“It’s time,” the voice of the Gearsmith rang out in Kael’s square as a portal of swirling light emerged in the center of Kael’s square.

  Kael glanced over his equipment. His Ice Sickle gleamed cold and sharp, a tool he was no longer unfamiliar with. His Blacksmithing Hammer, still new, sat by his side, a reminder of his recent crafting exploits. The Slime Cape, an odd but comforting piece of his ensemble, rustled slightly as he adjusted his stance.

  The portal shimmered and hummed as Kael stepped through it, the familiar blue walls of his square flickering to gray behind him. He could hear the rhythmic sounds of hammering and the grinding of gears before his eyes even adjusted to the new space.

  He found himself standing in a vast hall, not as imposing as the grand gathering halls of Sunday meetings, but undeniably inspiring. The floor was illuminated by a sea of molten steel that flowed like liquid fire, casting erratic shadows across the room. It felt alive, like the heart of a great, mechanical beast.

  Before him, the other Masters stood gathered in a circle. Lira stood off to the side, her mechanical wings fluttering with a power that seemed to ripple the very air around her. Her massive mace rested against her shoulder, the spikes gleaming and almost as tall as her, ready for the fight to come. She caught his gaze, offering a small smile that offered friendliness among the imposing surroundings.

  Nearby, Rova stood, his simple tunic hanging loosely around his yellow rotund frame, a stark contrast to the elaborate mechanical creations that surrounded him. His face was unreadable, but Kael could see the slight tremble in his hands.

  Kael’s gaze shifted across the room, taking in the other Masters who had gathered for the ritual. One was taller than Kael by a full foot, half his body composed of metal and gears, the whirring of his inner workings constant and unnerving. The Master’s hands were massive, able to crush a man’s skull in a single grip, Kael imagined.

  Another stood with numerous hands, each more deft than the last, dressed in ornate clothing that seemed to shimmer with an electric energy, the image of lightning sewn across his fine shoes.

  “Quite a gathering,” Kael muttered under his breath, eyeing the contrast between the Masters gathered here. Some, like him and Lira, were well-equipped. But others, like Rova and a few more scattered figures, looked far less imposing, their simple garb and unremarkable stances giving them a vulnerable air.

  Avaris stood in the center of the massive hall, his stone-grey skin gleaming faintly in the glow of the molten steel that lapped at the edges of the floor. His presence was commanding, the single eye that gleamed from his angular face full of cold purpose, his gaze never wavering as he surveyed the gathered Masters.

  “Welcome to The Factory,” Avaris announced.

  Beside him, towering over the others, stood Titanus, the massive clockwork golem. Its enormous gears clicked and spun, its every movement sending ripples through the ground. The golem’s eyes, glowing orbs of light, seemed to track the Masters’ every motion.

  "Are you all ready for the Wallbreaker ritual?" Avaris asked, his tone even and commanding. His one eye scanned the crowd, lingering for a moment on each face, measuring their readiness.

  The Masters around Kael nodded eagerly, their excitement building. Some even grinned, eager for a glimpse of the world the ritual would unlock. The Masters, no matter their backgrounds or appearances, knew that this was more than just a ritual. It was a chance to break free, to experience freedom.

  Avaris’s gaze shifted, and Kael saw the smallest flicker of something dangerous in his one good eye. "Once the ritual is complete," Avaris continued, "we will march on Highhaven, the home of the fae."

  Kael stood at the back, his mind swimming in confusion. It had never occurred to Kael that the ritual would be the first step in a war. He thought the ritual was to free them from the confines of their squares, to explore the lands beyond. That was the purpose he had been led to believe, at least.

  “But I though the ritual was to explore the outsi—” Kael started, his voice catching in his throat, but Avaris silenced him with a single, sharp look.

  “Freedom comes with a price,” Avaris said, his tone now cold and final. “You want to see the outside world? You will. But first, you must destroy what stands in your way.” His words hung in the air. “The Outside Races—humans, fae, Ardurans, the ones who can live freely beyond the squares. They are the last obstacle standing between you and the true freedom you crave.”

  Avaris’s voice grew louder, more fervent. “Once all these species are eradicated, then and only then will we be able to leave the squares behind and explore the lands that belong to us by right. This is our purpose. Our destiny.”

  The words echoed in Kael's ears, and despite the logic that tried to reason with him, his heart told him that something about this felt wrong. This was not the freedom he had envisioned.

  Kael glanced around, his eyes meeting the other Masters. Their faces were lit with fire, with hunger for power, but none seemed to notice the quiet disquiet in Kael’s chest. They were all eager to fight, to claim what was promised.

  The world outside was dangerous, and the people who lived there were no less so. Kael’s experiences with the humans taught him enough. He had fought to survive for so long that conquering and attacking seemed like a distant concept to him.

  I didn’t ask for this war, but I’ll fight it, Kael thought, biting down on his pride. If it could give me my freedom.

  “I understand,” Kael finally said, his voice a low murmur, barely more than a whisper amidst the sound of gears turning.

  Avaris nodded, his single eye gleaming with approval. “Good.”

  “Titanus will take several Masters to another location to complete the second half of the ritual,” Avaris explained. “The rest of you, Lira, Kael, and the others, will follow me. We have no time to waste.”

  Kael watched as Rova and several Masters in simple robes and tunics were led away by the hulking golem, with its gears and pistons clicking as it moved.

  There was a flicker of unease, but Kael kept his expression neutral. Despite the recent victory in the duel, he still wasn’t entirely sure what was truly at stake. And yet, here he was, among Avaris’s chosen, standing with Lira, the strange, many-armed Master whose name still escaped Kael’s memory and the giant half mechanical Master.

  The five Masters, standing together at the base of a massive gearwheel elevator, said nothing. The great gearwheel groaned beneath their weight as it began to lift them higher, carrying them up the vast tower where they would face whatever awaited them. The sound of grinding metal echoed as they ascended, each rotation carrying them closer to their goal.

  Avaris’s voice cut through the rising hum of the machinery. “Have any of you fought the fae before?” he asked, his tone casual.

  None of them spoke at first. The mechanical Master shook his head, his eyes never leaving the shifting gears of the elevator’s walls. Lira’s expression was unreadable, but her gaze flickered briefly to Kael. He could see her wings twitch in anticipation. When she didn’t answer, Kael simply nodded in response.

  “No,” Kael finally replied, his voice even. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to voice his own inexperience.

  “The fae are tricky foes, ” Avaris said, seemingly unfazed by their denial. “They are experts in twin short swords and bow and arrow, and they are skilled in basic magic. Perhaps more troublesome, however, is that they can all fly.” Avaris’s gaze shifted as he considered the destruction he was about to bring. “Highhaven is heavily defended. There are over ten thousand recruits in their ranks—more than a thousand at the bronze level, a hundred at the silver level, and around ten at gold level. But the true danger lies in their Guardian, Oluru, the Platinum level adventurer.”

  A platinum-level fae? The Guardian of Highhaven, Kael thought, tasting the words as they echoed in his mind. What power does he bring to the battlefield?

  “The recruits are dressed according to their ranks,” Avaris continued. “Brown for the base recruits, bronze for bronze-level, yellow for silver, and green for gold.” His eyes flicked over the Masters, assessing their readiness. “Though we face an army, my golem can match against the fae, even their best. We will see who is stronger.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The elevator ground to a halt with a heavy thud, and the great gears of the Factory ceased their endless turning as the platform settled at the pinnacle. The Factory was a mechanical behemoth that stretched impossibly high into the sky. The giant skull that crowned the Factory's peak was menacing, constructed from gleaming steel, each plate and rivet expertly fitted into place, creating a skull that looked as though it had been hewn from the bones of some long-dead titan.

  Looking beyond the skull, Kael saw the blue walls of Avaris’s square stretching out below them. They shimmered faintly in the distance, marking the boundaries of the domain, and beyond that, the forest that seemed to swallow the square whole. Kael couldn’t help but notice that the trees surrounding the square were far taller than Avaris’s tower itself; ancient, colossal trees that had stood for centuries.

  The skull itself consisted of two floors, each one cavernous in size. On the bottom floor, a giant, cylindrical tube reached up toward the ceiling, its purpose unclear but ominous in its scale. A large balcony stretched around the room, providing a view of the outside, where the mouth of the skull was located.

  Avaris turned to Kael, his voice steady and commanding. “This,” he said, his finger pointing to the tube, “is your job.” He paused, letting the words settle. “Send your wisp inside. When I give the command, you will detonate it. You will give your wisp the signal to explode from within. Do you understand?”

  Detonate my wisp? It was a strange request, Kael felt as he glanced at Blue, unsure why detonating his wisp in this tube would be helpful.

  “How many wisps do you have?” Avaris asked, his voice cool and detached.

  Kael swallowed, his mouth dry. “Thirty skulls. Thirty wisps,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Avaris’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Good,” he said. “Once the ritual is complete, your wisps will be the final piece to the invasion.”

  Avaris seemed satisfied with the answer. His fingers twitched in the air, and Kael followed his gaze to several large golems moving around the perimeter of the room. Their metal hands were busy, lifting crates and large bundles, racing around the room. These golems, unlike Titanus, were smaller, more intricate, their mechanical limbs delicately engineered.

  “These are the Weapon Loaders,” Avaris explained. “They will load the tube with the necessary materials. Once you send your wisp inside, they will prepare it.”

  Avaris motioned toward a set of stairs that led up to a raised platform. “Follow me,” Avaris instructed, turning toward a stairway that led up to the higher level of the Factory. Kael followed closely behind.

  At the top of the stairs, a throne sat in the center of the room, its back lined with multiple crystals, their glow soft yet unnerving. The throne was made of the same cold steel as the rest of the factory, and the crystals embedded within it pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light. Surrounding the throne were more gears, levers, and buttons, all intricately designed, each one a piece of Avaris’s genius.

  “This is the command room,” Avaris said, his voice ringing with authority. “Here, Lorran will use the controls once the invasion begins.”

  Lorran turned toward Avaris, his many arms folding into a deep bow. “Lord Avaris,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “I will serve my duty.”

  Kael glanced at the bowing figure and immediately felt a stir of rebellion within him. He wondered if he should have bowed when Avaris told him his job. But Kael felt no urge to lower himself in submission, not to Avaris or to any Master. He stood tall, his posture unbent, his eyes steady. He did not bow, nor did he feel the need to. He was not just another pawn in Avaris’s game.

  Avaris’s eyes flicked to Kael, then back to Lorran. “Good,” he said, the briefest flicker of approval crossing his face. “Once the others complete their side of the ritual, we can proceed.”

  Kael’s gaze turned to the large crystal in the center of the room. It sat upon a pedestal of steel, a pulsating heartbeat at the center of the room. The crystal was massive and it glowed faintly, casting strange shadows across the chamber. It was not a simple object; it hummed with an energy that Kael could feel deep in his bones.

  As Avaris spoke, his words falling like the hammer of a blacksmith, Kael felt the weight of the moment settle into him. Once the others complete their side of the ritual, Avaris had said. Kael didn’t fully understand the details, but the implication was clear: this ritual was far from simple. It required more than just the participation of the Masters present. It required something else, something Kael hadn’t yet grasped.

  “And when the ritual is complete?” Kael asked, his voice cutting through the silence, tinged with a hint of suspicion. “What happens then?”

  Avaris turned to him, his expression unreadable. “Then, Master Kael, we are no longer bound by the limits of our squares. We will be free.”

  Freedom, Kael thought.

  What kind of freedom? Freedom to wage war or freedom to live? Was the purpose of the war freedom or was freedom the purpose of war? His mind questioned, knowing that the answers he seeked was not here.

  The dull crystal in the center of the command room began to hum, growing steadily louder with each passing moment. Avaris stood at the helm, his granite limbs twitching with the energy that surged through the room. The crystals embedded in his throne flared to life, reflecting the growing pulse of power.

  “Gather around,” Avaris commanded, his voice deep, resonating with authority. His single eye gleamed as he motioned toward the others. "Hold hands. Chant with me.”

  Kael hesitated, his gaze flicking between the other Masters who were already moving into place, joining hands with one another in a circle around the glowing crystal.

  A strange sensation brushed against Kael’s right hand, and he looked down to see a wriggling, bendy hand, almost like Jello’s, curling around his fingers. The hand was Lorran’s, and as it gripped his hand tightly, Kael felt a shiver run down his spine. The texture was unnatural, the consistency odd, with the many arms of Lorran’s body moving with strange, mechanical vibration.

  Before Kael could speak or react, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Lira standing beside him, her mechanical wings tapping and extending out like the limbs of some grand, winged creature. She gave him another smile, her grip on his hand firm. There was something reassuring in her touch.

  "Ready?" she asked, her voice steady as always.

  Kael nodded, though his mind was clouded with questions.

  Ready for what exactly?

  Avaris stepped forward, raising his hands, his voice low and commanding. He began to chant, the words strange and ancient, echoing through the chamber like a prayer.

  sauteerivedegrageteesipalmetconerectelpmamaivairepaocidnivereetmiv

  eregnarfsteutraerednicmumurtsetmutprecidsumulacangiserutiuoq

  ruticsanasaitnetopaivtiftednecacrotiravearp

  aivetatlorsetmucelnisubiriv

  Kael didn’t know the words. They were older than anything he had ever heard. He glanced at the others, their eyes closed, their faces taut with concentration. It was as if they were surrendering themselves to the ritual, entrusting their fates to whatever force was awakening before them.

  The crystal at the center of the room began to glow, its dull light intensifying with each chant. Cracks in the crystal began to spread like lightning through its surface. The edges splintered, sharp glimmers of light seeping through the fractures. Kael could feel the surge of energy, a crackling force building in the air, thick and dangerous.

  He tightened his grip on Lira’s hand, feeling her fingers squeeze in return. The air hummed, the very walls of the Factory seeming to bend with the pressure. Then, with a deafening crack, the crystal shattered into a thousand gleaming pieces, sending waves of energy crashing outward in every direction.

  The surge of power expanded, pushing outward like a shockwave, rattling the walls and the very foundations of the square. Kael’s face was whipped by the air, his clothes fluttering against the sudden gust of energy. The force of it seemed to tear at the space itself, and Kael had to brace himself, feeling the ground beneath him tremble.

  And then, as the blinding energy radiated outward, it hit the blue walls of the square. The walls that had separated the domain from the rest of the world. For a moment, Kael felt the air still, as if time itself had frozen.

  And then, the walls crumbled.

  The force of the energy shattered the blue walls as though they were made of glass, sending fragments spinning outward. The once-imposing barrier that had confined him to its tiny world disappeared into nothingness. No trace remained of the protective wall, no sign that it had ever existed.

  The stillness that followed was absolute. The air was clearer now, the weight that had pressed down on Kael’s shoulders lifting as the boundary between the square and the outside world evaporated.

  Kael stood, hand still in Lira’s, his eyes scanning the clearing around them. The vast forest stretched out before him with no walls, no borders. The world was open to him now, as the power of the ritual had torn the fabric of his confinement.

  He looked at Lira, and for the first time, a true sense of wonder flickered in his chest.

  The walls had come down.

  They were free. They had crossed a threshold, one that none of them could have imagined before.

  War was upon them.

  ******

  Oluru stood at the pinnacle of Highhaven, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. The air had shifted. There was no other word for it. The faintest hum, a vibration that seemed to pulse through the very earth beneath him, trembled at the edge of his senses.

  Lyanna, hovering just behind him, felt it too. Her wings fluttered instinctively, her senses alert, the strange magic in the air prickling the skin. She looked at her brother, her face a mask of quiet understanding. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the faintest crack in the sky—the shimmering remnants of a force breaking apart.

  Without a word, Oluru and Lyanna turned to face one another, their eyes locking in that silent exchange that only siblings could share.

  “It has begun,” Oluru said.

  Lyanna’s eyes narrowed, her mind already calculating the next move. She glanced down at the city below them, the thousands of fae rushing to their positions. But even they were not enough. #

  Not against what was coming.

  “Then let it begin,” she said. “We’ll face it head-on, just as we always have.”

  It had begun.

  ******

  Square: The Factory

  Master: Avaris, the Gearsmith

  Difficulty: Gold

  Conclave: Clockwork Assembly

  Treasure: 456 129 Gold

  Residents: -

  Kills: 24 806 (Ready For Ascension)