My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World-Chapter 126: The Architect’s Nadir

​The barrel of the M134 Minigun glowed a searing, translucent orange, venting clouds of acrid, scalding steam into the freezing dawn air. Under Dola's precise, neuro-linked control, the six rotating barrels had carved a literal line of death along the slopes of Lamping Hill. Hundreds of Verdia infantrymen lay scattered across the incline, their enchanted plate armor shattered and their spirits broken. Yet, Dayat knew with a chilling certainty that this victory was nothing more than a costly mirage.

​"Master, the Minigun Sentry has reached its thermal threshold. Molecular structural integrity is beginning to destabilize," Dola's voice crackled through the fading roar of the decelerating machinery.

​Dayat did not succumb to panic. He slammed his hand against the tripod, and in a flash of violet binary particles, the overheating weapon dissolved into nothingness. A heart-beat later, a fresh, cold Minigun unit manifested in its place, its steel pristine and hungry. With a single thought, the magazines of the HK416 in his hands refilled instantly with Adamantite-tipped silver rounds.

​For Dayat, ammunition and hardware were not the issue. As long as the residual energy of the Silver Thorn remained within his core, he could manifest an infinite armory. However, the real problem had just stepped out from behind the veil of the morning mist.

​Ten knights clad in shimmering gold surcoats walked slowly up the hill. These were the Sun-Crown Elites. They did not run, they did not scream, and they showed no signs of exertion. Each step they took made the very earth vibrate—not because of their physical weight, but because of a Mana pressure so dense it caused the air around them to distort like asphalt on a blistering summer day.

​"Dola, analyze them," Dayat whispered. The palms of his hands, gripping the HK416, were slick with cold sweat.

​[Commencing high-spectrum scan... Sun-Crown Elite Units detected. They are utilizing the passive Grave-Aura spell. Atmospheric pressure within a 50-meter radius of their presence has increased by 800%,] Dola reported. Her usually porcelain-perfect face looked strained. [Master, the laws of physics in their immediate vicinity are being overwritten by their collective Mana. Our projectiles... they may not reach the target through conventional kinetic means.]

​"We'll see about that," Dayat hissed through gritted teeth. He pulled the trigger.

​BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

​Thousands of silver rounds streaked toward the gold-clad knights. But the sight that followed made Dayat's heart seize in his chest. The bullets, which should have punched through tank-grade steel, suddenly slowed to a crawl as they entered a ten-meter radius around the knights. The projectiles lost their forward momentum entirely, hovering for a fraction of a second before dropping to the dirt one by one, as if pulled down by a gargantuan magnetic force beneath the earth.

​"Impossible..." Dayat breathed. "The muzzle velocity is over 800 meters per second! How can Mana suppress kinetic force that passively?!"

​One of the elite knights raised his left hand. This was Knight Valandil, a man with long, flowing silver hair whose eyes glowed with a blinding, holy light. He was the type of knight who exuded a terrifying serenity—a religious zealot who viewed anything not born of the Goddess Nura's blessing as filth.

​"A curious weapon, Human," Valandil's voice echoed, heavy and authoritative, resonating in Dayat's very bones. "You create metal from the void and propel it with explosions. But in this realm, our will is the law. And our law dictates: Metal shall not fly in the presence of the Light."

​Valandil clenched his fist. BOOM!

​A massive shockwave of Mana slammed into the hilltop. Dola's hexagonal shield vibrated violently, a high-pitched whine filling the air. Fine, spider-web cracks began to appear in the transparent energy barrier.

​[Master! This pressure... they are synchronizing their Mana collectively!] Dola cried out. A clear, synthetic fluid began to leak from the corners of her eyes, tracking down her ashen face. [I cannot maintain structural integrity much longer! The system is fracturing!]

​Far away, in the relative safety of the dense forest, Kancil struggled desperately to break Lunethra's iron grip on his shoulder. "Let me go, Sister Luna! Master Dayat is alone out there! I have to help! I have the powerful weapons he gave me!"

​Lunethra did not let go. Tears streamed down the face of the former Verdia princess. Her heart was a shattered ruin—watching her own sister order a genocide, and now watching the man she loved face an inevitable execution.

​"No, Kancil! You will only die for nothing!" Lunethra sobbed, her voice breaking. "Going back there will only make Dayat's sacrifice meaningless! He stayed so we could live!"

​"But he's going to die!" Kancil roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and primal fear.

​"I know!" Lunethra screamed back, pulling Kancil into a forced embrace to pin him down. "I know that more than anyone! But we are his burden right now! If we are captured, he will have nothing left to fight for!"

​Back on the hill, Dayat was gasping for air. Every breath he took felt like inhaling shards of broken glass. The Grave-Aura was beginning to affect his internal organs, the gravity pressing down on his lungs.

​"Dola... divert all energy to offense. Forget the defense!" Dayat commanded with a reckless, suicidal glint in his eyes.

​[But Master, without the shield, you will be—]

​"DO IT!"

​Dola closed her eyes, a single synthetic tear falling. [Override Protocol initiated. Diverting 90% of core power to Offensive Logic.]

​Dayat raised his HK416. This time, the barrel glowed with a violent, pulsating violet light. He funneled every remaining scrap of the Silver Thorn's energy into one final magazine. The bullets within were no longer silver—they were pure, glowing violet energy.

​"DIE, ALL OF YOU!" Dayat unleashed the entire magazine in one mad, sustained burst.

​This time, the bullets succeeded. They punched through the gravitational aura like needles through silk. One of the Sun-Crown knights was thrown backward as his shoulder was vaporized by the high-mana impact. Valandil flinched slightly as a thin trail of blood trickled down his cheek from a grazing shot.

​"How dare you draw the blood of Nura's servant," Valandil's voice turned frigid, the air temperature dropping twenty degrees in an instant. "General Haelir, end this. This abomination has lasted far too long."

​In the rear, General Haelir, who had been watching in silent anticipation, raised his blade of light high. His face was twisted into a mask of profound satisfaction. To him, seeing the "Architect of Calamity" brought to his knees was the crowning achievement of his military career.

​"As you command, Holy Knight," Haelir declared. He didn't approach. He simply aimed. "Elite Archers! Execute Solar Flare Arrow: Judgment Day!"

​Haelir himself released the first arrow. It wasn't a physical shaft of wood and iron, but a concentrated beam of blinding white light. The arrow streaked through the air with a soundless speed, cutting through the atmosphere like a lightning bolt.

​Dayat saw it coming. Time seemed to decelerate into a crawl. He tried to twist his body to avoid the projectile, but his legs felt like they were encased in concrete, pinned by the residual gravity magic.

​"Master—!" Dola tried to lung forward to intercept, but a Mana-burst from Valandil slammed into her legs, sending her crashing to the dirt.

​SHUCK.

​Dayat's world suddenly went silent.

​He didn't feel the pain at first. There was only a terrifying, hollow coldness in the center of his chest. He looked down slowly. A shaft of pure white light was buried deep in his solar plexus, protruding from his back. The light began to spread through his veins like a glowing poison, incinerating the Mana-circuits that had only recently formed in his body.

​The HK416 in his hand vibrated violently. In an instant, the modern weapon deconstructed, returning to its original form: a sword. The Silver Thorn fell to the earth with a weak, hollow clang. The glow of the Adamantite blade, once brilliant and proud, faded rapidly into a dull, lifeless grey—as if the sword's soul had died along with its master's heartbeat.

​"Gah..." Dayat coughed, a spray of thick, crimson blood painting the soil—a stark contrast to the blue-tinged blood of the Elves.

​He fell to his knees. His vision began to blur, the edges fraying into darkness. The beautiful dawn sky of Verdia now felt like a cruel mockery of his failure.

​Within his fading consciousness, a soft whisper echoed. A voice only he could hear. The voice of the Spirit of Vaelith.

​"Child of Man... forgive me. I gave you the power to protect, yet this world demanded you use it to destroy. Sleep for a moment... let Her wake. Let Her take this burden from you."

​"Dayat...?" Dola's voice sounded miles away.

​Dola crawled toward Dayat, her hands shaking as she touched his face. She was no longer a cold, calculated AI. In her eyes, there was a terror that was profoundly, painfully human. Synthetic fluid resembling tears streamed down her cheeks.

​"Master... please... do not close your eyes," Dola whispered. Her voice broke, filled with an emotion no computer program should possess. "Master Dayat! Answer me! This is an order! You cannot die here!"

​But Dayat did not answer. His head slumped onto Dola's shoulder. His pulse weakened until it reached the very nadir of existence.

​Seeing his primary enemy fallen, General Haelir stepped forward with the stride of a conqueror.

​"Finally," Haelir smiled, looking down at Dayat's blood-soaked body with utter contempt.

​Dola pressed her forehead against Dayat's. Within her internal processing core, a protocol that had been sealed for ten thousand years began to crack. Violet binary code began to overflow, devouring her clean, white interface.

​CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE.

EMOTIONAL OVERLOAD DETECTED.

REASONING MODULE: OFFLINE.

MAIDEN PROTOCOL: ACTIVATING...

​Amidst her sobbing, Dola's voice suddenly changed. The vibration of human emotion began to blend with a heavy, metallic distortion that shook the very hill.

​"You..." Dola murmured. Her voice no longer came from her mouth; it resonated from every corner of the sky, as if the world itself were speaking. "You have hurt him."

​The sky above Lamping Hill, which had been clear moments ago, suddenly bled into a deep, bruised crimson. Bolts of black lightning began to tear through the clouds.

​Haelir frowned, feeling a primal chill run down his spine. "What is this? What kind of magic is this?!"

​Dola raised her head. Her eyes, which had been a clear, crystalline blue, had transformed entirely into a glowing, incandescent violet, with binary symbols spinning rapidly within them. A thin, terrifying smile began to carve itself across her face—not the smile of Dola, but the smile of something far more ancient and far more bloodthirsty.

​"Your time has run out," Dola hissed.