"It can't be destroyed. The spatial rules here have changed."
Seeing Jenkins was about to try again, the knowledgeable old elf offered a word of caution. The entire space was now suffused with intense heat, and the oxygen level was plumting. Following the ordinary human, Viscount Ludos, even the aging elf was beginning to feel the strain.
"Yes, yes! We long anticipated that the Believers of Lies would appear. So we used the power granted by the Gizmo underground, combined with ancient knowledge, to create that peculiar notebook."
The man from the Gear Artisans' Association had a fanatical expression on his face.
"Behold! You see? Machines and gears are the true path of human evolution. In this world, only machinery is eternal."
"But you've locked yourself in, too,"
Viscount Ludos retorted. The brush with death seed to have given him a new perspective. Despite the incredible events unfolding, he hadn't broken down. The viscount stood at the top of the stairs, his voice trembling and his heart filled with terror, but he had not lost his reason.
"This is the rule. A rule granted to us by the Gizmo, one that transcends mortal limitations. The situation is simple now..."
The man from the Gear Artisans' Association spoke softly, his voice nearly drowned out by the hissing steam. His face was flushed crimson, though it was impossible to tell if it was from the heat and humidity or from his own inner excitent.
"Only those who truly understand machinery can leave this place. Otherwise, no one can break these chains."
As he spoke, he gave a sharp wave of his hand, and the chain on his right wrist snapped as if it were made of paper. He looked at Jenkins, then took a step toward him, and the chain on his leg broke as well.
"Believer of Lies, you shouldn't have kept interfering with our plans. This ti, not even sprouting wings will let you escape."
Jenkins snorted coldly. Seeing soone threaten him, the cat hidden in his coat erged, perching on his shoulder and owing at the man.
But the cultist from the Gear Artisans' Association paid it no mind. The middle-aged man was remarkably cautious.
"Did you think I would approach you so easily? No, I've heard far too many stories about you people."
With that, he quickly moved away from Jenkins, then bent down, weaving through the jets of steam erupting from cracks in the floor as he searched for sothing among the display cases.
"Viscount Ludos, can you tell what he's looking for?"
Jenkins suddenly asked the viscount behind him. Viscount Ludos hesitated for a mont, but seeing that the cultist was ignoring their conversation, he explained:
"He wants to choose an item from my collection. In exchange, they promised to treat my son... He had an accident last year, fell from his horse. His legs were crushed, and they... they had to be amputated."
"Which of your pieces does he want?"
Jenkins asked again.
"The batch I 'borrowed' from KalFax Field."
Hearing this, the cultist spun around to face them. Viscount Ludos flinched and ducked his head, the sudden movent causing his chains to rattle loudly.
"Believer of Lies, you arrived before us. Did you find sothing?"
"You can check if anything is missing," Jenkins replied. "If there is, then I found sothing."
He then shot a discreet glance at the old elf against the wall. The elf's presence was faint; though the cultist had noticed him, he didn't seem particularly interested.
"You have a point."
The man from the Gear Artisans' Association nodded, then quickly went to check all the display cases for missing items. In the end, however, he found that everything was where it should be. He even reached out to touch each piece, making sure they were real and not re illusions.
"This is bad. They only told there was an important key here, a key to break the seal..."
The man muttered to himself. Although the sound was completely masked by the hiss of leaking steam, Jenkins could still faintly hear him.
After pacing for a few seconds, the Enchanter from the Association walked to the wall, picked up a sword from the weapon rack, and began hacking at each display stand. After all, most numbered items were indestructible.
Jenkins heard Viscount Ludos groan behind him and saw the black iron key he himself had drawn fall to the floor from a shattered display case. These antiques, passed down through the ages, were all being systematically destroyed by the cultist. If one were to estimate the Viscount's loss, the financial damage would be sowhere around seven thousand pounds.
"How can there be nothing?"
After destroying everything, the man from the Association dropped the notched sword from his hand and fixed Jenkins with a fierce gaze.
"Was it you?"
"Co over here and I'll tell you."
Jenkins could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face, but he still managed a smile.
"Even though this chain is supposed to temporarily suppress the abilities of anyone it binds, I absolutely will not fall for your trick."
The cultist sneered, but Jenkins hadn't felt any suppression of his own abilities.
"Then what do you make of this?"
Seeing that the man wouldn't approach, Jenkins spoke softly. A miner's lamp, glowing with an ethereal blue light, materialized in his hand. The lamp was assembled entirely from tal parts—gears, bolts, bearings—making it look exceptionally crude, yet it was suffused with a profound sense of order. Each component was askew, yet it interlocked with its neighbors in the most rational way imaginable.
Such a haphazard assembly had resulted in a miner's lamp of perfect structure and form. This was undoubtedly a treasure of machinery.
Staring at the lamp in Jenkins's hand, the middle-aged man's eyes grew hazy. He knew he shouldn't be looking at an item held by a Believer of Lies, but his entire being scread that this was the path forward for chanical evolution.
It was so magnificent, so perfect. The aesthetic beauty of its chanical structure and its chaotic order combined to form this lamp. The light seed to be absorbing his very soul, making it impossible for him to look away. As he stared, all sorts of wild ideas and strange lines of thought flooded his mind.
This was the kind of enlightennt that Enchanters spent their lives seeking but could never attain, the reward for seeing through to the truth of the world.
He craved it. He revered it. He coveted it. He even feared it.
"How could sothing so perfect exist in this world...?"
The words that left his lips were not his own. A sudden terror at his own obsession struck his heart, yet he couldn't stop his body from reaching out, from moving toward the Believer of Lies.
"It's a treasure."
The phrase escaped his chapped lips, his words laced with absolute madness.
"It's a miracle."
After a brief mont of clarity, he plunged into the deepest abyss. His consciousness was completely subrged, his eyes and heart seeing only the lamp. He could not think, could not comprehend, could not explain, and certainly could not experience it.
The miner's lamp seed to have completely seized his mind, seized his very being. The chanical parts of his body trembled, while what little flesh remained quivered in fear, guided by his frenzied thoughts.
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