Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2766: Machinist Tomb 7

The workshop trembled with a deep mechanical groan as runes flared alive across the walls. Ancient gears ground against one another, their rumbling echoing through the stone chamber. The walls shifted—splitting apart and a hidden hall revealed itself, an extension of Randhall’s grand workshop.

Dust cascaded from the seams of the moving walls as light from the runes illuminated what lay beyond. The sight that welcomed them quickly made the whole group turn to alarm.

Twenty humanoid dark golems stood in perfect formation, motionless and silent, lined in symmetrical rows like a forgotten army. Unlike the bronze or silver constructs they’d encountered before, these were crafted from a strange material—dark, matte, and slightly pliant, as though forged not from metal but something closer to hardened shadow.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Even Vashka, impatient as she was, hesitated before the eerie sight.

”...They’re not attacking,” Athar muttered, his voice low, uncertain.

Vashka’s crimson eyes narrowed.

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her two silver golems forward. The metallic puppets clanked to life, stepping between the still rows of black constructs as living shields. The rest followed behind cautiously—Emery, Athar, Annara, Vic, and the three Volkov specialists.

At the far end of the hall, a raised altar awaited. Floating above its center was a cube—metallic, humming with deep azure light—while two strange massive rune-covered cylinders were embedded into the walls on either side.

Vashka’s lips curved into a hungry smirk. ”This must be it.”

She approached first while the others stayed alert, waiting for traps—but nothing happened. No walls shifted. No runes flared. The dark golems remained as still as statues.

Vic stepped closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. ”It must be the information cube. If we can unlock it, we’ll know everything about this place.”

However, before Vic could do anything, Vashka swiftly moved in, blocking his way. Her eyes glowed faintly as she raised a hand toward the floating cube, channeling her spirit energy into it.

A flicker of power rippled across the cube’s surface—but nothing happened. The woman’s expression darkened, and she let out a sharp breath of irritation.

”I can’t access it... it’s locked!” she snapped.

Vic was already moving forward, eager to help, but once again, Vashka extended a hand to stop him.

”The Voskov will take the first attempt,” she declared firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. ”Our specialists will handle this.”

Athar’s patience broke. ”No, we should be doing this together!” he argue, striding toward the altar. One of Vashka’s silver golems immediately moved to block his path, its eyes flashing with warning light.

”Lady Vashka, what is the meaning of this!?” Athar barked.

Vashka’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. ”I prefer taking turns instead,” she said coolly. Her voice was calm, but the authority in it was absolute.

Athar bristled, clearly ready to challenge her, but Emery stepped in between them, ”Don’t worry, let them go first,” he said quietly before turning to the female grand magus. ”But your faction leader was clear—we’re not supposed to linger here. How long do you need before we take our turn?”

Vashka regarded him for a moment, then turned toward her three specialists. After a brief exchange, she nodded. ”Thirty minutes.”

”Fine,” Emery agreed.

With that settled, Vic sighed and stepped back, shifting his attention toward the rows of unmoving dark golems instead. Annara followed him, curiosity—and mild amusement—lighting her face as the Voskov specialists began their attempt.

Thirty minutes passed with only frustration and failure. Sparks fizzled, runes dimmed, and Vashka’s patience cracked. ”Useless!” she spat.

”Our turn,” Athar said as he eagerly step in into the altar. He race his fingers in the air to form an array of diagnostic runes. His divine sense extended outward like invisible threads, probing the cube’s defense layers.

”The runes are structured like a living network,” Athar murmured. ”It’s... adapting.”

Vic stood beside him, already sketching glyphs midair. ”Adaptive or reactive? Maybe it needs a harmonic key—”

Emery remained silent. While the others worked feverishly, he only stood a few steps away, arms folded, eyes half-closed as if merely observing.

Unknown to anyone else, he had secretly instructed VIA to infiltrate the cube’s data system before even Vashka failed her attempt. Ironically, that covert intrusion was what had caused the cube’s security layers to tighten further, making everyone else’s work more difficult.

For the past thirty minutes, Emery had been studying what VIA uncovered.

This chamber—hidden beneath layers of machinery and runes—was indeed Randhall’s private workshop. The twenty black golems standing in rows were not soldiers but worker constructs, built not for combat but for precision—assistants designed to help the legendary machinist forge, carve, and assemble his greatest creations.

Now, as his companions busied themselves with physical analysis, he focused inward.

The stream of data that poured into his consciousness was staggering. Through VIA’s interface, he could see it.

Rows of complex rune matrices rotated before him—hundreds of designs for constructs, artifacts, and tools beyond his comprehension. Randhall had catalogued every creation he ever made.

But the more he searched, the more disappointed he became.

Most of it was incomprehensible; his knowledge of artifact engineering could only take him so far. He skimmed through them one after another, hoping to find something of greater significance—perhaps a hidden record, or the secret technique mention by Athar before.

Until he stumbled upon a folder sealed under multiple encryption sigils.

”A hidden file...” he murmured under his breath, his pulse quickening slightly. ”This must be it.”

”VIA,” he commanded silently, ”open it for me.”

[Affirmative.]

[Initiating deep-access protocol.]

[Proceeding... 14%... 37%... 62%...]

The cube pulsed faintly before him as VIA burrowed deeper into the data structure.

[Final layer breached.]

[File unlocked.]

A soft hum echoed through Emery’s mind, and a new title appeared in golden script.

[The Art of Immortality.]

Emery’s brows furrowed. The name sent a ripple of unease through him.

The following data fragments confirmed it—Randhall’s final project, his obsession with transcending true immortality. Notes and calculations filled the display: multiple attempts to fabricate Supreme Clones, artificial vessels with the power of a supreme being. Yet, the log abruptly ended.

[File incomplete.]

Emery exhaled slowly. It seemed Randall had never completed his ultimate creation. Still, the final lines made his stomach tighten. The machinist’s last entry mentioned transferring prototypes into containment units—two cubes fixed on the far wall.

He raised his gaze. The same twin rune-covered tubes stood there now, silent but ominous.

”Could it be... storing Supreme-level clones?” Emery muttered under his breath. ”No... that shouldn’t even be possible.”

[Correction: comparable cases exist.]

[Reference: Celestial Archon Project]

VIA’s confirmation made his heart skip. So such technology could exist.

Before Emery could decide what to do next, Vashka’s irritated voice shattered his focus.

”If you can’t open it, step aside!” she said coldly. ”We’ll take another turn.”

Athar turned, clearly angered. ”We’ve barely had fifteen minutes! You wait your turn!”

Energy flared between them, tension snapping tight. Emery was about to intervene when VIA’s cold tone echoed in his mind:

[Warning: Another user is attempting entry.]

”What?” Emery muttered—then Vic suddenly exclaimed, ”I did it! I managed to get in!”

”Vic—wait!” Emery shouted.

But it was too late.

The cube’s hum turned into a violent vibration. The runes on the walls blazed to life, and a deep mechanical roar filled the chamber. The two tubes on the wall shuddered—then one of them began to open with a hiss of steam.

Thick smoke billowed out, rolling across the floor. From within, a figure emerged—a humanoid golem. Its body was sleek and white, traced with golden lines that pulsed like veins.

Its eyes ignited—twin orbs of burning gold.