Chapter 30: Why Are You Holding Me Down?
"Gundam?"
Upon hearing the term, Lakdevo was visibly startled.
Then, he nodded thoughtfully.
"I recall that the reformer from the Church of Machinery did indeed refer to them that way."
"At that time, he also mentioned that the true purpose of these seventy-two machines wasn't warfare, but exploration..."
"Wait, you said... reformer?"
Sylvia's expression once again turned strange as she directly interrupted him.
"Yes, Master."
"Just as the apostles of the Church of Radiance are called angels, and those of the River Council are called ferrymen, the Church of Machinery’s apostles have their own unique title as well."
"Wonderful."
The puppet girl pressed her temples, suppressing the twitch in her lips and resisting the urge to laugh.
Now she was almost certain that the god of Industry and Machinery was a transmigrator.
"But..."
"Why would this war golem be unearthed in Alova?"
"As far as I remember, this place wasn't even on the front lines back then."
At this moment, Lakdevo murmured with some frustration, but Sylvia narrowed her eyes.
Something felt off.
Logically speaking, this thing held great significance for the Church of Machinery. Even if it were damaged, they would have retrieved it.
And that war had ended in victory for the faction of the Lord of Radiance. As the staunchest ally of the Church of Radiance, the Church of Machinery would have had no reason not to reclaim a unit located within their own sphere of influence.
Unless there had been some compelling reason back then that forced them to temporarily abandon recovery.
So what was going on now? Why had they resumed the recovery effort?
As she pondered this, she examined the severed arm once more.
Hmm?
Suddenly, her gaze sharpened.
Because she had spotted the break at the shoulder—
It wasn’t a clean cut, but rather looked as if it had been torn off with immense force.
Moreover, some dents on the arm resembled the bite marks of a creature.
Judging by the bite, this creature seemed... unusually large?
"Sigh."
With a soft sigh, Sylvia no longer lingered and began heading toward St. Ruls Cathedral.
"What’s wrong, Master?"
Lakdevo, perched on her shoulder, tilted his head.
"I suspect that the apostle of the Orthodox Church who recently arrived in Alova isn’t just the angel of Radiance."
"There might also be a reformer."
"Ga?"
...
In the bright underground chamber.
Sylvia leaned back against a solid wooden chair, eyes closed.
Ever since returning to her base, a mental exhaustion had completely consumed her.
Then, she had sent everyone away, including that fat crow, leaving herself alone in this office.
The backlash after using the Authority of Wrath was too intense. She would avoid using it in the future if she could.
At that thought, she began calming her mind.
At the same time, a wave of drowsiness slowly rose within her, and she did not resist it.
Whether as an Outer God or a puppet, she did not require sleep.
The current state was most likely due to the exhaustion on her soul.
Perhaps calling it "sleep" wasn’t entirely accurate...
Dormancy.
That was the term she used to define her present condition.
At this moment, time in the room thickened like viscous water under the tranquil atmosphere. Though slow, it still flowed forward.
This peaceful silence was eventually broken—by someone.
Light and quick footsteps sounded, followed by three knocks on the office door.
Having sensed it in advance, Sylvia made no move and remained seated quietly.
The next second, with no response from within, the door was pushed open and a figure walked in.
"Uncle Loruze?"
A cheerful male voice rang out, sounding like both a question and a probe.
"Not here?"
After seemingly scanning the surroundings, the person muttered softly, "Knew it."
Then, Sylvia felt a gaze fall on her.
"Huh?"
"Since when did Uncle Loruze take a liking to dolls?"
At this moment, Sylvia sat leaning against the chair, draped in a white cloak. Her clearly jointed hands were exposed.
At the same time, the wide brim of her hood cast a shadow that completely concealed her lowered face, preventing him from seeing her features.
As his words fell, Sylvia heard footsteps approaching her.
How rude.
Disturbing someone's rest.
With a trace of lingering grogginess, she slowly lifted her head, letting the hood slide back to reveal her face.
In that instant, her eyes—like polished amethysts—reflected the face of the person before her with perfect clarity—
Golden hair, azure eyes, sharply defined features.
She had seen this person before and knew his name—
Clade Lancaster, second son of the Earl of Lancaster, elder brother of little Isabella.
"Hello, we meet again."
Seeing the sudden widening of his eyes, and the astonishment, confusion, and fear within them, Sylvia's lips gradually curled back into a smile as she greeted him.
At that moment, hurried footsteps rang out, and two silver-armored knights appeared in a sprint before the office door.
"Your Grace..."
One of them was Kakilis. He opened his mouth but, upon seeing Clade’s back, a trace of panic and unease flashed across his face.
He then signaled to his companion with a glance, and after receiving a nod in return, the two of them rushed forward at the same time.
In the span of a breath, the trembling Clade was tackled to the ground.
"Our apologies, Your Grace. It was our failure that allowed him to barge in..."
"What are you talking about!"
Before Kakilis could finish his sentence, Clade shouted angrily:
"Quick, report this to the Cathedral!"
"No, wait—contact Her Grace Aksia immediately!"
"She’s in the Plant District!"
As he shouted, golden-white light began to radiate from within Clade’s body.
However, at that very moment, he saw the faintly smiling eyes of Sylvia and felt the pressure and restraint coming from behind him.
Something... didn’t feel right?
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Let me go! Your target is the forbidden object sitting over there, the one tainted by an evil god!"
Clade shouted at the two knights holding him down, as if trying to confirm a certain suspicion in his heart.
But when he saw the slightly conflicted expressions on their faces, a sudden chill ran through him.
Just then, Sylvia’s voice rang out:
"It’s a small matter. Don’t make too much of it. Just deal with him."
"Loruze… where is he?"
Upon hearing this, Clade stiffly turned his head back toward the source of the voice.
At this moment, Sylvia had sat upright in the chair, her gaze passing over him and landing on someone behind.
The next second, the "colleague" he had assumed spoke:
"Reporting, Your Grace, the bishop is currently out handling a border demon intrusion case and is not in the cathedral."
Reporting? Your Grace?
In that instant, Clade's face turned ashen.