Chapter 637: God of Steam and Machinery

In the depths of the Steel Church, Rekton and Leonard's figures flickered constantly, and they soon arrived at the Mechanical Hall on the very bottom level of the church, where miraculous items are stored and sealed.

"So many!"

Leonard looked at the walls around him, piled with miraculous items like exhibition counters, and couldn't help letting out a sigh.

Compared with the Night Church, the God of Steam and Machinery's church appears especially wealthy in miraculous items; even the Charles Gate beneath Beckrand's Saint Samuel Church is far less abundant in stored and sealed items than the depths of this church.

Parles snorted disdainfully, his hoarse voice calmly echoing in Leonard's ear:

"This is a church belonging to 'Steam'; every 'craftsman', whether in the real world or in the realm of mysticism, is a rightful master of creation."

"I know, I just couldn't help sighing at seeing so many miraculous items," Leonard cleared his throat, offering a brief defense.

Rekton ignored Leonard and Parles's exchange, his gaze calmly scanning the surroundings; the deep‑blue‑to‑purple glimmer in his eyes traced one strange symbol after another, swiftly recording and analyzing the information around him.

After a moment, he withdrew his sight, turned to Leonard, and calmly said:

"Arodes's information is fine; we can act, only three seconds."

With the words finished, Rekton's body instantly became ethereal, breaking into numerous tangled pure data streams that easily pierced the obstacles set around, surging toward the depths of the Mechanical Hall.

"Just take a few miraculous items you fancy," Parles's voice then echoed in Leonard's ear.

After a brief hesitation, Leonard darted swiftly toward a steam rifle whose barrel had been thickened and lengthened.

As he moved, strands of twelve‑segment patterned Time Worms streamed from his body, rapidly weaving in midair and converging into a massive, ancient, mottled twelve‑segment Clock Phantasm.

This phantasm resembled the surface of a stone‑carved wall clock, divided into twelve sections, each gray‑white or cyan‑black, intermingled yet with clear boundaries, each bearing a different symbol.

On the huge mottled Clock Phantasm, the hand moved one notch clockwise, and a melodious, ethereal chime instantly rang throughout the Mechanical Hall.

An indescribable formless torrent surged from the massive phantasm, as if traversing long ages, swiftly sweeping the surroundings.

The surrounding time accelerated, and the seals originally set on various miraculous items developed gaps, beginning to fail.

The whirring wind roared in the depths, carrying fine wind blades that continuously battered the surrounding miraculous items.

The formless fluctuations dispersed unevenly, and the surroundings suddenly darkened, as if night had fallen, a tranquil, serene feeling arriving with specks of starlight.

The air grew scorching, as if standing in a dry desert; Leonard slightly opened his mouth, gasping heavily, and at that moment breathing seemed arduous, droplets of sweat seeping from his pores.

His emotions turned extremely angry, wanting to smash and destroy everything around him; he didn't even know why he was furious, yet he couldn't control himself, as if a raging fire burned in his core.

Pale luminescence continuously oozed from him, resembling strands of worms, writhing rapidly in the air and burrowing into each miraculous item around.

In the depths of the Mechanical Hall, Rekton's figure emerged from the constantly converging tangled pure knowledge.

This place was constructed like a magnificent palace, gold serving as the primary decorative element; whether high‑back chairs, towering vertical stone pillars, floors or walls, all gleamed bright yellow, exuding luxury and artistic beauty.

At the very center of the palace stood a golden, splendid seat—a bizarre, ornate throne forged from gold and studded with numerous gems.

An artifact left by Roselle, catalogued 0‑45, also called the Knowledge Throne, is the seal object and Rekton's target this time!

On this sealed object rested a gray‑brown parchment book bound together; its pages turned of their own accord, continuously displaying various meaningless characters and symbols, as if recording the information the Knowledge Throne transmitted outward.

When he approached the Knowledge Throne, countless pieces of information flooded his mind, as if everything around transformed into abstract, twisted data, swarming into his sight and brain. Rekton's mechanical glove on his right hand emitted a dim, unclear, colorless haze, a glow seemingly composed of myriad illusory entities, coalescing into fragmented specks, evolving fragments of civilization, granting him the ability to interact with abstract matters; like an unfillable vessel, it continuously bore the information poured in by the Knowledge Throne.

Using this void, Rekton's figure flickered briefly, appearing directly before the Knowledge Throne; he reached out and took the parchment book, which rested on the left armrest and kept turning to record the overflowed information.

More, increasingly tangled information swarmed into his mind, slowing Rekton's movements; the deep‑blue‑to‑purple glimmer in his eyes flickered incessantly, as if about to shatter.

Taking a deep breath, he turned backward and sat directly upon the Knowledge Throne.

In that instant, he seemed to become the ruler of knowledge, the emperor of knowledge, able to see and manipulate all information in the world; his mind expanded continuously, thoughts proliferating, as if he had become an omniscient, omnipotent being.

The deep‑blue‑to‑purple glimmer in his eyes fractured inch by inch, turning into specks of stardust that overflowed from his sockets; his body became ethereal, as countless stars flickered and scattered, merging with the golden seat beneath him and Trill's sky; under the brilliant sun, most of the city was shrouded in gray mist and dark clouds, appearing dim, mysterious, chaotic, and distorted.

In the clear sky, a dazzling starfield flickered faintly, and strands of dim, unclear, colorless light—seeming composed of countless illusory things—generated from void, descending from great heights, surging toward the gray clouds and mist that covered most of Trill.

Where this light passed, all matter disintegrated, rapidly dispersing, reduced to the most basic particulate structures.

The overlap between Trill on the surface and the Quaternary ruins below was broken; the grayish hues in mid‑air faded quickly, and bright sunlight once again bathed the city.

Simultaneously, a "light" invisible to most extraordinary beings surged from the void; this light had no substance, seeming formed of countless tangled information streams, moving in an ethereal, torrent‑like fashion, and in the blink of an eye it engulfed the disintegrating matter, merging the light of the underground ruins with that of the surface city.

The surrounding illumination grew dim and profound again, space‑time warped in an instant, isolating that wildly surging, dim, illusory light—seemingly composed of countless unreal things—from the outside world.

A pitch‑black, slightly ethereal wasteland was illuminated; atop the wasteland, countless silhouettes drifted—some human, some animal, some bizarre objects. Above these figures, a vague, translucent form flickered, cloaked in an exaggerated cape depicting constellations; beneath the cape, dim starlight resembled a single blinking eye, sometimes coalescing, sometimes dispersing, lacking a solid shape.

The Star Realm, a perfect land, where indescribable Steam constantly rose; brass, dark, cyan‑green gears meshed, clacking as they turned, and among the interacting levers, chains, gears, a vague, hazy silhouette emerged, imparting an immense sense of weight.

Strands of dim, unclear light formed from void, bearing no color, seemingly composed of countless minute entities, weaving together a thin, intangible, projection‑like scroll.

This scroll flew out from the perfect land, unfurled slowly in the Star Realm, yet in an instant arrived in reality, hovering over Trill.

The scroll depicted humanity's enlightenment and development across various classes, embodying millennia of civilizational accumulation; its impression was vast, grand, weighty, and expansive, yet also overwhelmingly oppressive and heavy, as if it could crush everything.

The pitch‑black, slightly ethereal wasteland that shrouded Trill was effortlessly devoured by the civilizational scroll.

The "Hidden Sage" cloaked by the scroll instantly transformed into an information creature; formless information torrents raged within the scroll, attempting to drown everything with massive data and tear the scroll apart.

But this is a civilization accumulated over tens of thousands of years, a history left by generations upon generations of humans amounting to billions, fully capable of bearing the information torrent stirred by the "Hidden Sage".

Temporarily trapping the "Hidden Sage", several formless information streams burst from the perfect land, swiftly falling from the Star Realm to Trill in an instant, easily bypassing obstacles and entering the Steel Church, which had been isolated by the Mysterious Secret Realm.

In the depths of the Steel Church, Leonard, having casually taken two miraculous items, hadn't yet had time to inquire about their effects when he heard Parles's voice:

"He's coming."

Leonard froze for a moment and hurriedly asked, "Who's coming? The angel guarding this church? Isn't he being held back by that 'Mysterious Queen'? What happened outside?"

"Steam has arrived, and also, I can no longer see what's happening outside," Parles sighed in response.

"Who?" Leonard doubted he had misheard; his mind was hazy, the only thought floating was: I'm done, I'm going to die, I hope it won't involve the church.

Leonard hadn't yet recovered from this shocking information when, in the Mechanical Hall, those rampaging sealed objects quieted one after another; nothing had apparently occurred, yet they fell eerily silent.

(End of Chapter)