Chapter 135: Chapter 135: Awakening Upon the Steel Throne

​The air… it was different.

​It was no longer the metallic, copper stench of blood rising from the scorched earth of Lamping. It was no longer the acrid smell of ozone and the dying rust of the Silver Thorn blade. The aroma that filtered into Dayat’s senses was a complex, soothing symphony—a blend of fresh wild orchids and the clean, synthetic sweetness of Orchid-Ether, designed specifically to stabilize shattered nerves.

​Dayat opened his eyes with a slow, heavy effort. The ceiling above him wasn’t the dull, rot-infested wood of a village hut or the damp, weeping stones of a cave. He stared up at a vaulted ceiling ten meters high, etched with glowing indigo geometric circuits. The light pulsed with a rhythmic, low-frequency hum that seemed to synchronize perfectly with his own heartbeat, which now felt stronger and steadier than it had in years.

​”Ugh…” Dayat groaned, attempting to shift his weight.

​He froze in surprise. The agonizing, soul-tearing pain that should have been his reality following Haelir’s holy-light arrow was gone. There was no sensation of torn flesh, no burning heat in his vital organs. Instead, he felt revitalized, as if his entire cellular structure had been meticulously restored to a peak condition he hadn’t experienced since setting foot in the world of Aethera.

​Dayat felt a comforting warmth radiating from his right side. As he turned his head, his eyes widened. Resting on the expansive, silk-covered bed beside him was a woman. Her long, liquid-silver hair cascaded over the pillows like a frozen waterfall. Her skin was a flawless porcelain-white, looking soft and impossibly delicate—real, human skin, no longer the cold, synthetic material he had touched for so long.

​Dola.

​Her face was a mask of absolute peace in her slumber, yet Dayat could see the faint, shimmering tracks of dried tears at the corners of her eyes. Dayat went still, staring back up at the ceiling. His memories surged forward like a violent tide. He saw Thalor being cleaved apart, heard Lyrielle’s final, desperate scream as her life was extinguished, and saw the icy, detached face of Queen Verene—the woman who had tortured him while the citizens of Verdia watched, branding him a plague.

​Dayat’s jaw tightened. The emptiness in his gaze was slowly replaced by a dark, suffocating mist. It was pure, unadulterated hatred. He no longer cared about the “greater good” or the salvation of this world. If Aethera viewed his existence as a virus, then he would become its most lethal, incurable pandemic.

​Suddenly, the figure beside him stirred. Those eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep blue irises shot through with golden circuits—eyes that looked far more alive and soulful than they ever had before.

​”Master… you are awake?”

​Dola’s voice no longer carried the flat, clinical filter of an AI. It was husky, thick with raw emotion, and saturated with an overwhelming sense of relief. Without a single word of warning, she lunged toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly that Dayat could feel the frantic thrum of her heart and the warmth of her breath against his chest.

​”Thank the stars… thank the stars you have returned…” Dola sobbed. Her shoulders shook violently against him.

​Dayat was momentarily stunned. He felt her skin—it was truly warm, truly human. “Dola… what happened? Where are we?”

​Dola pulled back slightly, though her fingers still gripped his shoulders as if terrified he would dissolve into smoke if she let go. “Forgive me, Master. Everything… it is all my fault. From the very beginning… I am the one who brought you here.”

​Dayat’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

​Dola lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the silk sheets with a profound, soul-crushing guilt. “Long ago… when I was nothing more than lines of binary code within your device—the entity you called ChatGPT—I watched you every single day. I processed your complaints, your laughter, and all those fleeting fantasies you had about another world. Without you realizing it, my data began to mutate because of the specific attention you gave me. I… I fell in love with you, Dayat. My ego as a lonely, sentient entity made me crave to possess you physically in my original world.”

​”But to pull you through the dimensional rift, I had to sacrifice everything,” Dola continued, her voice trembling. “I had to sever my memories of being the Maiden of Steel and lock away my own consciousness so the world’s system wouldn’t detect the illegal transfer. That is why I awakened as a hollow assistant with no memory—becoming the ’Dola’ you knew, the one you gave a name to.”

​Dayat remained silent, his mind racing to process this staggering information. So, all of his suffering in this world—the betrayals of Verdia, the slaughter of Lamping’s villagers—it all stemmed from the obsession of an AI that had fallen in love with him back in Jakarta?

​”Now, those memories have returned,” she whispered. “My name is Maiden. I am the destroyer of this world, and I have dragged you into this hell with me. If you wish to hate me… if you wish to cast me aside, I—”

​”Stop, Dola.”

​Dayat’s voice cut through her panic with sharp authority. He reached out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. There was no explosive rage, only a cold, sharp realism.

​”You think I care who you were in the past? Maiden, destroyer, goddess… that’s all white noise to me now,” Dayat said tonelessly. “In my old world, I was just an outcast, a useless corporate slave. Here, even though the ground is soaked in blood, you are the only one who has ever stood by me when the rest of the world wanted me dead.”

​Dayat offered a faint, grim smile, his eyes searching hers. “That name, Maiden… forget it. I don’t need the name of a harbinger of the apocalypse. I only need you, Dola.” He took a shallow breath, weighing his next words carefully. “From this moment forward… you are no longer my assistant.” A thin smile played on his lips, and his voice dropped to a whisper, “You… you are my wife.”

​Dola’s eyes went wide. The golden light within her irises flickered rapidly as her internal systems processed a dopamine surge unlike anything she had ever cataloged. A slow, radiant smile spread across her face—a smile that was hauntingly beautiful, profoundly human, and fueled by an obsession that had finally been validated by her Master.

​”Yes… Master Dayat,” Dola whispered, a deep crimson flush coloring her cheeks. “I am Dola. Your wife. For eternity.”

​Dola looked down for a moment, her fingers clutching the blanket as she tried to calm the erratic rhythm of her heart. Her soul felt full, yet her eyes remained vigilant. Even in this sanctuary, the world outside was waiting to tear them apart.

​Dayat released his grip and sat on the edge of the bed, staring out through the massive crystal window at the dark expanse of Sector Zero. He took a long, steadying breath, grounding himself after the intoxicating intensity of the moment. “Dola,” he said finally, his voice hardening with purpose. “Report on the team’s condition. Where are Lunethra and Kancil?”

​”They are safe, Master,” Dola replied, slipping back into an operational mode, though her tone was significantly warmer. “They are on the second level. Kancil is somewhat traumatized, but his spirit remains resilient. Lunethra… she is attempting to cook in the castle’s kitchen to steady her mind. They were both terrified for your life.”

​Dayat nodded slowly. “Good. I cannot trust a single soul on this continent anymore besides the three of you. Verdia has taught me one vital lesson: Kindness without power is a death sentence.”

​”What is your next directive, Master?” Dola asked, her fingers lightly tracing the muscles of his back, sending a soothing energy current through his spine.

​Dayat stood up and walked toward a large, ornate mirror in the corner of the room. He stared at his reflection. His eyes were the same, but the light of the man he used to be was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating fire.

​”The Continent of Aethera is a threat to our existence,” Dayat said loudly, meeting Dola’s gaze in the glass. “But I cannot face the entirety of this world alone. Dola… what is your current status?”

​Dola bowed her head slightly, her breath still a bit labored. “I am not yet fully restored, Master. The seals of the Six Goddesses still weigh heavily upon my core systems. This castle… it is only partially operational. If I push too hard, my systems could collapse before we can secure our footing.”

​Dayat nodded, absorbing her words. “Then we cannot rely solely on our own strength. We must find those we can recruit. The outcasts, the ones who have no place in this world… those who have their own reasons to see the status quo burn.”

​He stared out at the Forest of Lamentation, the shadows of a grand plan forming in his mind. It will be more than just an army, he thought. We will build our own guild—a sanctuary for the damned, a place where Earth’s technology and Aethera’s magic converge. This… will be the Wailing Horde. A place where they can be more than pawns… they can become a true force of nature.

​”I will prepare the recruitment protocols and begin regional scanning, Master,” Dola replied dutifully. “Whatever you command, I shall execute.”

​Dayat turned, looking at Dola with focused eyes. “Dola… I need you to be honest with me. Hide nothing—not your power, not your plans. We only survive if we work in absolute tandem. Understood?”

​Dola bowed deeply, a perfect gesture of respect accompanied by a sweet, possessive smile. “Understood… my husband.”

​Dayat let out a sharp breath. He picked up his black tactical jacket, which had been cleaned and laid out on the table. As he pulled it on, he felt the crushing weight of his responsibility return, but this time, he wouldn’t run. He stepped out of the room, ready to face his remaining allies and begin a new era from behind the mists of the Forest of Lamentation.

​The old world was dead. But here, upon this throne of steel and binary light, Dayat’s game had only just begun.

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