The dawn broke cold and crisp over the White Coast. A pale light stretched across the limestone pillars, casting long, jagged shadows over the plateau. The wind carried the sharp tang of stone dust and salt from the distant sea. Today, the work of three months would be put to the ultimate test.
The machine—now dubbed the Stonebreaker by the laborers, though Logos had yet to confirm the name—stood at the edge of the first row of pillars. Its chisel-like blade faced forward, gleaming faintly, runes etched along its frame pulsing with a soft black-violet light. Soldiers and laborers alike had gathered around, forming a semicircle of cautious observers.
Masen, standing near the front, adjusted his gloves and muttered under his breath. "I've seen a lot in my years… but nothing like this. That boy is about to punch through rock faster than men have in centuries."
Lucy, beside him, tightened the straps of Logos' control gauntlet. "He's ready. Don't doubt him now. He's been calculating every step for weeks."
Bal, ever the cynic, leaned on a shovel and muttered, "Cynical or not, I still want a good distance between me and that thing when it wakes up."
Logos, seated in the operator's console, barely looked at them. His black eyes were fixed on the first pillar. His small hands danced over the runic inscriber, releasing a controlled pulse of mana into the machine. A faint hum ran through the frame, spreading into the ground beneath their feet. The Stonebreaker shivered slightly, as if waking from slumber.
"Begin," Logos commanded, voice calm, almost detached.
A soldier stepped forward, gripping the secondary lever to activate the mechanical loading system. With a deep groan and hiss of steam, the blade pulled back along its mana-mesh channel, the black-violet runes along the arm glowing brighter with each inch. The tension in the air was palpable; every observer held their breath.
Then, with a sound like thunder ripping through stone, the blade shot forward.
The limestone pillar shattered in a single, clean strike, sending fragments tumbling in all directions. Dust billowed like smoke as the machine retracted the blade automatically, a subtle grinding and snapping echoing across the plateau. The second pillar trembled under the approach, and the Stonebreaker struck again—once, twice, three times—each impact more precise than the last.
The assembled workers murmured in awe. "By the gods… it's like watching lightning cut stone," one whispered.
Masen's jaw clenched. "I've seen siege engines, I've seen explosives… but this? This is something else entirely."
Lucy's lips pressed together, keeping herself from clapping in sheer relief. She had known it would work, but the flawless execution still stunned her. "It's… perfect."
Bal, still leaning on his shovel, let out a low whistle. "You really turned the impossible into reality, boy. The speed, the precision… these pillars aren't just broken, they're erased."
The machine continued systematically down the row of pillars, its blades carving a path of destruction that seemed unnatural in its efficiency. Stone chunks fell to the ground, some as large as small boulders, yet the Stonebreaker's mechanisms continued unhindered. Dust rose in curtains around the machine, and the workers had to wipe grime from their eyes just to follow the action.
Logos remained focused, operating the mana channels with the meticulous precision that had become his signature. The smaller, more intricate adjustments were entirely invisible to the soldiers and laborers, but they allowed the machine to adapt to imperfections in the stone, cracks, and natural resistance.
"Look at that timing!" Kleber exclaimed, pointing at the synchronized blade movements. "Each strike is perfect. It's… it's like the machine thinks!"
Desax shook his head slowly. "No. He thinks. That boy is inside that thing, making every strike, every movement exact. But… if he can do that with one, imagine ten of these working in concert."
Logos, finally allowing himself a faint smile, spoke over the hum of the machine. "One is enough for the trial. Multiple units will follow once efficiency is proven. Today, we test control, precision, and output. Tomorrow, we change the territory."
The last pillar of the first row fell. Silence stretched for a heartbeat before the workers erupted into quiet applause, not loud, not chaotic, but controlled, almost reverent. Even the soldiers allowed themselves nods of approval.
Masen stepped forward, speaking directly to Logos. "You've just shown what months of labor can achieve with a single, brilliant mind directing it. You realize what this means for the barony?"
"I do," Logos replied. "It means no longer are we limited by men alone. No longer constrained by fatigue, manpower, or morale. We can move stone, mine ore, and prepare fortifications at a scale impossible before. But this is only the beginning."
Lucy approached, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "And the people? They'll need to trust this machine as much as they trust you."
"They will," Logos said softly, almost to himself. "They see results. They will adapt."
Bal, finally looking impressed in his usual gruff way, added, "One boy running a machine, and the Iron Plateau just became the most productive territory in the kingdom. You've literally changed the game."
Dust settled, the plateau quiet now except for the low hum of the mana crystal in the Stonebreaker. Logos stood and surveyed the line of rubble-strewn pillars. "This," he said quietly, "is the foundation. The next machines will expand along the White Coast, clearing limestone, stabilizing cliffs, preparing trade routes, and enabling rapid movement of both resources and soldiers. A single mine's output will soon exceed entire districts. This is the future of the territory, built on precision, calculation, and order."
Lucy looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips despite the lingering dust. "You're really going to remake everything, aren't you?"
Logos' black eyes swept the plateau, the Stonebreaker humming faintly under his hands. "Everything," he said. "And we start here. Step by step, pillar by pillar, until nothing is left to hinder progress."
The soldiers and laborers watched in awe, realizing they were witnesses to the birth of something more than a machine. They were witnessing the rise of a boy who could shape the land itself—and perhaps, the destiny of everyone who relied upon it.
And as the sun rose fully, painting the plateau in gold and shadow, the hum of the Stonebreaker continued, a single, silent promise echoing across the White Coast: the future had arrived, and it would obey Logos Laos.