The undercity of Brasswick was older than its streets, older than its chimneys. Beneath the cobbles lay a labyrinth of tunnels where forgotten machines still groaned, endlessly turning wheels that no one above remembered.
Guided by the markings on Crowthorne's map, Elric and his companions descended by lantern-light, their footsteps echoing through the dripping dark. The air thickened with heat and the tang of oil.
Then they saw it.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber: a foundry, alive and burning. Massive pistons rose and fell like the lungs of a beast, gears the size of towers rotated slowly, their teeth grinding sparks. Suspended in iron harnesses were colossal frames — the skeletons of titans, their forms half-automaton, half-anatomical mockeries.
Selene whispered, her voice almost stolen by the noise: "He's not just building weapons. He's… building giants."
"No," Evangeline corrected, her face pale. "He's building one giant. The city itself — one vast automaton. Every nexus point, every rail, every reservoir… connected. Brasswick will move."
Elric's grip tightened on his cane. "And if he succeeds, humanity will have no place within it."
As they watched, a shiver ran through the foundry. For a moment, every piston, every wheel turned in perfect synchrony — like a heartbeat.
The Phantom Engineer's heartbeat.