Chapter 56: Echoes of the Forgotten & The Clockwork Oath
Charlotte stood at the threshold of something beyond her understanding. The Iron Witch, her presence both eerie and commanding, waited with an expectant gaze. The glowing array behind her pulsed like a mechanical heart, its intricate symbols shifting in patterns Charlotte had never seen before.
"You hesitate," the Iron Witch observed, her fingers tapping the silver tray. "Curiosity and fear make poor bedfellows."
Charlotte tightened her grip on her gauntlet. "I don't fear knowledge," she said, eyes locked on the shifting array. "I just don't trust gifts without cost."
A low chuckle. "A sharp mind. Good. But knowledge always has a price—what matters is whether you're willing to pay it."
Charlotte glanced back at the corridor leading to her squad. The echoes of her teammates' battle cries still lingered in the air, but they felt distant now—like a world she was slowly stepping away from.
She turned back to the Iron Witch. "And what is your price?"
The Iron Witch smiled, tilting her head slightly. "A simple trade. Your old way of thinking… for a new one."
Charlotte hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. "Show me."
The Iron Witch extended her hand, and as Charlotte took it, the world around them shifted. The walls of the dungeon faded, replaced by an endless space of floating gears and luminous blueprints. Symbols danced in the air, reconfiguring themselves in perfect synchronicity. Charlotte's breath caught.
"This," the Iron Witch said, gesturing to the expanse, "is the blueprint of reality. Not magic, not chaos, but pure design. Every spell, every force in the world can be broken down into mechanisms, into equations. And once you understand the design…" She snapped her fingers.
A golden construct materialized before Charlotte—intricate, seamless, and alive.
"You can rebuild it however you please."
Charlotte's mind raced. This wasn't magic—it was something more precise, more deliberate. A system anyone could master, given the right knowledge.
She clenched her fists, determination flashing in her eyes.
"Teach me."
The Iron Witch smiled.
The Trial of the Clockwork Heart
The moment Charlotte spoke those words, the glowing array expanded, encircling them both. The Iron Witch lifted a single finger, and the golden construct before Charlotte shifted, its gears rearranging, symbols morphing.
"This is your first trial," the Iron Witch said, stepping back. "Disassemble it."
Charlotte hesitated. "Disassemble?"
"Every construct follows a blueprint, every machine is built upon a foundation. If you wish to learn how to build, you must first learn how to take apart."
The construct before her stood unmoving, its core pulsing faintly. Charlotte extended her gauntleted hand, and to her surprise, the construct responded, unfolding slightly.
She focused. If I were designing this, where would the core link be?
Her fingers traced the construct's surface, feeling the subtle shifts in energy. Slowly, she found a weak point—a joint where the energy pathways converged. With a quick motion, she twisted it apart.
The construct shivered—then collapsed into its components.
Charlotte's breath hitched.
"Well done," the Iron Witch murmured. "Now, put it back together."
Charlotte swallowed. This is where it gets complicated.
She reached out, focusing on the floating gears and metal fragments. One by one, she studied their shapes, their markings. The Iron Witch watched silently as Charlotte pieced them together, trial and error slowly giving way to understanding.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Sweat beaded on Charlotte's forehead as she worked, her fingers moving almost instinctively now.
Then—click.
The construct snapped into place, whole again.
Charlotte exhaled sharply.
The Iron Witch's smile widened. "You have the mind for this. If you continue, I will teach you how to craft constructs that defy even the laws of this world."
Charlotte looked down at her hands. She had always relied on her gauntlet, her instincts—but this was something else. A new power. A new path.
And she wanted more.
While Charlotte stepped into the unknown, Rin walked a path far older.
The hidden corridor beneath the academy was silent, the air thick with dust and time. The passage led downward, deeper than the academy's official records claimed. If the dungeon was engineered, then this place was… forgotten.
Rin moved carefully, his instincts sharp. He had no grand interest in the academy's trials, but something in this place called to him. A presence, a whisper at the edge of his senses.
At the end of the corridor stood an old iron door, its surface scarred with marks that looked neither mechanical nor magical.
Rin pressed his palm against it. The moment he did, the world lurched.
A flash of memory—not his own.
A battle. A voice calling a name long lost. A man standing before the same door, a symbol burning on his palm.
The vision faded. Rin staggered back, his breathing uneven.
Then, the iron door opened on its own.
Beyond it lay a chamber of towering pillars, their surfaces covered in inscriptions that shimmered like liquid metal. The air hummed, alive with something ancient.
At the chamber's center, embedded in the ground, was a single iron gauntlet, its fingers curled as if reaching for something unseen.
Rin stepped forward. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the gauntlet twitched.
And a voice, neither human nor machine, whispered in the air.
"Welcome back, Heir of the Forsaken Code."
Rin's eyes narrowed.
What the hell does that mean?
The Legacy of the Forsaken Code
The gauntlet, now fully awake, rose from the ground. It hovered before Rin, its surface covered in unfamiliar glyphs—ones that pulsed with a strange, mechanical rhythm.
He hesitated, instincts warning him. But something deeper, something old, compelled him forward.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the metal, a surge of energy exploded through his body. Visions flashed before his eyes—a forgotten city, a war between engineers and mages, a secret buried beneath the sky itself.
Then, one final image.
A figure, clad in obsidian armor, standing before a shattered world.
"The Forsaken Code must never rise again."
The vision ended. Rin gasped, stumbling back.
The gauntlet pulsed once. Then, it latched onto his arm.
Pain—searing, white-hot pain—shot through him. The glyphs burned into his skin, etching themselves into his bones. But Rin did not scream. He endured.
When the pain faded, the gauntlet had become one with him.
And in his mind, knowledge—forbidden knowledge—began to stir.
Meanwhile…
Back in the dungeon, Ray, Champa, and Selina had nearly reached the Core Chamber. Their path had been brutal, but they had survived.
Yet, Selina paused, a frown crossing her face.
"…Did you feel that?"
Ray turned to her. "Feel what?"
Selina's fingers twitched over her sword hilt. "Something… just changed."
Champa grunted. "We don't have time to worry about 'feelings.' The goal is right ahead."
But Selina couldn't shake the unease settling in her gut.
Somewhere deep below, something ancient had awakened.
And it had chosen a new heir.
To Be Continued…