It was not mere absence of colour that surrounded us, but a stark expanse of naught stretching beyond the veil of infinity. In that horizonless reach, words such as here and there had lost all meaning; for we stood within a great void that contained nothing but us. Had nothingness possessed memory or consciousness, we would have been but flaws in its sight—mere human vapour daring to exist in a place never meant to hold a single soul.
Seven human forms—or what remained of humanity's hue within them—stood facing one another in arrogant silence. Their stance, there in that absolute emptiness, bore such sovereignty that even a god might doubt the primacy of His own creation. The detective with his glacial calm, Aurelius with his lofty, mechanical presence, and Lagrita who held me as though clutching the only thread of truth… The two remaining shadows and Óengus all seemed to me to be racing to fill this void with the shade of their pride.
A tightness tore through my lungs, a choke stifling my breath—not for lack of air, but because I had grasped the dreadful truth of this prison: the whole world had shrivelled and dissolved, and nothing remained of existence save this tiny point that made our struggles seem petty. Or perhaps it was I who did not grasp the scale of the crisis we were in.
The stranglehold tightened around me—not by walls, for there were none here—but by that very infinity pressing upon us from every side, as though trying to crush us back into mere mathematical probabilities within a transcendent mind. I was trapped among these titans, feeling my insignificance like a mote of dust caught in a lens, while they prepared to ignite a war whose beginning seemed more terrible than its end, in a place where no one would hear the cries of the vanquished.
Aurelius' voice erupted abruptly—a cold, metallic roar brimming with a bitterness his gears could no longer contain.
"We meet again, Óengus… sooner than my calculations foretold."
Óengus spoke not a word, but I saw tension invade his features as though he stood before a judge reading his death sentence.
Then Aurelius turned that cold, glass-like lens toward Ancaues, and uttered in a tone dripping with contempt:
"I know you well, O great phantom of the night… one of the most wretched to have fallen into the ancient traps of magic."
Ancaues did not flinch. He remained towering, with that lofty gaze that seemed to regard a mechanical insect.
"Fallen? I? How amusing to hear this from a man who cast aside his humanity to grovel at the feet of a GOD who dwells only in his twisted imagination."
"Ah, the AXIOM PRIME, He is not traditional deity—quite the contrary. He is human, more human than your narrow mind could ever endure."
Aurelius' gears shuddered violently as he continued:
"I did not lose my humanity—I reclaimed it! That is the true essence of our kind: an existence surpassing the limits of flesh and bone, loftier than any petty circle of magic. We are beings who do not leave our fate to invisible forces, nor place our destiny in the hands of men claiming sanctity… We build our fate, we anchor it into the fabric of the universe with nails the size of mountains. That is what we are—and that is what magic stole from us."
Ancaues laughed—a hollow, mocking laugh, sharp as a blade tearing through the air:
"And you believe this metallic plaything of yours can defeat my magic? To overcome a sacred magician? You forge your tools from resources my gods created for you, only to defy they majesty… Do you not see how absurd this contradiction is?"
"Perhaps…" replied Aurelius, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly low register,
"but there are other resources… great ones, lying beyond the reach of any holy hand. There lies our great triumph—the one you fear."
Here, Castor roared, his patience spent:
"And why do you believe this entity of yours—regardless of whether it exists—could ever halt the sacred magicians?"
Aurelius' laughter rose, but it sounded like the gasp of a metallic lung choking on its own breath:
"Because your gods already fear it! The Great Wheel is a force beyond your primitive understanding. Do you know why your magic severed its covenant with you? Because they tremble… they quake at the scent of ash now spreading across the cosmos—an odour they smell clearly, the breath that cracks reality itself."
"Smell it?" Lagrita whispered, the memory of the towers surfacing in her mind.
"Why would this entity wish to kill or enslave humanity? Does it not have nobler matters to attend in this vast universe?"
"Oh, no… It does not, nor does it desire killing or enslavement."
Aurelius took a step forward, and I felt the whiteness around us tremble beneath his weight.
"Simply put… it wishes to return us to the glory we have forgotten. It is the great vessel that will carry us toward the cosmic light beyond the ancient horizon. Your magicians fear what we may become—what we were always meant to be. They fear that horizon where there is no magic… only solid truth."
I watched Lagrita swallow with difficulty. It was a surreal sight—to witness a being of her majesty feeling terror.
She said, her voice trembling:
"If there is something that frightens the sacred magicians as you claim… then it must be something I want no part of. If it carries such horror, it is certainly no salvation."
Amid that theological fervour and cosmic threat, the detective took a single step forward, placing himself like a cold barrier between the camp of the magicians and Aurelius' mechanical being.