Chapter 5

  Ethan stared at the motionless wolf, his core pulsing in quiet contemplation. The fight had been short, brutal, and far closer than he would’ve liked. His combat golem had won, but not because it was well-designed—far from it. It had survived because he had been shoving mana into it nonstop, reinforcing it moment by moment. Without that? It probably would’ve fallen apart after a few solid hits.

  That was a problem.

  He pulled up his status, and sure enough, there it was:

  [New Blueprint Created: Primitive Combat Golem]

  He examined the schematic, and the flaws were glaring. The joints were too rigid, meaning movement had been inefficient and clunky. The weight distribution was uneven, making it unstable in rapid maneuvers. The jaw mechanism, while strong enough to bite down, lacked any actual gripping power beyond raw force. And worst of all, it burned through mana like a leaking furnace.

  “This thing is a disaster,” Ethan muttered.

  Chip floated nearby, pulsing smugly. “I was wondering when you’d notice.”

  Ethan sighed. “Go on. Say it.”

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Chip.”

  “Fine, fine! I you combat units were important. But nooo, you wanted to focus on utility first.”

  Ethan ignored the jab, instead focusing on the blueprint. “It’s not just the combat issue. This thing was practically falling apart the moment I stopped feeding it mana. I didn’t bind the plates together properly, the structural integrity is a joke, and the mobility—don’t even get me started.”

  Chip bobbed in agreement. “Yeah, you basically brute-forced it into working. The only reason it held up is because you were dumping mana into it the whole fight.”

  That wasn’t going to work long-term. If every combat unit needed constant micromanagement just to stay functional, he’d be dead the moment he had to deal with more than one enemy at a time.

  He pulsed thoughtfully. “So I need to rethink my entire approach.”

  Chip flickered. “Probably. But look on the bright side—you made that fought and won. That’s still progress.”

  “Sloppy, inefficient progress.”

  “Hey, it’s better than nothing.”

  Ethan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied the primitive combat golem blueprint, cataloging every flaw. He needed to make improvements. Less mana reliance, better structural integrity, and an actual combat function beyond ‘bite down and hope for the best.’

  ___________________________________________________________________

  Ethan pulsed with determination. If his dungeon was going to survive, he needed to approach this like an engineer—not just slap things together and hope they worked.

  "Alright," he said, "first things first. Structural integrity. The frame needs to be properly reinforced, but without making it so heavy that it moves like a rock with legs."

  Chip hummed. "Metal's dense, so yeah, just piling on armor will slow it down. Maybe look at the scavenger golem’s improvements—its frame got stronger without getting bulkier, right?"

  Ethan considered that. The Improved Scavenger Golem’s metal weave had been a game-changer, increasing durability without overloading the frame. He could adapt that to his combat golem, creating a denser, interlocking structure instead of just layering on more raw metal.

  "That takes care of stability," Ethan said. "Now for movement. The joints need to be flexible but strong, and I need a better center of gravity. A lower stance, maybe?"

  Chip flickered. "If you're going for something more stable, four legs might be better than two."

  Ethan paused. "That… actually makes sense. A quadrupedal frame would distribute weight better and reduce the risk of toppling over. It'd also make dodging and quick turns easier."

  "Exactly! Plus, four legs means if one gets damaged, it's not immediately out of the fight."

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  Ethan filed that away and moved to the next issue: offense. The primitive golem’s bite had been its only real attack, and it had been more brute force than actual design. He needed something that wasn’t just effective, but repeatable—something the golem could reliably use without him having to micromanage.

  "Claws," Ethan decided. "Simple, efficient, and they don’t rely on leverage the way a jaw does."

  Chip pulsed approvingly. "Ooh, now we're talking. Slashing attacks instead of just biting down and hoping for the best."

  "And maybe some kind of modular system," Ethan mused. "If I make the claws detachable, I could eventually swap them out for different weapons depending on what I need."

  Chip buzzed with excitement. "Okay, I hate to admit it, but that actually sounds really cool."

  Ethan let his mana flow through the new design, refining it in his mind. A quadrupedal combat golem, built for stability and speed, reinforced with a dense metal weave for durability. Instead of a crude bite attack, it would have sharpened claws designed to tear through flesh and armor alike. Its joints would be more refined, allowing for smoother movement, and it would require far less manual reinforcement from him.

  As he finalized the blueprint, a system notification flickered in his vision.

  [New Blueprint Created: Combat Strider Golem]

  Ethan's core pulsed with satisfaction. Now this—this was a proper defender

  ___________________________________________________________________

  Ethan watched as the newly-formed Combat Strider Golem moved, analyzing every subtle shift in its stance. It was still adjusting to its form, testing each joint, each limb, each subtle nuance of motion. Already, it was leagues ahead of his previous attempt.

  Where the Primitive Combat Golem had been slow and inefficient, the Strider moved with an unsettling fluidity. Its sharpened claws clicked lightly against the cavern floor, and the reinforced plating along its limbs didn’t seem to hinder its movement in the slightest. Even its balance—one of the biggest weaknesses in the original design—felt far more stable.

  Chip flickered beside him. "Alright, I’ll admit it—this one actually looks like it was made on purpose."

  Ethan pulsed smugly. "It was made on purpose. The last one was just slapped together in a panic."

  "Yeah, no kidding." Chip bobbed in the air. "But here’s the real question: how well does it fight?"

  Ethan hummed, turning his awareness toward the wolf’s corpse. It had already started cooling, the mana within it dissipating. He hadn’t absorbed it yet, instead leaving it as an impromptu test subject.

  "Let’s find out."

  He sent a command, and the Combat Strider reacted instantly. It lunged forward—not with the awkward, clunky movement of its predecessor, but with a swift, precise motion. Its claws sliced through the dead wolf’s hide with almost no resistance, raking deep gashes into the flesh.

  Chip pulsed in approval. "Not bad. Looks like you finally figured out how to make something that doesn’t fight like a drunk beetle."

  Ethan ignored the jab, focusing on the energy expenditure. The Strider’s movements were sharp, but they weren’t wasteful. It wasn’t bleeding mana with every step, nor did it require him to constantly reinforce it mid-action. It was stable.

  Still, there was room for improvement.

  He noted a few inefficiencies—the joints, while far better, still had minor resistance in fast-paced motions. The claws, while sharp, weren’t optimized for deeper penetration. He could refine the plating further, maybe adjust the weight distribution just a bit more.

  And then there was the real problem: energy sustainment.

  Even with all these improvements, the Strider still ran entirely off his mana. He needed a way to make his constructs less dependent on his direct supply. Right now, every unit he created drained a portion of his reserves just by existing. The more he made, the more he’d struggle to keep them running.

  He pulsed thoughtfully. "Chip, how do dungeons usually maintain their creatures?"

  Chip flickered. "Depends on the affinity. Elemental dungeons have it easy—fire dungeons, for example, can just siphon energy straight from their surroundings. Beast dungeons do it naturally since their creatures are semi-living. But you? You’re dealing with constructs, which means you’ve gotta be smart about it."

  Ethan considered that. His creatures weren’t organic, so they wouldn’t naturally regenerate like a living thing would. And he couldn’t rely on an elemental energy source, since metal wasn’t as self-sustaining as something like fire or water.

  That left two options: improve their efficiency to the point where upkeep was negligible, or give them an independent power source.

  The first option was ideal, but there were limits to how much he could optimize before hitting a wall. No matter how efficient he made them, they’d always require energy.

  Which meant the second option was worth exploring.

  His core pulsed with determination. "I need to experiment with power sources."

  Chip tilted slightly. "Oh? You got something in mind?"

  Ethan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his attention to the remains of the scavenger golem. It had been damaged in the earlier attack, but its core components were still intact. The scanner, in particular, had been a breakthrough—he’d managed to replicate and integrate it into his designs with barely any loss in functionality.

  What if he could do the same with a power source?

  His core pulsed with excitement. If he could create a self-contained mana battery—something that could store and release energy on its own—then his constructs wouldn’t need a constant feed from him. They could run independently for longer periods, only needing recharges rather than continuous upkeep.

  It wouldn’t be easy. Mana batteries weren’t something he’d ever worked with before. But then again, neither was dungeon engineering. And he was figuring that out just fine.

  Chip pulsed in amusement. "You’ve got that ‘mad scientist’ vibe again. Should I be worried?"

  Ethan hummed. "Maybe. But if this works, I won’t have to micromanage every single golem I make."

  Chip flickered. "Well, I’m all for watching you suffer, so go for it."

  Ethan turned his attention back to his dungeon. His combat unit was functional, his scavenger model was improving, and his core chamber was more secure than before. But this was only the beginning.

  If he could create a stable energy system, his entire dungeon would change.

  And that was a challenge he was more than willing to take on.