Chapter 82#

Gears of Fate 24#

Back in the main control room, the group finally gathered completely.

They didn’t attempt anything immediately. Instead, Anphiel spent considerable time studying the three spell readers they’d brought, meticulously writing spell after spell. Jililigulung assisted him from the side, occasionally making strange vocalizations that somehow conveyed meaning. The two worked in perfect synchronization despite the language barrier—whenever Anphiel paused, Jililigulung would supply the next idea.

Meanwhile, Xue Xin and Zheng Yuan assembled the mechanical arm according to the blueprint Yu Feichen had sketched. The blueprint wasn’t particularly detailed, but they worked with impressive efficiency. Gears and joints fit together with metallic clicks, gradually forming a functional appendage that could rotate and articulate.

The others took turns resting, as though they were operating under a silent agreement. Chen Tong alternated between watching Anphiel and Jililigulung work, watching Xue Xin and Zheng Yuan assemble, and watching Yu Feichen—who sat silently against a steam pipe, one arm wrapped in makeshift bindings from cloth salvaged during their raid.

The arm injury was substantial. When one of the mechanical dummies had caught him during their escape from the recycling station, it had nearly torn the limb clean off. Only his own quick action—wrenching himself free—had left him with a salvageable, if severely damaged, arm.

Yet he didn’t show signs of pain. His expression remained neutral as always, occasionally lifting his gaze to check on Anphiel’s progress or Xue Xin’s assembly work.

Anphiel noticed these glances. Between spell revisions, he’d glance back, their eyes meeting briefly before returning to their respective tasks.

The fortress continued its malfunctioning state. Occasionally, gears would grind to a halt in distant sections, their enormous inertia carrying them slightly beyond the stop point before resuming. The recycling station had stopped searching after a certain period, having destroyed a significant portion of the machinery in its rampage. Most of the mechanical dummies had frozen in place, some mid-movement, creating an eerie tableau of paralysis throughout the chamber.

Only the steam engines running the main control continued their rhythmic operation, their cycle sustaining the entire system.

Time passed. How much, no one tracked carefully. The fortress’s bell system had failed along with most other mechanisms, leaving them with only the sun’s position visible through occasional gaps—except there was no sun here, only the fortress’s perpetual electric lights.

Lillia fell asleep leaning against Zheng Yuan’s shoulder. White Swan muttered something about the loudspeaker and never finding them to announce their deaths. Lingwei meditated in perfect stillness, a daoist maintaining spiritual equilibrium.

Eventually, Xue Xin straightened from his work: “It’s done.”

The mechanical arm was complete. Functional. Ready.

Anphiel set down his brush. Before him lay dozens of sheets of papyrus, each covered in complex spell patterns. Beside them, the three modified spell readers sat silently, waiting.

“How long?” Yu Feichen asked. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Twelve minutes,” Anphiel replied. “To read all spells and apply them. The reversal itself takes approximately thirty seconds.”

Xue Xin looked at the massive central gear visible above them through the steam: “Once we reverse it, everything cascades. The smaller gears reverse, their reversals cascade backward through the entire system. The fortress’s time direction inverts.”

“And the gate opens?” Zheng Yuan asked.

“Should,” Yu Feichen said. “When the cycle completes in reverse, the fortress recognizes it as a new beginning. The gate opens to receive new arrivals.”

Bai Song, who had been mostly quiet: “So we exit when the new arrivals enter?”

“Essentially,” Vincent said. He’d been sitting apart from the group, observing more than participating. “The synchronization is critical. The reversal must complete before the recycling station recovers. Once the time direction inverts, it should freeze along with all other non-essential mechanisms.”

“Should,” Chen Tong repeated, catching the uncertainty. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“Nothing here is certain,” Vincent replied evenly. “We work with probability and logic.”

Yu Feichen stood, his injured arm hanging at his side. “We proceed. Xue Xin, once reversal begins, you monitor the arm’s position. Any deviation, notify me immediately. The reversal must maintain steady acceleration or the system could destabilize.”

“Understood.”

“Anphiel. You manage the spell readers. The sequence matters—reversal spell first, then energy redistribution, then stabilization. If any step fails—”

“It won’t,” Anphiel said softly. Not a promise. A statement of fact.

Yu Feichen nodded, accepting this with the ease of someone accustomed to relying on Anphiel’s competence.

What followed was preparation. Final checks on equipment. Arrangement of positions around the chamber. Designation of escape routes—though none of them had complete confidence in any particular path. The tunnels Anphiel had discovered remained their most reliable option, assuming the mechanical structure held during reversal.

Vincent moved to stand near the entrance to the tunnels. Waiting. Watching.

Zheng Yuan checked the mechanical arm’s alignment one final time. “Locked in position.”

Xue Xin studied the control lever: “Release mechanism is functional. Forward for normal, backward for reverse.”

“Everyone in position,” Yu Feichen commanded.

The group arranged themselves carefully around the space. Not clustered—wide dispersal to minimize casualties if something went catastrophically wrong. Chen Tong placed himself near the tunnel entrance, ready to run. Bai Song stood with Lillia and Zheng Yuan, the three forming a small cluster for mutual support if needed.

Anphiel approached the spell readers, taking position before the console. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the accumulated strain of days in the fortress, of fighting constant dizziness, of the energy expenditure involved in creating these unprecedented spell modifications.

Jililigulung remained at his side, papers organized and ready.

Yu Feichen raised his one functioning hand: “Begin.”

Anphiel’s hands moved across the first spell reader. The mechanism whirred to life, reading the first papyrus sheet. The spell-encoded instructions transferred into the machine, which began processing the reversal protocol.

The fortress shuddered.

Not violently—a subtle tremor, as though something fundamental had shifted in its structure. The steam pipes groaned. Distant gears accelerated their rotation.

“Next spell,” Yu Feichen said calmly.

The second reader activated. Then the third.

And the chamber around them began to change.

The mechanical dummies froze completely, becoming nothing more than statues. The recycling station’s flames extinguished as though snuffed by invisible hands. In the darkness where those flames had burned, only cold metal remained.

The massive gears overhead began to slow.

Then, impossibly, they reversed.

The brass colossus that had dominated the chamber started rotating in the opposite direction, its counterclockwise spin gradually accelerating as the reversal sequence progressed. The sound was magnificent and terrible—the sound of time itself being rewound.

“Activation sequence is stable,” Xue Xin reported, his voice steady despite the apocalyptic churning around them.

“Reversal accelerating,” Anphiel called out, sweat beading on his forehead.

Yu Feichen stood motionless, watching the central gear’s rotation increase. Waiting for the moment when—

“It’s working,” Vincent said quietly. “The fortress recognizes the reversal. Time is flowing backward.”

Through gaps in the machinery, they could see it: the fortress’s structure beginning to rearrange itself. Gears that had locked were unlocking. Pathways that had been sealed were opening. The entire mechanism was literally reversing through time, undoing itself.

The gate. Far below, in the lowest sections of the fortress, the massive gate would be opening. Not to receive new arrivals—they’d reversed the cycle before that point. It would simply stand open, a passage out of this mechanical labyrinth.

“Everyone ready?” Yu Feichen asked.

No one answered. They were all watching the impossible sight around them—the machine of fate, literally running backward.

“Let’s go,” he said.

And began moving toward the tunnels where their escape awaited.