Ethan stood over the scattered remains of what was once an enchanted longsword, gears whirring in his mind as he analyzed every shattered fragment. The system had given him the ability to deconstruct and replicate items, but so far, it was proving to be trickier than he’d hoped. The process wasn’t as simple as just breaking an object down and magically remaking it—there were layers to it. The enchantments, the craftsmanship, even the materials played a role, and his dungeon’s current capabilities weren’t enough to perfectly recreate everything yet.
He glanced at the system window floating before him.
[Deconstruction Complete: Enchanted Longsword]
- Structural Composition: 98% replicated.
- Enchantment Analysis: Incomplete. Insufficient Mana Control.
Chip clicked his nonexistent tongue. “Tsk. Guess you're not a master enchanter yet, huh?”
Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, I figured. So what’s the issue? My mana’s not refined enough?”
“Basically. The sword’s physical structure? No problem. But enchantments? They require precise mana weaving, and right now, you’re about as refined as a toddler trying to draw runes with a rock.”
Not the most encouraging comparison. But not wrong either.
He set the sword pieces aside and turned to the next batch of loot: armor pieces, a bow, some strange alchemical vials, and a few trinkets that might have some latent magic. All of these were worth studying. Even if he couldn’t replicate them yet, breaking them down gave him insight into how they worked—and what he needed to improve.
Still, gear wasn’t his only priority. His constructs needed an upgrade.
The Combat Striders had proven themselves, but they were built with efficiency in mind, not overwhelming strength. The Omni Striders had been invaluable, balancing combat and scavenging, but there was room for improvement. He needed to integrate better defenses, possibly even some kind of modular weapon system. The thought of his constructs wielding weaponry rather than just relying on claws and mobility sent a thrill through him.
More than that, he needed to refine his dungeon.
With his increased mana and expanded domain, he could add more rooms, more traps, and better infrastructure. He was done with just having a glorified tunnel network—it was time to build something real.
____
First, the dungeon itself.
Ethan pulled up his mental blueprint of the layout. Right now, it was little more than a warren of tunnels and makeshift rooms, effective in a chaotic, jury-rigged sort of way, but nowhere near the kind of structured death trap he wanted. He could do better.
The entrance needed fortifications—stone walls reinforced with metal plating to prevent someone from simply smashing their way in. He envisioned a layered defense: an outer chamber designed to funnel intruders into a narrow corridor, forcing them into chokepoints while his constructs whittled them down. The tunnels themselves could be better shaped too, transitioning from haphazard digging to carefully structured passages with built-in ambush points and retractable barriers.
Traps would be the next major step. The crude pitfalls and collapsing sections he’d used against Ryn’s group had been effective, but he could make them more sophisticated. Weighted pressure plates that would only activate under specific conditions, spring-loaded spear traps, maybe even some kind of gas dispersal mechanism if he could figure out how to replicate the alchemical vials he’d taken from the invaders.
"Alright," Ethan muttered, flexing his control over the dungeon. "Time to get to work."
The first phase was expanding his core chamber and solidifying the entrance. He focused, directing his mana through the walls, reinforcing them with additional layers of stone and metal. It was slow, painstaking work, but with his increased mana capacity, he could sustain the effort for longer without exhausting himself.
The entrance widened into a proper antechamber, a place where intruders could step inside before realizing they were already trapped. He shaped the floors and walls, smoothing rough sections and adding subtle design choices that would make it look more natural while secretly guiding movement. If someone entered unaware, they wouldn’t realize they were walking straight into a kill zone until it was too late.
With the main structure shaping up, he moved to the next step: integrating his constructs into the defenses.
The two Combat Striders took up positions at key junctions, their sharpened claws ready to tear apart anything that crossed their paths. The Omni Strider was positioned strategically as well, its integrated scanner giving it the ability to double as both a patrol unit and an active combatant. It wasn’t as specialized as the Combat Striders, but its ability to dismantle and mine also meant it could quickly reshape the battlefield if necessary, breaking down walls or terrain to cut off enemy retreats or open up new pathways for ambushes.
As he worked, Chip hummed thoughtfully. “Y’know, if you keep this up, you’re going to have one of the nastiest low-tier dungeons around. Most places don’t get this level of thought put into them until much later.”
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Ethan smirked. “Good. That means when people come in expecting easy loot, they’ll be in for a surprise.”
Chip chuckled. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Ethan just kept working, piece by piece, trap by trap. His dungeon wasn’t just some random monster-infested cave. It was his domain. His home.
And he was going to make sure anyone who entered without permission regretted it.
____
Ethan floated within his core chamber, mind racing as he visualized the construct design in his interface. He didn't have hands to tap impatiently, but the thought was there. His melee constructs had performed well, but the battle with Ryn's group made one thing painfully clear—he lacked ranged firepower. If an intruder had enough speed or numbers, they could overwhelm his forces before his golems even got a chance to engage properly. That needed to change.
The simplest solution was attaching crossbows or launchers to his existing designs. But that felt... sloppy. He needed a construct specifically designed for ranged combat. Something that could reposition quickly, track targets, and actually aim instead of just spraying projectiles in a straight line and hoping for the best.
He pulled up a schematic in his interface and started experimenting.
The base frame was similar to the Combat Strider—four legs for mobility, a lightweight but reinforced body, and a low center of gravity for stability. Instead of claws, the front limbs were designed to hold mounted weapons. His first attempt was a crude spring-loaded bolt launcher. It was simple, relying on tension and release, but the first test shot embedded itself deep into a wall.
Promising. But it wasn’t enough.
Reloading was the next issue. A single-shot mechanism wouldn’t cut it in an actual fight. He needed something that could cycle multiple projectiles efficiently. After several frustrating failures—including one where a misaligned gear sent a bolt ricocheting wildly through his dungeon—he finally devised a rotating feed mechanism. The system automatically loaded the next bolt from an internal storage compartment, making it capable of sustained fire without needing constant reloading.
It wasn’t perfect. The targeting system still needed refinement—right now, it was just firing in a set pattern rather than actively tracking moving targets. Integrating his scanner technology, like what he’d used for the Omni Strider, might solve that problem.
Chip, of course, had to comment. "So... what, you're just making a mechanical archer now?"
"More like an automated turret with legs," Ethan muttered, running calculations on how to improve accuracy.
"Right. What's next? A golem that drops bombs?"
Ethan paused.
That... actually wasn’t a bad idea.
Ethan put the bomb idea aside for later. He had to finish what he started first.
The ranged construct—tentatively named the Ballista Strider—was nearing completion. He refined the targeting system by integrating components from the Omni Strider’s scanner, allowing the construct to track movement rather than firing in a rigid pattern. To account for different combat situations, he designed its launcher to swap between two modes: a precision shot for high-impact strikes and a spread shot for dealing with multiple targets.
When the final prototype was ready, he directed mana into the construct, watching as its limbs twitched to life. The Ballista Strider moved with smooth efficiency, its optical sensors adjusting as it locked onto a distant target—a rock he had marked as a test dummy.
Thunk!
The bolt slammed into the rock, piercing it clean through.
Adjusting aim...
Another shot. This time, the strider accounted for the subtle shift in its target’s position, compensating for movement.
Ethan felt something shift in his interface.
[New Construct Design Recognized: Ballista Strider MK 1]
[Blueprints Updated]
A sense of satisfaction settled over him. Unlike the haphazard first versions of his constructs, this one felt polished. Efficient. His dungeon was evolving, and with it, so was his ability to create.
Chip whistled. "Not bad. You’ve officially got a sniper now."
Ethan let his mind drift, thinking ahead. The Ballista Strider wasn’t just another minion—it was a step toward more specialized constructs. If he could refine his production methods further, he wouldn’t just be making golems; he’d be designing an army, each unit with a distinct role.
And he had a lot more ideas to test.
__
The village of Redroot had always been a place where people noticed when someone went missing. Hunters and trappers didn’t just disappear without someone asking questions.
So when Ryn and his group failed to return, people started talking. At first, it was just the usual murmurs—maybe they got caught in a storm, maybe they ran into a pack of dire wolves. But as the days stretched on, concern turned to suspicion.
The town elders gathered in the meeting hall, a small stone building that served as the heart of Redroot’s decision-making. Old Varlen, the eldest of the council, sat at the head of the rough-hewn table, fingers steepled. “Ryn’s a fool, but he’s not one to vanish without a trace. Something happened.”
“We all know where they went,” another elder muttered. “That damn dungeon.”
A tense silence followed.
One of the younger hunters, a man named Bram, crossed his arms. “If they died there, that means it’s dangerous. We should warn the guild.”
Varlen exhaled. “The Adventurers’ Guild will come regardless. A new dungeon means profit, and they’ll want to assess it. The question is whether we want them deciding everything… or if we make sure Redroot benefits first.”
That got nods from several of the elders.
But not everyone agreed.
“We’re playing with fire,” another elder, a wiry woman named Sella, argued. “You know what the Church does to rogue dungeons. If we try to claim this place for ourselves, we risk drawing their attention.”
“The Church doesn’t rule these lands,” Bram shot back. “And they won’t come unless someone invites them.”
The room fell into uneasy quiet.
After a long pause, Varlen spoke. “We send word to the guild. But we keep our options open.” He tapped the table. “And until we know exactly what happened to Ryn’s group, no one else goes near that dungeon.”
No one argued.
But outside, in the dim light of dusk, a handful of hunters exchanged looks.
No one else officially going near the dungeon didn’t mean much to those who smelled an opportunity.