Wandering Tech-Priest in Multiverse
Chapter 92 – Arrival

As the Nexus Gateway was completed it sent Luthar and Liliruca away with no fanfare—no thunderclap, no blinding light—only the faint distortion of space folding in on itself for a split second.

The ceiling of the church vanished. In its place stretched an endless sky of harsh blue and a sun-bleached wasteland of sand and stone.

Luthar exhaled quietly, his boots crunching against cracked, sunbaked earth. A dry wind swept across the barren plain, dragging fine grains of sand against the edges of his robe. Above, the sun blazed like a cruel overseer, unblinking and indifferent. Distant mountains rose on the horizon like jagged teeth, framing the edge of the world.

Liliruca stumbled slightly, her cloak whipping behind her. She scanned the vast emptiness and muttered,

"This doesn't look… special."

"Don't assume anything," Luthar replied, his voice steady.

"First, we find someone to gather information."

His mechanical eye adjusted, scanning ambient radiation levels, magnetic resonance, and gravitational variance.

"No trace of magic or divine structures," he added. "At least not yet."

Liliruca shaded her eyes and squinted toward the far-off ridges.

"So… where do we go?"

Luthar didn't answer immediately. His mind was still calculating field data and orienting coordinates. Her voice broke his focus, and his tone turned sharp.

"You should've stayed behind. I trusted you to watch over everything—our Church and shops. now you're here, making this harder."

She crossed her arms.

"Relax. Hephaestus can take care of things. And you didn't exactly stop me."

He shot her a glare.

"Because the timing was critical. If I had hesitated—because of my busy schedule—if I had stopped that time, it's possible the trip would have been postponed for weeks."

Liliruca rolled her eyes and glanced around.

"Fine. Then where now? Because this sun is trying to murder me."

He didn't answer. The wind howled again, scattering dust and silence between them. Then, turning away, he said simply,

"Look for signs of habitation."

She sighed but followed, muttering,

"You're the expert. I'll just follow you."

He gave no reply, but the tightness in his shoulders said more than words.

They walked for over an hour. Eventually, Luthar released a pair of servo-skulls into the sky. The drones spiraled upward, scanning in expanding arcs. It didn't take long to detect a cluster of heat signatures—mobile, armed, and encamped near the base of a mountain ridge.

The first visual confirmed it: untrained, poorly organized. A group of ragged soldiers loitering around a camp filled with mismatched gear and battered vehicles.

He frowned slightly. Sloppy. Undisciplined. Possibly paramilitary. Probably not state-sanctioned. And judging by their outdated weapons, they posed no real threat.

Liliruca followed his gaze.

"Are those… guns?"

He gave a short nod.

"Yes. And from the looks, quite primitive guns."

Then added, more to himself than to her,

"Looks like we're on a version of Earth. Or something very close to it."

Her brow furrowed.

"Is that good or bad?"

He didn't answer right away. His mind was already sorting through the logistics. With most of his servo-skulls left behind to guard the church, his operational efficiency was limited. But these soldiers… they arrived like a gift from the Machine God. Bodies, knowledge, and equipment—all ready to be harvested. Crude, yes, but enough to rebuild what was missing. And perhaps enough to establish a base of operations for the night.

Luthar descended the slope slowly, each step measured. Sand shifted underfoot, and the wind pulled at the edges of his robe. Liliruca followed, a few steps behind, staying just to his left—alert, but silent.

As they neared the outskirts of the camp, the first sentries spotted them.

One of the men, lean and ragged with a battered AK slung low on his chest, raised a hand and barked in a sharp tongue. The other moved to flank him, already lowering the butt of his rifle into position.

Luthar raised his hand in a simple gesture—not a threat, not submission. Just presence.

The first man shouted again, louder this time.

"Stop!" Broken English, but understandable.

Luthar's mechanical eye adjusted, scanning the tension in their trigger fingers.

"We are travelers," he said calmly, his voice carrying with unforced authority.

"I require a conversation with your leader."

The two exchanged glances. The one on the left took a step forward, his rifle lifting slightly.

" this isn't a place for travelers. Now turn around, and I'll pretend I didn't see you."

Luthar tilted his head.

"I wasn't asking permission."

Feeling the pressure from the voice of Luthar

the man fired a single shot.

It struck Luthar squarely in the chest.

The bullet bounced away from his robes without leaving any mark.

The two sentries froze.

"Don't worry. It will be over soon," Luthar said.

Then he stepped forward, voice cold as the void.

"Now let's start the harvest."

A servo-skull dropped from above, its auspex eye glowing red. With a metallic shriek, it unleashed a dissonant frequency that made both men stagger. Luthar extended a hand to put them down gently.

As others noticed the commotion, the camp came alive. Shouts, scrambling boots, metal clattering.

One by one, a half-dozen armed men spilled from their tents, taking position behind sandbags and rusted trucks. One of them yelled into a radio while the rest raised their weapons with confused minds.

Then a larger man strode out from the main tent, wearing a heavy tactical vest and an air of authority.

He raised a hand and barked something in a language Luthar didn't recognize. After talking to his subordinates, the leader looked at Luthar—really looked.

The robes were strange, but it was the floating skull, trailing faint red optics and whispering static, that made his mouth go dry.

His voice cracked slightly as he stepped forward, trying to reassert control over a scene already lost.

"What… are you supposed to be?" His voice was loud enough for Luthar to hear from the distance.

"Messenger of the Machine God."

"Then you should go in that direction. This is not a place for worship."

"I decline," Luthar replies.

The leader, not wanting to continue, made a signal.

instantly, two RPGs launched from opposite flanks with a roar. Dozens of rifles opened fire in unison, a wall of bullets ripping through the space where Luthar stood. A grenade arced high into the air, aimed dead-center between him and Liliruca.

Too predictable.

Luthar took out a small cylindrical module no larger than a fist. He slammed it into the sand beside Liliruca before the first RPG landed.

BOOM!

The earth shook. Fire and shrapnel tore across the ridge.

But the shield flared to life—a translucent dome snapping around both of them just before the shockwave hit. Energy shimmered violently as bullets, debris, and heat pounded against its surface.

Liliruca gasped, half-stumbling back into him.

He didn't look at her. His mechanical eye pulsed once—calculating trajectories, targets, and positions.

The second RPG hit.

Another explosion.

Still standing.

From outside the shimmering field, one of the militants shouted something guttural—probably a command to flank. Others fired blindly, the muzzle flashes strobing across the ridge.

And through it all, Luthar didn't flinch.

The bullets didn't touch him. The flames didn't scorch him.

Inside the dome, Luthar raised a hand.

"Lily, you said to look closely. This will be a great experience to learn how to suppress this type of people."

He didn't shout. With a single mental command, the servo-skull at his shoulder pivoted sharply. Its optics flared red as it locked onto the source of the RPG fire.

A thin beam of high-intensity plasma lanced out—silent, instant. The launcher detonated in mid-grip, taking the militant with it in a violent, fiery bloom.

The servo-skull turned again, this time unleashing a sonic burst toward a cluster of riflemen taking cover behind a rusted truck. The sound wasn't audible to the normal ear—but its effect was immediate.

Three men screamed as their inner ears ruptured, blood running from their noses as they collapsed to the sand, twitching.

The gunfire faltered—not because they were out of ammunition, but because they could clearly see the shield stopping all the attacks.

Smoke drifted through the air in lazy, confused spirals. Shell casings cooled on the sand. No one dared speak. No one dared move.

Half of them hadn't even seen what hit them. The others had seen too much.

Behind the translucent shimmer of the shield, Luthar stood untouched, his robes barely rustled by the aftermath of explosions. The servo-skull hovered in eerie silence, smoke curling from the tip of its weapon. Liliruca was crouched close, eyes wide—not in fear, but awe.

One of the militants dropped his weapon. Another followed, whispering something like a prayer.

And then—

Luthar took one step forward, his voice steady, emotionless, and final:

"Great decision. Since you have surrendered in the name of the Omnissiah, I will grant you some mercy."

Author note : Well instead of hesitating thinking about what to write I decided to just write firm Iron Man 1 if I really need to write the mutant we can just add them.

 story is starting from Iron Man which is completely different from all my initial plan which was for him to arrive at the Avengers first movie.