up the mechanical arm, and in his other hand, a magic circle began to manifest.
But unlike the usual sky-blue circles used for standard magic, this one glowed a deep blood red..
Nayre attached the prosthetic directly to Amira. The crimson magic circle pulsed, and the prosthetic synced seamlessly—without the slightest resistance or abnormality.
Dr. Amira's eyes flickered with subtle emotion. Even she had to silently acknowledge the sheer brilliance of Nayre Farshore's magical talent.
The Farshore family hadn't always been a technological house. Like most noble families in Aurel, their origins lay either in knightly tradition or—magic.
But mere magical talent was too ordinary. Just like geniuses—there are many—but only a rare few truly succeed.
Most nobles had some form of innate gift.
The Farshore family's true rise came not from relying on magic like others—but from Nayre's grandfather, who pioneered a revolutionary innovation: **Magic-Tech**.
Even though most citizens of the Aurelian Kingdom still rejected such strange technology—even though it was, at its core, based on familiar magical energy—the Farshore domain had flourished through it.
And Nayre's magical prowess was the greatest in the family's history. Just like his grandfather, he was more passionate about Magic-Tech than magic itself, and had already created the most iconic innovation of his generation: the **magical automaton knights**.
Dr. Amira flexed her new mechanical arm—her fingers and joints moved smoothly, without any glitches.
"Yes, I'll start cleaning up right away."
Just as she responded to Nayre's instruction, he suddenly stopped her.
Nayre embraced her—wrapping his arms around her impressive figure. Very different from the typical image of a thin, frail scientist.
Dr. Amira had a well-built, mature physique. A healthy figure, broad and strong shoulders, and rounded hips that filled out her leather pants perfectly.
Her appearance reflected not only her endurance from long, meticulous work but also her lifestyle—completely devoted to research.
Amira was rational and disciplined. She had designated two days a week for physical training.
Because she worked at least 16 hours every day, exercising was something Nayre personally insisted on.
On the days she trained, Nayre would even lock down the Creation Hall to keep her from overworking.
Though her body was strong, the dark circles under her eyes hinted at mental exhaustion. Even so, she always exuded a calm, composed aura.
Even now, being hugged by Nayre, she wasn't flustered.
She simply lowered her head slightly—there was no girlish shyness in her at all.
"Don't go just yet. How many units have you completed lately?"
"395 units."
"Hm... and how many successful ones?"
Nayre didn't really need to ask—he'd already seen the pile of discarded parts earlier.
All failures.
"One."
"Hmm?"
Amira took a step forward with her long, powerful legs. Her leather pants hugged her smooth black stockings.
She gently released Nayre's arms and stood firmly.
As she moved, Nayre noticed for the first time that she was wearing comfortable slippers.
Meaning she'd probably just woken up—at most, 30 minutes ago.
And yet, she had already completed a piece of equipment for him.
Nayre examined the prototype she had created overnight on the workbench.
It was a fully constructed left-arm prosthetic. It looked like a regular mechanical arm, but its design resembled a knight's armored gauntlet.
The entire piece was dark in tone, due to being made from a high concentration of **Obsidian Veinstone**.
A crimson line ran from the palm up to the shoulder.
But the red vein was dull, lacking any energy flow—clearly, the core wasn't present.
"Young master Nayre, what do you think of this one?"
Amira's voice pulled him out of his inspection. Behind her black-rimmed glasses, her crimson eyes held a rare trace of hope.
"Thank you. It's not complete, but it's already excellent."
"Not complete?"
"I can finish the rest myself. But what's missing is... the core."
"......"
Amira frowned. She, more than anyone, knew the importance of a Magic-Tech core.
The core was the heart of any Magic-Tech creation. Without it, no matter how perfect the body, it remained dead.
But her active mind quickly caught on to another point.
Nayre was departing for Aurel Knight Academy tomorrow. So today, he must be finalizing preparations.
"Young master, the reason you agreed to return to Aurel Academy was to...?"
"Yes. I'm going to search for materials capable of forming a core. Her Majesty the Queen is willing to grant me a few items—I want to see if I can make use of them."
*Smack!*
With a crisp sound, Nayre gave Amira's round backside a light slap and took the prosthetic arm.
"Alright, go get some sleep. Luc will come get you for dinner later."
"Yes."
On his way through the Creation Hall, Nayre activated a massive magic circle.
In an instant, all the scattered parts in the hall were cleared away.
Only a bit of residue remained, so Nayre summoned several automaton knights to finish cleaning.
---
That evening, Rue pulled his older sister over to join Nayre for dinner.
He was surprised to find the meal unusually grand.
A whole roast chicken, grilled fish, pork ribs, steamed greens, a bounty of fruit salad, honey-glazed bacon, shredded white carrots, and cheesy bread.
Everyone had already taken their seats. As always, Amira—dragged over by her younger brother—was the last to arrive.
Nayre was reviewing the day's maintenance reports, while the large automaton behind Rue, Big White, stepped forward to deliver the status update to its master.
When the dark elf Cassia set down the final dish—a rich mushroom soup—in front of Nayre...
"Let's eat."
Like a gust of wind, the meal was devoured.
After the feast, the room fell silent.
Everyone turned their eyes to Nayre, awaiting his final orders for the night.