My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World-Chapter 55: Manifestation: Industrial Lathe

Morning in Karak-Zorn was never a matter of silence. The city existed in a perpetual state of industrial resonance—the rhythmic, thunderous thuds of pneumatic sledgehammers from the lower districts and the constant, high-pressure hiss of steam escaping from gargantuan brass valves created an eternal, mechanical orchestra. It was the "Stone Breath," a reminder that the heart of the mountain never stopped beating. However, inside the lavishly carved guest suite reserved for the "Honorary Guest," the silence was thick, cold, and heavy with unspoken tension.

Dayat lay flat on his back, his eyes tracing the intricate reliefs on the obsidian ceiling that depicted the Dwarven conquest of the earth’s crust. Beside him, Lunethra remained still, her slender, pale fingers pressed firmly against his temples. A faint, silver-white radiance flowed from the Elf’s skin, seeping into Dayat’s pores like a stream of glacial water, numbing the jagged nerves that had been frayed by the previous night’s ordeal.

"Cerebral temperature has stabilized at 37.2 degrees Celsius. Neurological pathways are no longer showing signs of acute inflammation," Dola’s voice broke the quiet.

She stood at the foot of the bed, her electric-blue eyes glowing with a dim, steady light, yet her optical sensors never strayed from Lunethra’s hands. "External magical contact can be terminated now, Lunethra. The subject’s natural recovery efficiency has reached its optimal threshold. Your continued interference is now redundant."

Lunethra did not immediately withdraw her hand. Instead, she tilted her head, her emerald eyes catching the silver light as she offered Dola a thin, provocative smile. "So cold, Dola. You speak of numbers and thresholds as if Dayat were merely an engine in need of a coolant flush. My magic does more than just lower his temperature; it soothes a soul that has been shaken by the weight of two worlds. That is something your... binary code... can never comprehend."

Dola’s head tilted at a slight, mechanical angle. "The ’Soul’ is a metaphysical construct that remains empirically unmeasurable in my current database. However, I am detecting a 15% increase in the subject’s dopamine levels when you touch him. Technically, that is an unnecessary hormonal interference in the neural repair process. It creates noise in the data."

"Enough... both of you," Dayat muttered, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. The agonizing headache had receded to a dull throb, though a metallic, copper-like taste lingered at the back of his tongue—the signature residue of a Data Transfer Burn. "Dola, Lunethra saved my brain from melting last night. Let’s not be too rigid with the protocols."

Dola went silent, but the flicker in her eyes sharpened—an emotional anomaly she classified as a ’priority protocol conflict.’ A strange, uncomfortable sensation gnawed at her logic circuits as she watched Dayat lean so heavily on the Elf’s ancient expertise.

The moment of tension was shattered as the heavy stone door was practically kicked open. Kancil and Durn burst in, their chests heaving, their faces slick with sweat and grime. Kancil’s skin was ashen, while Durn, the young Dwarf apprentice, was trembling so violently that his short, copper-colored beard shook.

"Bang Dayat! We have a massive problem!" Kancil shouted, his voice cracking with raw terror.

Dayat was on his feet instantly, his hand reaching for a manifested tool that wasn’t there yet. "What is it? Did Galdur’s men find you?"

"No! It’s not Galdur!" Durn interrupted, his voice a shaky whisper. "Down below... in the old steam-exhaust tunnels, near the deepest mining sector. We saw something... something that shouldn’t exist."

Kancil stepped closer, glancing over his shoulder as if the very shadows were listening. "There’s a hole in the air, Bang. A crack. It’s a bruised, abyssal purple, and it reeks... it smells like rotting meat mixed with burning sulfur. And something was coming out, Bang! A hand... a thin, black hand with claws as long as daggers!"

Dayat froze. The description was a visceral punch to his gut. He turned his gaze to Dola. "Dol, analyze the report."

"Based on the sensory data provided and the cross-referenced historical archives of Aethera, the probability of a Low-Level Void Breach is 89.4%," Dola answered, her tone becoming chillingly clinical. "It is a dimensional singularity where the barrier between Aethera and The Abyss has begun to erode. If left unsealed, the rift will expand exponentially and begin to vomit Dretch-class entities or higher."

Dayat sat back down, his mind racing. If he reported this to King Ironbeard now, the political fallout would be catastrophic. Galdur would jump at the chance to claim that Dayat’s "foreign machines" had disrupted the mountain’s natural Mana-veins, causing the breach. It would be the perfect excuse to cast them into the chasm.

"Kancil, Durn. Listen to me very carefully," Dayat said, his voice dropping into a hard, commanding tone. "Do not tell a single soul about that hole. Not your masters, not even Captain Grimbar. Do you understand?"

"But Bang, that thing tried to grab Durn! It’s dangerous!"

"I know it’s dangerous! But if you speak now, Galdur will use it as a weapon to destroy us. Dola and I will handle it secretly. For now, we need to secure our standing here. We need the political leverage of the King’s favor. Understand?"

Kancil and Durn exchanged a long, worried look before nodding slowly. Dayat took a deep breath. He had to accelerate his "Industrial Revolution." He needed to be indispensable to Terragard before the Abyss decided to join the conversation.

The Grotto of Infinite Gears: Experimental Zone

An hour later, Dayat stood in the center of a newly allocated workshop provided by King Ironbeard himself. The space was vast, with a perfectly leveled basalt floor and direct access to high-pressure geothermal steam conduits. Master Ironbeard was already there, accompanied by Borkum and Thalgrun, their faces etched with a hunger for more "Logic."

"Well, Human! Show me the miracle you promised!" Ironbeard exclaimed, absentmindedly tossing the Digital Micrometer from hand to hand. "How do you plan to create gears that defy the errors of the forge?"

"Master, the stone-cutting saw from yesterday was just the foundation," Dayat replied, walking toward a clear space in the workshop. "To build an astronomical clock that can predict the stars, we don’t need a chisel or a hammer. We need something that can spin metal at thousands of rotations per minute and carve it with a precision of one-thousandth of a millimeter."

Dayat closed his eyes. This time, he didn’t ask for a sudden, violent data dump. He had prepared for this manifestation during his rest.

"Dola, prepare the data for a Heavy-Duty Industrial Manual Lathe. Mod: Mana-Electric Hybrid. I need the installation sub-routine for the energy-conversion unit."

"Understood. Commencing technical data transfer. Cognitive load: Medium. Please remain relaxed," Dola replied.

The familiar warmth flooded Dayat’s mind, but it was manageable this time. He saw the schematics of a mechanical beast—a massive frame of high-quality cast iron, a hardened spindle, and a tool carriage capable of microscopic increments of movement.

[MANIFESTATION: INDUSTRIAL PRECISION LATHE – MODEL GH-2680.]

In a blinding flash of sapphire and gold light, a four-meter-long machine weighing several tons materialized in the center of the room. It looked like a sleeping iron monster, its body painted in a glossy industrial green, with polished steel levers and a complex gearbox that made the Dwarven artisans gasp.

Thalgrun approached the machine with trembling hands, his mechanical loupe clicking frantically as he inspected the bed of the lathe. "By the ancestors’ beards... how can iron be this smooth? There isn’t a single hammer mark! No traces of the mold! It looks like it was grown from a single crystal!"

"This is only the chassis, Master Thalgrun," Dayat said. "Dola, the converter."

Dayat manifested a small, sleek black box connected to the lathe’s drive motor. It featured a transparent slot at the top, designed for a Mana crystal.

"Master Thalgrun, I require a high-grade pure Mana crystal. The kind you use to breathe life into your elite Golems," Dayat requested.

Thalgrun reached into his belt pouch and produced a glowing blue crystal that hummed with energy. Dayat slotted it into the converter. Dola stepped forward, her fingers brushing the copper cables protruding from the unit.

"Synchronizing frequency harmonics. Converting Mana-pressure into Direct Current (DC). Conversion efficiency: 94.2%," Dola reported.

VUNGGGGGGG!

The lathe suddenly came to life with a low-frequency hum. The sound was smooth, rhythmic, and incredibly quiet compared to the hissing chaos of Dwarven steam engines. Dayat picked up a raw steel bar from a nearby scrap pile and clamped it into the heavy-duty chuck. He engaged the motor. The steel bar began to spin at 2000 RPM, becoming a stable, shimmering blur.

Dayat gripped the handwheels of the carriage, feeling the resistance of the high-precision screws. He guided the Carbide-Diamond Tipped tool toward the spinning steel.

SREEEEEEET!

A few tiny sparks flew, followed by a continuous, spiraling ribbon of razor-sharp blue steel shavings—the "chips." Within seconds, the rough, oxidized surface of the bar was transformed into a cylinder so reflective it acted as a mirror.

"This... this is impossible!" Thalgrun shrieked, practically pressing his nose against the spinning metal. "No scratches. No deviations. The surface... it is a manifestation of pure mathematical beauty!"

Ironbeard let out a booming laugh, slapping Borkum so hard on the back the Minister’s goggles nearly flew off. "Look at that, Borkum! Galdur and his ’Tradition’ cult will weep blood when they see this! With this tool, we can forge weaponry and mechanisms that will make Brassvale look like children playing with wooden toys!"

The political influence of the "Progressive" faction led by Grimbar and Borkum surged instantly. The Dwarven technicians began to surround the lathe with a level of respect that was almost religious. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Night in Terragard: Shadows and Resonance

As the cycle of the ceiling crystals dimmed into a deep, oceanic blue, signaling the time of rest, Dayat succumbed to exhaustion. He fell into a deep sleep after hours of teaching Thalgrun the basics of spindle speeds and feed rates.

Dola stood by Dayat’s bedside, her gaze fixed on his steady, rhythmic breathing. Her processors were silent, yet her primary logic was fixated on a singular variable: The Void Breach.

"The anomaly reported by the young subjects... it resonates with the frequency of the Maiden Protocol in my sub-systems," Dola whispered to the empty room.

Her sensors detected a faint, rhythmic pulse—a "calling" that bypassed her firewalls. If this rift was truly a gate to The Abyss, she had to ensure it was a variable Dayat never had to solve. She had to protect him from the darkness he wasn’t prepared for.

Without a sound, Dola stepped out of the suite, her movements fluid and ghost-like as she navigated the cooling pipes and shadows toward the old steam-exhaust tunnels.

However, several meters behind her, a silver shadow moved with equal grace through the labyrinth of pipes. Lunethra, who had never fully trusted the synthetic entity, followed Dola with the perfected stealth of an ancient Elven scout.

"You have a secret, Dola," Lunethra thought, her emerald eyes narrowing as she watched the stiff, determined gait of the machine-wife heading toward the deepest darkness of Terragard.

In the distance, beyond the jagged dimensional crack that was slowly eroding the mountain’s reality, a raspy, ancient voice whispered a name that had been forgotten by the people of Aethera for ten thousand years.

"...Maiden..."