Chapter 75: Chapter 75: A Breath in the Void

The heavy sliding door of the Crew Lounge hissed shut with a dull, resonant metallic thud that echoed briefly before being swallowed by the absolute, artificial silence of the chamber. Inside, the air was jarringly different from the humid, moss-laden atmosphere of the Root Way. It was bone-dry, sterile, and recycled—a scentless void that felt like a relic from another epoch.

Dayat exhaled a ragged breath, sliding his tactical backpack off his shoulders with a grunt of exhaustion. He leaned it against a cold, charcoal-gray composite panel. The rhythmic throbbing in his temples hadn’t subsided; the “binary handshake” from the vault’s entrance was still vibrating through his neural pathways, leaving behind a sharp, stinging residue of raw data.

“We are secure here for a temporary duration. My passive acoustic and thermal sensors do not detect any mechanical signatures within a fifty-meter radius,” Dola announced. She paced toward the center of the lounge, her electric-blue eyes performing a high-fidelity scan of the skeletal remains of metallic furniture, brittle and gray with the passage of eons.

Lunethra collapsed onto a long iron bench, her movements heavy and uncoordinated. The vibrant luster of her emerald eyes had dimmed significantly, a direct consequence of the “Mana Void” within the bunker. For an Elf, being trapped in the Vault of Binary was akin to being forced to run through a desert sandstorm without a drop of water. Every cell in her body was screaming for the natural resonance of the world that simply didn’t exist here.

“I can’t let you guys sleep on the cold metal like this,” Dayat muttered, looking at the floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. This time, he didn’t call for Dola’s computational assistance. He reached into his own reservoir of memories—simple, tactile things from his life back on Earth. He recalled the smell of nylon tents, the sound of an aluminum frame clicking into place, and the tension of stretched canvas. He visualized a portable camping setup he once saw at an outdoor gear shop in Jakarta before a trip to Mount Gede.

ZRAAAP!

Two folding camping beds and three thick, insulated sleeping bags materialized on the floor. The purple radiance of his manifestation was soft and dim, indicating that Dayat was using his base imagination, sparing himself the agonizing neural load of high-tier military logic.

“Go on, Lun. Lie down. I know the lack of Mana is hitting you hard,” Dayat said softly, helping the ancient Elf move toward the folding bed.

Lunethra touched the canvas fabric with a hesitant finger, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar texture. As she lowered her body onto it, her eyes widened slightly. The bed was firm yet yielding, supporting her weight in a way the hard stone or cold iron never could.

“This device… it is so light, yet it cradles my body with such grace. Dayat, every time you bring forth an object from your mind, I am reminded that your world must be a place where comfort is a sacred priority,” she whispered, her voice a raspy shadow of its former self.

“Well, humans where I’m from really hate being uncomfortable, Lun,” Dayat chuckled tiredly.

Kancil had already lunged onto the second bed, bouncing slightly. “Wah! Big Bro! This is crazier than a stack of jute sacks in Bakasa! I could sleep all the way to Verdia on this thing!”

“Eat something first, Kancil. Don’t go to sleep on an empty stomach,” Dayat interjected, pulling out the rations.

They began to unwrap the supplies King Ironbeard had provided. Dwarven High-Calorie Rations. Dayat took a bite of the bland, brick-like substance and chewed with difficulty. It felt like eating compressed clay mixed with chalk—utterly dry and taxing on the jaw. To make it palatable, they paired it with dried Dwarven sun-fruits, which had a sharp, tangy acidity that forced the saliva to flow.

“Man, I’d kill for a plate of Nasi Padang right now,” Dayat groaned, washing the dry crumbs down with water from his ceramic filter.

Dola sat beside him, folding her legs with a poise that felt both elegant and unsettlingly precise. Under the dimmed glow of their LED headlamps, she looked incredibly real. Dayat noticed the fine, microscopic pores on her skin, the subtle map of veins on the back of her hands, and the warmth radiating from her as their arms brushed. If Dayat didn’t know her origins—that she began as a localized AI on his smartphone—he would have sworn she was a human woman. Yet, the way she didn’t blink quite enough and the rhythmic sapphire pulse of her eyes during data processing served as a constant reminder of the mystery she carried.

Lunethra, lying on her side, watched Dayat with an intense, searching gaze. “Dayat… your home. Honestly, I have felt it since the beginning. Your soul, your Mana… it has no resonance with the elements of Aethera. But you have never told us the whole story. You have never told us about ’Jakarta’.”

Dayat went silent, swirling the remaining water in his bottle. Kancil, who had been aggressively attacking a Dwarven biscuit, froze, his ears practically twitching in anticipation.

“I come from a place called Jakarta. It’s a city. And there… there is no magic. None at all,” Dayat began. His voice was low, carrying a weight of nostalgia that seemed to fill the sterile room. “No Elves, no Dwarves, no dragons. Just people. Billions of us.”

“No magic? Then how did Big Bro learn to make all these cool things?” Kancil asked, his eyes sparkling with wonder.

“We used logic. Science. Technology. We don’t need a spell to create fire; we use gas and igniters. We don’t need messenger birds to send words across the ocean; we use small boxes that can transmit a voice to the other side of the planet in a second. Dola… she is the pinnacle of that technology.”

Dayat continued his story, describing skyscrapers that pierced the clouds like steel needles, iron birds that carried hundreds of people across the seas, and city lights so bright they made the night feel like high noon. Kancil listened with his jaw practically unhinged, imagining a world where humanity conquered the elements through thought alone. Lunethra listened with a thin, soft smile, finding a strange comfort in Dayat’s honesty.

“It is no wonder you value the small things so deeply, Dayat. In a world without magic, every object you create is the result of a human mind’s sheer will and hard-earned labor,” Lunethra whispered. She tried to sit up slightly, reaching out to offer a light massage to Dayat’s temples. “Here, let me help steady your thoughts. The Elven way of calming the mind doesn’t always require Mana…”

But before Lunethra’s fingers could touch his hair, Dola had already shifted. With a movement that was surgically efficient, she slid between Dayat and the Elf, effectively blocking Lunethra’s reach.

“Biometric analysis indicates that Master Dayat requires sensory stability without unmeasured external intervention,” Dola stated, her voice flat, but her sapphire eyes were locked onto Lunethra with a sharp, defensive intensity. “Physical contact from the Elven unit may trigger unpredictable fluctuations in the Master’s current unstable body temperature. I will assume the role of the primary caregiver.”

Lunethra huffed, her eyes narrowing. “You are incredibly protective, machine.”

“I do what is necessary for the Master’s efficiency,” Dola countered coldly. She then turned to Dayat and, with a movement that was surprisingly soft—almost tender—she guided Dayat’s head to rest on her shoulder. “Lean here, Dayat. My shoulder padding has been adjusted to the optimal firmness for the relaxation of your cervical muscles.”

Dayat didn’t fight it. Truthfully, he felt safer with Dola. Her scent—which somehow mimicked the smell of rain on a cool morning—seemed to dull the ache in his head. He closed his eyes, feeling the physical warmth of her synthetic skin against his cheek.

Kancil, watching the scene while munching on his rations, simply shook his head. “Sister Dola, why is your face… glowing a little bit when Big Bro leans on you? Did a circuit short-circuit because of the heat?”

Dola didn’t answer. She only allowed a tiny, triumphant smirk to ghost across her lips as she looked at Lunethra—a small victory in their ongoing silent war.

To break the growing awkwardness, Dayat reached for his digital music box. “I need something that can actually ground me.”

He tapped the touchscreen. A familiar piano melody began to flow, followed by the soft, melancholic strumming of an acoustic guitar. The song “My Heart” by Acha Septriasa and Irwansyah filled the Crew Lounge.

“Di sini kau dan aku… terbiasa bersama… menjalani kasih sayang… bahagia selamanya…”

The romantic, haunting duet felt incredibly alien yet strangely perfect within the ancient technology of the bunker. Dayat began to hum along with the lyrics, while Lunethra listened with rapt attention.

“Bila aku mati… kau juga mati… walau ini hanya… di dalam mimpi…”

“The melody is beautiful,” Lunethra said after a long silence. “I do not understand a single word, and yet… it touches something inside.”

Dayat looked at her through half-closed eyes. “That is Indonesian. The language of my world,” he said softly. “You don’t need to understand the words. Sometimes, the melody does all the talking.”

Silence reclaimed the room, but this time, it felt warm. In the middle of a Mana-void and the threat of cold, mechanical sentinels, these four vastly different beings found a moment of profound peace. Dayat fell asleep on Dola’s shoulder, Dola guarded him with a possessive vigilance, Lunethra finally drifted into a restful slumber on the soft bed, and Kancil felt like the safest kid in the world just being near them.

That night—or whatever the subterranean clock considered night—they didn’t feel like fugitives. They were simply wanderers resting between two worlds, waiting for a dawn they hoped to see once again.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep