The rebellion struck again, this time not with fire but with deception.
Elric devised a plan: infiltrate one of the Engineer's summits, where enforcers gathered for orders. Selene donned the guise of a masked noble, Evangeline cloaked herself in static and flickering brass, and Elric… Elric played the role of a man already broken, a prisoner meant to be delivered.
Through the fog-drenched courtyards they marched, past statues whose eyes glowed faintly with mechanical life. At last they entered a vast chamber—a cathedral of steel. Dozens of officers stood in rigid silence, awaiting the voice of their master.
Then he appeared.
Not as a phantom of gears. Not as a bodiless voice. But as a man.
The Phantom Engineer wore a simple black coat, gloves of polished brass covering his hands. His face was ordinary—too ordinary. Smooth, forgettable, as if sculpted to be overlooked. His eyes, however, burned with cold precision.
He walked among his officers, each step perfectly measured. When he paused before Elric, the detective felt those eyes strip him bare.
"Curious," the Phantom murmured. "You breathe irregularly. Your pulse stumbles every third beat. Most would call it weakness. I call it… interest."
For a moment Elric wondered if the enemy already knew everything, if the disguise was dust before the wind. But the Phantom moved on, addressing his officers with calm authority.
"Brasswick's heart is nearly complete. Soon the automaton will rise. And when it does, there will be no rebels, no Parliament, no gods. Only the sum of all things."
The chamber vibrated with the resonance of hidden gears. Selene's hand inched toward her knife, but Elric shook his head. Not yet.
They had seen the mask. But they needed the flaw.