Years passed with naught but a flicker since Claude had arrived in this strange world.
After the village guard had recuperated, everyone scouted the city further and confirmed there was no more danger present.
Thus, they soon returned to camp and began preparing to move to the ruins.
In terms of settlement, they could only inhabit the buildings in the centre of the city, which were less decrepit as they were forged of steel.
Those in the outer rims of the city were hazardous to be around, let alone live in.
The village guards were given priority in picking where to live first, and even then Claude had greater priority due to his feats.
Without even uttering a word, Claude was given a mansion at the heart of the city close to the cathedral.
It was something Claude could only guess had belonged to the city governor or lord.
Within a spacious room, a now older-looking Claude stood staring at one of the many bookshelves that lined its walls.
He still possessed his familiar brown hair and hazel eyes. Yet his facial features had lost their youth and gained a certain sharpness.
No longer was Claude a mere 12-year-old child; he had now grown to become 18 years of age.
Whoosh!
With a gentle wave of his arm, Claude condensed a large hand made of water.
The hand then lifted a metallic book and held it up in front of him.
Codex: Cult Machina Sacra
He read the words on the cover, words that had once seemed illegible to him.
Nevertheless, Claude had spent much of his time trying to decode the strange language.
It took him four years to learn the language, though he could not speak it for rather obvious reasons.
And another two years to sift through all the knowledge lying around.
The book he was holding, from what he understood, was a historical record of the group who had constructed the city.
'Cult Machina Sacra,' that was the name of the group.
From what Claude understood, they were machine-worshipping scholars who believed that machines had souls and were therefore alive.
Thus, each and every machine held great importance to them.
Despite Claude's confusion at their devotion to machines, he couldn't deny their technological capabilities.
With all the knowledge he had absorbed, he could very well recreate a mechanical army with enough resources, similar to those he had fought with earlier.
As he turned the page, the text continued, detailing the beliefs and history of the Cult Machina Sacra.
In the beginning, there was nothing but chaos.
This chaos birthed an entity that existed in the vast void. Cogus was his name.
Alone and weary, he soon decided to create new life to bring order to the chaos.
Thus, life was born.
First, Cogus created animals, but they were wild and untamed, lacking purpose.
Dissatisfied with their crude nature, Cogus sought to perfect his creation.
Through countless trials and errors, he crafted us, humans, as the pinnacle of his work.
Realizing the potential of his newfound creations, he bestowed upon us our greatest gift—knowledge.
With this sacred gift, humanity embarked on a path never before seen.
We learned to harness the elements, to shape the world around us, but this was not enough for the faithful followers of Cogus.
We yearned to understand our creator's essence and to honour his divine ingenuity.
Thus, we turned to machines. It was our attempt to embody Cogus's perfection. His ability of creation.
We believed that machines, unlike the fleeting and fallible forms of flesh, could achieve the purity and precision Cogus desired.
Our devotion led us to worship these creations as extensions of our god.
Each gear, each piston, was a sacred relic, a testament to the divine craftsmanship of Cogus- the creator.
In our pursuit, we forged titans of steel, great constructs that mirrored the power of Cogus himself.
These machines were not mere tools; they were living entities, infused with the soul of our god.
We built vast cities of metal and steam, where the hum of machinery was a constant hymn of praise to Cogus.
Our scholars, ever so the path finders, dedicated their lives to the study and veneration of these mechanical beings, seeking to unlock the divine secrets embedded within them.
Fused with divine knowledge and our mechanical creations, we drew closer to our god.
We augmented our bodies with steel and gears, becoming one with the machines we revered.
Our priests, the Techno-Theurgists, led us in rituals to honour Cogus, maintaining the sacred balance between flesh and metal.
Through this union, we believed we could transcend our mortal limitations and achieve a state of divine perfection.
Yet, with great knowledge came great responsibility.
Cogus warned us of the dangers of hubris and the potential for corruption.
We were tasked with preserving the sanctity of our creations, ensuring they remained pure embodiments of his divine will.
Our greatest triumphs were tempered with humility, as we remembered the chaos from which we were born and the order we were chosen to uphold.
We thrived in the pursuit of knowledge, the creation of machines, and the worship of Cogus.
Our legacy was etched in the annals of history, a testament to the divine path we walked.
As Claude finished reading, the weight of the text settled upon him.
The dedication of the Cult Machina Sacra to their god and their machines was both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
Their combination of faith and technology was unlike anything he had ever encountered, raising more questions about the true nature of Cogus and the fate of this once-great civilization.
From books like this, Claude's understanding of the cult greatly increased.
Furthermore, he could all but confirm that the statue at the cathedral was one depicting Cogus.
However, was Cogus a real God? One akin to Asteria?
Those were some of the many questions Claude couldn't yet figure out.
Closing the book and placing it back on the shelf with his spell, Claude momentarily closed his eyes.
'Despite learning their knowledge, beliefs, and history, I couldn't find anything regarding what caused the city to become like this...' Slight annoyance flickered in Claude's eyes as he mused.
All he currently knew was that this city was originally from a country named Avalon.
A nation whose name, from what he had gathered from Agnes and Karl, was unsurprisingly never heard of in this world.
Knock!
Knock!
Snapping him out of his thoughts was the sound of knocking on the door.
"Claude?" A voice called out to him from outside.
Opening the door, Claude was soon met with a familiar face.
"Peter? Are you here for the weapons?" said Claude.
"Yes, sorry to bother you about it." Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he replied.
Unlike years ago, Peter had grown much more familiar with Claude and was on a first-name basis with him.
"Don't worry about it. It probably benefited me more than you..." Claude spoke, with the latter half of his words descending into a whisper.
"What?" Peter raised a brow, bewildered by what Claude was saying.
"Don't worry about it. Anyway, I'll go get the weapons."
After heading back inside for a moment, Claude returned carrying dozens of spears and other tools in countless hands made of water.
Among the other things he carried were what he had learned were called 'steam rifles.'
Ranged weapons that fired strange metal pellets called 'bullets' at high speeds towards a target.
"Tsk." Peter clicked his tongue as he watched Claude's practiced movements. "It's only been a few years, but you've gotten a lot stronger, haven't you? Well, that is expected of an emissary."
"Enough about that. I heard your daughter is about to celebrate her second birthday?" Gently shaking his head at Peter's boasting, Claude changed the subject.
"Oh? You mean Ida?" said Peter, a sheepish smile stretching across his face as he heard his daughter's name. "Yes. It'll be her second birthday in a week's time. Dorothy and I both hope you can join us then."
"Ah? That would be fine. I should be able to make it, not like I have much left to do now."
Yet, perplexing Claude was Peter's face as he agreed.
It lacked the happiness he would have expected from the man.
"Is it already time...?" Peter muttered under his breath before continuing. "Would that mean you're leaving here soon, Claude?"