CHAPTER 109: MONOCHARA’S FACTORY TOUR

Twenty-First Day of the Third Timeline Reset, Monochara, Fathomi.

"Guess it’s time to reap the fruit of our labor~" Blanchette hummed.

"You barely do any planting though," Oizys retorted.

"Nor will you get any fruit either," Samael added.

"Beyond this path, I hereby request that the New Vaingall Consortium will only leave their non-representatives before we enter the limited sector of the Monochara bastion," Cayame stated. Her gaze was much more relaxed than usual, and so did her posture than when she approached the Consortium for the first time. "As much as I want to let everyone inside, I must adhere to the standard operation protocol that have been assigned by the higher ups of the Karasu Association."

"I thought you’re the director," Blanchette said with a tone filled with disappointment and defeat."

"I’m the Director of the Monochara Chapter, the Void Hunter Guild located at Monochara bastion," Cayame replied. "While I also might hold the power to the entire bastion, the production line is not only my authority on the Karasu Association’s side."

And thus, the only people allowed to continue the journey were Kivas, Samael, and Oizys, the already assigned representative of the New Vaingall Consortium since their rendezvous with the Monochara bastion.

"I’m not disappointed at all," Blanchette waved her hand with a wide smile on her face. "Definitely not feeling sad or anything."

"Worry not, my dear sister," Kivas said with a smile as she continued walking. "I can tell you a story about it at Vaingall."

For a second, Blanchette’s smile cracked. "Did I just hear that right?"

Before Blanchette knew it, the three figures in front of her were no longer there.

"Huh, I guess she felt bad for a moment," Blanchette thought to herself. "I might as well try using that to deepen our relationship."

The descent into Monochara’s industrial underbelly felt like stepping into the veins of a living machine.

Kivas, Samael, and Oizys trailed behind Cayame, their steps clanging against floors of polished obsidian and blackened steel.

The corridors twisted like the roots of some ancient, petrified tree, their walls adorned with iron filigree that gleamed faintly under the crimson glow of stained glass lanterns.

The air buzzed with a low, resonant hum—a tingling yet harmless energy coursing through the bastion’s hidden arteries.

Cayame led them into a cavernous chamber, its ceiling swallowed by shadow.

At its heart appeared what to be stood the resource generator Curio Items, a rare and towering marvel of craftsmanship.

Their frames were a lattice of brass and crystal, pulsing with a rhythmic violet light that cast eerie reflections across the room.

Tendrils of raw energy writhed from its core, feeding into conduits that snaked along the walls like a circulatory system.

Kivas’s halo flickered as she tilted her head, studying the device. "I assume that these sets of Curio Items are the source of materials for most of your production here. What happens if it’s lost?"

Cayame’s sharp eyes glinted with a mix of pride and calculation. "The Karasu Association holds its schematic in our archives. If need be, we’d use alchemy to replicate it. The result might be a lesser shadow of the original—or, with fortune’s favor, something greater. Either way, it’d retain the same traits and power."

Kivas’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Perchance, should the Consortium need that kind of assistance in the future, can we access it?"

"I’d vouch for you," Cayame replied smoothly. "The Karasu would grant access to our internal services now that you have proved yourself a helpful and reliable ally. Consider it an open invitation."

Kivas nodded, filing the offer away as they pressed deeper into the facility.

The air grew heavy as they entered the factory where the Black Living Cloud took form—a sprawling expanse of gothic machinery and shadowed ingenuity.

The scent of molten iron and ozone clung to the air, mingling with the faint tang of something otherworldly.

Workers in hooded robes moved like specters, their hands wielding tools of crystal and bone with surgical precision.

At the chamber’s center loomed a massive crucible, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly with ancient light.

Within it churned a substance that defied categorization—a roiling vortex of shadow and luminescence, neither liquid nor vapor, but a primal essence harvested from Fathomi’s abyssal depths.

Kivas stepped closer, her breath catching as she glimpsed flecks of violet shimmering within the darkness.

"This," Cayame said, her voice reverent, "is the birth of the Living Black Cloud. We begin with a volatile aether, drawn from the deepest trenches by the Curio Item. It’s unstable—wild, even—but we tame it with containment fields." She gestured to a series of crystalline pylons encircling the crucible, their surfaces humming with invisible barriers. "These fields hold the aether in place while we shape it."

Samael crossed her arms, her deadpan tone cutting through the hum of machinery. "Shaping it how?"

Cayame pointed to a worker wielding a slender rod tipped with a glowing rune. "These instruments channel arcane energies into the aether, giving it structure. We infuse it with specific resonances—think of them as instructions etched into its essence. For a teleportation cloud, we attune it to spatial distortion. For surveillance mists, we weave in perception and stealth."

Kivas’s eyes narrowed as she watched the worker trace the rod through the air, trails of shadow coalescing into a faint, wispy form. "How about the titan soldiers?"

Cayame’s smile widened. "We take the shaped aether and merge it with organic matter—bone, sinew, sometimes blood—and many more objects and materials that could be bonded to represent the form that it will forge. The aether bonds with it, enchanted to mimic the shape of impression.

"And with some tinkering on its essence through spells, the result is a semi-sentient construct, obedient yet adaptive. It’s not alive, not truly, but it thinks enough to follow orders."

Oizys, silent until now, tilted her head. "How do you ensure it doesn’t unravel?"

"Rigorous testing," Cayame replied. "Beyond this chamber, we have proving grounds—pits where the clouds are subjected to heat, pressure, and arcane stressors. Only the stable ones leave this place."

The process unfolded before them like a dark symphony.

From the crucible, tendrils of aether were siphoned into molds of blackened iron, where they solidified into their final forms.

One mold birthed a towering silhouette—a titan soldier, its form wreathed in coiling shadows.

Another produced a shimmering cloud that vanished and reappeared across the room, a teleportation prototype.

A third dispersed into a fine mist, its edges glinting with an almost predatory awareness—surveillance made manifest.

And those three were the only ones that had been introduced so far. There were far more types and diversity of the Living Black Cloud usages, and Kivas couldn’t help but only to unravel the process with her eyes.

Samael’s smirk returned. "Quite the quaint phenomenon happening here all the time."

Cayame led them onward, through a sealed archway marked with a solitary rune that glowed like a dying ember.

The experimentation sector awaited—a realm of flickering torchlight and whispered potential.

The air here crackled with uncertainty, as though the shadows themselves held secrets yet to be unveiled.

Cayame gestured for the group to follow as she led them through a sealed archway, its surface inscribed with a solitary rune that flickered like a dying ember.

Beyond it lay the experimentation sector—a sprawling chamber where the air itself seemed to hum with restless potential. Kivas, Samael, and Oizys stepped inside, their senses immediately assaulted by a symphony of controlled chaos.

The space was vast yet claustrophobic, its high ceiling lost in a haze of shadow, while the walls bristled with cluttered workstations. Alchemical vials bubbled with iridescent liquids, their faint glows warring with the erratic flicker of arcane lanterns overhead.

Half-assembled contraptions sparked intermittently, spitting threads of energy that dissipated into the air like dying fireflies.

The scent was sharp and layered—ozone from overtaxed machinery, the acrid sting of charred parchment, and a faint, metallic tang that hinted at experiments teetering on the edge of failure.

Along the floor, conduits of blackened steel pulsed faintly, channeling raw power to unseen corners of the room.

Much more skilled workers in hooded robes moved silently between stations, their hands deftly manipulating tools of crystal and bone.

Kivas’s eyes caught on a series of containment fields lining the far wall. Each shimmered with a translucent sheen, holding strange devices or substances in suspension.

Some glowed with a sickly green light, others writhed like trapped smoke, but one stood apart—a reinforced chamber at the room’s heart, its surface rippling like liquid glass.

Within it hovered an object that defied easy description: a small, pulsating orb, no larger than a fist, its surface a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Veins of energy coursed through it, twisting and coiling like living threads, while its core seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Samael stopped short, his arms crossing as he tilted his head toward the orb. "What is that?"

Oizys drifted closer, her gaze narrowing with a mix of fascination and unease. "It’s... alive, isn’t it? Or something close to it."

Kivas stepped beside them, her halo flaring briefly as she studied the object. The orb’s light cast fractured reflections across her face, illuminating the faint curiosity in her expression.

Up close, she could see its surface more clearly—crystalline yet fluid, as though it were forged from equal parts shadow and starlight.

It pulsed brighter for a moment, as if aware of their scrutiny, and a faint hum emanated from the chamber, resonating deep in her chest.

Cayame paused before the reinforced chamber, her sharp eyes glinting with a quiet pride. "This," she said, her voice steady but laced with reverence, "is where we push boundaries. That object you’re staring at—it’s the Antihetero Core. A semi-soul, semi-physical, a fusion of physical matter and magical essence. If embedded in a vessel, it could hypothetically form a lesser version of the Well of the Soul."

Kivas was reminded of the Divine Constructs because of it.

Samael’s brow creased, her deadpan tone cutting through the hum of the chamber. "New project, or old?"

"New for us," Cayame admitted, her gaze fixed on the orb as it pulsed again, casting a fleeting shadow across the floor. "The Karasu Association is only beginning to explore it, though it’s a concept others have chased for centuries. The Yellow Order, the Crimson Helot—they’ve documented attempts to perfect something like this.

"There’s even a Legendary Tier Curio Item said to achieve the same effect. We’re emulating it, but we don’t know if our rivals have succeeded."

Kivas’s halo pulsed faintly, her voice sharp with intrigue. "A race, then."

"Exactly," Cayame replied, her tone sharpening with ambition. "And one we intend to win if possible."

The orb flared briefly, its energy veins glowing brighter before settling back into their hypnotic rhythm.

The tour concluded in a grand meeting room, its walls draped in tapestries depicting Monochara’s shadowed history. A pedestal stood at its center, bearing an ever-shifting cube orbited by smaller fragments.

Cayame presented it to Kivas with a flourish.

"Your reward for aiding us against the nihil," Cayame said. "This is the raw conceptual schematic of the Living Black Cloud—not just its construction, but the theory behind it."

"It is definitely far more valuable than a mere blueprint," Samael grinned.

Kivas extended her hand, and the cube floated above her palm, its surface rippling like liquid shadow. "How do I access it?"

"Simply will it to resonate with you," Cayame instructed.

Kivas focused, and the cube responded. Holographic glyphs erupted before her—walls of shimmering data, visible only to her, detailing equations, rune patterns, and philosophical underpinnings of the cloud’s creation.

She felt the weight of knowledge pressing against her mind, vast and intricate.

Cayame’s voice cut through the haze. "Only you, Samael, and Oizys can access it now. Not even Monochara’s personnel and the Karasu can breach it."

Oizys’s voice was soft, probing. "No spares, then? This is ours alone?"

Cayame waved a hand dismissively. "The device is yours, yes, but the information is archived with the Karasu Association. We control its flow. Even with the cube, you perceive it only because our higher-ups permit it.

"After all, once archived by the Karasu, information can’t be digested anew unless it was widely understood and interpreted before."

"Huh, I see," Kivas tried to understand it.

Samael’s eyebrows relaxed. "It’s their Singularity. The power to hoard obscure knowledge."

Kivas’s gaze sharpened. "So that’s why the Karasu prize non-mainstream information. They can dominate it—control who knows what."

Cayame nodded, her expression unreadable. "It’s one reason, yes. Information is our currency, our weapon. But there’s more to it—purposes beyond mere control."

Before she could elaborate, she produced a second cube, its surface reflecting geometric patterns in hypnotic arrays. "This," she said, "is the conceptual schematic of the Antihetero Core. Not a reward, but a proposal.

"The Karasu higher-ups seek collaboration to refine it. Accept, and the Consortium gains co-ownership—full access, creative liberty, everything."

Kivas’s fingers hovered over the cube, its light casting fractal shadows across her face. Samael and Oizys exchanged glances, the air thick with unspoken questions.

Cayame’s voice softened, almost a whisper. "The choice is yours."