Alex moved like a specter through the foundry, his presence unnoticed by the overseers who had tormented the Gondians for far too long. With each step, he dispatched them with quiet efficiency, shadows rising from the floor to swallow them whole, leaving no trace behind. The Gondians he found were freed in rapid succession, their collars shattering beneath his touch, their terrified faces shifting from despair to disbelief as they were teleported to safety.
With the overseers dealt with, Alex pressed deeper into the foundry. The deeper he ventured, the stronger the pull of an unfamiliar mind became—a sharp, intelligent presence lingering within the heart of the facility. He phased through a reinforced door, stepping into the dimly lit security room where an aged gnome stood at the far end, his fingers brushing over parchments scattered on a desk.
The gnome bore a green blindfold, his eyes long since taken from him by the Banites who had enslaved him within the Steel Watch Foundry. The same golden collar adorned his neck, identical to those Alex had already removed from the others. Even without sight, the gnome stood tall, his demeanor carrying an air of unbroken defiance.
Alex knew who he was. From the memories of the overseers, he had learned enough to piece together fragments of this man's past. This was Zanner Toobin, the brilliant mind behind the Steel Watch, a man whose genius had been twisted and used against his own people. Once the lead engineer of the Hall of Wonders' "Auto-Guard" project, he had been coerced into finalizing the Steel Watchers under the directives of Enver Gortash. But the overseers’ knowledge had been incomplete—they had not cared about his suffering, nor the depths of his story.
Zanner turned slightly at Alex's silent approach, his movements unnervingly precise for a man without sight. His voice, steady but edged with curiosity, cut through the silence.
"Narn'guth kree'shav da'lor," he spoke in a measured tone. "You don’t belong here. Who are you?"
“I’ve come to free you,” Alex answered. “The Banites are dead.”
Zanner stiffened, his hands stilling over the parchment. “What? Go away. Your presence imperils us all. If any of us attempts to escape, our kin will die. The overseers—they have a contraption. When triggered, it will kill everyone who wears a collar."
Alex extended his hand. “Your friends and family have already been freed from the Iron Throne,” he said calmly, stepping closer. “And the collars…” He placed a hand on the gnome’s throat, fingers brushing over the metal. A surge of energy pulsed from his fingertips, unraveling the enchantments woven into the device. The collar cracked, then shattered, the pieces clattering onto the floor.
Zanner exhaled sharply, his hands reaching up as if to confirm his newfound freedom. A long silence stretched between them before he finally nodded. “We should move, then,” he said, his voice losing some of its tension. He turned swiftly, heading toward a stairwell leading downward.
“Below is the laboratory,” he explained as he descended. “More of my people are kept there. There are still Banites and operational Steel Watchers patrolling the area. We must be careful.”
Alex followed, studying the gnome carefully. Despite his blindness, Zanner moved without hesitation, his steps sure and deliberate. That was when Alex realized it—Zanner wasn’t navigating by memory or instinct. He was perceiving the world in another way.
Focusing his psionic awareness, Alex reached out and touched the edge of the gnome’s mind. A strange pattern of energy pulsed within it—a psychic field spreading outward, mapping the world around him like an intricate sonar. He was not simply moving through familiarity; he was seeing with his mind.
They reached a solid steel door at the bottom of the stairs. Without hesitation, Alex tapped into his elemental control over metal. The mechanism inside the door clicked and groaned as unseen forces unraveled the lock. With a final, heavy creak, the door swung open, revealing the darkness beyond.
They stepped forward, descending further into the abyss of Gortash’s twisted creation.
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The laboratory area bore the same industrial design as the rest of the foundry but was far darker, its air thick with acrid fumes and the stench of scorched metal. Boilers glowed ominously with a deep red light, their heat warping the air around them. Pipes coiled like metallic serpents along the walls and floors, hissing as they vented bursts of scalding steam. Towering vats of molten metal pulsed at the center of the chamber, their fiery contents casting flickering shadows across the mechanical labyrinth.
Alex scanned the area, his senses picking up a cluster of scattered minds—some belonged to the Gondians, trembling in exhaustion and fear, while others belonged to the Banites, their cruel vigilance unwavering. Hulking Steel Watchers patrolled methodically, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the chamber like the drumbeats of an unrelenting march.
Zanner turned to Alex, his breath hitching as he noticed something. Alex was not hiding, nor taking cover—he stood tall, utterly still, his gaze sweeping the room like a god appraising his domain.
"What—?" Zanner began, but his words died in his throat. A chill slithered through the air, an unnatural stillness settling around them. Though he was blind, he could feel it—something ancient, something wrong, emanating from Alex. His skin prickled, a deep-rooted instinct screaming at him that something was shifting in the fabric of reality itself.
From Alex’s shadow, dark figures slithered forth—shadow brawlers, constructs of pure void and magic. Silent and swift, they leaped from shadow to shadow, tearing through the foundry like wraiths of vengeance. The Banite overseers barely had time to scream before they were dragged away, vanishing into the abyss, their bodies swallowed by the endless dark.
Zanner heard the clanking of mechanical footsteps. The Steel Watchers were converging.
Alex raised a single hand towards them, his fingers curling ever so slightly. Without a sound, the nearest Steel Watcher’s form unraveled. Metal plates peeled apart, wires and gears wrenched themselves free as if rejecting their very existence. The once-imposing construct collapsed, its lifeless components clattering to the floor.
Unfazed, Alex walked forward, and as he did, all remaining Steel Watchers met the same fate, their towering forms unraveling like thread stripped from a loom.
Zanner rushed forward, his attention shifting to a Gondian worker cowering behind a workstation, his body trembling. The poor man had witnessed the dark monstrosities drag away his captors, and now, his gaze was locked onto Alex with sheer, unfiltered terror.
"Master Zanner?" The frightened gnome’s voice was barely a whisper.
"Aripos." Zanner placed a firm but reassuring grip on the man’s shoulder. "Do not be afraid. Our families are safe, and soon, so will we."
Aripos froze, his breath catching in his throat before he lunged forward, wrapping Zanner in a desperate embrace. Zanner returned the gesture, a rare moment of tenderness amidst the ruin. These people—his people—had suffered beyond measure. He had no words that could undo that pain, but at least now, they had hope.
Alex stepped beside them. "Stay still."
His voice was calm, but it left no room for argument. With a simple touch, the cursed collar around Aripos’ neck cracked apart, the enchanted metal shattering to the floor. Relief flooded the gnome’s face as he rubbed his bare neck, disbelief and gratitude mingling in his wide eyes.
"Zanner, gather everyone. Get them ready. I need to check something first."
Zanner nodded firmly and, along with Aripos, rushed to rally the remaining Gondians, freeing them as they moved through the lab.
Meanwhile, Alex turned toward one of the dismantled Steel Watchers. He strode to the nearest pile of scrap and knelt beside it. His hands darkened, the sinew shifting as his muscles thickened unnaturally. Without hesitation, he reached into the construct’s sundered chest cavity and tore it open with a sickening crunch.
What he found inside made him pause.
Nestled within the machinery, wired and fused into the steel, was a grotesque remnant of flesh—humanoid, barely recognizable. Its twisted, half-mummified form was impaled by metal rods, its spine punctured like a marionette strung to its master’s whims. The head was completely encased in a metal cap, any features long since erased by its grotesque integration into the machine.
Alex had suspected something unnatural about the constructs when he first unraveled them, but this—this was worse than he had imagined. The Steel Watchers were not merely constructs. They were not just mechanical soldiers.
They were people.
They had been alive once, twisted into this monstrous fusion of flesh and steel. The realization settled deep within Alex, coiling in his gut like a venomous serpent.
The Banites and Gortash had not merely built an army—they had carved it from the living.
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He exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists.
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Alex turned to Zanner, who had gathered all the Gondians around. With a wave of his hand, Alex quickly severed the magic bindings of their collars, the shattered remnants clattering to the floor. Without delay, he teleported them away, ensuring their safety beyond the reach of Gortash’s cruelty.
When it came time for Zanner himself to be teleported, he raised a hand, stopping Alex.
"I will stay with you," the gnome said firmly. "You will need my help to disable the device used to control the Steel Watchers."
"Are you referring to the Neurocitor?" Alex asked, his gaze sharp.
Zanner hesitated for only a moment. "How did you—? No, this is not the time for questions. Yes, that device must be destroyed."
Together, they advanced toward the other end of the laboratory.
A heavy metal door loomed before them. Zanner turned to a smaller but similar door on the right.
"Can you open it?" he asked.
Alex extended a hand, and the mechanisms within clicked and groaned as the door swung open with ease. They stepped inside.
The room was a grotesque theater of horror. Four rows of operating tables stretched before them, each bearing a corpse in various states of modification. Some looked nearly complete, the amalgamation of flesh and machine eerily similar to the construct Alex had dismantled earlier. Others were fresh, their bodies barely touched, yet doomed to the same horrific fate.
Zanner, his jaw tight with restrained fury, moved to the left side of the room where a lever stood mounted into the wall. He whispered a short prayer under his breath before gripping the handle and pulling it down.
With a sickening groan, the tables began to rise. Below them, trapdoors yawned open, swallowing the lifeless bodies. One by one, the experiments tumbled into the dark void beneath. When the room was emptied of its dead, Zanner turned to Alex, exhaling a heavy breath.
They exited the chamber, stepping through the metal door on the far end of the lab. What lay beyond made even Alex pause.
Dozens upon dozens of floating brains, each sealed within its own glass vat, lined the walls of the cavernous room. But what made Alex's stomach twist wasn’t their numbers—it was the fact that they were still alive. He could hear them. Their fragmented thoughts, their broken whispers of fear and confusion. Minds trapped in perpetual torment.
"These are Gortash’s victims," Zanner murmured, his voice tight. "Those who refused to bend to his will. Some were thieves, rebels… others were simply those who had no family to miss them."
Alex’s gaze swept across the room, stopping on one particular vat. A smaller brain, no larger than a child’s fist. A child’s mind.
Zanner walked to the control panel, fingers hovering over the lever that would release them from their agony. He closed his eyes, whispering another quiet prayer for the lost souls before him. But before he could act, Alex’s hand gripped his shoulder.
"Wait," Alex said, his voice resolute. "I can save them."
Zanner turned, confusion flickering across his face. He took a step back as Alex moved to the center of the room.
Alex's body began to shift, the illusion of his human form peeling away as he let his true nature emerge. His flesh darkened, rippling and reshaping itself into something beyond human. Sinister tendrils, thick with sinew, slithered outward from his body, reaching across the room like living roots. One by one, they wrapped around the vats, cradling them with unsettling gentleness.
Zanner watched, his breath shallow, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
Through his psionic sonar, he could see the writhing, shifting darkness that made up Alex’s being. A horror beyond words, yet moving with careful precision, as though sculpting something delicate, something precious.
Slowly, Alex began his work. Carefully, he extracted the brains, tendrils coiling around each one like a protective cocoon. He started reconstructing them, weaving flesh from the abyss of his own power. Bone formed where there had been none, skin stretched over newly shaped muscle, veins wove themselves into existence, and hearts began to beat once more.
It was an unholy rebirth, terrifying in its beauty.
Zanner had only one thought at that moment.
The man who had saved him was not a man at all.
The newly reconstructed lay unconscious on the cold, metallic floor. Their chests rose and fell in steady rhythm, their bodies slowly adjusting to the life that had been stolen from them and now returned. One by one, their fingers twitched, their limbs stirred, and soft groans of disoriented confusion echoed in the dimly lit chamber.
Alex moved quietly among them, his steps light, careful, deliberate. He crouched beside a little boy, no older than seven, whose small frame shuddered as his eyes fluttered open. The child's gaze darted around the unfamiliar room, his breath quickening with fear.
"Easy now," Alex said gently, his voice steady but warm. "You're safe."
The boy’s wide, glassy eyes fixed on him. "Where... where am I?"
Alex exhaled slowly. He knew the truth would be too much, the horror of it too great. "You were taken," he said, his voice laced with quiet reassurance. "Kidnapped. But you're safe now. I stopped them."
The boy swallowed hard, his small hands curling into fists against his chest. Around them, others were waking, their murmurs blending into a chorus of hushed confusion.
A teenage girl rubbed her temple as though trying to shake loose a fog clouding her mind. "I... I remember... walking the streets. But I was huge—metal, heavy... like some kind of machine. And I couldn’t stop. I just kept moving, following something... something in my head that wasn’t me."
A man, middle-aged and trembling, nodded slowly. "I had the same dream. I walked through Baldur’s Gate, towering over people, but I wasn’t me. I couldn’t think. Just obey."
A murmur of agreement swept through the group, fear growing in their expressions.
Alex’s face remained impassive, though his heart clenched at the truth they were unknowingly voicing. They had been more than kidnapped—they had been ripped from their bodies, their very consciousnesses imprisoned within the hulking steel titans that patrolled the city. But they didn’t need to know that. Not now.
He forced a reassuring smile and shook his head. "It was a spell," he lied smoothly. "A powerful one used to subdue you. It made your mind believe things that weren’t real. I promise you, it was nothing more than a dream. And now, it’s over."
The tension in the room lessened, but the uncertainty lingered in their eyes.
"Listen to me," Alex continued, his voice steady with conviction. "I’m sending you somewhere safe. There are people waiting for you—good people, the Harpers. They’ll take care of you, help you get back on your feet. You’re free now. No one will hurt you again."
Some nodded hesitantly, others simply stared, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding their freshly restored minds.
Alex lifted a hand, shadows curling around his fingertips like tendrils of smoke. With a subtle gesture, a shimmering portal bloomed into existence before them, swirling with ethereal light.
"Go," he urged gently. "Step through. You’ll be safe."
One by one, they moved toward the portal. Some hesitated at the threshold, casting uncertain glances back at Alex, but the warmth in his gaze was enough to give them courage. The little boy, still clutching his trembling hands to his chest, looked up at him one last time.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Alex gave a small nod, watching as they vanished through the portal, their forms dissolving into light.
As the last of them stepped through, the portal flickered and collapsed into the air, leaving behind only silence.
Alex exhaled slowly, his hands clenching at his sides.
He turned to the metal door at the end of the room .
Zanner rushed to Alex’s side, his face still pale after what he had witnessed. His voice wavered slightly, but his determination was firm.
"Wait," he said, gripping Alex’s arm. "I hear it through the floor—powerful, indestructible. The ultimate Watcher—the Titan."
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I am aware of your capabilities, and that is why I have one favor to ask. Do not destroy it if you can. Try to disable it instead. There is a weak point behind it, near the junction where its lower half meets its upper body. If you strike it with enough force, or perhaps with electricity, it should short-circuit its main system and shut down. I will remain here until you are done with it, as I fear being crushed by that thing."
Alex nodded in acknowledgment. With a thought, the metal door before them groaned open, revealing a vast chamber beyond. At the far end, he could see the Neurocitor—a grotesque fusion of machine and living tissue. It pulsed like a living heart, metal wires and tendrils of red flesh weaving through its structure like veins, pulsating with eerie, unnatural energy. Two more operational Steel Watchers flanked it, their mechanical forms still functioning despite losing their pilots.
Alex barely had time to take a few steps before something heavy crashed down from the ceiling, shaking the very foundation of the foundry. Dust and sparks rained down as the behemoth landed, its massive weight sending tremors through the floor.
The Steel Watcher Titan loomed over him like a metallic colossus, its massive frame adorned with gilded engravings and intricate carvings of armored warriors and divine figures. As large as a war tank, the construct exuded an aura of unyielding authority, a masterpiece of both artistry and brutality.
Its form was a nightmarish fusion of regal craftsmanship and cold, unfeeling metal. Its four legs, curved and massive, bore the likeness of grand statues carved into their plating—faceless warriors forever kneeling in servitude to their master. The mechanical joints whirred with every movement, powered by infernal energy coursing through its gilded veins. The Titan’s broad torso was encased in a shell of baroque gold and blackened steel, each plate adorned with layered filigree and embossed with ominous sigils of dominance and control.
Though expressionless, its faceplate bore the intimidating visage of an armored knight, a grim parody of the honor it once symbolized. From its back, an ornate metal eagle spread its wings wide, a twisted emblem of order turned into oppression.
In its clawed hands, it gripped a towering greatsword, its blade longer than a man was tall. The weapon pulsed with arcane energy, humming with raw power, each swing capable of cleaving steel and stone with terrifying ease. In its other arm, an enormous shield, engraved with the image of a kneeling warrior, gleamed with an almost ceremonial brilliance. Yet its true purpose was far from ceremonial—it was a wall of unbreakable defense, capable of withstanding the mightiest of assaults.
The foundry’s dim lighting cast long, shifting shadows across its form, emphasizing the intricate details of its mechanical frame while shrouding its every movement in an air of menace. Pipes hissed and gears ground as the Titan shifted its weight, its massive presence sending tremors through the metal grating beneath it. It was not just a machine of war—it was a declaration of dominion, a steel-bound testament to Gortash’s vision of absolute control.
A soulless behemoth, clad in the trappings of power, waiting to enforce the will of its master with unrelenting force.
Alex’s form began to shift. His flesh and bone dissolved, becoming pure energy—lightning given shape, a being of crackling electricity. The Chromatic Orb embedded in his chest shone with blinding intensity, arcs of power rippling through his frame.
Before the Titan could fully register his transformation, Alex surged forward, a bolt of living lightning streaking across the battlefield. His trajectory was precise, his aim unerring. He struck, a devastating surge of electromagnetic force cascading from his form upon impact.
A massive pulse erupted from the Titan, arcs of wild energy crackling through the air as its systems overloaded. Sparks burst from its joints, its great sword trembling as its grip faltered. The Titan let out a metallic groan, its towering form convulsing as the charge coursed through its internal framework. Then, with a final, thunderous jolt, its massive limbs stiffened before collapsing under its own weight.
The Titan, along with the remaining Steel Watchers, fell to the ground like broken dolls, their once-imposing forms rendered lifeless and inert.
As the last sparks danced across the fallen colossus, Alex's energy dissipated, his body reforming from the crackling mass of electricity into solid flesh once more. He took a slow breath and then turned to the neurocitor.