Alonso stroked his non-existent beard, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "I grasp the essence of your request, Libra," he began, his voice steady and authoritative, carrying the weight of his vast experience. "However, you must understand that what you are asking of me is no small feat. It necessitates years of meticulous research and countless trials to reach the level of development we know today."

He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle in the air. "First, we will need to gather not only the proper materials but also the right equipment to establish a functional laboratory. This process is far from straightforward; even the simplest tasks require substantial manual labor and resources."

Alonso looked directly into Libra's eyes, his expression serious yet resolute. "What you envision may take centuries to bring to fruition. The complexities of this world—its diverse cultures, varying technologies, and limited resources—are significantly behind what I am accustomed to. While they use magic to compensate for some technological shortcomings, they still lag far behind. By my estimation, they are about 7,000 years behind Vardosia.

Such advancements in technology will be beyond their comprehension, and their grasp of scientific principles remains fundamentally lacking. I fear this monumental undertaking may prove too difficult, as it will require not only time but a fundamental shift in their understanding."

Libra's expression shifted, a flicker of frustration crossing her face as she stepped closer to Alonso. "Do you take me for a fool?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with disappointment. "Do you truly believe I am unaware of the challenges ahead? I wouldn't ask someone like you to be my champion without offering a fitting reward in return."

Alonso opened his mouth to inquire about the reward but hesitated, wary of wasting his final question.

Libra noticed his hesitation and let out a soft, knowing laugh. "You hesitate, yet I am a god," she stated, her voice resonating with authority. "I possess the power to shape your reality as I see fit. I can grant you what you desire... and much more." The last words carried an undertone that hinted at the weight of her expectations.

Before Alonso could respond, a sharp, excruciating pain erupted in his head. He collapsed to the floor, clutching his temples, a scream escaping his lips. "What in the hell is happening?" he gasped, writhing in agony.

Libra's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "And that is your last question done," she remarked nonchalantly, observing his struggle with mild interest. She circled him slowly, her movements light and graceful, exuding an aura of calm authority. "I have restored your old laboratory," she continued, her tone steady. "But I didn't stop there. I merged it with the lab of an ancient Vardosian scientist—someone quite like you in his time. Imagine the possibilities with all his research, combined with yours." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I expect you to make me proud."

Still on the ground, Alonso gritted his teeth as Libra raised her hand. "I will now transmit how to access your laboratory directly into your mind," she declared. With a snap of her fingers, a surge of information flooded Alonso's consciousness, sharp and overwhelming.

The pain subsided as quickly as it had come, replaced by a profound clarity. "Ultimate Technology System," a voice echoed in his head, the words embedding themselves deep within his mind.

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Libra's voice sliced through his daze. "This is my gift to you. Use it wisely, for you are a creature of science. I shall grant you one more question, out of grace," she continued, her tone smooth and commanding. "After all, I have time to spare."

Alonso slowly rose to his feet, shaking off the remnants of pain. Meeting Libra's gaze, he wore a serious expression, though a smile danced at the corners of his lips. "Libra," he began, his voice laced with gratitude and awe, "you have no idea how profoundly you have just impacted my life. This is the greatest gift imaginable. I thank you wholeheartedly, and even if it challenges my very existence, I shall fulfill your wish."

He bowed deeply before her, then stood upright, the gravity of the moment settling in. "My final question is... what are you? What are the gods?"

Libra sighed, a blend of amusement and pity crossing her features. "Hmm, a rather predictable question," she remarked, crossing her arms. "As a being of intellect, I expected more from you. Unfortunately, I cannot answer that. Every mortal who has sought the truth has faced grave disappointment." She paused, her gaze softening. "Perhaps one day you will learn, but I pray you never do, for your own sake."

Stepping closer, her tone shifted to one of gravity. "Instead, let me offer you a warning. With the system, your power will be formidable, but even that may not suffice against what awaits you. Right now, a fallen angel is hovering outside this dungeon, waiting to capture you."

Alonso's eyes widened in disbelief. "A fallen angel? Is she a slaver?" he asked, his voice tinged with shock.

Libra shook her head. "Her motives are inconsequential. What matters is that, in your current state, your chances of victory are only 20%. I suggest you avoid her. I can teleport you anywhere you desire. Where would you like to go?"

Alonso, still grappling with the revelation, pondered for a moment. "Take me to the Great Forest near Forest Hill City," he replied, determination settling in his voice.

Libra nodded approvingly. "A wise choice. Here," she said, extending a hand, "take this token as proof of your completion, along with a gold coin for your troubles.. always keep it with you."

With a grateful nod, Alonso accepted the items, though he yearned to inquire about the dungeon's treasure. However, with his lab restored, he felt a sense of contentment. As a radiant light enveloped him, Libra's voice echoed in his mind one last time. "Remember, Alonso… even gods have their limits."

Meanwhile, high above the ocean, Armaros hovered in the sky, her four dark red wings slowly beating against the wind. Her striking light-blue skin shimmered in the fading sunlight, and her piercing pink irises scanned the horizon. She was a creature of extraordinary beauty—her short green hair framed a blunt nose, her full lips forming a smirk that could drive kings to madness. Her curvy figure was accentuated by tight black leggings and a dark grey leather jacket that exposed just enough of her ample cleavage. A pair of gothic red boots with straps and buckles completed the look, adding a dangerous allure to her presence.

Armaros lived for the thrill of battle. The anticipation of facing her prey made her heart race with excitement. But as the dungeon sank beneath the waves, her excitement turned to irritation. Where was her prey?

"Gone?" she muttered to herself, her voice filled with disbelief and growing frustration. She had waited patiently, like a lioness stalking her prey, yet Alonso had somehow slipped away. Her pink irises glowed faintly as she cast out her magic perception, searching the surrounding area for any sign of him.

Nothing.

Her lips twisted into a sneer. "How boring," she growled. Armaros despised being denied a fight. The very idea of her prey vanishing before she could even lay eyes on him was an insult to her pride. But she quickly masked her irritation, her expression returning to its usual seductive calm.

With a resigned sigh, Armaros folded her wings slightly, preparing to report her failure. As one of Warmonger's Cataclysms, she thrived on chaos, and the idea of delivering bad news didn't sit well with her. But as she flew above the now-empty sea, a smile slowly crept back onto her face.