[Oliver's PoV]

  “Finally, we have enough Unique Crystal.”

  The air was thick with Energy. Dense, electric, almost alive.

  Daedalus-1 crossed his arms, his mask tilting slightly as he studied the crystals. “It will be expensive,” he said, his tone measured. “To forge this much into a single weapon. We’ll consume almost everything. Are you sure? With this much, we could arm an entire squadron.”

  “Imagine it,” Daedalus-2 said, his voice rising with excitement. “A full unit of Unique Rangers. We’d be on par with any Great House. Even surpass some of them.”

  Oliver glanced between them, his expression impassive. “Don’t underestimate the Great Houses. They may not have Unique Crystals in this amount, but they’ve had decades to perfect their forces. I’ve seen firsthand what a single Crystal Weapon can do. Now imagine armies filled with them.”

  The Daedalus fell silent.

  “That’s not our goal,” Oliver continued. “We’re not trying to become another Great House. We need something stronger. A weapon powerful enough to kill a Sovereign.”

  Dedalus-1 hesitated, his voice quieter now. “A Crystal Weapon forged from a Unique Crystal. It would be devastating, yes. But will it be enough?”

  Oliver’s gaze hardened. “One won’t be.”

  He stepped closer to the table, resting his hands on the edge. “We’ll need more. Five, Three, and One are already searching for more. But for now, this is what we have. This is what we build.”

  Dedalus-2 turned toward the far end of the hangar, where their other project loomed in the shadows—a massive, unfinished machine suspended in a web of scaffolding and cables.

  The creature’s skeletal frame gleamed under the white lights.

  “And what about the Leviathans?” Dedalus-2 asked, his voice quieter now, almost protective. “Are we abandoning them? The last one’s nearly complete. It’s our most advanced model. It's the culmination of everything we’ve built.”

  Oliver followed his gaze. The Leviathan’s empty eyes reflected the light of the Z Crystals, its vast form towering over the engineers like a dormant god.

  He could sense their pride and attachment. And Oliver understood it. But sentiment had no place in what was coming.

  “We’ll need someone else overseeing the Leviathans,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “We’re going to need them. Especially when the assault begins, those war machines are some of our few trump cards against the Imperialists. Without them, a direct invasion of the Imperial Palace would be nearly impossible.”

  He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the two masked figures of Dedalus-1 and Dedalus-2, and Thalos standing silently beside them.

  “But,” Oliver continued, “if we can’t prove that we’re capable of forging a Crystal Weapon from a Unique Crystal. Then none of it will matter. There won’t be a single weapon strong enough even to wound a Sovereign.”

  The words hung in the air like a verdict.

  The Dedalus exchanged a glance. Even through their masks, their unease was evident, as was the slight shift in their posture and the tension in their shoulders. They understood the stakes.

  Thalos broke the silence first. “If manpower is the issue, we can assign additional Dedalus to assist.” His tone was relaxed, as if it were no problem at all.

  Dedalus-2 let out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair and leaving it tousled. “More Dedalus, more hands, more minds; and we’re still overworked.”

  His counterpart placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “We’ll manage,” Dedalus-1 said quietly. “I’ll speak with the others. We’ll reorganize the teams and redistribute the workload. It’ll get done.”

  Oliver nodded once. “Do you have any idea how you’ll build the Crystal Weapons?”

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  The question was met with silence.

  Finally, Dedalus-1 shook his head. “None. We have fragments of the schematics you brought back. But none of them align with what you’re asking for. What you want is beyond what anyone else has done.”

  Oliver exhaled slowly. “Then improvise. Use what you have. We have to start somewhere.”

  He turned to leave. But before stepping out, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “How long?”

  “To produce it? Only the gods would know,” Dedalus-2 muttered, his voice muffled behind his mask as he stared at the pile of Z Crystals.

  Dedalus-1 turned one of the fragments over in his gloved hands, the faint golden light refracting across the lenses of his mask. “We’ll start with a few experiments. If all goes well, we might have a prototype in a month or two. Yet, it's nowhere near the time needed to construct the real weapon.”

  Oliver exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with frustration. 'Two months. We'll have to make it work.'

  Every day lost was another day the Empire consolidated more power. Another day closer to the Sovereign recovering his position. And if the Numbers succeeded in recovering more Unique Crystals, they’d need to forge multiple weapons, not just one.

  He rubbed his temples, feeling the exhaustion getting to his mind. “Understood,” he said at last. 'Pressuring them further would only make them rush and make mistakes.'

  “Good work. Keep me updated.” Oliver concluded.

  The Dedalus nodded and immediately turned back to their workstations, their voices already rising in a flurry of technical jargon and half-formed theories.

  Oliver lingered for a moment, watching them handle the crystals. Then he went on his way.

  He stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a hiss. The hum of the hangar faded behind him, replaced by the soft vibration of the lift as it began its ascent.

  Thalos stood beside him. The android’s expression, though artificial, somehow carried genuine concern.

  “How are the Numbers?” Oliver asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, weary. Three weeks had passed while he was out. It was the first time he felt detached from the operation, as if the war was moving faster than he could keep up.

  “No major developments,” Thalos replied, his tone calm but firm. “The field teams are still tracking the other Crystals. You should rest, Governor.”

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. “That’s an order?”

  Thalos turned his head slightly. “Consider it a recommendation from someone who doesn’t need to sleep. You’re showing signs of exhaustion. Slowed reaction, delayed speech, elevated stress levels.”

  Oliver gave a tired grin.

  The elevator hummed softly as they rose through the levels of the Headquarters' complex. At the back of the elevator, a mirror reflected Oliver and Thalos. Thalos, as always, was dressed like a surfer, while Oliver looked tired, exhausted, with dark, sunken eyes.

  He sighed. “All right, Thalos. You win. I’ll rest.”

  “Go to your quarters. I’ll update you in the morning,” Thalos said, pressing one of the buttons on the panel.

  “See you tomorrow, Thalos,” Oliver bid farewell.

  “Good night, Governor,” the android replied before stepping out.

  The doors slid shut, leaving Oliver alone.

  The descent was smooth, the hum of the magnetic lift steady and low. Rows of lights flickered past the glass walls as the elevator plunged deeper into the subterranean complex. The lower levels of Aquarius were a labyrinth of reinforced corridors, sleeping quarters, and command hubs.

  When the doors opened, the corridor ahead was quiet.

  The path to his quarters was familiar. Soldiers patrolled the halls in pairs. Others stood guard at intersections, motionless but alert.

  Oliver nodded to each of them as he passed. The soldiers responded with small gestures of respect, but none spoke.

  His quarters were located at the far end of the residential wing, behind a set of reinforced doors guarded by two sentinels. They stepped aside as he approached, the door unlocking with a soft hiss.

  Inside, the room was spacious but straightforward. A desk cluttered with documents and mission reports. A wall-mounted screen still displaying maps from past briefings.

  Oliver exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking.

  He kicked off his boots. His uniform followed, discarded piece by piece until he was down to his underclothes.

  He fell onto the bed without ceremony.

  The mattress molded to his form, the nanofiber weave adjusting automatically to his weight. For the first time in days, he felt his body begin to relax.

  His muscles loosened, his breathing slowed. The dull ache of his wounds faded into the background. The hum of the base became a lullaby.

  Sleep clawed at the edges of his mind, pulling him down.

  But still, one thought lingered.

  'No improvements.'