"Administrator," Minerva whispered in the privacy of his mind. "The ambient temperature is rising to 48 degrees Celsius. Humidity is at 5%. I am diverting 4% of your metabolic energy to enhance perspiration efficiency and protect your internal organs from heatstroke."
"Good," Nyt thought, his eyes darting to a rack of discarded piles they passed. His fingers itched to grab a piece of scrap metal that looked like high-carbon steel with a strange, pearlescent finish. "Keep a log of the metals. That one over there—the blue-tinted one—seems to have a crystalline structure that shouldn't exist in nature."
They reached a set of double doors forged from solid bronze, etched with the symbol of a flaming hammer and a pair of tongs. The guard knocked twice, a heavy, metallic sound that echoed through the hall.
"Come in," a voice called out. It wasn't the boisterous roar Nyt expected from a smith; it was a calm, melodic alto that carried the weight of a mountain.
Nyt stepped inside.
The room was a mess of divine proportions. Blueprints were pinned to every available inch of wall space, some written in the ancient language of the Gods, others in the common tongue. Anvils of various sizes stood scattered across the floor, and at the center, standing over a workbench illuminated by a glowing Magic Stone lamp, was Hephaestus.
She was taller than she appeared in the anime, with a presence that seemed to warp the very air around her. Her red hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and the black eyepatch covering her right eye only made her left eye a piercing, molten amber seem more intense.
She didn't look up from the blade she was examining. "I'm told a boy in a ruined white coat claims to have blueprints for a 'new era.' That’s a bold claim for someone who smells like burnt air and cheap parchment."
Nyt didn't flinch. He walked to the center of the room, his boots clicking on the stone. "It’s not a claim, Goddess. It’s a mathematical certainty. You’re currently struggling with the structural integrity of that Mithril-alloy blade, aren't you?"
Hephaestus finally looked up, her eyebrow arching. "And how would a Level 0 brat know what I’m working on?"
"I don't need a Falna to see the problem," Nyt said, stepping closer, his engineer’s brain taking over. "Minerva, give me a structural overlay."
In Nyt’s vision, the blade on the table was suddenly highlighted in glowing green. Thin red lines appeared near the hilt stress fractures. "The thermal expansion coefficient of Mithril is higher than the carbon-steel core you’re using. When you quenched it, the outer layer contracted faster than the inner core, creating micro-fractures at the tang. It’ll shatter the first time it hits a Minotaur’s horn."
The silence in the room was absolute. The guard at the door shifted uncomfortably, but Hephaestus stood perfectly still. She looked at the blade, then at Nyt, then back at the blade.
"Thermal... expansion... coefficient?" she repeated the words like they were a foreign prayer. "You use strange words, boy. But your eyes... they aren't looking at the beauty of the craft. You’re looking at the logic of it."
"Beauty is just a byproduct of perfect function," Nyt replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blackened, jagged piece of the Mechanical Core debris. He set it on her workbench. "This is what’s left of my world's pinnacle. A logic core. It houses a mind that can calculate the trajectory of every atom in this room."
Hephaestus picked up the debris. She couldn't read the circuitry, but as a Goddess of Smithing, she could feel the 'intent' within the metal. "This wasn't forged with a hammer. It was... grown. Printed. How?"
"With a Doctor's degree in Physics, a Master's in Computer Science, and a Bachelor's in Mechanical Engineering," Nyt said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "I am Nyt. I am an aspiring Artificer. And I want to join your Familia because you are the only one in this city who understands that a weapon is more than a tool, it's an extension of the soul’s geometry."
Hephaestus set the debris down. She walked around the table, her gaze boring into Nyt's. "The other Gods... they want heroes. They want children who will win them glory in the Denatus. You're telling me you want to turn my forge into a laboratory?"
"I'm telling you that with my knowledge and your blessing, we won't just make better swords," Nyt said, his voice dropping an octave. "We will redefine what it means to be an 'Adventurer.' We will build things that make the Tower of Babel look like a child’s toy."
Hephaestus let out a sharp, sudden laugh. It was the sound of a woman who had been bored for a thousand years and had just found a new puzzle. "You have a terrifying amount of pride, Nyt. I like that. Strip and lie on the bench. Let’s see if your soul is as bright as your mouth."
Nyt lay facedown on the cold stone bench. He could hear the crackle of a candle being lit and the sound of Hephaestus pricking her finger. In his mind, Minerva was in a state of high alert.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
[Warning: Divine Energy detected in close proximity. Prepared to buffer the influx of data. Administrator, please remain calm. This process will involve a rewrite of your fundamental biological code.]
"Do it, Minerva," Nyt thought. "Open the ports."
He felt the first drop of divine blood hit the small of his back. It didn't feel like liquid; it felt like a searing needle of pure information.
"Ungh!" Nyt grunted, his fingers clawing at the edge of the bench.
"Stay still," Hephaestus commanded. Her voice was strained. "Normally, the Falna flows like water. But your back... it’s like a sponge. It’s drinking my blood like it’s been thirsty for an eternity."
On Nyt's back, the sacred script didn't just appear—it processed. Blue light began to bleed through the black ink of the status. The air in the room started to hum, a low-frequency vibration that made the tools on the walls rattle.
[Divine Data Influx: Detected.]
[Analyzing Falna Structure...]
[Error: Standard Human Capacity exceeded.]
[Executing 'Mechanical Core' Integration...]
[Initializing 'Minerva' Sub-Routines...]
"Nyt!" Hephaestus cried out. She saw the debris on her workbench start to glow in sympathy with the marks on his back. The jagged piece of metal dissolved into purple sparks, flying across the room and sinking into Nyt’s skin.
Nyt’s vision went white. He wasn't in the forge anymore. He was in a digital void, surrounded by cascading rows of golden light.
“Administrator,” Minerva’s voice was no longer a whisper; it was a symphony. “The Falna is a perfect operating system. I am currently mapping its architecture. Integrating Space-Time variables... Integrating Mechanical Logic... Integrating Aetheric Blueprints... Status: Complete.”
Nyt gasped, his lungs burning as he took his first breath in a world that now looked completely different. He pushed himself up, sweat dripping from his chin. His glasses had fallen off, but he didn't need them. His vision was crystal clear, overlaid with a sophisticated HUD that tracked the mana-flow of the room.
Hephaestus was sitting back in her chair, looking at the parchment in her hand with an expression of pure shock.
"I've been in the lower realm for a long time," she whispered. "I've blessed thousands of children. But I have never... ever... seen a status like this."
She handed the parchment to Nyt.
Name: Nyt
Level: 1
Familia: Hephaestus
Basic Abilities:
- Strength: I-0
- Endurance: I-0
- Dexterity: I-0
- Agility: I-0
- Magic: I-0
Magic:
[ Void-Gate:Pocket Dimension ]
- No Chant
- Effect: A personal sub-space storage. Nyt can "pixelate" his inventions and store them in a pocket dimension. He can summon any weapon, turret, or tool instantly into his hands. No more carrying heavy crates.
[ Event Horizon ]
- Chant: "Define Boundary."
- Effect: Nyt warps the space in a small radius. He can "shorten" the distance for a blink-step (teleportation) or "lengthen" the space in front of him to slow down incoming projectiles.
Skills:
[ Omniscient Architect: Minerva ]
- Sentient Logic Core: An AI fragment that manages Nyt’s complex systems.
- Spatial Calculation: Minerva handles the intense math required for Space Magic, ensuring Nyt doesn't accidentally "teleport" into a wall.
[ Aetheric Blueprint ]
- Technological Mimicry: Records observed Magic/Skills.
- Dimensional Encoding: Allows Nyt to "save" spatial coordinates into his gear, creating "Return Crystals" or "Warp Traps."
[The Mechanical Core: Deus Ex Machina]
- Singularity Forge (Passive): Nyt’s equipment evolves with him. Because of his space magic, his gear can now be "larger on the inside," allowing for massive power sources in small frames.
- Morphic Overclock (Active): Nyt adds his Magic stat to his physical attributes. In this state, his Morphic Gear can phase through solid matter or strike enemies from a distance by folding space.
Hephaestus stood up, walking over to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and Nyt could feel the heat radiating from her palm. "You have three skills and two spells at Level 1. That shouldn't be possible. And this 'Minerva'... she spoke to me, Nyt. While I was writing the script, she told me to 'optimize the data-packet' of your Agility."
Nyt looked at his hands. He felt... powerful. Not just physically, but intellectually. It was as if his PhD in Physics had finally been given the laboratory it deserved.
"The Falna is just a tool, Goddess," Nyt said, standing tall. "I told you I was here to redefine the era. This is just the 'Hello World' phase of the program."
Hephaestus smiled, and for the first time, it was the smile of a proud parent. "Then welcome to the Hephaestus Familia, Nyt. You’re currently Level 1, and you don't have a single Valis to your name. But something tells me you won't be poor for long."
She reached into a drawer and tossed him a small, leather pouch and a basic iron dagger. "Go to the Dungeon. Show me that your 'logic' can survive a real monster. If you come back alive, I’ll give you a proper workshop."
Nyt caught the dagger, his HUD immediately highlighting its subpar carbon content and balance issues. "I'll be back by sundown, Goddess. And I'll bring back enough Magic Stones to fuel my first prototype."
As Nyt walked out of the forge and back into the vibrant streets of Orario, Minerva spoke one last time.
“Administrator, I have calculated our first objective. We require 500 grams of high-purity monster essence. Suggesting a direct descent to the 3rd floor. Probability of survival: 100%—assuming you don't stop to lecture the Goblins on the laws of motion.”
Nyt chuckled, his eyes fixed on the Tower of Babel. "No promises, Minerva. No promises."