"Commander!"
Lock turned as the guards at the door saluted him sharply.
"Yes, I'll handle this," he replied with a faint nod, motioning for them to remain at their posts.
He stepped through the reinforced door and into the wide, metal-scented corridor of Hanji Zoe's experimental laboratory.
The sound hit him first — the chaotic rhythm of clanking gears, valves hissing, and Hanji's rapid-fire muttering that never seemed to end.
Inside, under the glaring light of oil lamps, Hanji Zoe was pacing back and forth, her coat thrown aside, her hair a chaotic storm as she scribbled equations across a chalkboard already filled to the edges.
"No, no, that can't be right!"
"The fuel-to-pressure ratio's still off by three degrees—no, four! Wait, is it the piston alignment again?"
"Or maybe the condensation channel's too narrow! No, that's impossible, I accounted for that already—agh!"
Her assistant, Moblit Berner, stood nearby with his ever-present notebook, scribbling notes at a frantic pace while simultaneously dodging flying bolts and tools.
"Commander Lock," Moblit whispered as soon as he noticed him, but Lock raised a hand silently, signaling him not to interrupt.
He stepped closer, quietly observing the contraption dominating the center of the room—a massive steam engine, thick pipes coiling from its brass frame, hissing softly like a living beast. The walls around it were dark with soot. The faint hum of pressure built and released in small bursts, like shallow breaths.
So she really did it, Lock thought, eyes glinting with admiration.
When he had first described the concept to her—a "machine that breathes heat to create power"—he hadn't expected Hanji to take it as a personal crusade.
And yet, she had.
It was crude and heavy, far from efficient—but it was real.
And that was all that mattered.
The hardest step had already been taken.
Paradis Island's first machine of the industrial era was born.
"Why won't it work!" Hanji cried out suddenly, gripping her hair and glaring at the machine as though her anger could power it.
"Everything's correct! The equations, the angles, the alignment—it's perfect! So why won't you move the way you're supposed to?!"
Lock watched her silently, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
He could see what she couldn't: exhaustion, hunger, and a stubborn brilliance that refused to yield. Hanji's eyes were bloodshot, her voice hoarse, yet she refused to rest.
The mad scientist of the Corps, he thought. And the spark of Paradis's future.
Moblit looked like he wanted to speak, but when Lock caught his eye and shook his head, he understood immediately. Better to let Hanji reach the realization herself.
Moments later, she spun toward him, startled.
"Lock! How long have you been standing there?!"
"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever notice me," Lock replied with a teasing smirk. "It seems I hold a rather important place in your mind after all."
Hanji blinked, then laughed—a bright, unrestrained sound that broke through the tension. "Don't flatter yourself! I was just… busy!"
But even as she said it, her expression shifted. Something clicked behind her eyes.
"I—wait—wait a second!" she gasped, spinning back toward the machine. "Moblit! Bring the toolbox! And call in the metalworkers from Workshop Three—right now!"
"Yes, Commander!" Moblit darted off without hesitation, knowing from experience that when Hanji got that particular tone of voice, the fate of their equipment—and possibly his sanity—depended on speed.
Lock stood where he was, watching as the room transformed into organized chaos. Hanji barked orders, engineers hurried in, tools clattered, pipes were twisted, realigned, sealed again. It was as though the air itself had come alive with her energy.
And Lock simply observed, the faint hiss of the steam filling his mind like a heartbeat.
So this is how it begins.
The birth of power—not Titan, not divine, but human. A creation forged by will and intellect alone.
He could already see it: trains roaring across Paradis Island, airships drifting above the plains, factories glowing through the night.
Civilization reborn not through blood, but through steam.
The Steam Age, he thought. The first revolution of man.
But even as pride stirred in him, Lock's mind never stopped calculating.
Marley's technology was still decades ahead—electricity, automatic rifles, airships, steel artillery. By comparison, Paradis was just learning to crawl.
But it was learning.
And that was enough.
"If Marley's reached the age of industry," he murmured, "then this island still has time. Time to catch up... and surpass them."
He thought back to the world's imbalance—Marley's dependence on Titan power had crippled its scientific growth. Their technology was advanced, but uneven. Their arrogance left cracks wide enough to exploit.
Lock's gaze sharpened. And I'll use every one of them.
For the next hour, the laboratory was alive with the sound of progress.
Hanji worked like a conductor at the center of an orchestra—hands moving, mind blazing, voice ringing with instructions that only she could understand. Lock watched her work, half in awe, half in concern.
By the time Moblit returned, drenched in sweat and soot, the final adjustments were complete.
"Fuel ready!" one of the engineers shouted.
"Pressure valve secured!" cried another.
Hanji stood before the machine, trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the exhaustion of three sleepless nights.
"Everyone, step back."
Lock obeyed, folding his arms as the others did the same.
Hanji reached for the ignition lever.
Her fingers hesitated for half a breath—then pulled.
A low hum filled the air.
The fuel chamber flared with light.
Then—hiss—clang—whir.
The pistons began to move. Slowly at first, then faster. The metal wheels turned, releasing a deep rhythmic pulse that echoed through the laboratory.
The room fell silent, everyone watching the machine as if afraid to breathe.
Then, with a roar of steam, it came fully alive.
The first steam engine on Paradis Island had begun to move.
Hanji froze. Then her eyes widened, mouth parting in wonder.
"It's… working."
For a second, disbelief hung in the air.
Then she screamed. "It's working! We did it!"
The lab erupted in cheers. Engineers shouted. Moblit threw his notebook into the air and actually laughed. Someone cried from pure relief.
Hanji spun, face radiant, tears and soot mixing across her cheeks.
"Lock! It's a success! We succeeded!"
Before Lock could react, she rushed at him, flinging her arms around his shoulders. He barely caught her before she collided with him, her laughter bubbling against his chest.
"We really did it," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "Finally… success…"
Her words trailed off, her weight suddenly shifting.
Lock glanced down.
She was asleep.
Just like that, Hanji Zoe—the mad genius who hadn't slept in three days—had passed out mid-celebration, a faint smile still lingering on her lips.
Moblit rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Commander Hanji hasn't slept in seventy-two hours. She said she wouldn't stop until it worked."
Lock sighed softly, though his eyes were warm. "Of course she did."
Moblit quickly ushered the engineers out, giving them a discreet signal to leave the room. Within minutes, the lab was empty—quiet except for the steady hum of the machine.
Lock looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms. For once, his calculating mind fell silent.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.
"You've done enough, Hanji. Thank you… for carrying this burden."
She stirred faintly, her lips curling into a small, peaceful smile, as though she'd heard him in her dreams.
Lock stood there a long time, the soft sound of the engine filling the silence—a promise of what was to come.
Outside, the first smoke of the new age rose into the sky above Wall Rose.
And somewhere far beyond it, beyond the horizon and the ocean, Marley was already on the move.
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San