Chapter 6

  Ethan’s core pulsed with excitement. A mana battery. A self-contained power source. Something that would stop his constructs from sucking him dry like a pack of starving leeches.

  It was a brilliant idea.

  It was also completely theoretical and based on zero practical experience.

  “…This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?” Ethan muttered.

  Chip bobbed cheerfully. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t let that stop you.”

  Ethan sighed. “Great. Love the vote of confidence.”

  Still, he had to try. If he didn’t figure out a way to make his constructs less needy, he’d be stuck babysitting them for eternity. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a glorified mana dispenser.

  He turned his attention back to the remains of the scavenger golem. Maybe he could start with a small prototype—something simple, something stable. Just a tiny mana storage unit to see if the idea even worked.

  He pulled some of the leftover metal scraps together, forming a rough casing. Then, he carefully funneled a small amount of mana inside, trying to get it to stay put.

  It did not stay put.

  The moment he stopped actively holding it in place, the mana fizzled out like a candle in a storm.

  Chip hummed. “Well. That was depressing.”

  Ethan pulsed in irritation. “Yeah, thanks. I noticed.”

  Okay, clearly just stuffing mana inside a shell wasn’t going to cut it. He needed a way to it—something that would keep it from leaking out the moment he looked away.

  He considered his options. From what little he knew, mana tended to follow pathways. It needed structure, guidance—something to hold it in place, like a riverbank guiding water.

  Maybe… maybe if he wove an internal framework inside the battery, he could trap the energy within it?

  He reformed the metal casing, this time shaping delicate channels within the structure itself. The idea was simple: mana would flow into the channels and circulate, preventing it from dispersing too quickly.

  He tried again, carefully feeding mana into the newly-formed prototype. This time, it stayed inside. Not perfectly—there was still a slow leak—but it was a start.

  Chip pulsed in surprise. “Huh. You might actually be onto something.”

  Ethan preened. “Of course I am. I’m a genius.”

  “You also built a combat golem that nearly fell apart mid-fight.”

  Ethan’s core dimmed slightly. “We don’t talk about that.”

  Chip flickered in amusement but didn’t push further.

  Ethan focused on refining the design. He tweaked the internal pathways, adjusting the flow to slow down the energy loss. With each adjustment, the mana inside lingered a little longer. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was proof of concept.

  He had a working mana battery.

  Sure, it was probably the dungeon core equivalent of duct-taping a car engine together, but hey, progress was progress.

  Chip hummed. “So, what now? You slap that thing into a golem and hope for the best?”

  Ethan considered it. Theoretically, if he attached one of these batteries to a construct, it would function longer without constantly siphoning mana from him. But how much power could it store? How long would it last before needing a recharge? Would it explode if overfilled?

  All very important questions.

  “…I need a test subject.”

  Chip tilted. “You a test subject.”

  Ethan’s core pulsed in confusion before realizing what Chip meant.

  The scavenger golem.

  It was already damaged from the wolf attack, so worst-case scenario? It exploded, and he’d just have to rebuild it.

  Best-case scenario? He’d revolutionize dungeon construct engineering and pat himself on the back for being an absolute genius.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  With that in mind, he got to work.

  ___________________________________________________________________

  Ethan pulsed in satisfaction as he finished forming the battery. It was crude, barely tested, and might explode if he wasn’t careful—but hey, progress!

  Chip hovered beside him, flickering uncertainly. “Sooo… what’s your success rate with prototypes again?”

  Ethan hummed. “Uh. Define success.”

  “Not exploding.”

  “…Fifty-fifty.”

  Chip made a strangled buzzing noise. “You are the worst dungeon I’ve ever met.”

  Ethan chuckled and turned his attention to the scavenger golem he had dragged back from the tunnels. The poor thing had seen better days. One of its legs was bent at an angle that suggested either a malfunction or a particularly violent attempt at breakdancing. The plating was scratched, dented, and—oh yeah—it was completely offline.

  He pried open its internal mana channels, wedging the mana battery into place as delicately as possible. “Alright, moment of truth.”

  He pulsed a command, activating the battery.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the scavenger gave a violent twitch and let out a high-pitched whine, not unlike a very startled kettle.

  Chip jerked back. “Did you just resurrect it or curse it?”

  Ethan quickly adjusted the mana flow, and the golem settled into a steady hum. He watched as its optics flickered back to life, its limbs twitching slightly before stabilizing. The mana battery was working—no external input required.

  He grinned. “Ha! It’s alive.”

  Chip gave him a long, exasperated look. “You are way too happy about this.”

  Ethan ignored him, watching as the scavenger took a cautious step forward. It didn’t collapse. It didn’t shut down. It didn’t violently combust.

  This was actual, functional progress.

  He pulsed triumphantly. “Alright, let’s see how long this thing runs.”

  Now all he had to do was make sure it didn’t suddenly turn into a mobile bomb

  __

  The scavenger golem lasted longer than Ethan expected—nearly four hours of continuous operation. It moved through the tunnels, occasionally pausing as if unsure of what to do, but otherwise performing as expected.

  Then, just as Ethan was starting to feel confident, the battery flared. A sudden burst of mana surged through the construct, overloading its circuits. The scavenger jerked violently before collapsing, smoke curling from its inner wiring. Ethan rushed to inspect it, but the damage was already done. The internal components were fried beyond repair.

  He sighed. “Well, that could’ve gone better.”

  Chip flickered. “Could’ve gone worse. At least it didn’t explode.”

  Ethan hummed in reluctant agreement. The concept was sound, but the execution needed refinement. The battery clearly wasn’t stable under prolonged use. It either leaked mana too quickly or, as he’d just seen, built up energy until it burned itself out. Either way, it wasn’t viable yet.

  “Alright,” Ethan muttered, pulling up the failed design. “I need a way to regulate the flow better. Less sudden build-up, more steady release.”

  Chip bobbed beside him. “That’s probably going to take some trial and error. In the meantime, you should figure out a way to recharge them manually. Even a stopgap solution is better than nothing.”

  Ethan considered that. It wasn’t ideal, but until he perfected the design, he needed something practical. If he created a manual recharge method—something that let him top off the batteries when needed—it would buy him time to work on a more permanent fix.

  With that in mind, he focused on modifying the battery. Instead of trying to make it completely self-sufficient right away, he integrated a simple external connection point. This would allow him to manually recharge depleted batteries by feeding them controlled bursts of mana, preventing them from burning out entirely.

  After a few more refinements, he was ready to move on. The scavenger had already proven the utility of the scanner—it had noticed the wolf before Ethan himself had. That gave him an idea.

  The next version of the Combat Strider wouldn’t just be a fighter. It would be an advanced unit, one that could hunt and detect enemies before they got too close.

  He started integrating the scanner directly into the Strider’s frame, mounting it within its reinforced plating. If this worked, the Strider wouldn’t just be a better fighter—it would be able to track threats, predict movement, and react faster than a normal construct.

  “Alright,” Ethan murmured, finalizing the schematic. “Let’s see what this thing can really do.”

  __________

  Ethan pulsed with satisfaction as he reviewed the final blueprint. His previous designs had all been specialized—one for combat, one for scavenging—but that was a limitation he couldn’t afford anymore. His dungeon was too small to sustain a large number of constructs, and if each one had a singular role, he’d be stretching his resources too thin.

  That’s where this new design came in.

  The Omni-Strider Mark I.

  A fusion of the Combat Strider and the Scavenger Golem, built to handle both roles without sacrificing efficiency. It would be his first true multi-role construct—a unit that could fight when needed and scavenge when the dungeon was quiet.

  Ethan pulsed with satisfaction as he examined the nearly completed Omni Strider Mark I. Unlike his previous designs, this wasn’t a specialized unit bound to a single role—it was versatile, built to handle both scavenging and combat with equal efficiency.

  Its quadrupedal frame allowed for swift, stable movement, designed to traverse rough terrain with ease. Unlike the bulkier scavengers, the Omni Strider was sleeker, able to maneuver quickly without sacrificing durability. The joints had been further refined, allowing for smooth, almost fluid motion, making it far more agile than its predecessors.

  The integrated scanner was its most valuable upgrade. Adapted from the scavenger model, it allowed the Strider to detect threats and resources with precision. This meant it wouldn’t just react to danger—it could anticipate it. The scavenger golem had noticed the wolf long before Ethan had, and now that same awareness was built into a combat-capable unit.

  Its claws weren’t just for fighting, either. While deadly in combat, they were also reinforced for practical use—capable of dismantling debris and even mining softer ores. Ethan had also added a compact storage compartment within the frame, smaller than a scavenger golem’s but enough to carry gathered materials back to the core.

  Finally, the mana battery. After refining the design, Ethan had stabilized the energy flow, preventing the flare-ups that had ruined the first prototype. It still required manual recharging for now, but that was an acceptable limitation—at least until he found a better solution.

  With its blend of mobility, combat capability, and resource gathering, the Omni Strider Mark I was more than just another construct. It was a step toward something greater—true dungeon automation.

  Now, all that was left was seeing how well it performed.