The workshop door pulsed like a living heart. Each beat of light made the stone walls look as if they were breathing, pale-blue illumination spilling into the corridor, casting the five watchers in ghostly relief. Their breaths came in uneven gusts, the metallic tang of the workshop mixing with the acrid scent of lingering mana.
Bal shifted his weight, fists flexing restlessly. "I hate this," he muttered, jaw tight. "Standing here while who-knows-what is happening inside. If something's eating him alive, we're cowards for not charging in."
"You'd be a fool," Desax countered quietly, eyes fixed on the runes. "The runic circuit isn't stable. If you interrupt it, you could collapse the lattice on top of him. Or worse—open it."
"Open it?" Kleber's grin was sharp, though his eyes were sharper, scanning the pulsing patterns. "And what exactly is it, strategist? Because to me it looks like Logos picked a fight with the void."
Masen exhaled through his nose. "Or the void picked a fight with him."
Lucy's hands clenched at her sides, nails biting crescents into her palms. She forced her voice steady. "It's not possession. It's him. You all know he'd never let something take over without a plan. That… intensity, that aura—it's Logos working at full capacity. Nothing else."
Bal stepped closer to the door. "That's it. I'm going in."
Before anyone could stop him, he kicked the door with the force of a battering ram. The runes shattered instantly, vanishing like smoke. The pulse ceased, leaving the corridor dim and silent, the heartbeat-like hum snuffed out.
The door creaked open.
And there, in the threshold, stood Logos.
The boy appeared upright, though his posture was wrong, as if invisible strings held him in place. His black hair stuck to his sweat-slick forehead. His eyes were darker than usual, absorbing the light around them. A faint, unsettling smile twisted his lips, and threads of mana-charred ink traced his sleeves. In his hand, he held a pen that glimmered faintly with a sinister light, as though it were a conduit to another plane of thought.
The room itself was filled with a dense, undulating aura of purple-dark mana. Logos moved it around like clay, drawing intricate runic schematics across a large sheet of parchment. Symbols coiled into one another, forming circuits and lattices that pulsed faintly as if alive.
Desax's mouth went dry. "What the hell… is he doing?"
Masen stepped back carefully, voice low and almost reverent. "Analyzing… constructing… He's manipulating mana like it's solid matter, like it bends to his will. And he's… drafting a schematic. That's what he's doing."
Bal's narrowed eyes betrayed his skepticism and awe. "Is he… alright?"
Lucy stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, sensing the faint pulse of Logos' aura. It was immense, focused, precise. The boy was entirely himself, though his presence now filled the room like a storm barely contained. "He's fine. Don't get scared by appearances. This is how he works."
Kleber's voice was hesitant, tinged with disbelief. "You say that like it's normal."
"For him, it is," Lucy replied firmly. Her gaze softened as she watched him, and the captains felt the weight of that statement.
Bal smirked, though his tone carried a warning. "Don't need to act tough. We all know you're going to chew him out later."
The purple mana slowly recoiled, as if Logos had pulled it back into himself, condensing it until it vanished entirely. The workshop seemed to exhale in relief, the lingering energy fading to nothing.
Logos finally looked up from his work, calm and composed. "What are you all doing here?" His black eyes scanned the room, flicking from Lucy to Masen, Kleber, Desax, and Bal. There was no anger, no panic—only quiet authority, the quiet certainty of someone used to commanding both machines and men.
"Servants were running around saying you had been possessed," Desax said, still catching his breath. "They claimed your eyes were black, the runes were moving, the workshop was glowing with… I don't know, whatever that was."
"What gave them that kind of impression?" Logos asked, tilting his head.
Lucy exhaled in exasperation. "Really? You expect them not to panic when the door pulses like a living thing, the runes flare, and purple mana floods the workshop? Honestly, Logos… you really could have warned us."
"Again," Logos said evenly, flipping the pen between his fingers, "accessing intent from color is idiotic. I believe this is the fifth time I've said that."
Kleber leaned forward, his grin returning, tinged with excitement. "Enough theatrics. Tell us, what new thing have you planned now?"
"I will," Logos replied, drafting an official order with a flourish of his glowing pen. "But before that…" He paused, eyes narrowing, "I've had enough of people's superstitions. We are getting an academy here."
Lucy blinked. "An academy?"
"Yes," Logos said simply, eyes sharp. "I am not a demon. It is about time people get their heads out of the mud. This is an order for constructing a new academy building. I will bring in scholars when I go to the capital to settle debts next year."
"You sound annoyed," Masen said carefully, reading the tone behind the words.
"Enough of that," Logos snapped, though it was more controlled than angry. He flipped to a new sheet and began tracing schematics, the pen now lighter, almost playful. "The design for the new harness frame is ready. Get it to the men immediately. I want a test unit by the end of next month. Every flaw corrected. Every lattice reinforced. If it fails, I will know why before anyone else touches it."
Bal whistled softly, impressed despite himself. "So all that… chaos in there… it wasn't possession. It was… genius?"
Lucy smiled, though faintly and tightly, relieved. "Exactly. You saw the display of mana as a weapon of fear. I saw him doing exactly what he does best. That boy… doesn't get possessed. He overwhelms."
Kleber leaned forward, peering at the glowing designs. "And this harness… you think it'll replace the Armatus?"
Logos didn't look up. "Not replace. Surpass. And when this one functions, we'll test the limits. Then, the Barony's defenses, our machines, and the miners' efficiency—all of it will increase. We will be unstoppable."
Masen's lips pressed thin. "Unstoppable… or reckless. You barely paused in that ritual to warn anyone. You could have burned the whole courtyard down."
"I calculated the containment lattice," Logos replied coldly. "The danger was… manageable. It would not harm anyone."
Desax shook his head, disbelief mingled with admiration. "Manageable to you. Chaos incarnate to the rest of us."
Lucy stepped forward, her hand brushing against Logos' arm. "Do you realize how many people saw you? How they would have interpreted this?"
Logos finally looked at her, a rare softness touching his gaze. "Let them. They will learn. Or fear. Either way, they understand that I am not to be underestimated."
Bal leaned back, exhaling. "Well, I can't say I disagree. That was impressive… terrifying, and impressive."
"And now," Logos said, gathering the papers and pen, "we move forward. The academy, the frame, everything. The Barony grows stronger, smarter, and more efficient. I do not stop for fear, superstition, or old habits. We adapt, or we fall behind. That is the choice."
Lucy glanced at the captains. Each face mirrored awe, a flicker of fear, and respect. They were used to his brilliance—but this display of raw, unfiltered skill, combined with the subtlety of control, reminded them all that Logos was operating on a level beyond any of them.
Bal broke the silence, voice low and awed. "So… that's him. That's Logos at full throttle."
"Yes," Lucy whispered. "And this is only the beginning."
Logos turned back to his worktable, black eyes alight with precision and determination. "Prepare the men. The test unit leaves in one month. And mark my words—when this harness functions, the Barony will not merely defend itself. We will shape the future. Every vein of ore, every mile of road, every soldier trained, every scholar taught… everything will serve the growth of this territory. It will be unlike anything anyone has ever seen."
Kleber's grin widened. "Then I can't wait to see what comes next."
Masen and Desax simply nodded, knowing that whatever that next step was, it would not be ordinary.
And Lucy, standing beside him, felt the same certainty she had felt countless times before: no force of fear, no rumor, no enemy could ever hold back Logos. He had moved beyond the edge of what they understood, into a realm of brilliance that few could imagine—and fewer still could survive standing against.
The workshop hummed quietly now, empty of the chaos that had filled it moments ago. And yet the air itself seemed charged, pregnant with possibilities.
Logos dipped his pen into a new crystal of mana, the glow catching in his eyes. "Now," he murmured softly, more to himself than anyone else, "we begin again."