CHAPTER 1166: STANDARD OF THE CRAFT.

They reached the base of the Tower an hour later. The structure was enormous, its surface engraved with rotating sigils and veins of living light. The air vibrated with energy. Every breath tasted metallic.

Steve stared at the readings. "The entire structure’s a single computational core. If we destroy it, the rest of the network collapses. But if it finishes its process first..."

"Then we’re too late," Cain finished.

A sudden pulse of energy rippled outward. The ground cracked open, revealing a pit of churning light beneath them. The Tower began to move—rising, folding, its base reshaping into a colossal humanoid form.

Hunter stumbled back. "That’s not a building. It’s a machine."

The Tower’s voice rolled like thunder.

"Designation: Index Prime. You are obsolete."

Cain didn’t flinch. "Then let’s see if the future bleeds too."

He stepped forward, and golden light ignited across his arms. Roselle reloaded. Hunter braced his rifle. Steve stood back, feeding data to their comms.

The sky darkened as the Tower spread its limbs—entire sections of the city lifting into the air as magnetic currents tore free from the ground.

The first blow came like a meteor. Cain met it head-on. The impact shattered the bridge behind them, waves of energy crashing across the skyline.

Roselle’s voice cut through the comms: "Focus on the joints! Its structure’s modular!"

Hunter took aim, firing round after round into the Tower’s moving limbs. Sparks erupted, chunks of molten plating falling like rain.

Cain dashed forward, leaping from a collapsing platform onto the Tower’s arm. Each strike he landed left fissures of gold. The creature roared—not in pain, but defiance.

Steve’s readings spiked. "It’s drawing power from the entire network! Every remaining node is feeding it energy!"

"So we cut the lines!" Roselle shouted.

She sprinted to the edge of the ruins, firing at the conduits anchoring the Tower to the ground. The shots tore through the metal veins, severing one after another. The light within the Tower flickered.

Cain drove his sword deep into the creature’s core again. The resulting shockwave split the clouds.

For a heartbeat, the entire city glowed white—streets, towers, and sky melting into one blinding pulse.

When it cleared, Cain stood on what was left of the bridge. The Tower still loomed above, wounded but alive, its voice now a low, trembling whisper.

"Adaptation... incomplete..."

Cain stared up, eyes cold. "Then we keep going until it is."

The storm began to rise again.

And the war between man and machine truly began.

The storm didn’t stop.

It only changed shape.

Black clouds churned above what was once the Tower of Ashes. Lightning snapped in chains, dancing from the edges of the hovering structure as though the heavens themselves were trying to tear it apart. The air was suffocating—dense with metallic ash and humming energy.

Cain stood at the edge of the shattered bridge, boots half sunk into molten slag. His golden blade pulsed dimly, its edge quivering from overuse. The others formed up behind him, battered but standing.

Steve wiped blood from his temple, eyes never leaving the readings on his device. "The Tower’s reconstructing faster than before. Every node we destroyed is now redirecting its data back here. It’s using the wreckage as fuel."

Roselle spat. "So we just made it stronger."

Hunter cocked his rifle, face blank. "Then we just break it again."

Cain’s gaze stayed fixed on the shifting silhouette above. The Tower’s limbs were slowly retracting, folding inward. What remained began to pulse in rhythmic intervals—heartbeat slow, deliberate, impossible to mistake for anything human.

"It’s building something," he muttered.

"Yeah," Steve said grimly. "Us. It’s learning from our attacks—replicating countermeasures. If we give it time, it’ll start producing copies."

Cain didn’t reply. He turned to Ruby, crouched low beside the ruins. The beast’s scales were scorched black, her wings tattered but still twitching.

"You can still fly?"

She snorted, smoke curling from her nostrils. Barely, her eyes said. But she would.

"Good." Cain gripped her neck and climbed onto her back. "Hunter, Roselle—flank west. Hit the grounding nodes. Steve, feed me coordinates on the core’s activity. We’re ending this before it adapts again."

Roselle frowned. "And if it already has?"

Cain gave a humorless smile. "Then I’ll improvise."

The moment Ruby leapt into the air, the Tower responded. Segments of its surface unfolded, revealing dozens of orbiting spheres—miniature reactors spinning with impossible precision. They began firing.

Bolts of condensed plasma tore through the sky, each one bright enough to burn afterimages into the eye. Cain ducked low, Ruby twisting violently as trails of light carved past them. A single shot grazed her wing; the membrane flared with pain, but she pushed harder.

"Left—forty meters!" Steve’s voice barked through the comms.

Cain pulled Ruby into a sharp roll. One of the spheres detonated prematurely, scattering molten debris that rained down onto the bridge where Roselle and Hunter were fighting through defensive drones.

Roselle’s voice crackled in Cain’s ear, strained but steady. "You’re welcome for the fireworks!"

Cain smirked despite himself. "Keep the rhythm. Don’t die."

He climbed higher, closing in on the Tower’s crown. The structure opened like a flower, petals of black steel peeling back to reveal a core of white flame pulsing in time with the lightning.

Ruby roared, channeling all her momentum into a dive. Cain raised his blade, golden energy coiling around it like a cyclone. When he struck, the impact split the sky.

The explosion that followed shattered sound itself. For a heartbeat, there was nothing—just raw light, the taste of ozone, and silence so deep it felt holy.

Then the backlash hit. The wave of force ripped Ruby and Cain apart, sending both hurtling through the air. Cain crashed through several collapsing structures before finally slamming into a wall of debris.

Pain flared down his ribs. His ears rang, his vision pulsed. He forced himself up, coughing blood.

"Cain!" Steve’s voice came through static. "Talk to me! You alive?"

"Barely," he rasped.

"Good enough. That strike did something—core’s output dropped by seventy percent. But there’s a problem."

Cain staggered forward, blinking through the haze. "What kind?"

"It’s rebuilding itself faster. The material’s not just metal—it’s a composite of organic and Divine residue. You can’t destroy it with physical force alone."

"Then what do you suggest?"