Episode-812
Chapter : 1623
The silence of the laboratory was broken by the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots. It wasn't a servant. It was Ken Park.
Ken entered the lab. He saw the wreckage. Broken tools, shattered glass, blueprints torn and scattered like confetti. And in the center of it all, Lloyd, sitting on the floor, looking like a beggar in his own castle.
Ken didn't say anything. He didn't ask "Are you okay?" because the answer was obvious. He walked over to Lloyd and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Lloyd didn't flinch this time. He didn't have the energy to flinch.
"Go away, Ken," Lloyd said, his voice a hollow rasp.
"No," Ken said.
"I am ordering you."
"I am ignoring you."
Lloyd looked up. His eyes were empty voids. "I'm dangerous, Ken. I almost hurt a kid today."
"I know," Ken said. "I sent him home with a bag of gold. He's fine."
"I'm not fine."
"I know that too."
Ken sat down on the floor next to Lloyd. He pulled two bottles of cheap ale from his coat pocket. He cracked one open and handed it to Lloyd.
Lloyd stared at the bottle. "I shouldn't drink. Alcohol reduces reaction time."
"You're not fighting right now," Ken said. "Drink."
Lloyd took the bottle. He took a sip. It was warm and bitter. It tasted like reality.
"I can't fix it," Lloyd whispered. The admission tore its way out of his throat. "I can build a suit. I can kill a god. But I can't fix it. She's gone, Ken. And it's my fault."
"It was a war," Ken said gently. "Soldiers die."
"She wasn't a soldier!" Lloyd smashed the bottle on the floor. Ale and glass exploded. "She was a maid! She was a girl who liked to sing! I made her a soldier! I put her in the line of fire!"
He stood up, pacing frantically. "I need to be stronger. If I was the Titan... if I was bigger... I could have shielded her. I need to finish the suit. Why are you stopping me?"
"Because you're going to die before you finish it," Ken said, standing up. "You haven't slept in four days. Your mana channels are fraying. You look like a corpse."
"I don't care!" Lloyd screamed. "I don't care if I die! I just want to kill them all first!"
He grabbed a hammer from the workbench and swung it at a sheet of metal. CLANG. He swung again. CLANG. He was trying to hammer his grief into the steel.
Ken watched him. He knew he couldn't stop him physically. Lloyd was too strong now. If they fought, the castle would come down.
"Lloyd," Ken said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Jasmin wouldn't want this."
Lloyd froze. The hammer hovered in the air. He turned slowly to Ken. His face was twisted in a rictus of fury and pain.
"Don't you dare," Lloyd hissed. "Don't you dare use her name against me."
"She loved you," Ken said, unflinching. "She loved the man who built things. Not this... machine. You're destroying the person she died to save."
Lloyd dropped the hammer. It hit the floor with a dull thud. The anger drained out of him, leaving him empty. He swayed.
"I don't know how to be that man anymore," Lloyd whispered. "That man was weak. That man let her die."
He turned away from Ken. He walked to the window, which he had boarded up. He pried a board loose, letting a thin sliver of light in. It blinded him.
"Leave me alone, Ken," Lloyd said. "Please."
Ken hesitated. He wanted to stay. He wanted to force Lloyd to sleep. But he saw the set of Lloyd's shoulders. The wall was up. The Titan armor was back in place, invisible but impenetrable.
"I'll be outside," Ken said. "When you're ready."
Ken left. Lloyd was alone again. He walked back to the suit. He touched the cold metal faceplate of the Aegis. It stared back at him, hollow and unfeeling.
"You understand," Lloyd whispered to the machine. "We don't need feelings. We just need armor."
He picked up a welding torch. He ignited it. The blue flame hissed. He went back to work. He would work until his heart stopped or the suit was finished. There was no other option.
Chapter : 1624
The isolation of Lloyd Ferrum became absolute. He moved his bed into the manufactory. He stopped attending meals. He stopped attending council meetings. He became a ghost that haunted his own estate. The only sound that came from his wing was the screech of grinding metal and the hum of magical energy.
The women in his life, the Queens who had staked a claim on his heart, refused to accept his disappearance. They saw it as a challenge. They believed they could save him.
Princess Amina was the first to try. She believed in the power of the intellect. She thought Lloyd had retreated because he felt helpless, so she wanted to give him a problem he could solve.
She marched into the manufactory, ignoring the protests of the guards. She found Lloyd welding a mana-conduit. He was shirtless, his body covered in soot and burns. He didn't acknowledge her.
"Lloyd," Amina announced, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. "I have new intelligence."
Lloyd didn't stop welding. Sparks flew around him like fireflies.
"The Devil Race," Amina continued, raising her voice. "We have decrypted their communication cyphers. They are moving resources to the Red Canyons. It's a staging ground. If we strike now, we can cripple their supply lines."
She slammed a dossier of maps and intercepted letters onto his workbench. It was brilliant work. It was the kind of strategic gold that would have made the old Lloyd’s eyes light up.
Lloyd turned off the torch. He lifted his welding mask. His face was a mask of indifference. He looked at the papers. He picked up a map.
"The Red Canyons," he said. His voice was rusty from disuse.
"Yes," Amina said, stepping closer, hope rising in her chest. "We can flank them. I’ve drawn up a battle plan involving the Griffin Riders and your Wraiths. It’s perfect."
Lloyd looked at the map. He saw the red arrows. He saw the X's.
"It's paper," Lloyd said.
"What?"
"It's paper, Amina." Lloyd crumpled the map in his hand. "Strategies. Tactics. Flanking maneuvers. It’s all just paper."
He tossed the crumpled ball into a brazier of burning coals. It caught fire instantly.
"Lloyd!" Amina gasped, reaching for it, but it was already ash. "That was our best chance!"
"Paper strategies do not stop spears," Lloyd said, turning back to his suit. "I don't want to outmaneuver them. I don't want to trick them. I want to be able to walk through their armies and crush them. Go away. Your games are too slow."
Amina stood there, stunned. She had offered him a kingdom’s worth of intelligence, and he had burned it. She realized then that he wasn't playing chess anymore. He was playing a game of pure annihilation, and she didn't know the rules. She left, her eyes stinging with tears of frustration.
Next came Faria. The artist. She believed that Lloyd’s soul had shriveled. She thought he needed to be reminded of life, of color, of the reasons why they fought.
She found him in the mess hall, staring at a bowl of cold broth. She carried a basket covered in a checkered cloth.
"Lloyd," she said softly. She sat across from him. "I made this. It's... it's apple tart. Your favorite. Or, well, I hope it is."
She uncovered the tart. It smelled of cinnamon and sugar. It smelled like a home.
Lloyd looked at the tart. He didn't smell it. He just calculated the caloric density.
"I also brought this," Faria said, her hands trembling as she pulled out a sketchbook. "I went to the cliffs today. The sunrise was... it was beautiful. I tried to capture it for you."
She showed him the drawing. It was a masterpiece of light and shadow, filled with hope.
Lloyd looked at the drawing. He looked at Faria. His eyes were dead.
"Is it accurate?" he asked.
"What?" Faria blinked.
"The sun. The angle. Is it accurate?"
"I... I don't know. It's art, Lloyd. It's about how it feels."
"And how does it feel?" Lloyd asked, his voice devoid of inflection. "Does it feel like it can stop a heart from stopping? Can you draw a picture that pulls a spear out of a chest?"
Faria recoiled as if he had slapped her. "Lloyd, that's cruel."
"It's realistic," Lloyd said. He stood up, ignoring the tart. "Art is a lie, Faria. It’s a pretty cover we put over the world so we don't have to look at the rot. I'm looking at the rot. Take your picture. I have work."