The lowest levels of the underground complex hummed with a different kind of life. Inside, the air was warmer, heavy with the scent of chemicals and something faintly biological.
Rows of bio-reactor tanks lined the walls, glowing softly in pale greens and blues. Inside the translucent cylinders floated human shapes in various stages of development. Some were little more than skeletal frames wrapped in cultivated muscle; others were fully formed, their eyes closed, their bodies slack in nutrient suspension. Thin cables and mechadendrites fed into the tanks, carrying proteins, oxygen, and whispered data.
Luthar moved between the vats with the precision of a priest tending sacred relics. His augmetic eye flickered with streams of information—oxygen levels, genetic drift, and potential mutation risks.
"Two per cent instability…" he murmured, adjusting the nutrient ratio in one of the tanks. "Acceptable, as long as they can work for a few years."
The crew of the Harbinger of Ashes was taking form. Not servitors—he had no intention of relying solely on mindless drones. But these would not be ordinary humans. They would not tire, complain, or hesitate. They would serve, sleep, and awaken as he commanded, their loyalty woven into their very being.
He paused at one of the tanks, studying the face of a nearly finished subject. Young, androgynous, expressionless—born to work and die in the void.
"Better than Earth's stock," he muttered. "And less… noisy. Still not as reliable as 40k humans. After all, they had quite a hard life, so usually they don't complain much."
A sharp chime interrupted his thoughts.
Luthar turned toward a crystalline console set against the far wall. Its surface rippled with soft light as system reports scrolled across it. In the center, a single notification pulsed red, then gold.
SYSTEM ENERGY RESERVE: 100%
Luthar's eyes narrowed, and a rare flicker of satisfaction touched his face.
"So," he murmured, "it is finally ready."
His fingers brushed across the interface. He was finally ready to return to the dungeon world to retrieve a few important things.
Ten per cent charge: enough for a single jump to another universe.
One hundred per cent charge: safe for multiple transitions.
Who knew if one day somebody might try to kidnap him and throw him into a dangerous world? With this much energy, he could always come back without needing to rebuild the machine.
"Ten jumps," he calculated aloud. "One to go there, one to come back… and eight for safety."
As he reviewed his plans, a flicker of movement on the adjacent holo-screen caught his attention. The display shifted to a live feed of Earth's reaction.
A UN emergency session in chaos.
News broadcasts loop grainy images of the Harbinger of Ashes before its disappearance.
On the civilian side, the internet had descended into hysteria.
Luthar's augmented eye scrolled through highlights:
Alien invasion theories.
Wild claims of "God's spaceship."
A meme of himself, haloed in golden light, holding the cathedral-ship like a toy.
Caption: SPACE POPE BLESSES YOUR PLANET.
He exhaled softly through his nose.
"Well… looks like I can start my own religion."
His mind drifted to amusing possibilities: Freya in a crimson robe, preaching to humans about the greatness of the Machine God; Hephaestus forging weapons on Mars; and, in his spare time, visiting Asgard to take their minerals. After all, those gods were going to die eventually.
Another feed flickered in the corner of the display: Tony Stark's private channel, still marked inactive.
No response. No delivery of the new resources he had requested.
Luthar's hand curled slightly on the console.
Perhaps he had frightened Stark a little—but that was no excuse to withhold his resources.
"Perhaps I should visit him," Luthar mused.
"I need to remind him personally."
His mechadendrites clicked softly as he gave his creations one last glance. The vat-grown personnel floated in their glass sanctuaries, silent and obedient.
After finishing the final adjustments, as he left the place, the elevator doors of the workshop slid shut behind him, leaving the faint glow of the bio-reactor vats in darkness. Luthar did not look back. His mind was already elsewhere.
The Drop-Wing Skimmer rose silently from the new platform and shot into the sky. New York glittered below like a nest of circuitry, unaware of the predator gliding over its skyline. Luthar's craft shimmered and faded as its stealth field engaged, approaching Stark Tower.
Hovering just beyond the landing pad, Luthar's mechadendrites tapped the controls. The Skimmer settled without a sound. To the people on the streets below, it was nothing more than a passing shadow against the city lights.
The glass doors of the top floor slid open to admit him.
Pepper Potts looked up from her desk and froze. She had expected Tony to return hours ago—not a black-and-silver figure walking in as if the tower belonged to him.
"Luthar." Her voice was calm, but her hand twitched toward the desk phone instinctively.
"Ms Potts," Luthar said, smooth and unhurried. "You have ignored my last three resource requests. I am here to collect what is owed to me."
While saying this, his eyes fell on the new personal assistant—a tall redhead in a crisp suit. As he drew closer, she rose from her chair. Natasha Romanoff's eyes assessed him with quiet calculation.
"Tony's not here," she said carefully. "Maybe you can sit down and wait for him."
Luthar's augmented eye swept the room, lingering on her for a fraction longer than comfort allowed.
"You will inform him," Luthar said, stepping closer. "I need all mineral samples, the palladium stock, and a large quantity of uranium, plutonium, and thorium."
Pepper forced a tight smile.
"That's… a very long list. And I should remind you—uranium, plutonium, thorium—those are restricted materials."
"Ms Potts," Luthar interrupted gently, "restricted doesn't mean nonexistent. He simply needs to put on the suit and collect what I need. I need these materials in one week. If he cannot…" His voice hardened. "…then I may simply end his life."
Natasha took a slow step forward.
"I think you need to calm down. These aren't materials you can just pick up from a random store."
Luthar tilted his head, as if intrigued. His mechadendrites flexed behind him, steel claws curling idly. For him, every day he did not get his resources was a waste of his time, which he hated.
"I hope you remain this calm," he said at last, his voice smooth as ice, "when I take your sisters from the Red Room… and transform them into real Black Widows."
This wasn't some random thought. He already had plans for the Black Widows—he couldn't let such excellent girls go to waste.
Natasha's confident mask cracked for just a heartbeat. Her eyes flickered in surprise before she forced them still.
"…You know about the Red Room?" she said, her voice flatter than before.
"Of course," Luthar replied, almost indulgent. "I know about all of your sisters. Hidden away, trained like dolls. I can make them better… give them eight legs, then they can truly be worthy of the name Black Widow."
Natasha's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.
"Unfortunately, you're late. The Red Room doesn't exist anymore. I destroyed it myself."
Luthar's augmented eye gleamed as he leaned closer. "Lie to someone else."
Pepper blinked, confused. "Wait… what's the Red Room?"
"Nothing special," Luthar said with casual amusement. "Just a place where little girls are trained to kill scientists and steal technology. A clever idea… though the drugs they use for control are rather inefficient."
Natasha's hand froze halfway to the desk. Her mask of calm faltered for a heartbeat, then returned. "I told you I already destroyed them," she said quietly.
Luthar's eyes glimmered. "Human eyes sometimes can give you false information. I suggest you get at least one artificial eye."
No one could tell from his voice if he was joking or serious.
Authors note : it becomes another
Wasted week as I was only able to write up 4 chapters up till now, first since my new glasses were giving me a headache, I decided to get a new pair, but after I got to the shop, they did the check up and asked me to get a proper doctor to get the numbers.
But after getting the shop review saying they can't make it as the number is too high, so I have to find another shop which would prepare the glasses by Monday. I am also going around to get my documents fixed, while also watching the dropping number of Patreon members. Currently after 180 chapters, I have thrown away the previous plan and am working on a new plan which would be quite a gamble let's just hope for the best 💞