Smoke poured from the broken engines. Sparks rained like dying stars, illuminating the shattered metal of the Iron Heart.
Ren stood over the fallen Warden, his heart hammering in his ears—not from fear, but from the strange, electric thrill surging through him.
Mira tugged at his sleeve. "Ren, more are coming. I can hear the transports."
Ren didn't move. He was staring at his own reflection in a cracked sheet of steel.
His eyes weren't just glowing red anymore.
They were changing.
Gear-shaped irises. Thin, burning lines curling outward like clockwork symbols, ancient and unnatural.
"This isn't normal," he whispered.
"Normal?" Ashir's voice purred, coiling like smoke around his thoughts. "Child, you were born to be broken by this world. But I rebuilt you. I made you MORE."
Ren's lip curled, anger and terror twisting inside him. "You used me."
"No. I chose you. And you chose ME when you picked up the Core. Stop pretending you didn't want this."
Another explosion shook the walls. Somewhere above, klaxons began to blare—deep, droning war alarms not heard in decades.
Mira pulled harder. "Ren, listen to me! You'll die here! The Wardens won't stop—they'll bring Titans down here. You think you can fight them all?"
Ren glanced at her. And for the first time… she didn't see the scared boy she used to know.
She saw something else.
Something the Lords of the Gardens should have feared centuries ago.
"I don't have to fight them all," Ren murmured. "Not yet."
Mira's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
He turned toward the ancient Architect, still suspended by rusted cables.
"You know something I don't," Ren said. "You built the Gardens. You know the old systems. The hidden places."
The Architect chuckled, metal grinding like bone under weight. "And what if I do?"
Ren stepped closer. "Then you're going to lead us out of here."
The old machine-man regarded him in silence. Then—
"Only if you set me free."
Mira swore under her breath. "This is madness. You can't trust him!"
Ren ignored her.
Above them, shouts echoed through the fractured machinery. More Enforcers. More Wardens. They didn't have minutes—they had seconds.
Ren's hand crackled with crimson light as he reached for the old chains binding the Architect.
"This is a mistake," Mira said, backing up. "Whatever he's hiding, whatever's coming—you don't have to become part of it."
Ren looked at her, and there was a strange, tragic softness in his voice.
"I already am."
---
He pulled.
With a screech of metal, the chains snapped—and the Architect dropped like a dead weight, landing on shaking limbs of metal and cables. His eye glowed hotter, steam venting from hidden ports on his shoulders.
The ancient machine laughed.
"Fools. You think the Lords are your enemies. They are nothing. Insects feeding on the corpse of a god."
Ren narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
The Architect leaned forward, one shaking, skeletal hand reaching out.
"There's a secret beneath Caelum. Beneath all the Gardens. A machine older than the world. Something even the Lords forgot."
Ren's heart pounded. What is he saying?
The Architect's glowing eye focused entirely on Ren.
"And now… with the Core bound to your blood… you can wake it."
Mira stepped in front of Ren, voice sharp with panic. "Wake WHAT?"
The Architect didn't answer.
Instead, the walls themselves answered.
A deep, echoing hum rose from far below—below the lowest levels of the Garden. Below the foundations of the iron city itself.
It sounded like…
Breathing.
Ancient. Mechanical. Waiting.
Ashir spoke again—but this time not in a whisper.
"You wanted a weapon, little bloom. I give you a GOD."
---
Above them, the Wardens finally broke through.
Dozens of them, swords glowing, rifles aimed.
"REN ASHVEIL!" the lead Warden shouted. "BY ORDER OF THE LORDS—"
But they were too late.
The entire floor beneath the Iron Heart shuddered, gears snapping, walkways tearing away like threads from an old tapestry.
And from the abyss below… something rose.
Metal… alive.
A colossal shape, half-machine, half-corpse, its armor rusted but its eyes glowing like twin dying suns.
The Forgotten Titan.
Not one of the Lords' armies. Something older. Something they thought dead.
The Architect threw his head back and screamed, "WAKE, GOD OF RUINS! RISE FOR YOUR FINAL HARVEST!"
Ashir howled with laughter in Ren's mind.
Mira fell to her knees, staring at the rising horror, whispering, "Ren… what have you done?"
Ren stood still.
The light of the Seraph Core pulsed like a heartbeat beneath his skin.
And for the first time, Ren Ashveil wasn't afraid.
Not of the Lords.
Not of the Wardens.
Not of the old gods or the forgotten machines.
Only of what he was becoming.
The antihero of the last Garden.
---
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
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