The air in the lab was thick with the weight of unspoken comprehension. Elias had just called Grand Artificer Lyra a genius, a word he rarely used, reserved only for concepts of perfect, elegant design. Lyra, a being who had been praised by Universal Gods for centuries, was completely stunned. Her mind, a machine of profound logical power, could not process the simple, honest sincerity of his statement. She had always viewed her genius as a lonely burden, a private truth she could never fully share. But in this one moment, with this single word, a terrifying stranger had shown her that she was not alone.
"Genius?" she whispered, the awe in her voice completely erasing the memory of her initial anger.
"Yes," Elias confirmed, his tone as flat and certain as a mathematical proof. "Your work is a beautiful anomaly. A logical impossibility. It is the missing piece."
